Capítulo 77: A Second Chance 3
(Third Person POV)
The void of space was silent, an endless stretch of darkness punctuated only by the distant glimmers of stars. A single spark flickered into existence in one such corner of the galaxy.
It was faint at first, barely noticeable against the cosmic backdrop, but it grew in intensity until it became a blinding point of light. From that light emerged a solitary pod, scarred and battered from its journey through the warp.
This was no ordinary pod. Within it lay the one of the Primarchs, a being forged with unparalleled power and potential. The journey through the Immaterium had been long and grueling, but unlike his siblings, this child had been fully aware.
He had felt the tug of malevolent forces, the whispers of dark gods, and the pull of the immaterial sea. Yet none of it fazed him. His mind, though young, was sharp, tempered by something beyond the Emperor's genetic design.
The pod careened through the atmosphere of a planet, flames licking its exterior as it hurtled toward the surface. The planet below was a world in turmoil, a place where survival was a daily battle.
Desolate wastelands stretched across continents, and the skies were permanently stained a sickly orange from the constant ash and dust storms. This was a world of conflict, where tribes warred endlessly over the scarce resources that remained.
The pod crashed into the ground with a thunderous impact, creating a massive crater in the barren earth. Dust and debris were flung high into the air, obscuring the sky for miles.
The force of the landing shook the ground, sending shockwaves through the area. Yet, within the heart of that crater, the pod remained intact.
For a long moment, the world was still, as if holding its breath in anticipation. Then, with a sharp hiss of escaping air, the pod's door slowly opened. A figure stepped out, small yet imposing, with eyes that glowed with an eerie intelligence. The child, no more than a few years old in appearance, surveyed the landscape with a calmness that belied his age.
This was not the first time he had seen a world like this. Even within the pod's interior, the Primarch never ceased reliving his memories, fragments of lives lived, experiences gained through the countless cycles imposed upon him by the golden woman. Yet even the slightest memory of her causes the child's eyes to glow red with unspeakable rage.
He had seen worlds rise and fall, witnessing both creation and destruction. But this time was different. This was no illusion, no carefully constructed nightmare this was reality.
He stepped forward, his bare feet sinking into the ashen ground. The air was thick with the smell of sulfur and decay, but he did not flinch. He had endured worse.
As he moved, his senses expanded, taking in everything around him: the distant cries of scavenging beasts, the faint rumble of an approaching storm, and the heartbeat of life itself. He was alone, but not afraid.
In the distance, a group of nomads approached, drawn by the light of the crash. They were ragged, clad in makeshift armor, and armed with primitive weapons.
These were people who had known only hardship, their eyes hollow from years of suffering. When they saw the child standing alone in the crater, they hesitated. This was no ordinary boy, and even they, with their limited understanding, could sense it.
The leader of the group, a grizzled man with a scarred face and a tattered cloak, stepped forward cautiously. He raised his weapon, a crude spear fashioned from scrap metal, and pointed it at the child. The child observed the group with their armor and weapons being similar to that of early humanity.
"Who are you, boy?" he demanded, his voice rough and filled with suspicion.
The child looked up at the man, his gaze unwavering. There was no fear in those eyes, only an eerie calmness. He tilted his head slightly, as if considering the question.
"I am no one," the child finally replied, his voice soft but clear. "But I will become someone."
The leader frowned, unsure of how to respond. Something was unsettling about this boy, something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. But he was a man hardened by years of survival, and he would not be intimidated by a child.
"Where did you come from?" the man pressed, stepping closer. "Are you a spy from one of the other tribes? Answer me!"
The child's eyes flickered with a hint of something—annoyance, perhaps, or maybe amusement. He took another step forward, and the ground beneath him seemed to tremble slightly. The nomads shifted nervously, sensing that something was about to happen.
"I came from the stars," the child said, his tone growing more forceful. "I am not here to spy, nor do I belong to any tribe. For now, I am no one with nothing."
The child raised his hand before the leader could react, and a shockwave rippled through the air. The nomads were thrown back onto their knees, their weapons clattering to the ground as they struggled to regain their footing. The leader was the first to recover, but when he looked up, he found himself staring into the child's glowing eyes.
Fear gripped the man's heart, but he tried to hide it. "What… what are you?"
The child didn't answer immediately. He seemed to be contemplating the question as if searching for the right words. Finally, he spoke, his voice echoing with a resonance that seemed to come from the very earth itself.
"I have had many beginnings," he said. "And I have lived through many ends. I have been witnessed to heaven and hell, but now I don't know."
With that, the child turned and began walking away, leaving the stunned nomads behind. The leader watched him go, unable to move, his mind racing with a mixture of awe and terror. He had encountered many strange things in his life, but nothing like this.
There was something profoundly unnatural about that boy, something that defied explanation. The boy, who looked no older than two, was more insane than any of the cannibals he had seen throughout his lifetime.
As the child walked across the wasteland, the sky above began to change. The orange hue deepened, and dark clouds gathered, rumbling with distant thunder. The wind picked up, swirling the ash into spirals. The world seemed to respond to his presence as if it recognized him, acknowledged him as something more extraordinary.
In the distance, the ruins of an ancient city loomed, its once grand structures now reduced to crumbling skeletons. The child headed toward it with a sense of purpose. There was something there, something calling to him. He could feel it, a presence, a power that resonated with his own. It felt similar to what he wielded before, yet different.
When he reached the city's outskirts, he paused, surveying the desolate landscape. The wind howled through the broken buildings, carrying with it the faint whispers of the past. The child closed his eyes, listening. He could hear the echoes of those who had once lived here, their voices mingling with the wind. But there was something else, too, something more profound.
Opening his eyes, the child walked into the city. The streets were empty except for the occasional shadow darted across his path. He moved with deliberate slowness, his senses on high alert. The feeling of being watched grew stronger with each step, but he did not falter. He knew what he was seeking.
Eventually, he came to a large structure, its facade cracked and overgrown with twisted vines. It had once been a temple, a place of worship for a forgotten people. It was a tomb filled with memories of a bygone era. The child stepped inside, his footsteps echoing off the stone and metal walls.
The interior was dark, illuminated only by the faint light that filtered through the shattered windows. The air was thick with dust and the lingering scent of decay.
The child made his way to the center of the temple, where a massive statue stood, its features worn away by time. At its base lay a relic, a fragment of something ancient and powerful.
A chest that glowed in a nearly crimson hue reminiscent of something much older.
The child knelt before the relic, reaching out to touch it. The moment his fingers brushed against it, a surge of energy coursed through him, filling him with a warmth that banished the cold of the wasteland.
His mind was flooded with images—visions of battles fought, of worlds conquered and lost, of a golden figure standing atop a mountain of skulls. He saw fire and blood, death and rebirth. And through it all, he saw himself growing stronger with each passing moment.
When the visions finally subsided, the child opened his eyes, a new clarity in his gaze. He understood now what he was meant to do. The path ahead would be long and treacherous, but he would walk it without hesitation. He would become what he was destined to be. He once believed in peace, but that was no longer an option.
Rising to his feet, the child took the relic in his hands, feeling its weight, its power. He was no longer just a boy, no longer just a Primarch. He was something more, something that would change the fate of this world and perhaps many others.
As he opened the chest, a small golden egg appeared in front of him before entering his body because it was so much faster than the child could react. He felt his niece as if his soul and mine were being reformed over and over again.
Thunder and lightning flew across the sky in an almost orchestral fashion, and the city began to shake and quake as a red and golden light bathed it.
Yet amid the maelstrom of unknown energy and unexpected side effects occurred as the planet that was once watched by being known only to chaos disappeared entirely from the view of the imperium and could feel their roars of pain and annoyance.
Yet almost as quickly, they rained the impulses and turned to other children as they can still be molded in their image.
One child won't be able to make a difference.
(The MC has landed on his world. I am still trying to come up with ideas on how I can design this world myself. I am thinking of making it a Mad Max-type world. In terms of its location, it is essentially in the southern part of the galaxy within the veiled region. I also have to think of a name for our main character)
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder