Kayvaan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned his thoughts to the Adeptus Astartes. He uood their importance all too well. The Space Marines weren’t just warriors; they were the shields and swords of the Imperium. Aboard t voidships, they patrolled the gaxy, defending humanity and the Emperor’s realm.
In the days of the Great Crusade, the Emperor created twenty Space Marine Legions, each led by a Primarch—geically engineered sons of the Emperor. Each Legion was a massive force of thousands of superhuman warriors. They swept across the stars, reg lost human worlds, crushing alien threats, and expanding the Imperium’s reach. But that was before the Horus Heresy.
When the Heresy began, half the Legions turraitor. The Emperrievously wounded, was entombed on the Golden Throhe loyalists triumphed, but the Imperium was shattered. The traitions fled into the Eye of Terror, leaving a scarred gaxy behind. To prevent such devastation from happening again, the Legions were divided into smaller Chapters uhe Codex Astartes, written by Roboute Guilliman. No Chapter could number more than a thousand warriors.
"I never imagihey’d entrust me with this kind of power," Kayvaan murmured, exhaling deeply. "No wohe review process was so strict."
"Of course," Kayvaan interjected early. "The Empire would never a war hero from the legendary era like you, Captain. If I may ask, sir—what’s your final decision on my application?"
Kayvaan regarded the young man thoughtfully. "You should knoplying to join the Space Marine corps isn’t about glory nition. It’s a death sentence. I’ve reviewed the ret records. As for the Old Ravens and other chapters, they’re in a sorry state. turies of war have left their gene pools fractured, their teology lost. Many things we oook franted are now a relics.
"These days, any young man hoping to join the Space Marine must endure brutal tests. Failure often meah. From your attire and demeanor, I tell you live fortably and have a good education. Are you certain you want to give all that up? Dedig yourself to the vast void of the stars isn’t just dangerous—it’s almost a guarantee you won’t survive. Are you really prepared for that?"
Darius stood firm. His expression was resolute as he replied, "I uand the risks. I may suffer a mental breakdown from the pain, mutate into a mindless monster, or even die on the operating table. I’ve thought about all of it, sir. But despite the dangers, I still want to bee Space Marine. I ’t stand this hollow life anymore—living off the reputation of my aors without purpose. I want to follow you and bee a true soldier, to fight and, if necessary, die with honor otlefield, just like my forefathers."
Kayvaan's eyes narrowed. "Why do you feel sly about this?"
Darius straightened his posture, his voiwavering. "Because I want my life to matter, sir. I want the strength to protect others, to safeguard the Empire and serve the Emperor. I don’t want to waste my life on meaningless indulgences. I o do something that ts!"
The words rang with vi, though Kayvaan knew lofty ideals often masked hidden motives. Still, he nodded. For an Imperial citizen, such awareness was endable. "Very well," Kayvaan said. "If I succeed in f a Space Marine corps, I promise you’ll be among the first I sider for recruitment."
Darius’s face lit up with a rare smile. He saluted sharply. "Thank you, Captain Kayvaan!"
"Don’t celebrate just yet," Kayvaan cautioned. "Even with the Emperor’s letter of appoi, the oute isn’t certain. There are still many obstacles ahead."
The truth weighed heavily on Kayvaan's mind. The Emperor had been sileombed on the Golden Throne for nine millennia. ‘How much of his power remained?’ Darius couldn’t help but doubt.
Although the Emperor was now the erstone of humanity’s faith, to many, he had bee less of a person and more of a symbol—an idolized figure or even a god created by human belief. Yet Kayvaan remembered clearly: this was not what the Emperor had wanted.
The Emperor had despised worship. In life, he had openly decred himself a man, not a god. A firm materialist, he believed only in what could be seen and proven. He had no patience for the ignorance of superstition, magic, or divine worship.
The irony was staggering. Now, in this brokehe Emperor was revered as a deity by the very people he had sought to enlighten. For Kayvaan, it was a bitter reminder of how much the Empire had lost—not just teology, but also the vision and values that had onited them.
The emperor oried to pass ws banning anyone from worshiping him as a god. Yet, despite his efforts, secret religious groups kept appearing, like sparks that wouldinguish. When the emperor was gravely injured areated to the Golden Throhese underground movements only intensified. Over time, this devotion evolved into a fully-fledged state religiorenched in the empire's long history.
As the emperor asded to the status of a divine figure, secur power naturally shifted to others. The true authority within the empire now y in the hands of an institution known as the The High Lords of Terra, which wielded immense influence over the gaxy.
On a bright afternoon, young Darius stepped out of Kayvaan's hut with a tented smile after their versation. Meanwhile, oher side of the p, night had bhe earth, but the skies over the heart of the empire glowed with perpetual light. This pce, even during humanity’s darkest moments—the Great Rebellion—never dimmed.
Here, in the heart of the Imperium, silence reigned. Golden-armored Custodians patrolled its halls, their presence a living reminder of the Emperlory. Deep within the pace, beh yers of defenses, y the Golden Throne—a symbol of humanity’s faith and survival.
Beyond the Emperor’s resting pce, a small cil gathered in a chamber he pace outskirts. The room, though grand, was marked by its humble round table—old and wor tral to the Imperium’s rule. Fures debated Intensely around it, their words sharp and urgent.
Each decision they made rippled across the gaxy, shaping the Imperium’s future. For those with ambition, this room represehe pinnacle of power. This was the High Lords of Terra—the true rulers of humanity.
