Crimson clouds churned like a boiling sea of blood, dyeing the sky a fierce crimson.
Molten lava from volcanic eruptions ravaged the cracked earth, devouring all things in scorching scarlet.
Caelan stood on a high plateau. As far as the eye could see, there was only desolation woven from ash and dust.
An endless sea of sand stretched wantonly towards the horizon, like a solidified sea of death.
The sky seemed like a torn shroud, the earth like a wound gushing blood, and the air thick with the pungent smell of sulfur.
But it was precisely this vivid picture of hell that allowed Caelan to easily identify the world he was on.
"Nocturne," Caelan murmured softly, his voice swallowed by the roar of distant volcanic eruptions.
Even among all the Primarchs' homeworlds, Nocturne was one of the most recognizable.
The plateau where Caelan stood was a massive rock with steep edges and a flat top, its terrain resembling ancient Terra's Mount Roraima.
But it was hundreds of times larger than Mount Roraima. Its towering body spanned heaven and earth, leaving any onlooker stunned and speechless.
On this plateau, a stretch of towering walls coiled like a dragon in the southeast. That was Caelan's destination.
"Open the gate!" The guards on the wall spotted Caelan. They whispered among themselves for a moment, then unhesitatingly raised the gate.
Several guards met Caelan at the gate, holding spears, swords, and knives, looking oddly out of place against the magnificent walls behind them.
"Outsider, why have you come?" a guard asked.
"I'm looking for N'bel. Is he in the city?"
The guards exchanged meaningful glances, their tense shoulders relaxing slightly.
N'bel was a famous blacksmith in the city. Since the outsider could name him, he was probably from a nearby village.
A guard extended a rough palm, "I'm Gorf, the constable of Hesiod. Outsider, how is it that you're wandering alone in the wilderness?"
Caelan felt the intentionally firm grip in the other's palm and responded briefly, "Caelan. I'm accustomed to being alone."
"Where are you from?"
"Terra."
Gorf's frown deepened. 'There was no village called Terra on the Cindara Plateau.'
'The outsider seemed to come from some savage land. So how did he know Blacksmith N'bel?'
Despite his suspicion, he only nodded. "Come with me. I'll take you to him."
Gorf's boots struck the stone slabs with a dull echo. He glanced sidelong at the outsider beside him.
"Mind telling me what business you have with Master N'bel?"
Asking someone why they're visiting a blacksmith was like asking a craftsman his profession.
But this outlander carried nothing, no ore, no coin pouch, not even a proper dagger. Only a strange metal rod hung at his waist.
If you wanted a weapon forged, you'd bring good steel. If armor repair, you'd bring damaged pieces.
With nothing at all… were you here for a social visit?
He had lived here for years and never heard that N'bel had relatives.
"I'm looking for his child."
Gorf was taken aback.
'The old blacksmith had once married, but his wife had been taken by ghosts soon after. How could he have a child?'
Ganfu tightened his grip on the spear. 'Better cautious than dead.'
In silence they turned into a narrow alley. The smithy was just ahead.
Knock knock.
The sound echoed in the quiet street.
A deep voice came from inside, "Who is it?"
"It's me, Gorf. There's an outsider here specially looking for you."
The door hinges creaked. A vigorous old man pulled the door open.
His gaze passed over Gorf and landed on Caelan, his brow deeply furrowed.
"Who recommended you?"
Gorf asked, "You don't know him?"
"No"
Gorf silently stepped back half a pace. A spear was hard to use in close combat.
But in an instant, Gorf's body suddenly stiffened, as if seized by an invisible giant hand.
"Don't act rashly. I don't want to hurt anyone."
Gorf's voice trembled uncontrollably, "You... are you an Earth Shaman?"
N'bel's throat bobbed uneasily too, "What do you want with me?"
Caelan looked him straight in the eye, getting straight to the point: "Have you ever adopted a child?"
The old blacksmith was stunned. "Never. I've always lived alone."
Caelan turned to Gorf, "Are there any other blacksmiths named N'bel in Hesiod?"
Gorf replied nervously, "There are a few others with similar name, but only one blacksmith named N'bel."
"Has Hesiod had any meteorite falls recently?"
Ganfu shook his head immediately, "No."
N'bel's brow suddenly tightened.
Caelan keenly caught this reaction.
"What did you think of?"
N'bel ubbed his chin hesitantly, "Not long ago, while I was prospecting for gemstones outside the city, I did witness a meteor fall... but it landed at Mount Deathfire."
"Where is the Mount Deathfire?"
N'bel pointed in a direction: "It's in the Pyre Desert. That's Nocturne's largest volcano. Even standing on the Cindara Plateau, you can clearly see the smoke it spews."
"Are there any human settlements near the Mount Deathfire?"
Gorf's voice held a hint of barely concealed fear, "That's the domain of the salamanders. I'm afraid no one dares settle there."
"This is troublesome." Caelan's brow knitted tightly.
Caelan didn't always manage to find the Primarchs in their gestation pods in time. So far, only Konrad, Corax, and Sanguinius had been found this way.
It wasn't unusual for a Primarch to have been adopted by others before he arrived.
But why such a deviation?
He wasn't worried about Vulkan's life. As an perpetual, death was merely a cycle.
But the pain of each death was real and unforgettable. If the Primarch had to endure this torment repeatedly just after being born, the pain of death might leave an unhealable scar on his young psyche.
...
The instant the pod entered realspace, violent turbulence seized it.
When the pod was finally captured by the planet's gravity, it streaked across Nocturne's night sky, a blazing meteor, hurtling towards Mount Deathfire.
The predators living in the volcano raised their heads, their eyes reflecting the falling meteor in the night sky.
Even mindless lower creatures were drawn to the unknown.
They stared at the meteror, emitting low hisses, as if communicating some primitive confusion.
Yet when the meteor crashed to the ground, kicking up debris and dust everywhere, every creature retreated.
Some beings are destined to stand above all others.
The salamanders were Nocturne's undisputed apex predators. They dwelled by the boiling lava lake of Mount Deathfire.
And the meteror had landed precisely in the lair of the Salamander King.
...
BOOM!
The deafening crash tore through the silence of the volcano's heart, startling the slumbering Salamander King awake.
The Salamander King raised its mountain-sized head, its vertical pupils still clouded with the confusion of waking.
Embedded in the center of its lair was a twisted, deformed metal pod, its outer shell still sizzling in the heat.
Through the broken crack, a small figure could be vaguely seen.
It was a dark-skinned infant, curled up in the smoking wreckage.
The Salamander King slowly lowered its head, squinting as it carefully examined this uninvited guest.
He was too small, not even worth picking from its teeth.
Hot dragon breath, thick with the smell of sulfur, washed over the infant's skin like a heat wave.
Yet the small figure didn't flinch. The infant opened its round, bright eyes and stared directly at the colossal beast before it.
The infant looked up with its small face. In its pupils danced pure curiosity, mixed with a touch of innocent confusion, like a fledgling bird opening its eyes for the first time.
Its crimson pupils were as clear as stars, reflecting the salamander's ferocious scales and blazing gaze.
There was no fear.
The Salamander King suddenly opened its gaping maw.
...
Nocturne had only one moon, named Prometheus. However, this moon's size and mass were far beyond normal.
Its immense gravity generated extremely strong tidal effects on Nocturne's surface.
The violent gravity tore at Nocturne's crust, resulting in a planet-wide landscape of continuous volcanic mountain ranges and crisscrossing seismic zones.
Every fifteen standard Terran years, when Prometheus reached its periapsis, Nocturne would suffer a devastating tidal cataclysm.
The two worlds shuddered under the gravitational pull. The crust twisted and fractured.
Powerful earthquakes ravaged the continental plates like giant beasts. Towering tsunamis swept every coastline.
Simultaneously, thousands of volcanoes erupted. Molten magma gushed from the planet's wounds like blood.
Volcanic ash blotted out the sky, and thick, toxic fumes completely obscured the star's light, plunging the world into darkness.
The people of Nocturne called this the Time of Trial. Each cycle marked the end and beginning of a Nocturnean year.
When the Trial descended, all life in the world trembled like candles in the wind and when the ash finally blotted out the sun, a long, bitter cold would set in.
Nocturne's life had adapted to its extreme heat, but could scarcely endure the cold.
When winter came, the weakeast die first. Those unable to adapt to the sudden change followed.
Only the toughest, or those with shelter, survived.
The people of Nocturne built seven cities on the few stable tectonic plates, providing refuge during the Time of Trial.
Nocturne's fauna turned the lava-spewing volcanoes into natural shelters. Even in the harshest winter, the molten magma deep within the volcanoes maintained a livable temperature.
Salamanders were Nocturne's largest predators. Mount Deathfire was the largest volcano on Nocturne and was their domain!
The sheer number of salamanders dwelling here made it forbidden ground for humans. No one dared tread here.
But Caelan came. He came to find Vulkan.
The ascent of Mount Deathfire was perilous.
Jagged volcanic rock jutted out like interwoven blades. Steep ridges were almost vertical.
There were no man-made paths. One had to rely on hands gripping protruding edges, struggling upwards through sulfurous fumes.
More dangerous were the salamanders dwelling here. These predators' claws could easily tear through mortal armor. Their flames could melt rock.
But for Caelan, with his psychic powers, these were minor obstacles.
Even if vertical cliffs blocked the way, his powers let him soar like a bird.
When salamanders charged, psychic blades would cut them in two in an instant.
"How did they grow so big?" The question took root in Caelan's mind.
Every world has a food chain, essential for species propagation and evolution.
And every food chain has producers and consumers.
On ancient Terra, animals were consumers, plants were producers.
Plants made ecology possible; ecology formed the food chain.
On land, sunlight provided energy for plants, enabling photosynthesis, growth, and reproduction, the foundation of the ecosystem.
Herbivores ate plants; carnivores ate herbivores, a clear chain.
In the ocean, algae similarly relied on photosynthesis, forming the base producers of the marine ecosystem.
Plankton ate algae; small fish ate plankton; big fish ate small fish, a complete marine food chain.
Whether on land or sea, energy transferred stepwise along the chain, maintaining the balance and function of the entire ecosystem.
Yet on Nocturne, under extreme conditions, the traditional food chain was completely overturned.
Constant volcanic eruptions made rivers and soil highly sulfuric. Ordinary plants couldn't survive.
Thick volcanic ash blocked the sky. Even sunlight could barely penetrate.
Frequent earthquakes constantly reshaped the landscape. Any life attempting to take root would be obliterated in the violent tremors.
And indeed, there were no forests on Nocturne. No producers to form the food chain's foundation.
With no producers, why were there so many consumers?
What did they eat?
Of course, volcanic ash itself is rich in nutrients, excellent natural fertilizer.
Oceanic algae would love volcanic ash. A complete food chain forming wasn't strange.
But on land, who was playing the producer's role?
Perhaps some organism had taken over the plant's ecological niche. It didn't need photosynthesis; it just ate soil to survive.
And this soil-eating life must be widespread; otherwise, Nocturne's consumers couldn't be so numerous.
But finding Vulkan was the priority now. These ecological questions had to wait.
"Vulkan, where are you?"
Caelan laboriously climbed to the crater's rim, standing on a jagged rock ridge, gazing into the distance.
But too much time had passed since the cradle crashed. No trace remained.
Caelan's eyes searched the volcanic terrain, seeing only lifeless desolation.
At this moment, Caelan could only rely on the most primitive intuition.
Caelan took a deep breath, chose a direction, and unhesitatingly leaped from the peak.
Psychic energy flowed around him, carrying him down gently like a feather.
But before his feet touched the ground, his gaze was firmly drawn to a dark pit not far away.
It was clearly not a natural depression, but the mark of a violent impact from something falling from the sky.
Caelan stood at the pit's edge, gazing into the dark depths below, murmuring, "Wasn't this a stroke of luck?"
'It was as if fate itself silently pushing me forward.'
'But Tzeentch was the god who managed fate in this damn cesspool. Was this right?'
Caelan didn't hesitate. He leaped into the pit. He didn't fear any danger lurking within.
Unless he gave up on Vulkan, he had no choice.
The light of his psychic power illuminated the dark cave like daylight.
When he landed lightly, his boots struck metal. A twisted, deformed metal capsule lay silently on the ground.
And on its mottled surface, the number was still clearly discernible: XVIII.
'Confirmed. This was really Vulkan.'
The cave was piled high with gems and precious metals, dazzling under the psychic light.
This was suspected to be the lair of some giant beast with a hoarding habit.
Logically, perpetuals coudn't normaly die.
Even if destroyed at the atomic level by Magnus, Vulkan could be reborn.
'But if Vulkan was eaten by the lair's giant beast, would he be reborn in its stomach or in its excrement?'
If the former, Caelan had to find the beast and kill it.
If the latter, Caelan had to find where the beast defecated.
Either possibility would probably leave an indelible shadow on Vulkan. Eaten right after birt, was there a more miserable primarch?
Just as Caelan was about to move and search for Vulkan, he felt a ripple in his psychic barrier.
Caelan looked down. A squirming dark shadow was bumping against the barrier at his feet.
It was an infant, black as ink, its pink gums gently gnawing at the barrier with a creaking sound.
It tilted its head, looking up directly at Caelan. Its crimson eyes held a naive confusion, as if silently asking: Why can't I bite through?
Caelan was silent.
'So Vulkan had been in the pod all along?'
Too much time had passed. He had subconsciously assumed the pod would be empty.
But he couldn't entirely blame himself.
The pod's exit faced the shadows. The psychic light only vaguely outlined half its outline.
The inside was pitch black.
And Vulkan... he was blacker than the dark.
Caelan slowly crouched, carefully lifting Vulkan, "Sorry, Vulkan. I didn't recognize you just now."
The infant squirmed in his arms, opening its pink gums and biting down hard on Caelan's arm.
It was hungry!
Caelan grabbed Vulkan by the scruff of the neck, lifting him like a restless little beast, holding him up to eye level.
He tensed his face and scolded, "Wait, who the hell set you up like this?"
Vulkan was supposed to be the most humane primarch. Why was he trying to kill his father on their first meeting?
The infant dangled in the air, limbs flailing twice.
Seeing it couldn't reach, he pouted: "Aba aba!"
"ROAR!"
A deafening roar suddenly exploded in Caelan's ears. He spun around, coming face to face with a pair of crimson vertical pupils.