Chương 11: The Master of Mankind

The world around me transformed, completely engulfed in white light. Before me was pure nothingness: no sounds, no smells, not even gravity. I could not feel anything in the Warp, for even the Warp was not here. Reflexively, I tried to look around and raise my hands, but instead of them, I saw two gauntlets that were massive even for an ordinary man. This was what the hand of an Astartes might look like, but definitely not a child or a baseline human.

I tried to clench it and immediately felt an immense, superhuman strength surging through me. Raising my head, I saw that I had ended up in an entirely different place. I was in some dark laboratory, illuminated only by lumen-globes and the glowing screens of cogitators. Before me stood an old man wrapped in a robe, looking at me with curiosity, as if I were an interesting bug or a fascinating laboratory experiment. To his side stood a true giant, significantly surpassing even Atreus.

He was over three meters tall and encased in white-gold armor that was technologically superior to anything I had seen before. He held a long blade in his hand, along which pale blue lightning danced, and he looked at me sternly. He had Asian facial features, but it was impossible to say exactly what ethnicity he belonged to. They examined me in silence, but with every passing second, it became harder for me to look at them.

Reality seemed to blur, after which it finally shattered into pieces, and I was once again standing amidst the endless light. Strange images appeared before me several more times, disappearing after a few seconds, returning me to the light. I found myself in a wide variety of situations: one moment I was in a massive library holding millions of books on every conceivable subject, the next I was in the middle of a battlefield, single-handedly facing countless hordes of daemons.

My left hand blazed with lightning forged from psychic power, and in my right was a spear radiating pure white light capable of wounding even the strongest of beasts. I fought the daemons, giving it my all, but there were too many of them, and in the end, I was simply overwhelmed by the damned legions, after which the world plunged back into light. I tried to make sense of what was happening and how to escape this state, but each new transition muddled my thoughts.

I needed to compose myself and concentrate my powers to stop this event, but I wasn't sure I had the knowledge and experience to do so. The world blinked again, and a new environment formed around me. I found myself in an ancient amphitheater, standing in the middle of a grand stage, with tens of thousands of people looking at me. Representatives of every stratum were gathered here: Space Marines of various kinds, three-eyed mutant Navigator psykers, Sisters of Silence clad in armor, and blind Astropath psykers.

But standing out above them all was Him. A towering, four-meter-tall figure in golden armor sat on a dais above the stage, looking directly at me. This man embodied absolute perfection in every conceivable quality one could imagine. Though I had, of course, never seen the Emperor of Mankind before, it was instinctively clear that this was Him and no one else. No one was simply capable of replicating the aura of absolute supremacy radiating from Him.

Now I understood why it was so difficult for Him to explain that He wasn't a god. In all the previous jumps, I had been more of an observer, watching someone's actions from the outside, but not this time. If, prior to my arrival, He had merely looked stern and shown no emotion, my appearance changed everything. The colors of the world around me faded, and time seemed to stop for everyone except Him. The Emperor displayed only a fraction of surprise on his face, but it was enough for me to notice.

"You are not my son. I cannot see your path. But at the same time... this is interesting. I never considered the possibility of using this phenomenon in such a way; it is far too rare. But if you think about it, it is theoretically possible." It was impossible to clearly discern the Emperor's voice, as He somehow spoke in dozens of different tones simultaneously, each unique and unrepeatable.

I wanted to ask Him something, but I couldn't control my body in any way, leaving me simply standing in place, unable to move. However, I began to guess whose place I was currently occupying. And if you thought about it, all the previous visions were connected to something. Or rather, someone.

"I see the process has already begun, but it will take considerable time. Hmm, a truly interesting idea. In that case, we can even try to slightly accelerate the 'awakening'." I felt what seemed like lightning pass through me. The power inside instantly reacted, and very strange processes began. They weren't negative; in fact, they were quite positive. Thinking became much easier, and I could finally concentrate my powers. The world plunged into light, but I still felt His attention.

Yet, somehow, I now knew what to do. I came to my senses and saw that I had finally returned to my normal body. Atreus was trying to wake me up, while simultaneously fighting off several daemons. They were hideous lilac blobs of flesh, from which bones, tentacles, and even some analogues of fangs and claws protruded. Judging by the remnants of their uniforms, this used to be the ship's crew, transformed into these monsters due to the Gellar Field failing.

And judging by all appearances, the spawn of the Prince of Pleasure had no intention of leaving me alive. Except these creatures had clearly messed with the wrong people, as Atreus was literally tearing them apart, destroying several monsters at once with every swing of his blade. Zerbe wasn't standing idle either; purple lightning was currently arching outward from him, incinerating the beasts in seconds, but even that paled in comparison to the Space Marine's filigree work.

I was trying to figure out what was happening inside me. What I had seen were not simple Warp visions. I could have chalked my jumps from place to place up to a simple delusion, but Him... I don't know exactly how, but I still feel a part of His power, as if it's guiding me? Plus, there was a very interesting, albeit unpleasant, thought regarding my connection to a certain homemade Primarch. But before I sort through all this nonsense, I need to at least survive. And that will be a task in itself....

There is a superstition that the Astartes are capable of living forever. This myth is tied to the fact that not a single one of the Emperor's Angels has ever died from something as simple, and in a way inglorious, as time. Only mortals think this way, or young, untrained Neophytes. They are incapable of understanding that time kills everyone in its own way. Some are "lucky" to leave this world in their prime, leaving an indelible mark on history that will be remembered by the generations that follow.

But this path is not for everyone. Atreus was old. Very, very old. So old that he still remembered ancient Terra. The one before the Unification Wars. He was likely the last person who had seen it like that with his own eyes. The sacred world was dying, trapped in a state of eternal war where every side possessed weapons of incredible power, meaning local conflicts always ended in rivers of blood. He had been taken as an infant and became one of the first thirty Custodians, created personally by Him.

He personally trained them and forged each into the most perfect weapon. Atreus... that was just one of his names. Out of the several thousand he had acquired over long, long millennia, it was his first. For the Emperor's personal guard, every name encapsulates one of their feats. Each is sacred and serves as a reward for their eternal service. Once, they were bestowed by the Master of Mankind Himself, but the days when He walked among mortals had long passed.

And there was not a second that he did not regret that fact. Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Though the righteous Praetorian had many names, there was no reward more valuable than His recognition. The Emperor Himself had named him Atreus, impressed by his bravery and fearlessness even during his training prior to the Unification Wars. It meant "invincible" in one of Terra's ancient languages, which was now known only to the Emperor Himself.

And although he received many names after that, it was the one he liked the most, for back then, the young warrior was flattered by the idea that he truly was invincible. Only later did the Praetorian realize it was not simply a gift. Wanting to prove he was worthy of the name, he pushed himself harder and further than practically any of his brothers. Every day he had to become better. Every hour had to be spent usefully. Every second mattered.

He lived at this pace for centuries, honing his skills as both a warrior and a diplomat. Even the mind of such an enhanced being struggled to cope with the burden, but he knew he simply had no choice. Either death or the fate of becoming weak. And that meant betraying His trust, which was an order of magnitude worse than dying. Atreus pushed himself to the absolute limit and beyond, but this titanic effort paid off handsomely.

He became one of the most experienced and talented warriors of the Golden Guard, second only to a handful of others also personally created by the Emperor. They were His Ten Thousand, an unstoppable force capable of destroying anything and anyone. He still remembered the day they faced the Thunder Warriors. Those superhumans surpassed even the Space Marines in raw physical strength, but their psychic instability negated all the benefits. They were a threat to His plan, and therefore they had to be destroyed.

Brutally and mercilessly. That day, they revealed themselves to the world for the first time and proved they were worthy of guarding the Emperor Himself. It was their triumph, the first step toward even greater achievements for their brotherhood. Yes, Atreus was inferior to Valdor or Cobernus, but he never envied them, for they had earned their honors. Besides, he never saw himself as a Tribune or a Captain, because he had a different calling.

Ten thousand golden guardsmen protected the Emperor, but among them, there had to be someone who simply eliminated enemies before they could scheme anything. And that was Atreus's role. He had spilled the blood of His enemies almost since the birth of the Imperium, yet he received no praise or recognition, because he did not fight for those things. He was the Emperor's weapon during the Great Crusade, sent to liquidate enemy leaders and crush rebellions in the cradle. Quietly, without noise, and without witnesses.

Not a shield, but a blade that kills enemies. And he executed every mission, paying no mind to glory or honors. Every one of the Ten Thousand worked and lived for a single goal: protecting the Emperor. Because of this, they could understand each other without words and trust each other with their lives without hesitation. They were brothers, but unfortunately, they were not the Emperor's only sons. The Primarchs... Atreus had seen each of them personally, but not a single one had impressed him.

Yes, they were the Emperor's creations, and therefore, by definition, they were unique and superior to practically anyone. Practically. Every member of the Golden Guard could tell at a glance exactly what they were. Weapons. Highly powerful and incredibly dangerous, but still just weapons. During the Unification Wars, the Thunder Warriors were led by the Angel, a proto-Primarch and the psychic embodiment of His wrath, capable of incinerating entire armies in an instant.

But it was still just a weapon, one the Emperor discarded due to unreliability. And although He improved the concept, making them more human, the unreliability never went away. Each of them surpassed even the best of the Golden Guard in every parameter except one. They believed too strongly in their own exceptionalism and carried the seeds from which heresy could grow. Every Custodian was loyal to the Emperor to the core of their soul, and that is exactly what made them infinitely more significant than "demigods."

This was obvious from the very beginning, and the consequences were expected. But they couldn't stop Horus's rebellion, for they were fighting a different war. The Emperor led them to conquer the Webway, but instead of a triumph, it turned into the most horrific slaughter in their history. The War within the Webway was one of their greatest defeats, but the cause of their downfall was the mistake of one of the Primarchs.

Magnus the Red was the strongest psyker in the galaxy after the Emperor, but his arrogance and pride caused his downfall and the ruin of the Emperor's plans. He created a breach that now leaves Terra constantly under the threat of a daemonic invasion and the creation of a new Eye of Terror. Only His psychic will keeps reality intact and prevents the daemons from breaking through. But that was only the first step toward the end. In those days, their host suffered more heavily than ever before in history.

Many great warriors died heroic deaths fulfilling one of the Emperor's final orders. Living legends perished fighting endless hordes of daemons, but even their sacrifices were not enough. The vast majority of the Golden Guard died in an unequal struggle, but somehow, Atreus survived. One of the last Custodians created personally by the Emperor, he continued to fulfill his mission. And the role of a guard of the Golden Throne became more relevant than ever.

The Horus Heresy was the final nail in the Imperium's coffin. The schism among the Primarchs led to the greatest tragedy in human history. The Emperor's sons betrayed their father and caused countless casualties. The traitors reached Terra itself and clashed against the final line of defense. And then they had to step out for the final battle, where the blood of heroes was spilled every second. Almost all of the Ten Thousand died during the Siege of Terra, but not Atreus.

He faced Greater Daemons and even traitor Primarchs, yet by some miracle, he always survived. He risked himself and led from the front, but remained invincible. To the very end and beyond. The Emperor faced Horus and destroyed the traitor, albeit at a terrible cost. The Custodians failed to fulfill their primary and sole objective—to protect the Emperor—forcing Him to sit upon the Golden Throne, where life support systems maintained a spark of life within Him, a state that continues even after a hundred centuries.

And then came the withering. Almost completely wiped out, the Golden Guard had to rise from the ashes and rebuild their numbers to effectively fulfill their role once more. Atreus had to assume the role of Shield-Captain, suddenly realizing that all his other brothers had long since perished, posthumously writing their names into history. Only he remained undefeated.

Disgraced and bound to his duty until the end of time, he became the oldest and most experienced member of the Golden Guard after Valdor's disappearance. Yet, Atreus refused the rank of Captain-General. He had failed his lord and was simply unworthy of such a position. His duty was to protect the Emperor, but it was already too late. Enduring eternal torment for his failure, millennia passed. Atreus never stopped training every day, but there was no longer any point to it.

He watched as the Imperium devolved from a brilliant vision into a mere parody and mockery of all His ideas. But the Golden Guard did not care about the Imperium. Their task was to protect the Emperor, and they would fulfill it until the end of time. At least, that is what he thought for many millennia. The truth was, even though an organism enhanced by the Emperor Himself was superb, time spared no one.

Centuries passed, and Atreus began to notice that his progress had slowed significantly, until it almost completely stopped. He pushed himself to the absolute maximum, but his grey hair showed that everyone has a limit. He was the oldest warrior of the Ten Thousand, the last to remember the Emperor walking the earth, but it came with a price. Then came the day when, during training, he noticed his reaction time was a fraction of an instant slower than before.

It was the most terrifying day of his life, for it meant he could no longer guard His rest as perfectly. It was a dark sign that his watch had ended. But duty never ends. He left his armor behind and set out to wander the galaxy with only a blade. Atreus became the Emperor's eyes, his job being the elimination of any threats that might endanger the life of the greatest of men. He was old, but even so, his abilities were enough to eradicate entire Chaos cults and overly active Orks.

He found ancient artifacts, returning them to Terra so no one could use them against the Emperor. But everything changed one day. During his meditations, he heard His voice. The Emperor Himself gave his last Praetorian his most important task. Atreus became His emissary, tasked with preserving the life of and training a single child. And now he stood with his blade, looking at heaps of dead daemons. Atreus had seen Fulgrim himself after he embraced his daemonic nature, and faced him directly.

And although those times are long gone, he still remains invincible.