The Ultramarines detected sensor alerts: intense energy fluctuations were surging in a nearby star sector, signaling a biological battle in progress. The scouting squad leader immediately organized a team to observe the battlefield through a wormhole telescope reconnaissance system. They discovered the combatants were a pair of ancient enemies—the Eldar Resistance and the Dark Eldar. Both, of course, were enemies of the Imperium.
The Dark Eldar of the Warhammer universe had long since fallen. Though they claimed to be the true Eldar, they had long abandoned the original path. These degenerates sought ultimate sensory stimulation, whether through incomparable excitement, nauseating food, or unspeakable pain. They worshiped the art of blood and suffering, finding joy in sadism; any unfortunate creature falling into their hands would experience unimaginable torture and agony. They would be subjected to unspeakable defilement.
The Dark Eldar were notorious, hated by all, and even some Eldar of the opposite sex could not bear them. Some Eldar who maintained pure souls formed a resistance, making it their mission to hunt down these fallen kin. The resistance squad led by Yvraine was one such elite force. Her strange, silver-white hairstyle fluttered slightly, and her face was cold as an ice sculpture as she tightly gripped the legendary 'Crone Sword.'
Resistance scouts had previously detected a Dark Eldar outpost, and Yvraine immediately organized this raid. However, the intelligence was flawed. The outpost's strength far exceeded expectations, and the Dark Eldar's combat power was much greater than they had imagined.
"Retreat! Retreat immediately!" Yvraine ordered, swinging her blade to decapitate a Dark Eldar warrior. The tide of battle had clearly turned; if they didn't leave now, total annihilation was only a matter of time.
Suddenly, a violent energy surge rippled through space. The void was torn open by an invisible hand, and a massive golden portal appeared out of nowhere. This abrupt anomaly instantly drew the attention of every warrior on the battlefield, causing both sides to spontaneously cease fire. Golden flames burned at the portal's edge, and mysterious energy ripples danced at its center as it began to expand. Yvraine gripped her weapon warily, a growing sense of unease filling her heart.
A massive War Planet, its surface bristling with weapon systems, slowly emerged from the portal. This was no ordinary warship, but an entire planet-sized war machine, at least ten thousand kilometers in diameter. Then a second and a third War Planet followed, until finally, thirteen giant War Planets sailed out from the portal. They quickly shifted formations, completely surrounding the Eldar battlefield. Then, hatches on the surfaces of these War Planets opened, and countless massive warships flew out, closing in on them.
Facing such overwhelming firepower, both the Eldar and Dark Eldar stood frozen; the fighting stopped. When they recognized the insignia and livery of these warships, everyone's faces turned deathly pale.
"Ships of the Human Imperium..." an Eldar warrior stammered. The Imperium's attitude toward xenos was notoriously ruthless—'Purge the Alien' was their unwavering creed. Being surrounded by a human fleet of this scale was equivalent to a death sentence.
The Dark Eldar quickly abandoned any thought of resistance, knowing they were doomed. A Dark Eldar leader was the first to draw his dagger, but not for combat; instead, they began their unique 'impart' ritual right there. The Dark Eldar's impart ritual was beyond the comprehension of ordinary beings. They sought the peak of pleasure and pain, allowing both body and soul to reach a sensory zenith simultaneously. Several Dark Eldar plunged their weapons into their own bodies at the climax, twisting them savagely. Blood splattered, and agonized moans mingled with mad laughter; this sickening scene brought a morbid flush to their faces.
The Eldar Resistance had a completely different reaction. Their faces were pale, their eyes filled with despair and terror. To them, physical death was not the point; the truly terrifying thing was their fate after death. Eldar souls would be sucked into the Warp and fall into the hands of the Chaos Prince of Pleasure—Slaanesh—where they would suffer eternal torment and desecration. It was a fate millions of times worse than death.
Yvraine stood alone, calmly observing the livery and symbols on the human warships. She keenly recognized the markings of the Ultramarines Legion, even though the size of these ships differed wildly from those she had seen before. A glimmer of hope flashed in her heart.
"Do not fire!" Yvraine shouted, her voice broadcasting through the communication systems. "We can save your Primarch!"
As it turned out, the high priests of the Eldar had once been guided by ancient prophecies that the 'Crone Sword' in Yvraine's hand contained a special power. This weapon was one of the keys to awakening the Thirteenth Primarch of the Human Imperium—Roboute Guilliman—from his slumber.
The Ultramarines' communication channel instantly became a cacophony of voices, a mix of countless questioning cries. Warriors looked at each other through their faceplates, unsure how to respond to this sudden news. However, very soon, a steady and powerful voice came through their headsets, carrying an unquestionable authority.
"Capture those Eldar Resistance fighters. Take them alive; I will interrogate them personally. As for those fallen Dark Eldar—leave none alive!"
With the Primarch's order, the Ultramarines acted immediately, executing the command with precision and efficiency. Ten minutes later, Yvraine and her warriors were disarmed, bound, and escorted to the flagship's command deck.
The moment the hatch opened, Yvraine's eyes widened in shock. Standing before the command console was a towering figure in blue and gold power armor, with a majestic and resolute face—it was the legendary Thirteenth Primarch, Roboute Guilliman himself.
But how was this possible?
"How can this be?" Yvraine murmured to herself, her voice full of confusion. "The prophecy said you should still be in slumber, and we were the key to your resurrection."
"The power of the Crone Sword was supposed to be the catalyst for your awakening, yet you are now..."
Her words trailed off, her thoughts in a muddle. The massive discrepancy between the prophecy and the reality before her eyes was impossible for her to comprehend.
Guilliman gazed at the Eldar Resistance, his eyes holding both scrutiny and a hint of curiosity. "The path of destiny is always full of variables; even the most precise prophecy cannot foresee everything."
Guilliman walked slowly toward Yvraine and gestured for the guards to loosen her restraints. "My awakening did not follow the path of prophecy, but that does not affect my determination to save humanity."
Yvraine looked up at the legendary Primarch, the shock in her heart unabated. What she did not know was that a grand empire, far beyond her imagination, was already in motion, and the Eldar were but a minuscule part of it.