Chapter 201: Raven - "Who said it's Yours?"
"We come in peace," Guilliman communicated the message to Megatron and Optimus Primal, leaders of the warring factions.
Sanguinius turned his gaze upon Magnus, disappointment clear in his features. "We tasked you with negotiation, brother. Not provocation."
"The outcome remains unchanged regardless of method," Magnus replied, his tone clipped. "They will submit to the Imperium."
Magnus's expression darkened with barely contained anger.
The humiliation burned through him; he was certain his brothers had orchestrated this spectacle deliberately.
They had observed from orbit, watching the situation spiral beyond his control, descending only when his failure was assured. All to make him appear the fool.
"The outcome is far from ideal," Sanguinius countered, shaking his head. "A world conquered through war, its population seething with hatred, demands far greater resources to govern than one brought into compliance through diplomacy."
"You entrusted this matter to me," Magnus said, irritation bleeding into his words. "Why interfere now? Do you question my capabilities?"
"We question no aspect of your ability, Magnus. We seek only to prevent unnecessary bloodshed." Sanguinius's tone remained measured, though firmness underlay his words.
"But you must temper your approach. The galaxy is vast beyond comprehension, we must maintain humility before it."
"I require no lectures from you." Magnus turned sharply and strode toward the transport shuttle.
Sanguinius watched in silence as the shuttle's engines roared to life, carrying his crimson-skinned brother from the planet's surface back to the warships waiting in low orbit.
Guilliman's subsequent negotiations with the faction leaders proceeded with remarkable efficiency.
"I shall present an offer you cannot refuse," the Lord of Ultramar stated simply. "The only price demanded is your loyalty."
Terra, Imperial Palace
Within the Imperial laboratory, the Emperor labored over his latest work, refining minor imperfections in the Golden Throne's architecture and strengthening His dominion over the Warp.
The Imperium's influence had spread to every corner of the galaxy now. Even the most isolated worlds found themselves touched by its currents.
The Psionic Academy had begun systematic instruction of newly awakened psykers, teaching them to interface with the Warp safely.
The curriculum guided students in harnessing their talents, drawing upon the Empyrean's power while maintaining safeguards against Chaos corruption and the predations of warp entities.
Raven lounged upon a miniature throne upholstered in soft fleece, the entire seat borne aloft by a Custodian.
Several other golden-armored warriors attended him; one held a container of fried potatoes, another bore ketchup, and a third waited with clean towels.
Whenever Raven opened his mouth, a Custodian would deliver a perfectly sauced fry. Once consumed, another would fastidiously wipe his beak.
Valdo's eye twitched at the display.
This damned corvid had truly perfected the art of self-indulgence.
The Imperium's finest warriors, the Ten Thousand themselves, were reduced to serving as this creature's attendants.
Raven remained blissfully unaware of Valdo's internal commentary, fortunate for the Custodian, or he'd likely find himself reassigned to pond duty.
The raven consumed his fried potatoes while observing the hololithic display floating before him. It showed real-time imagery from the Trans-Universal Expeditionary Force.
His connection to the Emperor bound him to this universe, where the Master of Mankind remained, so too must he.
Remote observation was his only means of monitoring Guilliman and the others, ensuring none of the Primarchs walked paths that might lead to rebellion.
Magnus's recent performance prompted a headache. That stubborn fool was undoubtedly sulking.
"I need to find some method of tempering Magnus's obstinacy," Raven muttered.
The display suddenly flickered with interference. A strange metallic visage replaced the expeditionary footage, dominating the screen.
An impossibly vast mechanical entity stared back at him, countless mechanical tendrils extending in every direction. Its eyes blazed like twin stars, vast and terrible.
The Unicron, the betrayer who had turned upon Primus, creator of the Transformers universe.
Unicron wielded infinite power over creation and destruction alike. He existed as a creator-god who transcended conventional dimensions and temporal constraints.
After Primus had been betrayed and forced into hiding, only he could stand against Unicron's might.
Yet Primus lacked the Chaos God's capacity for treachery and cruelty. In their cosmic conflict, Primus had consistently found himself at a disadvantage.
Now, his whereabouts remained unknown. He had even abandoned his own children, the Transformers of Cybertron, leaving them enslaved by Unicron's pawns: Sentinel Prime and the Quintessons.
Currently, Unicron reigned as the supreme power throughout the Transformers multiverse. The entire universe had become his feeding ground. Whenever civilizations developed sufficiently, when races awakened high-level transforming capabilities, they drew Unicron's attention.
His agents would harvest those civilizations through any means necessary, treating entire species as mere nutrients to sustain their dark master. They orchestrated despair and destruction with methodical precision.
"He resembles a metallic Cthulhu," Raven observed, studying the entity. "Albeit with two additional horns."
The mechanical tentacles certainly matched the scale.
"Exercise caution, Lord Raven."
The Custodians reacted instantaneously. Weapons activated, their enhanced physiology tensing beneath golden war-plate. Their eyes scanned every shadow, prepared to strike or sacrifice themselves without hesitation.
Valdor stepped forward, placing himself between Raven and any potential threat.
His complaints meant nothing when measured against duty. Any who sought to harm the Emperor's companion would face his guardian spear first.
The Emperor abandoned His experiments and approached, intent on discerning Unicron's purpose.
Cegorach, the Laughing God, followed in His wake.
"You have trespassed into my territory," Unicron's voice scraped like metal grinding against metal. "Do you seek war?"
"Your territory?" Raven tilted his head, and a glowing golden question mark materialized above him, physically manifested, hovering in the air.
Even Valdor, typically stoic, felt momentarily speechless.
At such a moment, this infuriating bird still found time for theatrical pranks, conjuring literal punctuation above his head.
"Withdraw your forces. It would be better for all parties."
Unicron extended a tentacle, projecting hololithic imagery, a battle raging in the void between Transformers and Astartes forces.
The Blood Angels and Ultramarines had united against Unicron's vanguard. Each Blood Angel bore pure white wings of light upon their backs, gene-crafted modifications that mimicked their Primarch's gifts and enabled void-flight.
The Transformers possessed formidable power, yet the Astartes, enhanced with second or third-generation gene engines, proved equally capable. They wielded spatial manipulation, superhuman speed and strength, and more.
Despite their size disadvantage compared to the Transformers, the Space Marines fought with equivalent ferocity. The two forces clashed within a small asteroid belt, their conflict shattering countless rocks.
Even continent-sized meteorites fragmented under the shockwaves of their battle.
Raven recognized several warriors from the Thirteenth and Ninth Legions, all heroes of the Imperium.
Amit of the Blood Angels, who had held Terra's walls until the final moment in another timeline.
Auguston of the Ultramarines, who had sacrificed himself opening the path to Terra.
Tauro of the Ultramarines, fallen at Calth.
All of them had been tragic heroes in that predetermined future, giving everything in humanity's war against Chaos.
In this timeline, they remained equally valorous, launching assault after assault against Transformers many times their size.
Fallen warriors and destroyed Transformer wreckage drifted together through the void.
The fleet-spirits, manifested as the Imperial vessels Red Tears and Macragge's Glory, prowled the battlefield's edges, hunting isolated Transformers for experience.
Their appearance as humanoid girls surprised every Transformer who witnessed them. They hadn't expected that a spacecraft could transform into such forms.
The battle remained stalemated, losses mounting on both sides.
The Astartes possessed gene-engine enhancements and the Emperor's gifts. But the Transformers were far from weak, and their numbers were vast.
Several stood over ten thousand meters tall, true titans of war. Their equipped artillery boasted staggering calibers, single shots capable of obliterating super-cities or sinking continents.
Swarms of smaller Transformers surrounded these giants. More critically, the Transformer forces included technomancers who wielded both psychic power and technological sorcery.
The conflict raged with neither side gaining a clear advantage.
"This serves as a warning," Unicron reiterated. "Depart form my universe, or you will face the consequences."
"Your universe?" Raven's tone carried mock confusion. "Primus created this universe. You betrayed him, yet here you are shamelessly claiming the fruits of his labor. Your audacity is truly impressive."
Raven's talent for verbal provocation never disappointed. A few choice words caused Unicron, who had presented himself in a position of superiority, to falter noticeably.
Betraying one's creator was hardly an honorable achievement. Having it announced publicly indeed created an uncomfortable moment.
[End of Chapter]
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