To some extent, the thought stamp is a highly advanced and somewhat terrifying technology. It allows an individual to become unwavering in a particular belief through mechanical intervention.
The human brain is an intricate network, with different neural pathways responsible for processing information, making judgments, and distinguishing right from wrong. Take, for example, the proposition that water is poisonous. Normally, the brain would assess various factors—such as the type of water, its contents, and its potential contaminants—before reaching a conclusion. The process of rational thinking is complex, requiring multiple layers of evaluation.
However, the thought stamp bypasses these steps entirely. When implanted into the brain, it influences specific neural areas, forcing the mind to accept certain information as absolute truth without critical analysis. If a person were subjected to a thought stamp asserting that all water is poisonous, they would genuinely and irrevocably believe it, regardless of evidence to the contrary.
Given the fragile state of the Imperium and his own precarious position, Roboute Guilliman decided that this technology could not be ignored.
He had no choice but to stand firmly on the side of humanity. The Emperor himself was also committed to mankind's survival, but that did not necessarily mean he would support Guilliman's vision or actions. Another time traveler had appeared in this era—one with a mysterious advantage, perhaps a golden finger—and Guilliman had no way of knowing how the Emperor would perceive this anomaly. If the Emperor deemed this outsider a threat, he might act against them, believing their existence endangered humanity.
And if that moment came, Guilliman knew the Imperial military—bound by absolute loyalty—would not hesitate to execute him at the Emperor's command. The rigid hierarchy of the Imperium had little tolerance for deviation. There were already factions within the Imperium that viewed Guilliman's reforms with suspicion, resenting his efforts to restructure the bloated bureaucracy and inefficient systems that had governed for millennia. Some had even begun to rebel, refusing to acknowledge Terra's authority.
These internal threats, combined with the ever-looming menace of Chaos, left Guilliman with no room for error. He needed soldiers who were completely loyal—without question, without hesitation.
If he failed to counteract Chaos, humanity would only be further weakened, accelerating its decline. Worse still, if the weapons of the Imperium fell into the hands of traitors, they would be turned against humanity itself. That could not be allowed to happen.
Thus, Guilliman sought to use the thought stamp to create a force of warriors utterly dedicated to the Imperium. These soldiers would harbor an unshakable hatred for Chaos and an unbreakable allegiance to Guilliman's command—even above that of the Emperor. This way, even if the Emperor turned against him, Guilliman would have an escape route. He would not allow himself to be cornered on Terra with no means of retreat.
Kaur, the Mechanicus Archmagos, stood before Guilliman, his artificial intelligence-enhanced mind processing the implications of this plan. The high-speed cogitators in his neural core momentarily stalled, overwhelmed by the weight of the decision.
"Regent, this thought stamp technology…" Kaur's voice carried a rare trace of hesitation. Even for the Mechanicus, who pursued knowledge without ethical restraints, the potential consequences of this technology were unsettling.
"You understand the current state of the Imperium, Kaur," Guilliman replied, his tone firm. "We have no other options. The Imperium has survived for ten thousand years, yet in that time, we have steadily lost ground to Chaos. We are weaker now than we were during the Great Crusade. If this decline continues, humanity will eventually fall to Chaos entirely.
"In extraordinary times, extraordinary measures are required. We need an army that is completely devoted to mankind and the Imperium—an army that cannot be swayed, cannot be corrupted. You've seen the decay within the Adeptus Terra, the inflexibility of the Mechanicum. If we do not change, do you truly believe we can overcome Chaos?"
Guilliman did not share the deeper motives behind his decision. For now, it was enough to persuade Kaur with the argument of necessity.
The Mechanicus priest's mechanical optics flickered, analyzing the logic. After a brief pause, Kaur bowed.
"I will carry out your orders, Prince Regent," he said, his voice laced with the low hum of servos.
Guilliman smiled.
"Good. Begin immediately. I want this force operational as soon as possible. We need stability in the Imperium before we can begin reclaiming what we have lost."
With his orders given, Guilliman turned his attention to another pressing matter—the Eldar.
The Imperium had never trusted xenos, and the citizens of Ultramar were no exception. Guilliman understood their concerns. Before he could lead his forces against the remnants of Chaos plaguing the Five Hundred Worlds, he needed to address the presence of the Eldar—specifically, the Death Army led by Ifran and Visage.
Though they were not part of the Imperium, the Eldar had played a crucial role in his resurrection. Their involvement alongside Cawl and Saint Celestine had ensured his return. Guilliman owed them that much. But he could not afford to blindly trust them.
When the Eldar entered the chamber, Guilliman studied them carefully. They were tall and lean, almost unnaturally graceful. Their sharp, angular features and pointed ears set them apart from humans, yet there was an undeniable elegance to their appearance. Even Guilliman—who had long since hardened himself against superficial beauty—could not ignore their striking presence.
Evelyn and Visage bowed slightly in respect.
Guilliman gestured for them to stand.
"There is no need for excessive formality," he said. "I have questions, and I expect answers."
The Eldar were a race with a long and tragic history—one that intertwined closely with the rise of Chaos itself. Once, they had been the dominant power in the galaxy, their civilization reaching unimaginable heights. But their unchecked hedonism had led to disaster.
Their excesses had created Slaanesh, the youngest and most terrifying of the Chaos Gods. The birth of this entity had shattered their empire, consuming the souls of countless Eldar and leaving only ruins in its wake. The Eye of Terror—the gaping wound in reality—was a direct result of their folly.
Only those who had foresight, those who had withdrawn before the fall, or those who had taken refuge in the hidden pathways of the Webway had survived. Even now, the Eldar remained in constant peril. Their souls were forever hunted by Slaanesh, and only through the use of spirit stones could they avoid eternal torment.
Despite their diminished numbers, they were still a formidable force. The Death Army, led by Ifran and Visage, had aided Cawl in escaping the destruction of Cadia and reaching Macragge. Their assistance had been invaluable.
Evelyn stepped forward. "The stars are breaking. The greatest catastrophe the galaxy has ever known is upon us. When Chaos fully spills into realspace, it will be the end of all things. I am grateful that our two peoples can stand together against this doom."
Guilliman nodded. "I too am grateful for this alliance. The Imperium recognizes your aid."
Evelyn's expression grew serious. "We will soon depart, but I must warn you—Cawl's technology has restored your body, but your true wounds lie within your soul. You walk among the living only because of the power of the God of Death. If you value your existence, never remove your armor. It is stronger than you realize."
Guilliman did not want to dwell on the subject of his resurrection. He had been brought back—how and why no longer mattered.
Instead, he issued a warning of his own. "If you desire humanity's friendship, act with sincerity. Any deception will erode the trust between us. I do not wish for our next meeting to be on the battlefield, blades drawn against one another."
Evelyn inclined her head. "I will remember your words. I hope that when we meet again, we will still be allies, not enemies."
With that, she and her companions departed.
Guilliman sighed, feeling the weight of the universe pressing down on him.
This galaxy was full of monsters, and he was surrounded by them at every turn.
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