Adam floated silently in the void.
His gaze cast down from high orbit, passing through gaps in the cloud layer and the drifting atmospheric dust, taking in the clear view of the vibrant world below.
T'au Prime. Or rather, the T'au Homeworld.
As the birthplace of the T me, it stood indisputably as the political and spiritual heart of the entire T'au Empire. Over the past six thousand years, from the moment the race emerged and stepped out of its cradling homeworld, this planet held supreme significance to every T'au alive.
Consequently, its defenses were formidable.
The orbital space was densely packed with T'au defense platforms, their streamlined nanocrystalline armor gleaming with a cold, silver-grey sheen under the starlight. Frigate fleets patrolled back and forth like swarms of bees, their plasma engines trailing pale blue wakes through space. Farther out in the deep void, massive Kor'vatt battle stations hovered silently, their weapons constantly trained on any potential threat that might leap from the warp.
Unfortunately, all of this was completely meaningless against Adam's reality-warping powers.
He hovered above the orbit, perfectly still, like a silent satellite. Patrol fleets swept past him, yet not a single sensor triggered an alarm. Adam existed in a subtle pocket layer out of phase with the physical universe—here, he could see everything, while nothing could see him.
Taking in the sight, Adam's eyes turned deep and contemplative.
By this point, he had faced far too many terrifying adversaries in this universe. Void Dragon shards, the Four Gods of Chaos, the Great Devourer—entities that spelled total doom for most civilizations in the galaxy had all been his opponents.
Facing the T'au homeworld was child's play by comparison. With a mere thought, he could utterly erase the planet from existence.
If he wanted to be even cleaner about it, he could instantly hypnotize every T'au on the planet—including the alien species integrated into the empire—and issue orders down the Ethereal Council's chain of command. He could easily inflict irreversible damage on a T'au Empire spanning hundreds of worlds. Combined with the military might of the Imperium, sweeping this alien race from the galaxy would be effortless.
Yet, as he pondered this, a smile touched the corners of his lips.
"Then again, that's how a loser thinks!" he mused naturally.
What would mere destruction accomplish? To the current Imperium, the T'au were hardly a threat. If total annihilation were the goal, why would Adam need to come here in person? Sending a task force comprised of a Gloriana-class battleship and the Phalanx to the galactic edge would crush the T'au military forces all the same.
So what? I am a reality warper. I can do far better than anyone can imagine.
"Well then, let's begin."
As Adam spoke, he slowly extended both hands.
His reality-warping power flared once more. Time itself began to ripple in the void. Invisible concentric waves radiated from his hands, spreading simultaneously into the past and future of the entire star system.
Overlapping images materialized around him—projections of every event that had ever transpired on this planet. Fragments of history hovered and rotated slowly at his side like a scattered jigsaw puzzle.
Unfazed, Adam stepped forward into the void.
One step. Then another.
He drove his power backward with full force, tracing time to its source!
This was his plan.
After all, T'au history was exceedingly brief. Six thousand years—a mere six millennia was all it took for them to evolve from primitive hunter-gatherers who had just mastered fire into an interstellar civilization capable of faster-than-light travel. Their speed of progress was staggering.
Yet at the same time, it meant their historical foundation was paper-thin. When faced with a temporal strike, a shorter history offered no depth of defense.
Furthermore, no eternal Warp gods existed in all timelines to back the T'au up.
Unlike the Necrons with their native time-travel capabilities, the Aeldari guarded fiercely by Slaanesh, the Orks with their vast history watched over directly by Gork and Mork, the Great Devourer that existed as a Warp entity itself, or the minions of the Ruinous Powers behind the Veil—none of them were as frail in this regard as the T'au.
Because those factions possessed deeper roots, Adam couldn't alter their core truths easily. The T'au, however, were an entirely different story.
As Adam stepped into the timeline, overlapping shadows of history roared past him. His speed was so immense that the entire timeline turned into a blurred ribbon of light beneath his feet. Countless scenes flashed before his eyes like rapidly turning pages, detailing six thousand years of T'au civilization.
He saw remarkable sights: various alien races across the galaxy answering the call of the Ethereals to join the banner of the Greater Good, fighting side-by-side with the T'au; giant Arks descending from the heavens, their glowing hulls delivering the first generation of Ethereals to the planet.
Finally, Adam halted and slowly raised his head.
Before him, an Imperial warship flashed past. Its hull bore heavy Adeptus Mechanicus ornamentation, its engine exhausts leaving a pale blue trail in space.
Adam knew its name: the Land's Vision. It was the first Imperial exploratory vessel to discover this world.
Back then, the T'au were merely a primitive species that had just learned to fashion stone tools. Scanning the planet during their survey, the Mechanicus deemed the primitive intelligent lifeform non-threatening, tagged it as a standard feral world in their data cores, and summoned a follow-up Imperial fleet to purge the planet before sailing toward the next system.
That world now hovered quietly before Adam.
Arid and water-scarce, its surface featured scattered primitive seas and low fern vegetation, its distant mountains not yet weathered into their modern shapes. Fires from primitive settlements flickered in the dusk like stars scattered across the land. Inside those circles of fire, primitive T'au clad in animal hides gathered, using an undeveloped language to communicate about the hunt.
They had no idea that in the future, they would build an interstellar empire spanning hundreds of light-years.
Adam let out a soft breath, feeling a subtle psychological fatigue. A sudden wave of galactic rejection was pressing down on his body. He could sense the universe itself coming alive—every inch of space and time resisting his intrusion, attempting to shove him back into his own timeline. The pressure was akin to the crushing weight of deep water from all directions; it was not fatal, but it was omnipresent.
Yet against the power of a reality warper, this rejection ultimately stalled.
Adam gauged the scope of the resistance. As long as he refrained from drastically altering major historical trends or leaving this system for other regions, the pressure would remain stable.
"Don't worry," Adam muttered softly, his posture remaining relaxed with his hands casually stuffed in his pockets. "I'm just going to do a little work and leave right after. Won't be a bother."
Talking to himself, he took a quiet step toward the barren planet.
His spatial awareness expanded instantly. Reality-warping power acted like an invisible giant hand, blanketing the primitive planet from crust to atmosphere. A massive surge of information flooded his mind like a rising tide.
A moment later, Adam tilted his head slightly, confirming an obvious fact.
This was indeed the T'au homeworld of six thousand years ago.
The path ahead is clear!
Without a second of hesitation, Adam conjured a thick, heavy book out of thin air like a magic trick, a feather quill appearing in his hand.
"I'm a historian, and it's time to start writing history!"
"The Book of Ages—activate!"