Sergeant Dain stood before the Archivist, his body aching from battle, his mind weary from the weight of the impossible. The war was over—at least, for now. The Tau had been shattered, their forces routed, but victory felt hollow. Not because of the cost, not because of the dead—Dain had long accepted such things—but because of this.
The thing that now loomed before him.
The Archivist was no man. It was no god, no daemon, no xenos that Dain could name. It was something older, something beyond the reach of history, beyond even the Imperium's vast archives of forbidden knowledge. And it had chosen him.
"You are different," the voice resonated, not through sound, but through the very fabric of reality. "You see the Imperium's flaws, yet you do not waver. You understand its cruelty, yet you do not despair. You do not seek power, yet you stand at the threshold of something greater."
Dain set his jaw, staring up at the being before him. "If you know that, then you know my answer."
The Archivist did not move, yet Dain could feel its gaze upon him, like an unseen force peeling back the layers of his soul.
"I do."
Silence hung between them. The campfire flickered, casting long shadows across the ruined ground. Dain clenched his fists, his resolve unshaken.
"I serve the Emperor," he said firmly. "I am His soldier, His instrument. No matter what you offer, no matter what power you claim to hold, my path is set. My faith is unshaken."
The Archivist regarded him for a long moment before speaking again, its voice distant, yet undeniable.
"This is not faith, Sergeant Dain. This is obedience."
Dain's grip tightened, but he did not speak.
"Faith is tested," the Archivist continued. "Faith endures, even when the truth is revealed. But obedience—obedience can be broken. And I will break it."
A force beyond words struck Dain, a pressure not upon his body, but upon his very being. He gasped as the world around him seemed to twist, his vision blurring, his mind consumed by something vast, unknowable.
Then—
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING…]
Dain staggered, his heart pounding as something clicked inside his mind. The battlefield, the fire, the Archivist—they all faded for a fraction of a second, replaced by something else.
[Welcome, Sergeant Dain.]
[You have been chosen.]
A wave of nausea hit him, but he forced himself to remain upright. The words weren't spoken—they simply existed, burning themselves into his consciousness.
He blinked, and suddenly the world was different.
Small, flickering symbols hovered in his vision. Foreign, yet instinctively understandable. Words, numbers, options.
[Name: Dain, Sergeant]
[Affiliation: Astra Militarum – 117th Infantry]
[Status: Active]
[Attributes: Locked]
[Abilities: Locked]
[Quests: Locked]
A sharp pain lanced through his skull, and the vision flickered. The fire returned. The Archivist stood before him, unmoving.
Dain fell to one knee, panting. His head felt wrong, like something had burrowed into the core of his thoughts and left an imprint.
"What… what did you do to me?"
"I have given you a gift," the Archivist intoned. "A burden. A test."
Dain clenched his teeth. "I refuse—"
"You cannot refuse what is already within you."
The words sent a chill through him. Dain willed the strange vision away, forcing himself to focus.
"This is heresy," he spat. "A trick of the Warp."
"No," the Archivist replied. "This is knowledge. And knowledge is neither holy nor profane. It simply is."
Dain gritted his teeth, forcing himself to rise. "The Emperor guides me. His light is all I need."
The Archivist tilted its head ever so slightly, as if contemplating something beyond Dain's understanding. "Then prove it."
The air grew still.
"This power will change your fate," the Archivist continued. "Whether you embrace it or reject it, whether you use it for salvation or destruction—it will be yours. I have set the path before you. Walk it as you will."
Dain clenched his fists, his faith burning within him. He would resist. He would fight.
But deep inside, he knew the truth.
The path had already begun.