Man in Warhammer, starting Primarch

Dukel used the mental training method he derived to visualize his own subspace projection.

"Well, I visualized myself, and although it sounds strange, the process was incredibly smooth," he thought.

During his visualization process, the boundless wildfire spreading across endless plains instantly manifested in his spiritual world. The flames were so dense they were almost liquid, rolling like ocean waves.

The bright firelight reflected outward, seeming to dispel all the darkness in his spiritual world. Dukel's body and mind were enveloped in great warmth.

At the moment of visualizing this wildfire, waves invisible to the naked eye spread from Dukel's spiritual world like ripples, resonating seamlessly with the wildfire burning in the subspace.

Unpredictable energy fluctuations, like layers of tides, slowly washed over Dukel's spirit.

He followed the guidance of his visualization, absorbing these energies and channeling them into his spiritual realm.

At that moment, he felt his spirit merge closely with the projection far away in the subspace.

In other words, they had become one.

Gradually, Dukel lost the concept of time.

He wasn't sure how long it had been—perhaps just a moment, or perhaps ten thousand years.

"Someone is coming," Dukel thought.

Although his consciousness had not yet left the spiritual realm, he retained an extremely clear perception of the outside world.

"In 50 seconds, this person will knock on the door."

This was an almost instinctive inference.

Time passed little by little.

Sure enough, 50 seconds later:

"Knock, knock, knock—"

The knock on the door came on time, without a single deviation.

"Your Majesty Dukel, are you all right?"

The voice from outside the door was strange. Although the words expressed care, they were devoid of emotion, sounding like a mechanically synthesized tone.

Dukel slowly opened his eyes.

In the dark room, a bright flame seemed to suddenly ignite. The room's brightness increased several times as if a wildfire burned within Dukel's eyes.

After blinking, the fiery illusion faded.

"Come in," Dukel said calmly.

The door opened, revealing a figure cloaked in a red monk's robe. Through the gaps in the robe, hard metal and complex circuits were faintly visible.

Ophelia VII was both a temple world and a forging planet. The visitor was Gris, the great sage overseeing the Mechanicus stationed on the planet.

Gris entered the room, his modified mechanical right eye flashing faint red light as it scanned Dukel's condition.

Since the war, tens of billions of eyes had watched the Primarch's every move. Yet, Dukel had locked himself in his room for three days and three nights without stepping outside.

Rumors spread quickly.

Some speculated that the Second Primarch had been gravely injured during the battle with Khorne's Great Daemon and was now recovering.

Others suggested something more sinister—that the Second Primarch might lose control again, potentially unleashing a devastating massacre.

Fear swept through the people.

Gris was among the concerned.

For thousands of years, he had been involved in the efforts to revive the Second Primarch and restore him from his loss of control. He understood better than most how fragile the hope of revival had been.

But the impossible had happened. The Primarch had been revived and had saved everyone at the critical moment.

This filled Gris with both joy and anxiety.

His visit today was to observe the Primarch's condition and prepare for any necessary actions.

"Your Majesty Dukel, you've been busy for three whole days," Gris said carefully.

"Everyone is concerned about you."

His mechanical prosthetic eye flashed as it tracked Dukel's every reaction.

Dukel raised his head, revealing eyes that blazed like flames.

"Gris, stand before me," he said softly.

Gris stepped forward without hesitation.

Dukel trusted him.

For centuries, Gris had traveled between galaxies, tirelessly searching for lost technologies and ancient knowledge to aid in the Primarch's revival.

More importantly, Dukel could now clearly perceive Gris's unwavering loyalty to humanity.

At this moment, he saw the faith-link between Gris and the Mechanicus system glowing intensely—just a step away from entering the mind network.

Those who entered the mind network were true fanatics, willing to lay down their lives at Dukel's word without hesitation.

"How may I serve you?" Gris asked, his mechanical eye continuing to analyze Dukel's every move.

Dukel smiled faintly.

"I need you to help me rebuild my fleet," he said.

"A brand-new fleet. Only with a powerful fleet can we gain the upper hand in future wars."

Using his psychic abilities, Dukel transmitted vast amounts of knowledge to Gris—rare treasures of information from humanity's Golden Age.

"This is… incredible," Gris whispered, overwhelmed.

For the Mechanicus, rediscovering such knowledge was akin to uncovering a holy relic.

With this blueprint, they could construct a fleet unlike any other, one that would strike fear across the galaxy.