The command tent on Terra was a stark contrast to the neon-lit chaos of the SuperGod Universe. Its canvas walls, weathered by the Navian Peninsula's biting winds, framed a spartan interior: a metal table, a flickering holographic projector, and the towering presence of the Emperor, his golden armor restored, gleaming like a star. Across from him sat Malcador, his robed figure radiating quiet wisdom, and Valdor, the Custodes' commander, whose mica-gold armor and unyielding gaze spoke of unbreakable loyalty. Perched on the table, munching on a pile of fries doused in ketchup, was Raven, its black feathers ruffling as it savored each bite.
The Emperor activated a holographic display, projecting a detailed schematic of the Basic Gene Engine. Lines of code and genetic sequences pulsed in the air, a testament to the SuperGod Universe's genius. "This is what I gained," he said, his voice a low rumble that carried the weight of destiny. "A technology unlike anything in our galaxy, capable of rewriting human potential through dark energy manipulation."
Malcador leaned forward, his sharp eyes tracing the hologram's intricate patterns. As the Imperium's Sigillite, his intellect rivaled the Emperor's, and he grasped the implications instantly. "This is revolutionary," he said, his voice tinged with excitement. "It diverges entirely from the Golden Age's tech. Encoding genes to harness dark matter—it's a stroke of brilliance."
Valdor, ever pragmatic, nodded. "If we implant this into our warriors, the Great Crusade will sweep the stars with unmatched speed."
The Emperor's gaze was resolute. "We'll forge an Imperial Gene Engine, tailored to our universe's physical laws. Only then will it reach its full potential."
Valdor's hand tightened on his halberd. "I propose a research institute, guarded by the Custodes. We'll divert resources and assemble the finest minds to adapt this technology. No god or traitor will steal it from us again."
His words carried the weight of bitter memory. The Primarchs, stolen by the Chaos Gods, were a wound that still festered. Valdor's loyalty demanded absolute security, and only his Custodes—handcrafted by the Emperor himself—could be trusted with such a task. "The Gene Engine must first enhance the Custodes," he added, his voice firm. "Your safety, Majesty, is paramount."
The Emperor didn't respond immediately. Instead, he turned to Raven, who was mid-bite, ketchup smearing its beak. "Raven, your thoughts?"
Malcador and Valdor followed his gaze, their expressions a mix of curiosity and wariness. After returning from the SuperGod Universe, the Emperor had granted Malcador the ability to see Raven, cementing its place in their inner circle. The bird froze, its bright eyes darting between the three titans of the Imperium. "Uh, what?" it mumbled, pushing a few fries forward with a delicate claw. "You guys want some fries or what?"
The Emperor's lips twitched, a rare flicker of amusement. "No. I'm asking if we should establish a Custodes-guarded institute with significant resources."
Raven blinked, caught off guard. "You're asking me? You three are the big shots here. I'm just the cosmic tour guide."
"You brought us this technology," the Emperor said, his tone earnest. "Your insight matters."
Raven's feathers puffed up, its talkative nature kicking in. "Alright, fine. The Basic Gene Engine is just the starter pack. Keep shifting fate nodes in other universes, and we'll unlock upgraded versions—better, stronger, fancier. My advice? Don't sink too many resources into research. Tweak it to fit your universe's rules, and you're golden. Saves time and keeps it hush-hush. Loose lips sink ships, you know."
The Emperor nodded, his mind already aligning with Raven's logic. "If advanced versions await, we'll focus on adaptation, not reinvention. A small institute for localized modifications and custom designs will suffice. Security remains critical—no leaks."
Valdor inclined his head, satisfied, though his eyes lingered on Raven with a hint of suspicion.
The Emperor activated the projector again, replacing the Gene Engine schematic with a holographic star map. Stars and nebulae shimmered, Terra at its center. "The Unification Wars are over," he said, his voice carrying the weight of prophecy. "Minor threats remain, but our gaze must turn outward."
He tapped the hologram, zooming in on Luna. "Intelligence reports confirm Luna's surface is overrun with horrors—mad remnants of gene-tech cults from the Golden Age. Their knowledge and creations could accelerate our creation of Legion warriors, paving the way for the Great Crusade."
Malcador's brow furrowed, his weathered face tightening. "Legions, Majesty? You're abandoning the Thunder Warriors?"
The Emperor's expression was cold, unyielding. "Their minds are unstable, unfit for the Crusade. They're tools that have served their purpose."
Malcador's voice softened, laced with sorrow. "They won you a world, and now you discard them? Ushotan, their Primarch, won't accept this. He'll rally them against you."
"Nothing is beyond sacrifice," the Emperor replied, his tone as hard as adamantium. "If necessary, Valdor and the Custodes will act."
Valdor nodded, his loyalty absolute, though his silence betrayed a flicker of unease.
Malcador pressed, his voice heavy. "The Gene Engine could stabilize them, give them a chance."
The Emperor shook his head. "They're lost to bloodlust. Stronger power would only make them a greater threat to the Imperium. Last month, two Thunder Warriors slaughtered over three hundred civilians—men, women, children. When the Custodes arrived, it was a charnel house. They kill friend and foe alike in their madness. They cannot be trusted with the Crusade."
Raven, licking ketchup off its beak, let out a low whistle. "Damn, big guy, that's cold. Tossing aside loyal soldiers like old gear? And you're ready to sic Valdor on them? Brutal."
The Emperor turned to Raven, his gaze piercing. After a moment's pause, he asked, "Do you have another suggestion?"
Raven tilted its head, its tone shifting from flippant to thoughtful. "Your call's logical, don't get me wrong. But pure logic can screw things up sometimes. You need Luna's tech, and you want the Thunder Warriors gone? Give them a glorious end. Let them burn out in a war to conquer Luna. Send them off with honor, flowers, the whole deal. Better than a knife in the back."
It shook its head, popping another fry into its beak. "Politics, man. Deciding people's fates like it's nothing. Makes me wanna stick to fries—they're way less depressing."
The Emperor considered this, his eyes distant. "A glorious death. A fitting suggestion." He turned to Malcador and Valdor. "We'll do it. The Thunder Warriors will take Luna, expending themselves in the process."
He shifted focus, his voice commanding. "Malcador, intensify reconstruction efforts across Terra. Purge the old elite—confiscate their wealth, no exceptions. Mobilize technical experts, by any means necessary. I want orbital factories operational to build a fleet for the Crusade. Anyone who obstructs us—regardless of status—dies."
The Emperor's hands were no stranger to blood, and for humanity's survival, he'd spill rivers more.
The meeting concluded. The Emperor and Raven headed to a laboratory to test the Gene Engine's principles, while Malcador and Valdor set to their tasks.
As they walked through Terra's scarred landscape, Valdor's voice carried a rare edge. "He trusts that bird too much."
Malcador glanced at him, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Jealous, Constantine? I thought your heart was forged from steel."
Valdor's jaw tightened, but Malcador's gaze softened as he looked toward the distant mountains. "The Emperor's weaving Raven into the Imperium's fabric, giving it a stake in our future. It's not just a guide—it's part of his plan, like you and me. Get used to it, my friend. The Imperium's no longer a trio. Raven's one of us now."