Chapter 3: Let Me Show You the World
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Chapter 3: Let Me Show You the World
A magnificent gate of impossible architecture stood within a realm of rolling grey-white mist, its surface inscribed with geometries that hurt to perceive.
When the raven disappeared from before the Emperor and Valdor, it returned to this ethereal space between realities.
"Hope they didn't figure out I'm totally winging this," the raven muttered, anxiety creeping into its voice.
Despite the mysterious and otherworldly entrance it had made, the truth was far more mundane. It was just an ordinary person who had accidentally gained control of the Mist Space through circumstances beyond its understanding.
In its previous life, it had been driving along a highway when a hundred-ton freight truck traveling at over 120 miles per hour had rear-ended its vehicle with devastating finality.
When consciousness returned, its soul had awakened within this strange dimensional pocket.
It had taken considerable time to master the Mist Space's properties and obtain its current raven form—a shape chosen more for dramatic effect than any deeper significance.
The Mist Space proved remarkably versatile, granting the raven abilities that bordered on the miraculous. It could distort physical laws within target universes, read the traces left by cosmic evolution, trace temporal currents backward through history, and navigate freely through space-time in realities possessed of multi-dimensional chronologies.
The ancient gate that dominated the space served as a gateway between universes, though its use came with strict limitations. The raven could only enter other realities by first binding itself to what the system termed a 'protagonist of destiny'—a being whose actions would ripple across the cosmic order.
Only by altering predetermined fates could it harvest the primordial energies that strengthened both itself and the space it inhabited.
Without such a binding, the gate remained sealed, and the infinite cosmos lay forever beyond reach.
"Tricking the future Dark King right off the bat almost gave my little heart a seizure. I hope it works."
"If I stay here alone any longer, I'll really go crazy."
The raven muttered to itself, pacing restlessly through the ethereal mist.
The days spent within the Mist Space were sufficient to drive any consciousness to madness. It could venture nowhere beyond these grey boundaries. Unless some mortal summoned it and forged a pact, it remained trapped within this dimensional prison.
Should the Emperor refuse cooperation, the raven would be forced to seek another protagonist of destiny elsewhere in the cosmos.
Until such a target could be located, it would remain confined to this colorless realm, repeating the same monotonous existence that had driven it to the edge of sanity.
"Since I brought up the Webway, the Emperor will most likely agree."
The raven reviewed their recent exchange with calculating precision.
The Webway represented the ultimate objective of all the Emperor's grand designs—the key to preventing humanity's inexorable march toward damnation.
The collapse of the Eldar Empire had birthed Slaanesh, youngest of the Ruinous Powers, and torn the Eye of Terror through reality's fabric like a festering wound.
In the centuries to come, humanity would surpass even the Eldar, evolving into a nascent psychic species of unparalleled potential.
When that transformation reached its apex, human souls would blaze within the Warp like stellar beacons, drawing every daemon and predator from the Immaterium's depths.
Humanity would become sustenance for the Dark Gods and their endless legions, facing extinction in a manner a thousandfold more horrific than the Eldar's fall.
To shield His species from this fate, the Emperor had conceived the Webway project—isolating humanity from the Warp's influence entirely, freeing them from dependence upon its treacherous currents.
Everything that followed served this singular purpose: the Unification Wars, the coming Great Crusade, the establishment of the Imperium itself. All were merely means to acquire the resources necessary for the Webway's construction.
To the Master of Mankind, the Webway was salvation incarnate. He would sacrifice anything—even Himself—to ensure its completion. The Primarchs were expendable. Should His own death guarantee the project's success, the Emperor would embrace oblivion without hesitation.
The raven's knowledge extended even to the distant future, when the arch-traitor Horus would unleash Warp-born powers to deny reinforcements at Terra's final siege.
As all hope seemed lost, Malcador's sacrifice would free the Emperor from the Golden Throne for one final confrontation.
To defeat Horus, empowered by all four Chaos Gods, the Emperor would be forced to abandon His self-imposed limitations. He would devour Warp energy with ravenous hunger, bringing Himself to the very threshold of true godhood—one step away from becoming the prophesied Dark King.
In that moment of transcendence, His followers would become demigods in their own right, wielding power sufficient to battle Greater Daemons as equals.
Had He chosen to continue that apotheosis, even the united Chaos Gods would have fallen before Him. Their domains would have been scoured clean by His divine wrath.
But the cost would have been humanity's complete annihilation.
For His species' survival, the Emperor would ultimately reject godhood, dispersing the stolen power and facing Horus as a mere immortal. Such was His devotion to mankind's future—He would sacrifice even divinity itself.
Where humanity's continuation was concerned, the Emperor would compromise on anything.
"Hehehe, my golden boy, you wouldn't want humanity to go extinct like this, would you?"
A classic line of persuasion surfaced in the raven's thoughts, bringing a smile to its beak.
'What manner of heresy have I contemplated?'
The thought struck like a las-bolt through the Raven's consciousness. 'Ten thousand years of torment beneath the light-spears would be merciful punishment for such blasphemy.'
Yet truth remained immutable. The Master of Mankind's power transcended mortal comprehension.
As one destined to stand against the Ruinous Powers themselves—perhaps even bearing the essence of a fifth Dark God within His golden form—few entities across the infinite cosmos possessed strength to match His will.
'Dude's strength is totally beyond doubt, though,' the Raven mused, his thoughts momentarily slipping into archaic patterns before reforming into more proper cadence. 'If I could establish some kind of long-term... cooperative arrangement with Him, the benefits would be... considerable.'
The ancient being paused, feeling the weight of thirty millennia pressing upon his consciousness. 'I must locate a suitable realm. One that would demonstrate to Him the advantages of traversing the infinite heavens.'
The Raven approached the towering gate that dominated this sacred space. Its surface bore the patina of ages, wrought from materials that predated humanity's first breath.
His form dissolved into pure radiance, merging seamlessly with the portal's essence.
Through the authority granted by the Mist Space, he cast his awareness across the boundless multiverse.
Without a chosen protagonist as anchor, direct manifestation remained impossible—yet observation... observation was permitted.
'Harry Potter locked in conflict with Voldemort?' The Raven's thoughts carried faint amusement. 'The Master of Mankind could crush that pretender with a gesture. Besides, what use has He for parlor tricks when psychic might flows through His veins?'
'A cultivation realm, perhaps? Nah... He already possesses psychic mastery and immortal essence. Why would the Lord of Terra seek what He already commands?'
'The Captain America incident—acquiring the super-soldier serum?' A dismissive pulse echoed through his consciousness. 'Barely superior to baseline human enhancement. Compared to the might of the Adeptus Astartes, such augmentation would prove... underwhelming.'
'Now, the Death Star incident...' Interest sharpened his focus.
'Construction techniques for planet-killing weaponry. That possesses merit. With such knowledge, xenos worlds could be reduced to cosmic dust, their inhabitants weeping for progenitors who can no longer hear their cries.'
Yet pragmatism tempered enthusiasm. 'Resource requirements would prove astronomical. The Emperor has only recently unified Terra. Such undertakings demand materials and foundries that do not yet exist.'
'The Super Gene universe, however...' The Raven's attention crystallized upon this possibility. 'Even basic Gene Engine technology could revolutionize the Imperial war machine. Transform His armies into instruments of divine retribution.'
Below, upon Terra's scarred surface, the final death-throes of resistance echoed across the continents. The Moransen Federation—that last bastion of techno-barbarian defiance—had finally fallen before the Thunder Warriors' inexorable advance.
Their leadership faced the executioner's blade, purged as all obstacles to unity must be. The innocent masses, freed from their leaders' delusions, would be gathered into the growing fold of the nascent Imperium.
'Yeah, this could work,' the Raven concluded, his thoughts once again sliding between millennia. 'Time to make my pitch to the Big... to the Master of Mankind.'
The Raven's Contemplation
Malcador the Sigillite arrived from the newly pacified territories, his convoy bearing essential supplies and cadres of administrators prepared to implement the Emperor's vision across the Navia Peninsula. The work of rebuilding would commence according to the Master's design.
Within a hastily erected command pavilion, three titans of the nascent Imperium gathered in council. The matter at hand: the entity known as the Raven.
Through Valdor's precise recounting, Malcador learned of this mysterious being—a creature claiming mastery over dimensional barriers, offering passage between universes in exchange for... cooperation.
It had already begun its seduction of the Emperor, promising power and forbidden knowledge gleaned from altering the fates of alien realities.
"My Lord," Malcador's voice carried the weight of millennia, his expression grave beneath his hood, "do You place trust in this entity of unknown providence?"
The Emperor's countenance remained impassive, yet His words carried the burden of terrible truth. "We possess no alternative, old friend. It demonstrates knowledge of the Primarchs' survival. It speaks of the Webway Project with intimate familiarity."
A pause, heavy with implication. "It knows Us completely. Should it serve the Ruinous Powers, our cause is already lost. Better to discover this truth now than face betrayal at the moment of ultimate triumph."
"Alternative strategies remain viable," Valdor interjected, his auramite armor catching the pale light. "There exists no necessity to trust an entity of dubious origin."
"Time remains our greatest adversary," the Emperor replied, His psychic emanations carrying undertones of cosmic weariness.
"Decades of calculation went into each component of our design. To alter course now... could we complete such works before humanity's psychic awakening renders all efforts meaningless?"
The Master of Mankind turned to His oldest confidant. "The Moransen Federation lies broken. The petty kingdoms that remain pose no true threat. Terra's Unification nears completion. The remainder falls to you, my most trusted friend."
"My Lord," Malcador's entreaty carried desperate urgency, "even should this creature speak truth regarding dimensional travel, how can You guarantee Your own preservation?"
"Nothing in this universe or any other possesses the power to truly destroy Me."
After addressing Malcador, the Emperor's attention shifted to His Custodian. "Valdor, render what aid you may to Malcador in governing this emerging realm. Should I return, we shall forge new plans for stellar conquest. Should I not... ensure Terra endures as humanity's beating heart."
The appointed hour arrived with the inexorability of fate itself.
The Raven materialized before the Emperor as promised, though this time Valdor did not stand alone.
An aged figure in ceremonial robes accompanied the Custodian, his ornate staff marking him as one of supreme authority.
The entity's awareness swept over the newcomer, psychic senses probing. The power radiating from this mortal—second only to the Emperor Himself—left little doubt regarding his identity.
'So, Malcador joins the party,' the Raven mused, his thoughts settling into patterns both ancient and modern. 'The Sigillite himself. This just got way more interesting.'
The Raven's attention returned to the golden figure before him. He flared his wings wide, the feathers twitching with anticipation as if they, too, were eager to launch into action.
With a cheeky grin, he bounced on his taloned feet and adopted a crude boxing stance—wings half-curled like makeshift fists. He shadowboxed excitedly, throwing a few exaggerated jabs into the air. 'Well? Have you made your decision? I'm fully charged and ready to rock. We can start this whole interdimensional road trip right now if you're game.'
"The proposition holds merit," the Emperor acknowledged, "yet one concern requires resolution."
"Shoot."
"Should I traverse these dimensional barriers? What temporal displacement occurs upon my return? If Terra suffers irreversible change during my absence, what value would alien knowledge possess?"
"Ah, temporal mechanics—yeah, I can anchor the timestream for you. No matter how long we spend dimension-hopping, only one day passes here. Think of it as... cosmic time dilation, but way cooler."
"One solar day?" The Emperor's psychic presence pulsed with consideration. "Such parameters prove... acceptable. I agree to this compact."
"Contract sealed, Big Guy. Time to show you what the multiverse has to offer."
The Raven's form dissolved into coruscating light, expanding into a spiraling vortex that defied mortal comprehension. The luminous maelstrom engulfed the Master of Mankind, reality bending around their merged essence.
Then, both were gone.
Valdor observed this impossible sight, concealed concern flickering across his usually stoic features. For the first time in his existence, he could not stand guard at his master's side.
"What transpired here?" Malcador's eyes swept the empty space where moments before the Emperor had stood. "Where has Our Lord vanished?"
The Sigillite had perceived nothing—only the sound of the Emperor's voice speaking to apparent emptiness, followed by inexplicable absence.