Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 609 The Possibilities of Other Primarchs

The representatives of the Imperial Fist and the Holy Blood Angels left the cold and solemn reception hall of the Karada Fortress.

The chilling wind, unique to Medusa and carrying metallic fragments, whistled continuously through the tiny gaps in the ancient corridor's force field barrier, like the whispers of ancient ghosts or the eternal breath of this steel mother planet.

The two representatives—Company Commander Thor Garadon of the Imperial Fist and Mephisto, the chief strategist of the Blood Angels—walked silently through the corridor made of heavy adamantite and rock, their heavy footsteps echoing in the empty space.

The questions in their hearts did not dissipate with Primarch Feralus Manus's authoritative yet somewhat vague response; instead, they stirred up even more complex and profound ripples in their hearts, like a boulder thrown into a still lake.

It was an emotion intertwined with fervent hope and deep unease; a sense of bewilderment after established perceptions were overturned; and a complex mix of anticipation and anxiety about the future of the empire.

Driven by these overwhelming emotions, they did not return directly to the ships anchored in the tracks. Instead, with the formal guidance of an officer from the Steel Hand, they found the Inquisitor, Chen Xi, who had always been like a shadow accompanying the Primarch, in a heavily guarded area on the flank of the fortress.

Chen Xi's temporary office was less a room and more a highly functional strategic location.

It is far removed from the grandeur and symbolic glory of the main reception hall, embedded more deeply within the fortress's mountain-like structure, appearing both secluded and efficient.

The air circulation system emitted a nearly silent low-frequency hum, filtering the already thin air in Medusa, which was filled with metallic dust.

The interior lighting was cold and focused, illuminating only the necessary areas: a sturdy metal desk, several optical screens constantly streaming data, and large tactical holograms of the Medusa sector and abstract defensive deployment maps of the Imperial Dark Side sector hanging on the walls, some areas marked in unsettling crimson.

The judge himself stood with his back to the entrance, before the largest star map, his deep gaze seemingly able to penetrate the changing light and shadow, looking directly into the deep crisis and intricacies of the galaxy.

He didn't turn around, but seemed to have already sensed the visitor's arrival. His voice, as calm as the waters of an abyss, broke the silence first.

“I knew you would come.”

Chen Xi slowly turned around, the folds of his black robe appearing like solidified ripples in the cold light.

His gaze swept over the two Astartes representatives—Company Commander Galadon's resolute, granite-like face, and the psychic flames in Mephisto's eyes that seemed capable of scorching the soul.

"I can roughly guess the outline of the problems in your hearts."

Company Commander Galadon took a step forward, and the servo system of the precision-engineered power armor emitted a slight charging sound.

His voice retained the composure characteristic of the Imperial Fist, but contained an undeniable sharpness and skepticism: "Your Excellency, the return of Lord Feralus transcends all known prophetic records and is seriously inconsistent with the historical records sealed for millennia in the Imperial Archives and personally reviewed by Lord Dorn."

We are not questioning the Emperor's unfathomable will—His plans are far beyond our mortal comprehension.

But we bear the future of the chapter and the loyalty of countless warriors on our shoulders. We desperately need a logically consistent explanation, a reasonable explanation that allows us to return to our parent chapter, to reassure our troops, and to guide our direction—not only for our own sake, but also for the survival of the Empire in the storms to come.

Mephisto's voice followed immediately, more urgent than Galadon's, containing the fervent emotions and almost painful longing unique to the children of Saint Gilles: "If... if even Lord Felus can return from the eternal stillness of death and rebuild his body of steel, then does this mean... does it mean that Lord Saint Gilles, our father who fell on Holy Terra, also has the hope of returning?"
Have we missed some crucial fragments in the interpretation of prophecies over the past ten thousand years?
Is the Emperor's will quietly manifesting in a way we do not yet understand, yet one that is far grander, preparing to call back His lost sons one by one?" Chen Xi remained silent for a moment, as if on a scale weighing the pros and cons.

His deep gaze moved between the two representatives, clearly sensing the heavy, almost suffocating loyalty and longing behind their words.

But he knew even more deeply that certain core truths remained taboo and could not be revealed at this moment.

"The prophecy," Chen Xi finally spoke, his voice low and clear, each word seemingly calibrated by cold logic, "is not the full manifestation of the Emperor's grand will."

They may merely be scattered flashes of light occasionally cast upon the mortal world from His grand, timeless blueprint, fragmented reflections distorted by the waves of the warp, destined to be incomplete and potentially misleading.

He paused briefly, letting the weight of his words sink into the other's heart, and continued, "Lord Felus's return is precisely that unrecorded part of the Emperor's plan, which does not need to be explained to mortals."

You ask me why my predictions were inaccurate?

Because the fragments of the future that we can glimpse are inherently vague and distorted.

The depth and breadth of an emperor's plans are far beyond our full comprehension.

Lord Feralas' return is itself proof of His power and plan, which undoubtedly gives us unprecedented hope—but please remember, true hope does not necessarily have to be built on a blind reliance on prophetic texts.

Company Commander Galadon frowned slightly. The pragmatic nature of the Imperial Fist made him unable to be completely satisfied with this almost metaphysical explanation: "Inquisitor, your words are full of wisdom, but they do not answer the question of the mechanism of returning to itself."

Death, especially for a Primarch, is not a boundary that can be easily crossed.

This involves…

“Death,” Chen Xi interrupted him, her tone carrying an unquestionable, almost divine sense of closure, “is, for an emperor, a concept confined to the narrow understanding of mortals, not the ultimate state of His existence.”

Do you still remember that His body nearly collapsed under Horus's wrath, yet His soul transcended mortal annihilation, ultimately anchoring Himself in reality in another form atop the Golden Throne, His immortal will illuminating the galaxy for millennia?

His power transcends the concepts of life and death, and can reshape the very rules of reality. Lord Ferrus's return is a manifestation and a practice of this transcendent power.

This is not a matter of 'how' that we need to understand, but rather a 'fact' that we must accept.

Mephisto could barely contain his excitement, pressing urgently, "What about the other Primarchs? Lord Roger Dorn? And... and our Lord Saint Gilles? Are they also...?"

(End of this chapter)