Chapter 95: The Primaris Ascension and the Secrets of Randan

Dukel had once been lonely.

Every time he worked through the night without rest, he was the only one left in the empty office. But now, he had three powerful individuals who could keep pace with him—tireless, brilliant minds capable of enduring the same endless hours of toil.

At this moment, he was discussing the latest revisions to the Space Marine enhancement protocols with his newfound companions.

"We'll replace the eighteenth of the nineteen standard Astartes augmentations—the Gene-Seed Storage Gland—with a 'Psychic Engine.' Additionally, we'll integrate three Primaris advancements: the Tendon Coil, the Magnificat, and the Belisarius Furnace. This will bring the total number of modifications to twenty-two. Any further additions?" Dukel looked around, waiting for input.

"I have a suggestion, brother."

Dukel was surprised when Magnus spoke up. The two senior Tech-Priests accompanying them simply shook their heads, signaling their agreement with the current plan. But Magnus, ever the scholar, had something to add.

"Go ahead," Dukel said, intrigued.

He wasn't worried that the Daemon Primarch might attempt sabotage—if he had been, Magnus wouldn't have been allowed to join the project in the first place. Despite his fall, the Crimson King's reverence for knowledge bordered on the obsessive. During the Great Crusade, he had clashed with his Primarch brothers more than once over the destruction of libraries and archives during wartime.

Dukel knew his brother well. Magnus would never distort knowledge for deception.

Furthermore, Magnus had been cut off from the influence of the Warp, shielded by a psychic nullification field. Though its effects on a Primarch were minimal, Dukel had observed him long enough to trust that his words were genuine.

"Dukel, I've been studying your mental force field for some time. You insist that psychic energy originates from human will and spirit, yet you deny its classification as true Warp-based power."

"However, in my view, mental energy is but a byproduct of psychic energy. No force related to the mind is ever fully divorced from the Immaterium." Magnus' eyes shimmered with a myriad of colors as he spoke.

"My proposal is to incorporate psionic circuits into three artificial organs: the muscle-enhancement systems, the hematopoietic organs, and the Belisarius Furnace. Doing so will not only improve the operational efficiency of your so-called Mind Engine but also enhance the genetic traits passed down to your progeny."

Dukel lowered his head in thought. As he contemplated, he activated the computational might of his mind-network, running simulations to test Magnus' hypothesis.

Surprisingly, the results were favorable.

Magnus had a point.

Dukel gave him an approving look. "A solid suggestion. Anything else?"

"One more question," Magnus said.

"Go on."

"Can your Mind Engine truly be completed? Many of its components defy the known laws of the physical universe. How do you intend to bridge those gaps?"

Magnus was perceptive. If the Mind Engine could not be realized, then all other modifications were irrelevant.

Dukel sighed. "The answer is simple—the technology that makes this possible is derived from the Orks' Waaagh! field."

It wasn't that he had deliberately concealed this information. No one had asked before, so he hadn't thought to mention it. But now, with Magnus probing deeper, there was no reason to hide the truth.

Yet, Magnus' reaction was unexpected.

"Brother… have you been dabbling with xenos technology again?"

Dukel frowned. "What do you mean 'again'?"

Meanwhile, in another chamber of the Imperial Palace, Roboute Guilliman finally found a moment to himself after handling endless governmental affairs.

His first act of free time was to visit his fallen brother—Fulgrim.

Escorted by the Grey Knights, he arrived at the containment vault where the Daemon Primarch was imprisoned.

Suspended in midair, Fulgrim's serpentine form was impaled by adamantium cables etched with warding runes. Every six hours, his bones were shattered anew to prevent regeneration.

A full squad of Sisters of Silence stood guard outside the chamber. Their nullifying presence severed Fulgrim's connection to the Warp, while a choir of the Ecclesiarchy chanted the Emperor's hymns without pause, the sacred verses burning into the Daemon's very essence.

But such crude measures were nothing more than an amusement to the Prince of Excess.

Instead of agony, Fulgrim seemed entertained, even humming a tune from his homeworld as Guilliman approached.

"Well, well, look who it is! The great Lord Regent, the perfect son. Saved yet again! Tell me, my fortunate brother, are you here for vengeance? This is your chance, after all." Fulgrim's voice dripped with mockery.

Guilliman, once quick to anger, merely regarded him with sorrowful eyes.

"I am not here for revenge, Fulgrim. Your fate is not mine to decide. That is a matter for our father. I have come simply to see you—to see the brother I once knew."

Fulgrim sneered. "To see me suffer? Come now, Guilliman, drop the pretense. You've never bested me in combat. Twice you have fallen at my hands."

"Since when did victory or defeat matter, brother?" Guilliman's expression darkened. "I was forced to take up arms against my own kin. I watched as my brothers—those I loved—turned on the very Imperium we bled to build. I saw them abandon us, one by one, and I was powerless to stop it. Is there a greater tragedy in this galaxy?"

His voice was heavy with grief. "Fulgrim, when I learned of your fall… it broke my heart."

For a brief moment, Fulgrim was silent.

Then, with a chuckle, he regained his usual arrogance. "Oh, how pathetic. Do not pity me, brother. I bask in the embrace of the Prince of Pleasure. Every moment is ecstasy beyond mortal comprehension. Meanwhile, you flounder in a crumbling empire, blissfully ignorant of the true danger that looms. Tell me, Guilliman, which of us is truly the pitiable one?"

Guilliman's gaze hardened. "You speak of the Imperium's struggles? There is still hope!"

Fulgrim smirked. "I do not speak of your fragile empire—I speak of our brother."

"Dukel? What about him?" Guilliman's brows furrowed.

"Think, my dear brother. He is powerful—far too powerful. Only Horus himself could have matched him. But Horus had the favor of the gods. What does Dukel have?"

"You mean the xenos and Randan? Do you remember what happened there?" Guilliman demanded.

Fulgrim's smile widened. "How could I? The Emperor so despised the xenos that He erased all record of that place—even from our memories. But you have a mind, don't you? Can you not deduce the truth?"

Guilliman fell into deep thought. Doubt flickered across his features as he weighed the implications.

After a long silence, he clenched his fists and lifted his head, his resolve restored. "Fulgrim, even now, you try to deceive me—"

Before he could finish, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted him.

A deep, commanding voice rang out. "Why speculate, brothers?"

A towering figure emerged from the shadows.

Dukel had arrived.

And beside him, slung over his shoulder, Magnus groaned in resignation.

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