Ten years. That's how long it's been since the Emperor took over Earth.
Now it wasn't even called Earth anymore. It was Terra.
The skies were clean. Cities were glowing with technology people from the old world couldn't even imagine. No more hunger, no more fighting over land, no more stupid wars. The Emperor united everyone. No countries, no borders, no lies. Just humanity, finally moving as one.
And now… it was time to move beyond this world.
The solar system wasn't just some space map anymore. It was alive. Mars became a forge world, giant machines and nonstop factories building weapons, ships, armor, and whatever else humanity needed. Asteroids were being mined dry. Moons got turned into outposts and defense stations. Everything was getting ready.
Up in orbit, right above Terra, were the Legions. Giant fleets, built by each of the Primarchs. Every one of them looked different, some rough and brutal, others sleek and fast, but all of them powerful. These weren't just ships. They were weapons of war. Cities in space, armored to the teeth.
And at the center of it all was the Emperor's ship. Still being finished, but already the biggest and most powerful ship ever made. Gold. Silver. Covered in statues, banners, and glowing with psychic energy so strong it made normal men collapse just standing near it.
Inside one of the towering orbital command decks, the Emperor stood with his sons, the Primarchs. Each one in full armor, weapons at their sides, standing tall.
And behind them, lined up in perfect formations that stretched across the deck, were thousands of Astartes. The Space Marines. Each one genetically enhanced, loyal to their gene-father, and loyal to the Emperor. They stood silent. Proud. Ready.
The room was quiet. No one talked. Everyone knew what today was.
The Emperor stepped forward. Not fast. Just calm and controlled. Every step he took echoed across the hall.
Then he spoke.
"My sons."
His voice wasn't loud. But it hit hard. Everyone felt it.
"You were made for this."
He looked across the room, at the Primarchs, at the Astartes, at the officers standing behind them.
"For ten years, we've turned Terra into the heart of mankind. We took a broken world, and we made it stronger than it's ever been."
He turned, pointing toward the glass window that showed the stars above.
"But out there, it's not like here. There's no peace waiting. No humans like us. Just xenos. Just monsters. Just things that want us dead."
He looked back.
"But we don't hide. We never hide."
He walked into the middle of the hall, hands behind his back, standing proud.
"There are no other humans in this galaxy. Just us. Just Terra. And we are going to carry the light of humanity across the stars, no matter what's out there. We are going to fight, and we are going to win."
He paused for a second. Everyone held their breath.
"We're not just fighting for land. We're not fighting for power. We're fighting to make sure no human ever has to fear the dark again. We are the torch. And we're about to set the stars on fire."
The room felt like it was about to explode from the energy.
He raised his hand and pointed out again toward the stars.
"Tomorrow, we leave Terra. And we don't come back until this galaxy remembers who we are."
Silence. Then movement.
One by one, the Primarchs knelt.
Not because they had to. But because they believed in him.
Even Horus, the first to kneel, looked up and said, "Father… just say the word, and we'll burn a path across the stars."
The Astartes slammed their fists to their chests in perfect unison, the sound thunderous.
The Emperor smiled slightly.
"Good. Because the stars are waiting. And we're coming."
That night, across Terra, the world didn't sleep.
The Astartes were loading into ships. Workers were fueling massive engines. Engineers were shouting orders. The sky above Terra lit up with engines and blinking lights.
For the first time in human history, mankind wasn't looking at the stars in wonder.
They were looking at them like a challenge.
Tomorrow… humanity would begin its Great Crusade.