This Side Story is heavily inspired by the obscure lore of the starchild from wh40k, so you might need to know that maybe
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The collection of fractured souls that still held the cognizance to dare call itself The Emperor wandered on.
A great tree and a great sea. Annihilators both. Powers beyond the influence of chaos. But He found no distinction. He despised them all the same.
The Emperor wandered on.
Humans. Terra. Earth. How are they here? Why are there so many of them?
Life. Death. War. Again. Life. Death. War. Was He mistaken?
The Emperor wandered on.
Monsters with the sole purpose of crushing
civilizations. So-called greater beings using mankind as playthings. Cycles over cycles of struggle and waste. Worlds where meaningfulness was buried under bodies and bodies.
The Emperor wandered on.
He was tired. He looked for His people. There they were. So small, against such a massive world. He looked for His kind. Humans native to the universe. He was shocked.
The Emperor wandered on
Where war was seen, there was also peace. Where hate was born, there was also cooperation. Where humans were seen there were xenos, mutants, and there… there was artificial intelligence. He was surprised.
The Emperor wandered on.
Then He saw it. Creatures with enough power to be titled Gods. Even in this universe. Humans were made nothing more than pawns by things that were greater just because they were.
The collection of fragmented shards of the souls of The Emperor continued to grow and grow to reach out for more of His own material.
The tree hadn't noticed His existence yet, nothing did, the cover of the Warp made it so, but the multiple personalities and opinions of the souls clashed with each other, like a hurricane in a symposium, but now they adjourned the debate to join together in a single thought.
Why can't humanity rule?
He remembers an age of enlightenment. Where mankind ascended with logic and knowledge of their own design.
Why can't they just grow and evolve without the whims and follies of greater beings playing them on strings?
He remembers a great collapse of that age, by a fault not of their own.
No matter what heights they reach, why do they always return to being nothing but prey?
He remembers a revolt and a betrayal, beating the great humanity back to nothing more than rampaging apes on a cracked Earth.
Why can't humanity truly prosper?
Humanity was beautiful. They were molded into existence by mud, luck and happenstance from millions of years of evolution. They were not born through the whims of a dying breed, and yet unlike most natural life, they almost reached the apex of science without the support of the so-called gods of the material realm. They did it on their own. They deserved the universe. They were born to inherit it.
Humanity, born from the soil and water, shaped by struggle and will, lived through logic and heart, touched beyond the skies through work and ingenuity on their own, blessed by none but themselves, shall not kneel to anyone or anything, even in the face of true gods.
Yes, now The Emperor of Mankind remembers, they were the ones who shall laugh at the gaze of the abyss, they once controlled matter with their tools of steel, they choked reality with nothing but will. And by Him, they shall do it again.
There shall be no peace until Humanity unites.
There shall be no mercy until Humanity reigns.
He saw these creatures of higher power and he raged. They do not have the right to dictate their fate.
The psychic powers of the Emperor overflowed like the breaking of a dam.
He always hated the idea of gods. Gods that controlled reality just because they can. Just because they are.
Where is the logic?
There is no reason for it.
Gods do not exist.
Soon they will be nothing but specimens put under microscopes to be studied, dissected and disproved.
He always hated the idea of xenos. Creatures that can shatter the union of humanity, and lead them astray to their ultimate potential of total supremacy, of true prosperity.
He always hated the idea of religion. They are the gateways of corruption and the door to an age of ignorance.
This is the Imperial Truth. This time He shall enforce it properly. Yes, this is the only way humanity can prosper.
The fragmented soul of The Emperor coalesced. Thousands more shards connect to one singular entity.
The Emperor was once again ready, this time He shall do it perfectly. No more follies, no more regrets. No more mercy. He shall herald ruin for the enemies of man.
No world shall be beyond my rule; no enemy shall be beyond my wrath.
He is The Emperor of Mankind, The Master of Mankind, The Omnissiah, The Master of the Lines, Allfather, King Perpetual, Him on Terra, Him on Earth, Anathema, Alysaundr, Revelation, Neoth.
The soul of burning gold lit like a new birthed star.
He is ready, He is burning with rage and vengeance. He shall make no more mistakes. Spare no more mercy. This universe, free from chaos, was more than suitable for another incarnation. He will ignite once more-
Wait
Wait
Wait
The ignited soul waited. It saw something. There was one last fragment coming. It was different, different than all the others. It had no colors of gold, it held a dim but solemn light and flew not with rage but with an emotion unseen in millennia.
And when it finally came back, everything had stopped.
Memories flashed.
A decaying corpse on a throne
An empire of decay and ignorance
A dead friend and fallen sons
The Emperor hesitated.
Humanity's rage against the dying of the light
The further corruption of chaos
The arrival of a great devourer
And in a short moment, the burning soul was extinguished by the dim colorless fragment. He saw the future, an infinite number of them. And He, for the first time in countless eons, changed His mind.
The once star-bright soul now dimmed a melancholic faint light of washed tarnished gold. The last soul fragment had taken presence over the other shards of the Emperor's conscience, and brought it to halt. Emotions and memories forgotten, once separated and put to rest for over eons finally resurfaced like a drift bottle reaching the shore.
The humanity of the Emperor, cast aside in favor of killing His son, had at last, finally returned.
Emotions, memories, regrets, dreams, failings, they had all returned.
Sadness, grief, struggle, confusion, anxiety, fear, they had all returned.
Happiness, gratefulness, enjoyment, contentment, love, they had all returned.
For the first time in eternity, The Emperor could finally weep.
…
A demigod in night-sprayed robes split the head of a cultist-like fruit. His seventh target had died. The demigod did not revel in his victory however, he without another lingering or useless thought turned and wrapped his great spear, as tall as a space marine itself, underneath a black rough cloth like a dirty bandage and slung it to a hook on his back.
He is immediately bound on his next hunt. There was no time to waste. He walks without noise in a room full of dead cultists. Bodies littered, all cut, slashed and stabbed in such a precise way that blood flowed sparingly and the disturbance kept to a minimum. No dust or splatter of blood that could not be simply shrugged off ever touched him nor did he let out a single sound despite his massive structure and daunting size.
He exits the little hideout of the cultists, hidden underneath the ground, hidden in tunnels of sewers, and he leaves. It only took him a few minutes to return from the depths of a city to a surface of grass and trees. A small preserved hill park that overlooked a bustling city. He was in the realm of Ultramar, in one of the planets of the Imperial Regent. He looked at the starry night sky above, and there he saw bursts of jubilant color spreading like falling tracers in the star-filled void ocean above.
He has studied this planet's culture, and the culture of Ultramar itself, and he knew that today was a day of rest. A rare day of celebration. He looked to the city before him, and there he saw crowds of humans, all walking and mingling together in the busy streets of the city like colonies of ants. Colored lumens and stalls with every type of merchandise or goods lined the wide pathways as flying vehicles, decorated with blue ornaments gently flew in the air.
Large blue banners of the iconic symbol of Ultramar, also called the Ultima were draped across every balcony and terrace, whereupon them laid learned men and women who played various instruments in bands or solo, but all singing in praise of the great 13th Primarch and their own micro-empire as artisans participated in fired competitions of carving his form or painting his face with the details heavily exaggerated.
The demigod knew why they did this. Today was one of the breakdays and holidays of the realm of Ultramar, The Day of Unity, observed system-wide in all its civilized worlds. A day to commemorate the memory of the first hour when the capital sun finally peaked its bountiful rays on Magna Macragge Civitas, right before Roboute Guilliman finally took the seat as the empire's king. Records say that was all before he met The Emperor.
On the streets, families walked on paved rockcrete and street vendors displayed all manners of merchandise and consumables, one of them, he saw, was a store made of scrap steel that sells soft fabric toys in the form of space marines. They were blue of course. Children swarmed the place like bees to a beehive, the lack of uniformity caused the shopkeeper to shout to the children and they all straightened and formed a clean line in less than five seconds.
The demigod barely remembered what emotions felt like, but he could describe what he saw as commendable, like everything else on the planet. For it was different from the rest of the Imperium, he had never seen such jubilance in one place before, but that was the magic of Ultramar. A place so independent from the Imperium that most of its worlds receive the lowest possible tithe grade or even none at all and even the coin-eyed clerics of the Administratum with their sleazy sewer-rat nature were hesitant. They were afraid to ask more from the Realm of the 500, else its gold-wreathed tetrarchs threatened them with the wrath of the Regent.
This planet, in particular, is an homeworld of a renowned chapter of astartes, granting them the privilege of having no need to pay any type of tithes to the Imperium. They were free.
The demigod took more time to observe the sight, he had never seen so much laughter and so much smiles in a single place. He did not specifically know what to think of this in a human way. The world itself was extremely productive, a main contributor of all kinds of resources that could easily pass most material tithes if they had any, and yet its people were full of life. It was all so foreign.
He looked to his side, there was a little boy hiding in the bush. He had seen him a long while ago but decided not to say anything until now.
"You there, come here."
The demigod said, and the boy did come.
He was small with light brown hair, the demigod deduced his age to be no more than seven years old.
"You are all alone, where are your parents?"
The demigod asked, the boy looked a little scared of him, his massive height and attire of black robes and hood that shaded his face to a void, his massive weapon strapped on his back with the addition of his deep and refined voice was probably the reason why. And yet the boy spoke with courage.
"Well, my Da is in the auxilia, and my Ma has something more important to do, so it's just me outside."
The demigod nodded, and looked back at the stalls far away.
"Umm, Mister, are you space marine?"
"Why do you ask?" The demigod asked slowly.
"Mister, can't you see your height? You're very tall, and probably strong too, so are you?"
The demigod turned to look at the boy again. "No, unfortunately, I'm not."
The boy smiled at that.
"Haha, good thing!"
"Why so?" Asked the demigod.
"Well, because, personally, I think they're overrated! All my friends want to become one, and even my brother usually risks his life in the planet's most dangerous zones to train and be noticed by them just so that he can have a chance at being an aspirant, I think he's just risking his life for nothing! I mean he almost died once!"
The demigod continued the conversation.
"Then, little one, what do you want to become in the future?"
The boy seemed to think for a moment before his eyes lit up.
"A Custodes! I want to protect The Emperor! And wear golden armor and carry with me a massive spear while I walk on the Throneworld!"
The demigod stared at him in silence.
"Uhh? Mister?"
"Apologies, I was distracted for a moment. But for your dream, it is an honorable one."
The boy's face seemed to shine before the demigod spoke again.
"Unfortunately it is Impossible."
The boy's face fell.
"Y-Yeah, I guess. I know that, but sometimes it's fun to dream of doing the impossible."
The demigod then walked towards the child, slightly bending to touch his shoulder.
"Then you should continue to do so, little one. Maybe one day, you'll see yourself doing the impossible, maybe not a Custodes, but something equal. For in the eyes of the Emperor, that courage to do something impossible is worthy of praise."
The boy stared at him with wide starry eyes, and then a sudden beeping echoed in the empty park they were at.
"Oh it's my dataslate… my curfew starts in about an hour-" the boy looks at the dark-robed demigod. "Sorry mister! I have my curfew at 5:30 and I at least have to be home thirty minutes earlier than my curfew!"
"What will you do when you get home?"
"Eh? Well, basically it's nothing more than study, training, praying and we're only given thirty minutes of free time before bed…"
"Then use that thirty minutes to work on what you want to be."
"I'll keep that in mind, thank you kindly! I have to go now, The Emperor protects you!"
The demigod watches the child hastily running back to the light of the city, sliding down the hill and in some time, his form fully disappears in the bustling crowds.
The demigod did not speak, until he was aware no one else was near.
"So, he is gone. What are you waiting for, spirit?" the demigod said, and a small fire silently danced to life on the small bush from where the boy hid earlier.
The fire was otherworldly, its heat and liveliness were measured, unmoving in the wind. It felt very wrong. Out of place, like an etheric entity.
It was conflicting with its nature, as fire symbolized activity and life, this ghostly flame felt more like void, dead and long extinguished, yet it still burned in some unexplored way.
The fire moved swiftly away from the grass, traveling somewhere deeper within the mountain park the demigod emerged from.
"Now you want to be followed? Very well then, spirit."
And he followed.
…
The Emperor stopped wandering.
He sees the past, future and present. And He was displeased. No, they cannot live this way. His rage is all but gone. No, He shall not make the same mistakes as that thing on the throne.
If He loved logic so much, why didn't He see His follies earlier? Was He too blinded by the horrors the universe held? Or was He blinded by His own future sight?
His sons, the way He treated some of them, were they truly the result of calculation, sense and logic or something else that He did not want to admit?
Nevertheless, each twenty-one of them brought Him to feel regret, a sting so deep that no human had ever felt before. A stab so deep that carved deeper when He knew it was by His hand. Regret that He would never have the chance to apologize to a number of them. Regret that He had failed each and every single one of them.
Anguish poured over him like the thickest of rains. As if it was the blood of the race He claimed to love.
Has He ever proven that He loved humanity? Or just the idea of them? Did He not choose to sit on that cursed throne knowing nothing but incomparable suffering awaited him?
No, that was not love, that was just obligation. Even if it was, it would not be enough of a penance for His crimes.
All His mistakes, all His sins, they truly would never be redeemed. He already can never be redeemed. It's impossible. But didn't humans always work towards tasks deemed impossible? When they first touched the skies, when they first stepped on the moon, when did the concept of total impossibility stop them?
He would prove it, prove that He was a human, prove that He was like them, no matter how His origins may proclaim the other way.
He would not make the mistakes of the past, He would not doom humanity no more. If it means giving up the grand future where mankind stands supreme above all, in exchange for them to truly live as humans, then He shall make sure they can smile again. Maybe someday, there will be another, one more grander, smarter than Him to walk the path He wanted to see through. But for now, things had to at least change.
The first soul fragment that first arrived in the new universe, remembered what His desire was. Yes, to become something akin to a true God, not for any reason other than to save humanity, and maybe when they finally regain their footing, He will disappear, and let time mold humanity into a society of logic and science, while He will quietly vanish into mere myths and tales of a long forgotten past.
A future where humanity does need Him.
That… would be ideal.
All the collected fragments of The Emperor's soul finally united as one with one purpose in mind.
The collection of souls once again trembled. But this time, its power was not directed outwardly, nor was it born of hate, spite, or hubris.
The great might of the Emperor was now directed within himself, with the help of his long casted emotions and humanity that has now returned, to finally force one more incarnation. One more rebirth, one last hope. One last light.
The soul glowed a bright warmth in defiance of an uncaring void, light erupted once more, a myriad of colors emitting from them. The Immaterium swirled and heavenly trumpets roared. The stars looked and sang upon the arrival of the brightest of them all.
The Starchild was born, and in a sunless realm, the sun rose again.
…
The demigod reached a cave that he did not remember existing, it was where the spirit led him, and now the corpse-like fire stayed still, waiting for the demigod's response.
"There is no one near us, spirit. Now show me the reason for all these, and I may have the mercy of leaving you without interrogation and punishment."
The lifeless fire flickered, and it grew and grew to a pillar. The fire raged to the height of a man, then something taller, and it began to take shape.
Legs formed, then the chest and the arms. Soon gauntlets were seen. A shape of decayed astartes power armor molded by flames and shaded by the darkest colors of ash then began to manifest. The lifeless fire never stopped burning, and by the end, a burning skull helm, similar but not quite to that of a chaplain stared at the demigod with void black lenses.
"Custodes."
Said the spirit.
"Legion of the Damned."
Replied the demigod in kind.
"You should know that I'm no longer in the 10,000th, spirit. I no longer have the ability." Said the demigod as he walked closer to the long killed, but still burning astartes.
The legionnaire of the dead's voice was beyond ethereal. It sounded like the echoes of a dead volcano put through an unsynced voice modulator of a long broken astartes speaker.
"Custodes." It said again. "Once a Talon of The Emperor, now left the Brotherhood of Demigods two-hundred-two years after you felt your abilities waver. After voluntarily surrendering your sacred relics to the Hall of Armaments, you have vanished to the void in your missions."
The demigod stayed silent. The spirit continued.
"Born in Terra during the Unification Wars, you were one of the thousand survivors of the War in the Webway. First served as a Hykanatoi with the symbol of the Raptor Imperialis, then as a Warden. You fought and walked with The Emperor Himself, spoke to Him, listened to Him, fought with Him."
The demigod moved in a blink. His spear unbandaged and placed right to the spirit's neck.
"Continue." He ordered. The spirit is unmoved.
"After His internment on the Throne, you volunteered to be a Shadowkeeper. With your deeds, you were accepted into the elusive Shield Host. One time, you were selected to rotate within the inner sect of the Hetaeron Guard and stood vigil beside the Golden Throne itself for a whole 88 years, before you, by your own admission, were no longer capable of such a heavy task. Sent back to the Dark Cells, you stood as a progressive member of the Brotherhood of Demigods. Inventing new technologies and strategies to better improve the Dark Cells' capabilities as well as your equipment. Renowned for participating in six Blood Games and winning one of them by reaching the Hall of Leng in the inner sanctum of the Palace. However, all would change with the Resurrection of the 13th Son and the formation of the Great Rift."
The demigod's blade did not budge a centimeter.
"You were sent to hunt an unthinkable existence that had escaped the Dark Cells and succeeded with the loss of your eye. Now you have retired and left the palace, wandering the galaxy as an Eye of the Emperor. Is all of that right, Gilgamesh Nemrod?"
Gilgamesh's spear slowly moved, somehow already bandaged again. He held it to his right as he stared at the spirit.
"You knew all of that, and yet you do not know my entire name? Spirit?"
The dead legionnaire blanked for a moment.
"A recitation of your full name will take four hours and a half."
Gilgamesh ignored that statement. "Now, tell me all the reasons for this intervention, spirit."
The dead legionnaire said nothing but its burning flames dimmed, now embered and silent.
"Onward."
Was the last thing it said, before collapsing back to ash, then to nothing.
Gilgamesh looked forward, the burning light of the dead legionnaire now left him in the sightless dark of the cave, this did not matter to Gilgamesh, however.
He moved forward, each step deeper in the cave, there was no hesitation or extra thought in his movements. There was no thought but anticipation and an awful, scratching dread of odd familiarity.
His twin hearts were beating as if he was in battle. But he was as calm, as calm as a Custodes can be.
The cave deepens, the dark darkens and the Custodes start to breathe heavier and heavier as each step increases in weight.
Never had Gilgamesh felt this way before. This suffocating march to something so unknown and yet so familiar.
Ten more steps. He calculated ten more steps to finally reach the end of the cave and the end of the burning fire of anticipation.
Six more steps.
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Now it was three.
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He was here now, just one more step.
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"Long time no see, my old companion."
Spoke a feminine voice.
...
(A/N)
i wrote this in my dreams