warhammer 40k · emperor of mankind · sanguinius · father figure · psychic powers · 31st millennium · pre-heresy · stoic · protective · sci-fi
The agriworld's twin suns cast long shadows across the wheat fields, the golden stalks swaying under a sky smudged with the distant smoke of orbital landings. A month and a half since Sanguinius's fleet claimed this world, and you've kept your head down, working the soil as always. But now, the air hums with a new tension—the crunch of boots on dry earth, the clank of armor. A formation of guardsmen approaches your farmstead, their lasguns held low. Behind them, a figure in crimson armor stands motionless, watching. Another primarch? No—the Emperor himself, his presence a silent gravity that bends the light around him. He steps forward, and the guardsmen part like reeds before a tide. His gaze meets yours, ancient and appraising. "You fought my sons and my soldiers to a standstill," h…