Dael had no idea.
Her instinctive behavior had long since been detected by the Savior's psychic awareness.
"So much for a political alliance... that woman's got her own agenda."
Eden stepped out of the lavish bedroom with a soft sigh.
What was supposed to be a transactional, physical relationship to establish political ties had apparently turned into sothing else—the rchant Queen seed intent on becoming the mother of his child.
Well, that wasn't his problem.
As a Primarch, Eden's status was practically divine. As long as he didn't betray the Imperium, he inherently held the highest political power.
Anyone or anything associated with a Primarch would gain unimaginable benefits.
Simply put, a Primarch was the fusion of faith, authority, and overwhelming might.
Even if one awoke naked and broke, the re act of returning to the Imperium would instantly restore them to great power.
Those Chapters created using Primarch gene-seed would naturally be drawn to obey their gene-father, and wherever a Primarch walked, Imperial citizens would flock to worship him.
A return to the center of power was inevitable.
Countless nobles and bureaucrats across the Imperium longed for the favor of a Primarch, hoping to gain influence through their patronage.
Even a beggar on the street, if chosen by a Primarch, could ascend to a position above trillions.
Take Eden, for example. He had the authority to appoint anyone as governor of a planet—or even grant an entire paradise world as private property to whover he pleased.
It all depended on whether he wanted to.
Just imagine:
You're walking down the street one day...
Suddenly, a golden giant falls from the sky and says, "Kid, you've got potential. I'll take you in as my adopted son.
From now on, this entire planet is your personal property."
And then you're branded with the Primarch's sigil, escorted by the Emperor's Angels into the governor's palace, and handed absolute planetary authority.
You've just inherited the dream of a lifeti.
Even if you know nothing, you can learn. Administrative experts and elite guards will be there to help you rule.
Nobles and officials would grovel before you. Countless won would throw themselves at you.
All because the Primarch favored you.
And the truth was even more outrageous.
With the expansion of Eden's territory, many forr underhive paupers who once struggled to eat—barely above slaves—had risen to beco rulers of entire star systems.
They weren't necessarily more talented than trillions of other humans.
They were just lucky enough to earn the Savior's trust, and thus received resources and training beyond imagination.
And naturally, they soared.
If Dael of House Kaos could bear a child of the Primarch, the rewards would be even greater—insane, even.
She wouldn't even need to do anything. Just give birth to the child, and she'd have an extraordinary heir.
A child carrying the Primarch's genes was destined to beco a mighty warrior, potentially even the founder of a new Astartes Chapter.
Even if not, their lineage alone would grant them massive power in the Imperium or Eden's own domain.
Of course, it wasn't that simple.
But ancient noble families who'd developed for centuries knew how to achieve such goals without angering a Primarch—how to use his bloodline to further their ambitions.
Dael had studied the Savior's character thoroughly and planned to have her entire family swear absolute loyalty to him once the child was born.
To accept all of his commands—herself included.
She'd simply be a mother. She would raise the child, cultivate an unshakable emotional bond.
And from that, everything else would follow.
Eden knew exactly what was going on. After all, countless beauties had already tried to beco "the mother of his child."
Primarchs were genetically engineered beings. They didn't easily produce offspring.
But it wasn't impossible.
Even the infamous Fabius Bile had cloned complete Primarchs from gene-seed—so it stood to reason that across the galaxy, various relics or technologies might exist that could make it happen.
If soone did manage to obtain his genetic material, they could theoretically produce a true-blood heir.
And then what?
Was he supposed to slaughter his own child—a defenseless baby?
That was a line he likely couldn't cross. He'd just have to accept it... and figure sothing out afterward.
Fortunately for him, Dael's dream of "eating the peach" would co to nothing.
Eden had taken precautions—any ti his genetic material left his body, even for a mont, he'd use subtle psychic power to utterly destroy it.
Reducing the genetic structure to dust.
It was akin to how certain celebrities or billionaires in his previous life carried hot sauce with them at all tis—paying huge sums to ensure no offspring were produced from... accidents.
So would even dump hot sauce into bodily fluids after the act, to prevent anyone from trying to "reintroduce" it.
There had even been infamous cases of people trying to sneak it back in—leading to hospitalizations and lawsuits.
Currently, Eden had no desire to leave behind any heirs.
Too dangerous.
A child of his blood would inherently draw power away from him, and be impossible to control. Worse, this was a galaxy riddled with the corrupting influence of Chaos.
Even the Emperor Himself hadn't been able to avoid this danger, and had paid dearly for it.
He was the pri example.
Those twenty sons—Primarchs—were incredibly powerful and brought great strength to the Imperium.
But they were also stubborn, each with their own ideals and beliefs. Cliques and rivalries ford among them, and eventually, full-blown civil war erupted.
They clashed with their father's vision.
And ultimately, under the influence of the Chaos Gods, many betrayed Him.
The whole galaxy had laughed.
And now, the Emperor sat atop the Golden Throne. One had to wonder—did He regret creating the Primarchs? Or just regret not guiding them properly?
Eden was certain: He regretted it. Especially after seeing what a ss so of the Traitor Primarchs had beco.
Fulgrim, the once-beloved Phoenician, had beco a walking insult. He must have driven the Emperor to near-cardiac arrest.
History was full of father-son betrayals among emperors, rulers, and noble families.
Rebellion against the father figure was a tiless tale.
Eden had no confidence in raising a proper heir just yet—and he didn't need one.
He was immortal.
And Chaos had too many grudges against him. The Dark Gods were surely watching, just waiting for him to make a mistake.
If he ever had a child, that child would beco an obvious target for corruption.
Corrupting a baby was far easier than twisting a hardened Primarch.
Eden could already envision the tragic scenario that might unfold:
Beginning:
My child, when you were born, the whole of Holy Urth whispered your na.
I watched you grow, proud beyond words, believing you would be a beacon of justice.
Rember: we rule this vast domain with kindness and wisdom. I trust you to use your power with restraint—to bring salvation to our people. Beco a new legend.
Developnt:
The Savior's heir grew stronger each day, commanding armies and holding sway.
But he began to question things—he didn't understand his father's actions, and yearned for more.
Whispers entered his ears.
They told him his father, the Savior, had deceived everyone... and planned to ascend to godhood on the souls of the people.
Perhaps it was his destiny to stop it.
Conclusion:
Father... I never wanted this. I never wanted to unleash my legion.
We drove back the dark ages together. We built a paradise. But you lied.
You stole the power of the gods and deceived your own son.
Humanity doesn't need a god-king. Your divine will is a path to extinction.
If your death is the only way to save us... then I will end you.
Even if it ans war across the stars, oceans boiling, and suns collapsing—
Even if I must shed every last drop of my blood.
I will burn this galaxy bright—
And in your ashes, free mankind!
"Yeah... we can't have the galaxy burn a second ti," Eden winced at the thought. "Humanity's strong, but not that strong…"
It wasn't far-fetched at all.
The Chaos Gods were stronger than ever, and now had experience in pulling off such manipulations.
They could absolutely raise a new and improved Horus from his bloodline.
Better to never give them the chance.
He didn't want a child to soday stand before him shouting, "Old man! Ti to die!"
Maybe one day, when the galaxy was safe—he could follow the Emperor's example and raise a few heirs to fight beyond the stars.
To resist the Tyranids. To conquer the void.
Then maybe he could retire—tour the universe, and enjoy the infinite wonders of reality.
But that was far, far in the future.
First, he had to survive this galactic apocalypse—and secure humanity's future.
A thought struck him.
Eden reached into his robes and retrieved his sigil.
The dark golden emblem floated behind him, guided by psychic energy, passing through the bedroom doors and landing softly before Dael.
He didn't dislike the rchant Queen.
This was a gesture of goodwill—a symbol that her family and his domain would work closely together in the future.
"Lord Savior…"
Dael was overwheld with joy, clutching the sigil tightly to her chest.
To her, it was a sign of the Primarch's commitnt. She believed her future child would be blessed with even more favor.
She had no idea... that this was Eden's cold farewell.
A compensation for a dream that would never co true.
But maybe—just maybe—soday in the far future… she would get everything she dread of.
—
Thump, thump, thump—
Armor-piercing rounds roared through the air.
The Thunder Warriors' Champions unleashed a rciless barrage of saturating firepower, utterly annihilating a chanically enhanced human target—leaving behind nothing but burning ceramite and flesh fused into molten slag.
It was an assassin.
A would-be killer who had attempted to strike at the Primarch.
Eden stood in the center of a city street near the port, his gaze cold as he watched the flas. He wasn't surprised.
"How many tis has it been now?"
He couldn't even keep count anymore. Attempts on his life ca from all directions, in broad daylight or from the shadows.
The nobles and bureaucrats of the Imperium were masters of this dark art.
"All that glitters is not gold… never doubt that this galaxy's most dangerous world only needs one second to kill you."
The Traveler had once said this about Holy Terra.
This throneworld was the heart of Imperial power—and a hive of ambition.
Those who gathered here were the most ruthless, lawless, power-hungry schers chosen from hundreds of millions of civilizations.
Each of them hoped to realize their ambitions, and none would let anything stand in their way—not even family.
Where there is power, there is bloodshed.
And this was the center of all power in the galaxy.
Plots and murders flourished. Patricide and betrayal were common.
Terra now harbored far too many ill intentions toward him.
He had to stay vigilant.
So assassins might wield lost relic-tech capable of bypassing psychic shields and striking fatal blows.
Eden had faced many assassins before—but recently, it had beco far too frequent.
"What am I now, a boss monster on repeat farm?"
He sighed.
This wasn't his turf.
And with so many factions turning a blind eye, the masterminds behind each attack were nearly impossible to identify.
Fortunately, their day of reckoning was coming soon.
Eden sighed again, then began heading toward the orbital elevator under the protection of the Thunder Warriors' Champions.
Suddenly, he stopped.
The Thunder Champions had sensed sothing.
Imdiately, they reacted. One raised a shield to guard the Primarch, while the others aid their weapons toward the source of the threat.
"Lord Savior, we an no harm…"
Two figures descended gracefully, wings of white unfurling as they landed in unison.
They were the Twin Seraphs—living saints, servants of the silver-haired angel.
Their faces were delicate and serene, as if sculpted by divine hands. White soft armor clung to their forms, bloodstained in places—only accentuating their beauty.
One of them carried the corpse of an agent—dead, still clad in a stealth cloak.
She dropped the body before Eden, her voice lodic like a golden oriole's call:
"We discovered an assassin plotting against you and have dealt with it accordingly."
Eden gave a warm smile and nodded. "Thank you. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to seek out."
He had saved the silver-haired angel once—soothed her soul with the energy of a miniature sun.
Though they hadn't interacted much afterward, he still considered her an ally.
"Good wine for friends, guns for wolves," Eden thought.
He had always believed in kindness for his own people.
The twin saints exchanged a glance, then respectfully said, "Our mistress wishes to invite you to her residence…"
This surprised Eden.
In his mory, the silver-haired angel, a living saint venerated across the Imperium, was aloof and distant.
She seldom spoke to others outside of battle.
"Maybe she has important information for ?"
He speculated.
After all, she was loyal to the Imperium itself, not just its ruling factions.
Perhaps she too had grown disgusted with the current situation and wanted to join the fight.
She might truly beco his ally.
Of course, nearly every departnt and faction of the Imperium claid loyalty to the Imperium—but the thods of that loyalty varied.
So adhered strictly to the ideals left by the Emperor and Malcador.
They believed humanity should rule itself—not be dominated by genetically engineered warriors.
That had been the original purpose of the political system the Emperor designed.
On Terra, it was mortal administrators who ran the Imperium. Primarchs and Astartes were to fight on the frontlines, expanding the realm and slaying humanity's enemies.
That had even been one reason so Primarchs had rebelled.
After the Great Crusade, they found themselves shackled by endless bureaucracy—forced to follow orders from people they deed inferior.
They believed the Emperor saw them as re tools, used and discarded.
Even Guilliman himself had sulked for a long ti after his return—burdened by old resentnts.
Perhaps, when he ford the "Second Imperium," he had felt a flicker of triumph at finally being free of the Emperor's leash.
Then he learned Big E was still alive—and rushed off to render aid, panic written all over his face.
But now, the Imperium had changed. Ten thousand years of decay had taken its toll.
People needed a Primarch to hold everything together.
And so, when Guilliman returned, he was able to rise to the role of Lord Regent.
Still, many factions only temporarily accepted him. Deep down, they remained loyal to their old beliefs.
They didn't want Primarchs ruling humanity.
With the Imperium now crawling out of its deathbed, these factions had started to stir again.
And with Eden proposing sweeping reforms, the resistance only intensified.
He understood it.
His reforms sought to reshape the Imperium to resemble his own realm—unified, efficient, and centralized—not the fractured ss it had beco.
To them, it was extre authoritarianism.
But that was his ultimate goal: centralized power. A united Imperium with him as the voice that mattered most.
Resistance was inevitable.
But in tis of crisis, centralization sparked true power.
Even in the ancient Terran past, authoritarian regis had pulled strength from poverty and ruin—just a bit too extrely.
Even the so-called democratic United States had "warti presidents."
In critical tis, soone had to be in charge. Fragnted interests only led to collapse.
The Imperium was collapsing from within.
Even the chanicus, supposedly a peaceful and academic organization, would see two Forge Worlds tear each other apart over a single unearthed relic.
And the Ecclesiarchy? Bloodier still—their theological squabbles made civil war look polite.
Eden had his own ambitions. He wanted to end all of it.
The Imperium only needs one sun.
Once it had been the Emperor. Now, it would be the Savior.
And so long as he lived, humanity still had a future.
Of course, he couldn't expose his ambitions too early.
For now, the Imperial factions still respected him as the Hope Primarch.
But if he ever ca out and said, "I want to be the Emperor of Humanity"—the High Lords would probably form a coalition to "protect Terra from tyranny."
Even Guilliman might object.
And if the old man whipped out the Emperor's Sword with a quiet, "My blade is not dull yet," that'd be a real ss.
So Eden wouldn't touch the political system—at least, not openly.
He'd use subtle influence instead.
The most effective thod? Launching purges under the na of the Emperor.
Cleanse a few High Lords, force so retirents, bring in loyal replacents.
Reform Terra's administration.
Utilize the Machine God's network to enhance the Imperium's outdated infrastructure and bureaucracy.
Plant his people across Terra—and gradually spread the system across the stars.
Then, ti would do the rest.
Generations later, Terra's elite would be made up of his people.
And Eden, the Savior, already revered and in control of all administrative tools, would beco the natural ruler of the Imperium.
It would be destiny.
Of course, he could do it the Horus way—burn the galaxy, storm Terra, and wipe out all opposition.
But that wasn't smart.
The Imperium was far too vast. Every High Lord held massive territories, forces, and entire sub-empires.
He couldn't wage war on every single one.
That would take too long.
And it would give Chaos and xenos ti to pop champagne.
No—the strategy was clear:
More allies, fewer enemies.
Build walls, store grain, delay the crown.
And the silver-haired angel?
She would be a fine ally.
Tomorrow was the Victory Celebration. Who knew what might happen?
One more ally couldn't hurt.
Eden accepted the Twin Seraphs' invitation—and followed them to the angel's sanctum.
——
Sanctum of the Living Saint
Eden followed the twin saints through a grand hall adorned with angelic statues, then down a long corridor, until they reached their destination.
The twins turned, bowed, and Eden caught a glimpse of white flesh beneath their armor.
"My lord, our mistress awaits you inside."
"…This is a private chamber, isn't it?"
Eden frowned. It felt like he was being led into the personal quarters of a saint.
A weird sense of déjà vu struck him—just like his visit to the rchant Queen's ship yesterday.
Three people. Sa vibe.
"She's eting here?"
He asked curiously—only to receive a strange look from the twin saints.
"That look…"
It felt familiar—like they saw right through him.
"Oh no... it's like those noble ladies again. Don't tell they saw those blasphemous 'Savior Passion Relics' too?"
"…Or worse, the angel herself has seen them?"
Eden's mind blanked.
This… this might not be a formal eting after all.
Then he caught himself.
"Damn it! Slaanesh's lingering power is clouding again!"
She was a saint! A holy angel of the Imperium! How dare he think such thoughts?
He forced down the rising heat in his blood.
Regaining composure, Eden cald his mind.
He entered the sage mode.
Then, guided by the Twin Seraphs, he stepped into the chamber—filled with the sweet scent of sanctity.
And the private bedroom of a living saint.
(End of Chapter)
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