The second dimensional jump was a stark contrast to the first. There was no apprehension, no fear of the unknown. There was only the quiet, controlled confidence of a solved equation. Rimuru, now armed with the sublime, perfect understanding of spacetime gleaned from the Chronomancer's data-core, initiated the sequence with the ease of a master musician playing a familiar tune.
With Ciel providing the calculations, he didn't just tear a hole in reality; he gently parted it, folding the universe over itself along one of the Necrons' 'Inertial Pathways'. The fleet—the grim Obelisk, the radiant Divine Right, the mournful Silent Vigil, and their new, ghostly Necron shadow—slipped through the fold. The transit was instantaneous.
They emerged into the fiery, smog-choked orbit of Ryza.
The welcome was immediate, and it was overwhelming. The planet's formidable defense grid didn't challenge them. Instead, it saluted, laser batteries firing beams of pure, harmless light into the void in a dazzling display. Vox channels erupted not with standard clearance codes, but with a cacophony of prayers and hymns chanted in the metallic drone of binary.
The "Miracle of Ryza," the impossible vanishing of the Ork WAAAGH!, had transformed the forge world. It was no longer just a planet of industry; it was the origin point of a new, fervent religious movement.
Archmagos Valerius-9-Tane himself greeted them on the primary orbital station, his cybernetic form now adorned with new, silver-and-blue silken banners that bore a striking, if abstract, resemblance to a certain slime.
"The Emissary returns!" the Archmagos boomed, his voice resonating with a joy that was profoundly unnerving. "The vessel of the Omnissiah's wisdom has graced our forges once more! A new litany has been composed in your honor, the 'Canticle of the Unlooked-For Variable'!"
"That's… very thoughtful, Archmagos," Rimuru said, fighting the urge to look deeply uncomfortable. "But we're not here for pleasantries. We've returned with a prize, and a new, more urgent task."
At Varrus's command, the final ship of their fleet was brought into high orbit for all to see: the Necron Scythe-class Harvest Ship.
A wave of religious horror and ecstatic curiosity washed through the Adeptus Mechanicus. It was the ultimate blasphemy and the ultimate holy relic, delivered to their doorstep. A functional vessel of the soulless ones, the ancient enemy of the Machine God. The temptation of the knowledge it held was a force more powerful than any fleet.
"By the Motive Force," Valerius whispered, his optical lenses zooming in on the alien vessel with an almost pornographic intensity. "A pristine specimen. The secrets it must hold…"
"It holds the key to the Emissary's journey, Archmagos," Varrus stated, his voice a cold anchor in the rising tide of fanaticism. "And you and your Magi will help us turn that key."
Back in the Titan-forge cathedral, before the Phase-Resonant Array, the new project was unveiled. Rimuru, using the data Ciel had perfectly catalogued, began to explain the principles of causality-folding and inertial pathway navigation. To the Magi, it was like a primitive tribesman being given a lecture on quantum mechanics. It was incomprehensible, beautiful, and utterly divine.
Their new task: to build a secondary system, a "Navigator" of sorts, based on the Necron's science, and integrate it into the Array. It was a project of such profound tech-heresy that the Magi could barely contain their joy. They set to work with a fervor that made their previous efforts seem sluggish, their prayers and litanies now intermixed with the cold, alien equations of Necron science.
While the forge-cathedral was once again filled with the sounds of holy, heretical creation, Varrus, Kael, and Celestine convened in the Obelisk's strategium. The Canoness was silent, her expression unreadable. She had witnessed the impossible journey, and now she was witnessing the casual use of unholy xenos-tech. Her faith was being stretched to its breaking point, held together only by the undeniable fact that every "heresy" this being performed resulted in a victory for the Imperium.
"The work proceeds," Kael reported to Varrus. "At this rate, the Array will be ready for a true galactic transit within the month."
"Good," Varrus said, his gaze fixed on the star map. "The sooner we're gone from the Imperium's settled worlds, the better."
As he spoke, a priority alert chimed. A message, bearing the highest possible level of astropathic encryption, was coming through. It bore the sigil of the Ultramarines.
Kael accepted the message, his eyes scanning the decoded text. He froze, his professional composure evaporating, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated shock.
"My Lord…" he stammered, looking up at Varrus.
"What is it, Interrogator?" Varrus demanded.
"It's from… Chapter Master Marneus Calgar of the Ultramarines," Kael said, his voice barely a whisper. "Librarian Corvus, upon his return to Macragge, gave his full, confidential report directly to his superiors."
He took a breath. "The whispers of the 'Saint of the Ghoul Stars' and the 'Miracle of Ryza' have reached the heart of Ultramar. Lord Roboute Guilliman, the Avenging Son, Primarch of the Ultramarines and Lord Commander of the Imperium of Man, has taken a personal interest."
Kael looked at the final lines of the message, his face as pale as bone.
"He requests an audience with the entity designated 'Tempest'," he said, his voice trembling. "He's not sending a messenger, my Lord. He's coming himself. His fleet will be in the Ryza sector within the month."
A profound, deathly silence filled the strategium. The Ecclesiarchy. The Inquisition. The Adeptus Mechanicus. And now, the Adeptus Astartes, led by the living son of the Emperor himself.
All the great, warring, paranoid powers of the Imperium were now converging on this single point in space. Converging on the small, silver-haired king from another world, who only wanted to go home. The secret was no longer a secret. It was now the most important political event in the galaxy.