2nd Primarch

The moment Sister Efilar was invited to join the Heart Network, Dukel, its master, immediately sensed it.

"Efilar was actually invited by the Heart Network?"

Dukel's expression betrayed his surprise.

As a high-ranking member of the Sisters of Battle, Efilar's faith was unwavering but not blind. She wielded a rare autonomy, deeply devoted to the Emperor above all else. Though Dukel had long anticipated her eventual inclusion in the Heart Network, he hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

What concerned him more was the blessing she carried—the Emperor's Blessing.

The Emperor was no mere figurehead; he was the Warp's fifth god, the Shadow King hidden among the Chaos pantheon. Efilar's inclusion in the Heart Network could, in theory, introduce his influence into the pure construct Dukel had painstakingly built. Even the faintest possibility of contamination was intolerable.

"We have to strip her of the Emperor's blessing before she fully integrates into the Heart Network," Dukel thought grimly. "But how will she react?"

The fact that she could accept the Heart Network's invitation spoke to the strength of her faith. Yet it didn't guarantee she would relinquish the Emperor's blessing willingly.

Efilar recognized Dukel's aura within the Heart Network's invitation interface. She accepted the offer without hesitation.

The moment her choice was confirmed, an excruciating noise pierced her soul—a torment all Heart Network members endured upon joining. Its intensity could shatter the resolve of lesser mortals. Yet Efilar displayed no sign of pain. She remained composed, continuing her prayers as if nothing had happened.

Five hours passed. She did not falter.

When the noise ceased, a melodic chime echoed, followed by the appearance of a translucent panel before her eyes.

Efilar found herself in a vast, dark space illuminated by countless holographic displays scrolling endless streams of data:

"Vanaro Star's Third Fortress requests reinforcements. Minimum: 50 squads.""Cultist activity detected on Nalai Star. Initiating extermination protocols.""Unknown plague identified. Escort required for pathogen samples.""Biomagnetic field technology update: power calibration for 50,000 horsepower."

The information overwhelmed her, but as the pieces connected in her mind, she felt awe and reverence.

"So this is your power, Your Highness Dukel," she whispered. "What a magnificent creation."

Amid the endless updates, a new prompt appeared:

[It is detected that you carry the Emperor's Blessing. Do you wish to upload it to the Heart Network? Uploading will grant you Dukel's Blessing in return.

Warning: Uploading will result in the permanent loss of the Emperor's Blessing. Choose carefully.]

Efilar read the message.

Contrary to Dukel's concerns, there was no hesitation. Without a second thought, she selected Upload.

The moment she made her choice, her body became impossibly heavy. Her vitality ebbed away as the Emperor's divine protection left her. She began to age rapidly, her once-strong body withering and shrinking.

Efilar now stood as a mere mortal, her lifespan diminished to the natural span of humanity. Yet she bore no regret, only resolute faith.

Far away, Dukel held the Emperor's blessing—a radiant sphere of golden light—in his hands. The immense psychic presence within it stirred.

The blessing's departure had drawn the Emperor's attention. The Primarch did not shy away. Instead, he used the blessing as a conduit to establish a deep psychic connection with the Emperor himself.

Dukel's vision shifted, and he found himself in an unfamiliar void. At its center stood the Golden Throne, a monumental structure pulsating with divine energy.

Seated upon it was a towering figure, its presence both mechanical and divine, like a living machine embodying infinite computational power. To Dukel, the Emperor resembled a titanic wheel within wheels, endlessly turning, its surfaces burning with eternal flames and bristling with countless eyes.

In turn, the Emperor perceived Dukel as a massive, complex structure—rotating wheels adorned with threads of faith, tirelessly fueling an immense, all-seeing eye.

Then, as if by mutual accord, their alien forms dissolved. The Emperor appeared as a middle-aged man, unassuming and composed. Dukel, likewise, took on the visage of a stern, youthful warrior.

"You're here?" the Emperor asked.

"Yeah, I'm here," Dukel replied.

"You've changed a lot."

"You've changed too, old man."

"Old man?" The Emperor's golden aura rippled with what seemed like laughter.

For the first time in millennia, the Emperor seemed open to conversation. Perhaps it was the loneliness of ten thousand years, or the rarity of a worthy conversational partner.

Even the Custodians, godlike in the eyes of mortals, could not endure prolonged communion with the Emperor without their minds fracturing. Dukel, however, felt no strain.

Still, the Primarch had little patience for small talk.

Coaxing Ultramarines was exhausting enough. Now I have to entertain a lonely old god? Do they think I'm some kind of cosmic therapist?