"I see."
Half an hour later.
The Dark Angels, who had finally calmed down, were no longer at each other's throats.
These battle-hardened veterans sat down directly on the ground in earnest, just as they had in bygone days, beginning a detailed and efficient exchange of intelligence with their long-lost gene-father.
Lion sat in their center.
His gaze swept across every single face—Zabriel, Kai, and those whom he thought he would never see again.
As the exchange deepened, Lion El'Jonson gradually came to learn of what these sons had endured over the past ten thousand years.
When Caliban was shattered, these sons were swallowed into the Warp storm.
In that twisted dimension where the concept of time was completely lost, they spent a period of time—unsure whether it was a mere instant or a thousand years.
When they returned to realspace once more, just like the Lion, the Imperium was no longer as it was in their memory.
And what welcomed them was the relentless, frantic hunt by the Chapter's successors.
The Dark Angels Chapter collectively referred to those who had disappeared during the Caliban rebellion as the "Fallen."
When speaking this word, complex expressions surfaced on the faces of the other Dark Angels.
The Dark Angels viewed the Fallen as the Chapter's ultimate shame, the greatest secret that had to be covered up at all costs.
To capture a single Fallen alive, even the most experienced, resolute veterans of the Deathwing, or even the Company Master himself, were willing to lay down their lives.
One could only say that these were fanatics among fanatics.
In response, Lion had no choice but to declare:
Regarding everything about the shattering of Caliban and everything within that Warp storm, all past transgressions would be forgiven.
He would pardon anyone who had not fallen to Chaos; anyone who sought to continue hunting them down would surely face the Lion's punishment.
The Risen—that was their new name.
Everyone let out a sigh of relief at this.
The Fall of Caliban was purely a mess of messes.
It was high time to turn the page.
Considering the thriving state of the Imperium of Man now, the mood of these Astartes warriors who had endured long suffering gradually eased into tranquility.
They began to exchange names.
During this process, the Lion recognized the distinct combat records of each of these Dark Angels one by one—every single one of them was extraordinary.
If nothing else, there was more than one veteran who had fought in the Rangdan Xenocides.
Then, the Lion's gaze swept across the edge of the crowd and suddenly froze.
He saw a figure who should have died long ago.
Corswain.
Essentially, every Legion Primarch had their own second-in-command.
Corswain to Lion El'Jonson was essentially what Raldoron was to Sanguinius, or Sevatar to Curze.
And Corswain should have been dead.
To be honest, Lion was deeply surprised by this.
This also gave him a tangible sense of reality regarding the fact that the so-called presence equal to the Emperor was currently active in the galaxy.
Just as the discussions in the room began to subside, those Dark Angels, naturally prone to harboring little secrets, instinctively began to ponder the true issue at hand:
What, exactly, was the Emperor's will?
Awakening their gene-father from his ten-thousand-year slumber, sending His golden-armored Custodes to hunt down and gather the Fallen scattered across the galaxy one by one, preparing everything—
This undoubtedly signified an extremely arduous mission.
Right at this moment, the door opened.
The Custodes Tribune, Endymion, stepped inside once more.
The Lion stood up.
His movement was unhurried, yet those hunter-like eyes locked sharply onto Endymion's face, seeking to catch every subtle shift in his expression.
"Since things are as such, can you now inform me of the mission Father has entrusted to me?" Lion asked.
Endymion nodded, his footsteps echoing on the metal floor: "That is a long story."
Lion said: "Then make it short."
Thus, the Custodes Tribune paused slightly and cleanly posed a question: "So—have you ever heard of the Webway Project?"
As Endymion provided detailed explanations following that, the Lion's expression turned bizarre.
What did he mean by saying the Emperor's project had failed ten thousand years ago, that building the Webway could free humanity from the Warp's influence, and that it ultimately failed completely due to Magnus's foolish actions?
The Lion, who knew countless taboo secrets behind the scenes, actually felt somewhat lost at this moment.
Wait.
He immediately thought of the three artifacts on his homeworld of Caliban—the Ouroboros, the Plague Heart, and the Tuchulcha Engine.
Wait a second—
Father, if you had just told me about this Webway Project earlier, I would have immediately gone to find the three artifacts and assembled a Webway shield tunneling machine for you!
What did building the Webway count as?
Wouldn't it be much more convenient and faster to construct it directly using the Webway shield tunneling machine?
Waves surged wildly in the Lion's heart, yet on that face that had endured too many secrets and restraint, not a single trace was shown.
This god-level move by the Emperor—concealing everything from all his teammates while hiding nothing from the enemy—was truly...
He found it hard to comment.
However, all of that was in the past tense.
And as for the current Webway, according to Endymion's subsequent description, it had already become half a territory of human activity.
Even the original owners of the Webway, the Aeldari, had provided strong support in some form, collaborating with humanity to methodically and continuously clear out various wild mobs within the Webway.
The Lion suppressed all the surging thoughts in his heart, calmed down, and continued listening to Endymion's words.
"Your mission concerns the Webway," Endymion said slowly. "You will be responsible for exploring the Webway, beginning to search one by one for the Primarchs who may be scattered deep within it. This includes two figures who are very likely to have entered the Webway: one is the Space Wolves' Primarch, Leman Russ; the other is the White Scars' Primarch, Jaghatai Khan."
"The Space Wolves?"
The moment that name dropped, someone in the Dark Angels' ranks immediately let out a chuckle of keen interest.
The feud between the Space Wolves and the Dark Angels was like cats and dogs, mutually disliking each other.
Precisely because of this, there were likewise countless tangled, unclear ties between the two Legions.
To say they weren't interested would definitely be a lie.
A faint, barely perceptible flicker also crossed the Lion's expression.
"And that is not all," Endymion continued. "There is one more thing."
His voice lowered by a fraction: "Regarding those fallen Primarchs, the Talons of the Emperor and the Inquisition also have sighting reports indicating that some of their figures have appeared deep within the Webway."
The room fell abruptly quiet.
"Setting others aside for now, we have already discovered signs of large-scale activity by the Word Bearers Legion in the Webway. There is also news indicating that some remnants from the Iron Warriors, after their defeat in the Cadian War, plunged into the Webway without stopping."
The Lion frowned, cutting to the core question: "However, I do not understand what connection this has with my Warp essence."
Warp essence.
He chewed on the phrase.
This statement was practically... a metaphor of sorts.
And it was the kind of unreasonable metaphor where the riddle was written directly on the puzzle's surface.
Regarding how the Primarchs were created by the Emperor, he had always held a vague guess in the depths of his heart.
However, wasn't this phrasing a bit too blatant?
Endymion looked at him, a glint of deep meaning flashing in his golden pupils: "Have you still not realized it?"
The Lion and the surrounding Risen were all slightly taken aback.
"Recall."
Endymion turned calmly, stepping toward the door, his silhouette enveloped in the corridor's lighting: "Recall that feeling when you first stepped out of the forest—that forest shrouded in heavy mist. Savor that feeling, and try again."
He paused for half a step: "Whether you call that thing 'Forest Walk' or something else, it will aid you. Your speed of exploration within the Webway will undoubtedly be the swiftist, with hardly anyone able to rival it."
He continued walking out the door, his voice echoing in the air: "Fortunately, during that lord's previous operation hunting a minor Warp Chaos God, we obtained a fragment of the Ouroboros. Utilizing anomalous items created from this fragment, we have already planted a massive amount of authentic Caliban forest within the Webway."
Endymion's voice gradually drifted away: "This will lend strength to your actions. Good luck."
His words finished.
Complete silence reigned in the room.
Everyone looked at each other.
The Lion remained silent, seemingly understanding vaguely.
The Risen, on the other hand, were utterly bewildered and confused.
A few with shorter tempers even intended to follow him to argue properly with that Custodes Tribune about what he actually meant.
Why speak entirely in riddles?
Even the Dark Angels, who carried countless secrets year-round, barely understood it.
"There is no need."
The Lion halted their actions.
He slowly took a step forward, walking toward the corridor where Endymion had departed.
The surrounding Risen exchanged looks. Thinking their gene-father was going to reason with the Custodes, they harbored no doubts and rose one after another, following behind in single file.
They stepped out of the storehouse door.
At this moment, a sudden change occurred.
"Wait, what is this?"
"Such a strange mist."
Everyone's brows knitted tightly in an instant.
Unbeknownst to them, a thin layer of white mist had begun appearing within the corridor.
The mist was sparse at first, looming in and out, but as they continued forward, it rapidly thickened, churning like a living thing and gradually veiling everything around them.
The outlines of silver-gray modern architecture were swallowed up.
Taking their place was the rich scent of damp earth, ancient moss, and thousands of towering ancient trees.
The Risen stopped in their tracks one after another, immediately gripping their weapons and exchanging shocked glances.
Yet the Lion showed no surprise on his face.
He continued forward, his pace steady, resolute, and without hesitation.
Suppressing the confusion surging in their hearts, the Dark Angels could only grit their teeth and follow.
Then, the mist began to slowly thin out.
The surrounding scenery revealed its contours.
"Wait, this is—"
Everyone's pupils dilated in shock.
"Isn't this the forest of Caliban?"
Although some of the Dark Angels present were not born on Caliban but were Terrans, they had likewise spent a considerable amount of time stationed on Caliban during their Legion years.
It was impossible for them not to recognize such a unique forest landscape.
The Lion continued forward.
The forest was initially so dense as to be virtually impassable, then gradually thinned.
The tactile sensation underfoot shifted from the soft humus soil of the forest into a firm, resonant ancient stone slab.
The Lion's footsteps did not pause; he walked out of this forest and slowly raised his gaze.
The Risen who followed also stopped in their tracks, raising their heads, their eyes filled with disbelief.
What appeared in their field of vision was a vast, extraordinary space.
Veins of flowing, marvelous luminescence meandered across the transparent, crystal-like tunnel walls, resembling the blood vessels of some living creature.
The structure was exquisitely intricate, completely unlike any creation crafted by human hands.
This was... the Aeldari Webway.
The Risen stood at the edge of the forest, at the boundary intersecting with the xenos creation, rendered utterly speechless by the immense sense of unreality.
"—When did Father acquire such an extraordinary ability?"
Meanwhile, Lion El'Jonson stood quietly in the center of this Webway space.
He was already inside the Webway.