Chapter 25
Fury's single eye held steady as it studied the giant seated across the table. Vulkan's frame was immense, his presence even greater, yet what caught Fury wasn't the sheer scale—it was the patience, the restraint. The aura of someone who could shatter mountains, yet chose instead to wait and speak.
Fury was the first to break the silence.
"Who are you, really?"
The question wasn't sharp, nor was it casual. It carried the weight of a man who had seen too many threats to gamble on trust too easily.
Vulkan tilted his head, the firelight of the magma veins across his body flickering faintly. He could feel the truth in Fury's intent—the man before him wasn't asking out of suspicion alone. His eye burned with something Vulkan recognized. Duty. Resolve. A willingness to bear any burden if it meant humanity's survival.
It reminded him of Rogal Dorn—unyielding, vigilant, always prepared to build bulwarks against the storm. The resemblance stirred something almost nostalgic in Vulkan's chest.
"I am Vulkan," the Forgefather said, voice deep but steady. "Primarch of the Salamanders. One of twenty sons forged by the Emperor of Mankind. We were created to lead, to protect, to be the weapons and the shields of humanity."
The room went quiet. Clint shifted uncomfortably in his seat, while Natasha leaned forward slightly, her sharp eyes never leaving him. Fury's jaw tightened as he absorbed the words.
"And where exactly did you come from?" Fury pressed.
Vulkan's expression hardened. "From another universe. One not unlike this one in some ways… but far harsher, far more cruel." His gaze lowered briefly, shadows crossing his face. "When I fell—torn apart by the pull of a black hole—the Warp itself may have ripped my remnants from reality. It seems… I was flung here, whether by design or cruel accident, I cannot say."
Tony frowned, arms crossed. "That's… one hell of a science experiment gone wrong."
"Not science," Vulkan corrected, his eyes locking with Tony's. "Fate. Or perhaps punishment."
Fury leaned forward. "This 'Imperium' you mentioned earlier. What is it?"
For a moment, Vulkan hesitated. Then he nodded. If these mortals were to understand him, they needed the truth.
"The Imperium is humanity's greatest empire. A realm spanning a million worlds. It was forged by my father—the Emperor—who united humanity beneath a single banner. We achieved wonders: fleets that sailed the stars, armies that could crush entire worlds, knowledge that rivaled the gods themselves. My brothers and I… we were his instruments. His sons, his generals."
Natasha's brows furrowed. "And your people? These… sons of yours?"
"My sons are the Astartes," Vulkan said, his tone reverent. "Warriors remade in my image, bound by loyalty and duty. They were my responsibility… my family." His voice cracked ever so slightly before he steadied it again.
He paused, then sighed—a sound heavy with grief.
"But the Imperium has suffered. My father lies worshipped as a god upon a throne of death, when he himself forbade such faith. Many of my brothers turned traitor. Others… were slain. And still humanity endures, but at what cost?"
The chamber grew somber. The weight of his words pressed down on them all. Clint shifted again, clearly uncomfortable with the sheer scale of what Vulkan described. Natasha's face softened, just slightly—an expression of quiet empathy.
Tony, never one for silence, finally broke it. "Well… if anyone needs me, I'll be drinking for the next week to process all that." He forced a chuckle, though even he knew it rang hollow.
The faintest curve touched Vulkan's lips at the attempt, and he straightened, returning to the present. His eyes turned back to Fury. "Do you have more questions, protector of man?"
Fury nodded slowly, his usual steel returning. He had heard of empires rise and fall, of powers too great to trust. But this was different. This was a being who had lived it. His next question cut to the heart of it.
"After everything you've seen, everything you've lost… are you still on the side of humanity?"
The air stilled. Even the magma pools seemed to quiet, waiting.
Vulkan did not answer immediately. He sat in silence, his massive hands clasped before him, eyes burning with firelight. A full minute passed before he finally spoke.
"I am Vulkan, Primarch of the Salamanders. Forged by fire, shaped by the trials of Nocturne, I was made for one purpose." He leaned forward, his voice resonating with unshakable conviction.
"I live for the people. I protect for the people. I kill for the people. I was created to be their shield, their hammer, their flame in the dark. That has not changed, and it never will."
The words struck like thunder. Clint swallowed hard, Natasha's gaze sharpened, and Tony felt an unfamiliar chill run down his spine.
Fury sat back, silent for a long moment before finally nodding. "That's all I needed to hear."
He drew in a breath, then added, "You've given me more than I expected. Thank you… for your time." His gaze flicked toward Natasha and Clint. After a moment of consideration, he spoke again. "I want Romanoff and Barton to stay here. Learn from you. If that's acceptable."
Vulkan gave a slow nod. "They may remain. If they wish it."
Fury inclined his head, the faint shimmer of respect in his eye before the hologram flickered and disappeared, leaving only silence in its wake.
The four mortals sat together with the giant in the quiet chamber. No words were spoken. None were needed.
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