---Leon POV---
<We saved ten percent of the planet’s population before the massive amount of temporal energy breached the containment field. Our group was in the Mirror Dimension when it happened. The universe shattered before our eyes, reformed in a different configuration, then shattered again...>
The cycle repeated itself dozens of times before reality settled. When it did, Doom’s group found themselves on an untouched, inhabitable planet. After decades of rebuilding, it became a home for the displaced humans and their future descendants. Unfortunately, when the Earth’s history faded into obscurity, those future descendants tore apart their inheritance in a Great War. What remained afterward was the planet we now live on.
<It was during the rebuilding effort that I grew close to Inan. We had a simple ceremony and had our darling Valeria a few years later. From there, you know the rest.>
It was abundantly clear now why Doom held himself responsible for everything. Earth-6160 was mutilated into the monstrosity we now existed in because of his momentary lapse in judgment. After rebuilding humanity, falling in love, and starting a family, Doom believed he had killed his beloved Valeria and son-in-law by running them off the planet. His grandson disowned him, his wife died of heartbreak, and everything he fought to build was destroyed by the descendants of those he had saved. I could not fault him for his reasoning, but something he said caught my attention.
Now that I understood how this topsy-turvy universe came into being, there was one key issue that had yet to be answered. How did The Maker get his hands on a T.A.R.D.I.S?
Time And Relative Dimension In Space, or T.A.R.D.I.S for short, is a hyper advanced piece of technology that allows Time Lords to traverse time and sometimes space. While technically a machine, it has sentience and a sense of self. They were grown and nurtured by the Time Lords before their fall.
‘Time Lords have accidentally crossed universes before, so I suppose it is possible. But if he had that, why not leave the Marvel multiverse altogether?’
I was getting off track now. My father-in-law had answered my question; now it was my turn to do the same.
“Doom, I understand your reasoning behind holding yourself responsible for the destruction of Earth-6160, but your fault ends there.” My gaze lifted to the trembling sphere. “My reasoning for leaving had nothing to do with your actions. That night, my men picked up a garbled transmission from the Realm of Ultramar...”
The Emperor of Mankind and Terra still stand!
That single message drove me to pack up and leave this world. I knew there was still time to salvage the situation and end the civil war. When my pregnant wife learned of my plans to depart, she demanded to come with me. We went back and forth several times over the matter. Like her father, once her mind was made up, nothing would change it. I was forced to take her with me, which ultimately led to both of our deaths.
“En route to Terra, my fleet happened upon what remained of my brother Zephrim’s fleet. Only numbering eight or nine vessels, the Eleventh Legion was on its last leg. Their reactors were on the verge of going critical, so I ordered us in to render aid. When we reached them, those who had dealt the damage arrived.” My eyes turned toward the cold steel floor. “We tried to fight them, but their numbers and technology were just too much for us. In fifteen minutes, my fleet was falling apart and our retreat was being cut off...”
<Aremus… Please stop… I can’t bear to—>
I interjected. “When it became clear we would not make it, I tried to send Valeria and our baby boy to my flagship and send them away. If my legion threw ourselves into the lion’s maw, we could buy them time to flee. She refused to abandon me. Valeria placed our boy in my First Captain’s arms and sent him off with several escort ships. Zephrim, Valeria, our Marines, and I fought with everything we had to buy them every second we could. Zephrim and I were slain by the Dark Lord Davoth… Valeria… She was… He dragged her unconscious body back to the realm of Jekkad.”
<...my… my baby girl...>
Sparks flew from Luxion’s chassis as Doom grieved the loss of his daughter. Fresh tears flowed down my cheeks as I berated myself for being too weak to protect her. Valeria followed me into the jaws of death, but only I was granted some semblance of mercy. For ten thousand years, I suffered unending torment and torture within the Headless Celestial. Compared to what awaited Valeria in Hell, I got off easy.
As they grieved, Malcador appeared beside Leon. His expression was horrid, almost like he had just swallowed the most vile and rotten food imaginable. With trembling hands, he shook the Primarch’s shoulder violently.
“Aremus… Do you mean that Davoth… the same entity you repeatedly forewarned us about back then?” Malcador’s grip tightened. “Your Father swore there were only eight Chaos Gods. The ninth you repeatedly spoke of was nothing more than a fallacy.”
I looked up at him. “Father was only partially right. Davoth is not a Chaos God; he is something far worse. He is a cosmic entity with power far beyond anything you’ve seen. The Realm of Jekkad was created by him for his people. Their society was a utopia for all the realm’s inhabitants until they ran out of resources to sustain it…”
Instead of adapting and living within their means, Davoth led his people to rob other dimensions of their resources. Countless dimensions were stripped bare, their inhabitants enslaved or killed to feed their sateless hunger. Eventually, a group of higher beings stepped in and sealed Jekkad off from the rest of reality. The goal was to contain them and let the utopia devour itself until nothing was left. What happened was far beyond anything they could have imagined.
Davoth placed the blame for their situation on the rest of creation. He rallied the people, made them perform rituals so grotesque that even the Chaos Gods would recoil in disgust and fear. By the time they were done, his people were mindless demons subservient to the Dark Lord Davoth. As the seal weakened, Davoth’s influence slowly returned, allowing his minions to resume their endless devouring of creation.
“You once asked me why I fought against my father’s plans so hard. Now that you are listening, I will tell you.” My gaze met his. “Bodies and souls, that is what Jekkad sustains itself on. The souls of the deceased are tormented until they shatter; the life essence within is the power source his demons run on. Soulless bodies are tossed onto mountains of corpses. In time, the environment mutates the husks into new demons. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Malcador staggered backward. The old man shook his head, unwilling to accept my words.
“No… it cannot be. That would mean… many of the lives we took during the Great Crusade and Horus’ Betrayal…” He fell onto his backside. “We gave him an endless buffet from which he could grow his forces.”
I nodded. “Ten thousand years ago, I glimpsed the full extent of his forces in Jekkad. It was easily far more than our numbers at the height of the Imperium’s power. Over these past ten thousand years, he has continued amassing his strength and collecting technology for a full assault on our realm. The universe, let alone the Imperium of Man, is not ready to face such an onslaught. By my estimate, we have less than fifty years to halt the invasion. If we don’t…”
Luxion and Malcador looked at Leon, then at each other. No longer blind and deaf to his warning, they realized why Aremus had fought so hard. He desperately wanted to protect those he loved, his country, and the rest of the universe from annihilation. Both men had forced one lone man to carry this heavy burden alone. Even in his last moments, he never stopped trying to change the future for the better.
‘Father, why won’t you listen to what Aremus is saying!? He is pleading for your help to save his family and his people. Growing up, you told me that those with the power to make meaningful changes for the people should do so. Mother and you both have experience, knowledge, and wisdom that could save countless lives. Why can’t you separate what the Imperium of Man stands for from who Aremus is? My husband isn’t a monster. He is a man trying to save everything and everyone he loves.’
Valeria’s words looped through Doom’s processors. Those were his daughter’s last words to him before she left with Aremus. Back then, he assumed she was blinded by love and the child in her womb. Now he understood Valeria had listened to Aremus’ warnings and acted.
<When our business concludes in the Elven Territory, head to the island where we first met. I’ve waited ten thousand years to pass my mantle to a worthy successor. As my direct descendant and son-in-law, I can think of no one more worthy than you. Once the transfer is complete, I can finally move on to be with my beloved Inan in the afterlife.>
Malcador heard Luxion’s declaration and looked at his own hands. His soul fragment was slowly fading away. He had at most two or three weeks left before he would disappear forever. There was so much more he wanted to do and say with Aremus, but there was nothing he could do about it. Just as he was about to speak, a hidden, suppressed memory came to the forefront of his mind.
---Flashback, 3rd Person POV---
Malcador stormed into the Golden Throne room, having just watched Aremus depart from Terra for perhaps the last time. After rebuilding his legion from nothing for a second time, he cast off all his badges and merits, declaring he would leave to find the solution to the Imperium’s grim future beyond their borders. Many had scoffed at his foolish words, but Malcador and those who knew him well understood what this meant. What he was trying to prevent was now inevitable.
“I knew better than anyone that you could be cold, but even this is a shock to me. Could you not give the boy even a moment of your time to say goodbye?” Malcador stood several feet away from the Emperor of Mankind. “Everything Aremus has foretold about the Great Crusade’s progress came to pass without exception. I know you’ve forbidden speaking about it, but are you certain what he told us about the Fall of the Imperium won’t happen too?”
“The departure of that disgraceful failure was less important than completing this project. You know this to be true, Malcador.” The Emperor kept his gaze fixed on the work being done to carve a path into the Webway.
For years, Malcador had silently stood by as the Emperor treated his sons like chess pieces. They were all being led around by the nose, hoping to receive even an ounce of praise from their father, except for Aremus. He refused to accept that the Great Plan was the best way forward. Countless warnings and supporting proof had been shown to his family, but they refused to listen. Malcador had gone along with it, but now he no longer could.
“Enough! Aremus is not a failure. The only failing he has is that he cares too much for people who couldn’t care less if he dropped dead.” Malcador slammed his staff onto the ground. His psychic pressure made the room tremble. “Stop hiding behind your cryptic words and riddles. Tell me, is your cold treatment of the boy because he will say what you won’t? As your long-time friend and confidant, I demand you tell me the truth.”
The Emperor turned his exhausted gaze back to his friend. He was about to brush him off, but then another face entered. A furious mother, Erda, glared daggers at him.
“Aremus has received the brunt of your anger and frustration since he returned to the Imperium of Man. I foolishly kept quiet while you tortured him over and over. Now that you’ve chased him off, I refuse to stand idly by anymore.” Erda stormed right up to him and jabbed her finger into his chest. “What did the boy do to warrant such mistreatment?”
“Everyone, stop what you are doing and give us a few minutes.” The Emperor gestured toward the door. “Except for the Valdor, his men, and the Sisters of Silence. You remain here with us.”
The engineers and workers did as they were told. When the last of them were gone, the Emperor released a pained sigh. Flopping onto an old wooden bench, he took a moment to collect himself.
“Let me start by saying, everything Aremus foretold about our future may come to pass. The Dark Lord Davoth is real, and he will destroy the Imperium, the galaxy, and the universe itself if nothing is done.” The Emperor stared at the cobblestone floor. “I’ve taken no pleasure in denying my son’s words, rejecting his pleas, and tormenting him. When I made the Primarchs, I hoped they would share the burden of saving us all together. Their dispersal across the galaxy honed them for the current crusade, but not for what comes next.”
Erda’s nails dug into her palms. “So you took out your anger and frustration on Aremus!? What does that—”
The Emperor snapped his gaze onto her. “I drove our son away because if he stayed, the whole of creation would burn. The only path forward that doesn’t end in catastrophe is one where he goes out to wander the stars to amass allies, power, and technology. He will find the power to save us, return home, and take us beyond where my sight can see. Out of all our twenty-one sons, I know he is capable enough to make the slimmest of chances possible. He… he has to…”
A lone tear ran down his face. Many times he had come close to ending the torment because he could not bear the agony of seeing his son racked with pain. Out of all twenty-one Primarchs, he was the one the Emperor felt most connected to.
Both men were cut from the same cloth, forced to shoulder burdens lesser men could not, and sacrifice everything for others. Time had jaded him, but before the Cybernetic Uprising and Old Night, he was just like Aremus. Full of empathy for all, a belief that tomorrow would be better, and that words solved more problems than violence.
“Damn it!” Malcador smacked a support column with his staff. “The boy must be cursed to have been born into this galaxy. Someone like him would have had a better life in a different galaxy or time period.”
“I know.” The Emperor closed his eyes. “There is one other reason for my actions. When Horus inevitably betrays us, I fear I will not be strong enough to resist the Ruinous Powers’ temptation. If I fall… only Aremus will have the strength to slay me. Should it come to it, I don’t want him to hesitate for a moment.”
“My lord, if you know Horus will betray the Imperium, shouldn’t we kill him now?” Sweat rolled down Valdor’s face as Erda glared venomous daggers at him.
“What loving father would seek to stain his blade with his son’s blood? If I have to, I will. Horus may still resist the temptation, but the chance is very slim. If not him, then one of my other sons will do it. I’ve treated them all terribly...”
The room fell silent. Everyone understood they were now locked into this route whether or not they liked it. All they could do now was make the best of a shitty situation.
Had a few individuals known this information prior to Aremus’ departure, they would have gone with him. Aside from the Eleventh Primarch, Zephrim, only Aremus treated those in the Sisters of Silence as ordinary women. Several of the women had grown close to him during his many long stays within the Imperial Palace. When he returned from campaigns, the first thing he would do was bring Erda, Malcador, and those women gifts.
They were simple baubles and trinkets, but he put a lot of thought into them. For women who had been robbed of having ordinary lives, his kindness had won their hearts. If not for their oaths to the Emperor of Mankind, they would have joined his legion long ago, like so many Abhumans and Knight Houses had.
“We were forcibly locked into this path long before the Imperium of Man existed. The Cybernetic Uprising was Davoth’s first attack on our galaxy. From that point on, we were set on a course for total annihilation. Everything I’ve done since revealing myself has been to protect us from the enemies pounding on our door.” The Emperor rose to his feet. “Now, let’s get back to playing our part in this nightmare.”
---Flashback End---
With what little time Malcador had left, he swore to give his all to aiding Leon. Before he passed, there were two items he would give his adoptive son. They would serve him well in the trials he would one day face.
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