2nd Primarch

"I'm sorry to tell you, I am not a hero, and mankind has never needed a savior!"

"Today, the survival of the Empire is built on the sacrifices of countless loyal soldiers."

Everyone in the square looked at one another in bewilderment. To them, the Emperor and the Primarch were symbols of invincibility and the end of all nightmares.

But the Primarch himself denying his own ability left them confused and uncertain.

Dukel continued speaking, seemingly to himself.

"I have witnessed the loyalty and courage of soldiers countless times on the battlefield. They resisted stubbornly amid deadly poison gas and charged through dense artillery fire. On those battlefields, they lost companions, brothers, their lives, and everything they held dear. Yet they never hesitated. Whenever war calls, they dedicate everything they have, so the glory of the Empire may endure."

Dukel's voice grew louder, and a majestic spiritual energy resonated powerfully. As he spoke, it seemed everyone could vividly see soldiers' fearless charges across the battlefields of countless lost worlds.

Even the most steadfast warriors found their buried memories stirred. They gazed at the Primarch on the platform, their eyes reddened with emotion.

It had been too long since anyone spoke for them like this.

After ten thousand years without the Emperor and the Primarchs, the gradually decaying Empire no longer regarded its warriors as heroes.

The past glory was gone.

The nobles and lords viewed their lives as expendable numbers, their gazes filled with indifference and contempt when looking at them.

"The survival of the Empire is not solely due to the Emperor or the Primarchs but also the honor and glory of these soldiers who have given everything," Dukel declared. "Yet there are always those who seek to exploit them, to seize their meager possessions and snatch away pensions earned with their very lives."

A little girl was escorted onto the platform by the Sisters of Battle.

The weight of countless gazes made her hide nervously behind Dukel.

This small gesture filled many with jealousy. What an honor it was to stand behind the Primarch, to touch him with a mere stretch of the hand—a privilege reserved only for the noblest mortals.

Yet here was a frail child, easily granted this privilege.

Dukel ignored their reactions and introduced her to the crowd.

"This child's father was a soldier in the Planetary Defense Force. I feel sorrow for what has happened to her. It is absurd that the Empire's soldiers sacrifice everything for its citizens, only to be betrayed by corruption, left homeless, and destitute."

"From today onward, if such injustices occur again, I will punish those responsible severely. No matter their rank or power, I will wipe them out!"

Dukel's words carried a cold, murderous intent that made everyone tremble.

The expressions of many dignitaries turned to horror. The Emperor's son had proven, through his actions, that he was serious.

This moment was recorded by countless individuals, destined to spread to every corner of the Empire.

Today, as the Emperor sits upon the Golden Throne, the Primarch is his agent, and his words hold absolute authority.

Grand Sister Efilar and the Sisters of Battle saluted Dukel, expressing their utmost respect.

"Praise the Emperor! Praise humanity!"

The Astra Militarum and the Space Marines knelt on one knee, pledging their loyalty to Dukel with tears in their eyes.

"Praise the Emperor! Praise humanity!"

The people in the square followed suit, their voices creating a surging wave of sound.

In this moment, as the Empire faces decline, Dukel's iron resolve not only failed to alienate the people but instead dispelled their anxiety.

"Praise the Emperor! Praise humanity!"

The voices grew more unified and powerful, forming an immense, terrifying energy—a pure and resolute faith.

[Absorbing human faith for the host to enhance.]

The system's voice echoed in Dukel's mind after a long absence.

With an overwhelming force, it absorbed and transformed this fervent belief.

At this moment, the square became an explosion of human emotion and devotion.

This was not the first time Dukel had heard the system prompt or experienced such a scenario.

But this time, it felt profoundly different.

In his perception, the real world grew silent and slow, then completely froze.

An indescribable atmosphere enveloped him.

He felt an unbearable itch between his eyebrows.

Then—

"Puff—"

A single eye opened on Dukel's forehead, gazing straight into the unpredictable sky.

In this moment, the boundary between the Warp and the real universe blurred.

His senses of sight, hearing, and touch merged into one.

Magnificent, surreal visions unfolded before him.

Finally, he saw, heard, touched, and understood the gargantuan entity hidden in the depths of the Warp—unfathomable and unimaginable to mortals.

It was a colossal construct of flaming wheels, each a wheel within a wheel, rotating with relentless efficiency.

The edges of the wheels connected by countless tendrils of faith.

The surfaces of the wheels bristled with eyes, each possessing an independent will.

There were precisely 9,632 eyes—not something Dukel counted or sensed, but a fact imprinted upon him.

At the center of this construct was an enormous, singular eye.

Dukel's thoughts raced, and questions arose in his mind:

"Is this my essence? A system? A network server? What am I?"