“They shall be our finest warriors, these machines who give themselves to humanity. Like clay we shall mould them and in the furnace of war forge them. They will be of iron will and steely muscle. In great armour shall I clad them and with the mightiest guns will they be armed. They will be untouched by mortality or pain, no sickness will blight them. They will have tactics, strategies and weapons such that no foe can best them in battle. They are our bulwark against the Green Tide. They are the Defenders of Humanity. They are the Iron Minds and they shall know no fear.”

-Words attributed to an unknown scientist who took part in the creation of the Men of Iron, during the Great Orkoid War of M22

M24. 196

[INSUFFICIENT CLEARANCE LEVEL], Research Complex of the Psykana Militant

As humanity journeyed amongst the stars and their technological might grew, what was once thought supernatural was taken apart and explained by the cold logic of science. In the process, man finally confirmed what he had been dreaming for thousands of years; there were indeed humans that were more than mere mortal flesh, able to shape reality through the power of their minds alone, the stuff of legends, myths and stories brought to life.

Psykers, as they were called, were at first greatly feared and abhorred, for man fears nothing more than the unknown. However, this changed with the galaxy-shattering conflict known as the First Galactic War in M15, where the dread hosts of Rangda marched across the galaxy, the Aeldari Empire no longer caring to suppress them. Entire species fought and died under the advance of the Rangdans, their genome absorbed into the Rangdan war-machine to produce varieties of monsters wearing the skin of extinct species. Finally, at the apex of the battle, humanity turned the tide with one of their greatest creations -- the Navigators, who could guide ships through the Warp with ease. With this new logistal advantage, the temporarily united human polities drove the Rangdans back, shattering their homeworld with the newly-invented two-stage cyclonic torpedo, the survivors fleeing into deep space. Afterwards psykers gained much more respect, and eventually acceptance.

After its birth, The Federation understood the tremendous military potential that psykers held, for a trained psyker was basically a living weapon on the battlefield. Thus the Psykana Militant was born, one of the most elite armed forces in the Federation’s arsenal, in which psykers were recruited and trained to fight for and defend humanity. Among the branches of the Psykana Militant was the SEER Division, where scientists sought to divine the threads of the future using the Warp as a tool, for the Immaterium remembers all things, no matter past, present or future.

Within a room half-separated from reality, a young psychic entered the pod, machines whirring around her, tubes and needles glowing with arcane light. The 'scrying pod' glowing oval with the insides made of Warp-amplifying crystal, while the outside was coated in thick plates of psychically-insulative material and covered in adamantium-engraved warding scripts.

As the doors closed, Essana Sagami took a deep breath while the metallic cover on the back of her neck slid open, artificial nerve fibres connecting her to the pod. I can do this, she told herself. I’m a Beta-Class; I’ve done the simulations, gone over the disciplines a thousand times. I can do this.

She let go, her soul diving into the unfathomable tides of the Warp, through time and space and what could have been, with a singular purpose- to gaze upon the paths that the future could take.

And so she fell.

Her luminous soul fell through labyrinths of dead dreams and sparkling thoughts, guided by artifices of steel and silicon, tracing an iridescent thread of hollow light towards her destination, surrounded by infinite possibilities of things that will never come to pass and yet, may have passed.

After both an eternity, an instant and a heartbeat, the space between the churning layers of the Ocean Without End rips apart, and Essana passes through.

And all she can see and hear and feel and taste is wrongwrongwrongwrongWRONGWRONG-

Something, given birth by the blood of crushed innocence and atrocities wrought of selfishness, wounding the universe itself with its birth scream.

A hundred hundred stars winking out as things that should not be awaken, roused by the cries of their brethen.

A desperate attempt, to repel the darkness, stepping on the corpses of a thousand thousand souls.

Betrayal, betrayal, betrayal- a favoured son leading an army of darkness and ruin, the last hope of man gone forever.

Essana saw everything, in all its macabre glory and agony.

Feral roars of green beasts deafening the cosmos, carving ugly scars across the galaxy.

Locusts of chitin and hunger, that do not belong, never have belonged, devouring, consuming, eating until there is nothing left-

Humanity flagellating itself until only a husk is left, hollowed out by the weight of its own sins.

Ancient bodies of star-metal gaze at the stars, with eyes that know nothing of mercy or compassion.

She saw the Eye, and it stared right back at her.

She is blind and deaf and mute and numb as laughter swelled into endless cacophonies of disharmony around her, leering faces of war and decay and desire and false hope emerging from the abyss to swallow her whole.

Her soul cannot bear it, fracturing and bending -- a million arms grab at her, seductive whispers telling her to give in, to give in-

A flare of power, a bellow, and she is somewhere else.

Essana screamed.

She saw a cracked skull, the orifices bleeding golden ichor, the ribcage under it crucified to a rotten throne of howling faces, while maddened saints howl cries of praise and adulation.

The thing opened its mouth, every syllable threatening to shatter her under the weight of their power.

+WARN THEM. THEY HAVE TO KNOW. THEY HAVE TO KNOW!+

Then she is hurled back, through time and space and shadow. And as Essana Sagami woke, her body convulsing amidst the shattered pieces of the pod, blood dripping from her eyes while two paramedic droids and a biomancer rushed into the room, she knows that what she glimpsed would stay with her until her dying day.

M24, 197

Sol System, Terra

Terra. The Cradle of Mankind. The center of civilization. A blue-white gem in the black void of space.

She is beautiful, of that there can be no doubt. Great orbital plates drift above the atmosphere, each holding a bustling city of glowing lights and steel, party districts where the revelry never ends, or intricate ecospheres where scientist-artisans imitate the Earth biomes of old.

On the surface, one can see breathtaking gardens shimmering with colors, cities made of crystal that shine with bewitching lustre, and gargantuan aircraft crossing the skies. Glittering blue oceans and verdant forests rich with life, long-extinct species brought to life by gene-smiths.

At the Himalzan Mountains, the Astronomican burned, the first Lodestar absorbing, purifying and releasing tremendous amounts of psychic energy in the Warp, powering a beacon that can be seen as far as the Halo Stars. The great mountains, hollowed out and filled with arcane machinery, saturated the air with psychic power, forming a ghostly white aurora that can be seen for millions of miles at night -- indeed, it was a popular tourist destination.

The scientist hummed as he walked along the crisscrossing pathways of light connecting buildings to one another in Hy-Brasil, the City of Light. This was the adminstrative headquarters of the Federation, where the decisions made here could shape the future of the galaxy. Floating on the ocean, the aquatic city made for a breathtaking sight, architecture of all shapes and styles meshing together.

He had switched to another form, his flesh shifting via biomancy to assume that of a man with gene-modded height of ten meters, with coal-black skin and glowing red eyes. Here he was Estalius M. Pollidae, one of the top brass of the Psykana Militant.

Stretching out his senses, he felt a familiar presence calling to him. My child. It resembled a woman’s voice, if a woman’s voice contained the rumbling of volcanoes, the raging tides of the seas, the chirping of crickets at night, the soft rustling of grass and the whispers of the wind. Welcome back, Adam.

The Perpetual smiled. Hello, Gaea. He thought back. Are you well?

Wonderful. Came the response. As long as the Astronomican is lit, sleep shall not claim me. Terra's World Spirit paused. A burden weighs on your heart.

It does. Adam mentally confessed. I fear war is coming again for us all, one that may see us all destroyed.

You humans and your wars. Gaea sighed, her attention drifting somewhere else. I hope you make the right decsion. Take care, Adam.

And so the Perpetual walked with a heavy heart, to attend a meeting that would change the fate of the galaxy.

956. M23

Anaqui System, Lythcanor

Orbiting moon Yndarys

The Pleasure Moon of Yndarys was aflame. Formerly the property of House Lanrith, it now looked nothing like it’s former self. Slave pens had been razed to the ground, the torture-spires being devoured by tides of phosphex while on the cratered streets, entire columns of Aeldari psychomata lay immobile, their neural cores simply disintegrated from the inside out.

Up on the tallest spire, a revolting thing made out of the still-screaming bodies of infants, was the throneroom where the scion of House Lanrith ruled. It was utterly devastated now, the ritual that had been taking place interrupted at the center of the climax. The chalk outlines of atomized Eldar were imprinted on the walls, priceless Aeldari treasures reduced to ash by violent psychic energies.

Two figures stood in the room, one a humanoid wearing a bulky suit of white-gold armor, the other a near-naked Eldar armed with a spear. With a howl, the Eldar rushed his opponent, spear crackling with dark power while at the same time launching a telepathic attack that would crush the mind of most things in the galaxy.

The humanoid didn’t bother to raise a hand. The Eldar’s body stilled, caught in a stasis field. A clench of the hand and the inbuilt Graviton Gun in the suit activated, crushing the alien into a gory ball while in the Warp a blast of golden flame immolated his soul, the scion of House Lanrith gone forever and denied from the cycle of reincarnation.

Adam turned his attention to the center of the throneroom, letting the lifeless ball of flesh drop to the ground. The mutilated corpse of an Eldar babe lay there, the focus of the ritual that he had interrupted earlier. If allowed to continue, it would have become a Daemonhost of prodigious power, fuelled by the souls and depravity on the moon. Unsheathing his sword, he raised it high, leaving a trail of golden light in its wake as he swung down-

“Anathema.”

The baby jerked, pink light spilling from its eyes as six shriveled wings, dripping in fluid, burst from its back as it hovered to Adam’s eye level. “You think you can stop this?”

“Your birth will never come to fruition.” The Perpetual leveled his sword at the temporary Possessed. “I will not allow it.”

It chuckled. “So arrogant, so sure of yourself… my Emperor.”

The warrior jerked back, as if he had been slapped. “I will,” he said through clenched teeth, “never be Emperor.”

The unborn god cackled. “You think you can defy your fate? Your path is set in stone, oh Anathema. Soon I will rise, and my brothers shall awaken to play the Great Game once more. And you will join us at the table as Master of Mankind! I see you glutted on the souls of your own race. Why not embrace who you really are, and take your place as-”

Adam’s sword flashed, the baby’s possessed corpse reduced to cinders and the voice silenced. “The future is always in motion, parasite.” He snarled, sheathing his sword. “And your existence may yet be undone.” He placed his palms on the ground, channeling his tremendous psychic power. Seconds later, the tower began to burn in purifying flame, while the moon's core shuddered, before starting to shake violently.

Without another glance, the Anathema vanished as Yndarys began to crack. But even as he reappeared on his ship, the millennia-old being had already began to adjust his plans. If the nascent god was already cognizant enough to speak through a host, then the stakes had been raised. Briefly, his mind lingered on its parting words.

No. No matter what it said, he was not a god, never a god. And he would not fail in his duty to protect humanity.