The I.S.S. Dominion shuddered as it slowed from hyperspeed, the hum of its engines settling into a deep, rhythmic thrum. Gaius, seated near a reinforced viewport, opened his eyes from his light meditation and looked outside.
The planet stretched before him—vast, ancient, and untouched by war.
It was unlike anything he had ever seen.
A world nine times the size of his home, covered in endless green, its surface woven with sprawling forests so immense that their trees reached over two hundred meters into the sky.
The entire planet was a monument to life, a realm where nature and technology coexisted in an almost impossible harmony.
The Imperium's influence was undeniable—floating citadels of metal and stone hovered above the trees, their massive bridges connecting skyborne cities that wove seamlessly into the colossal canopies.
Buildings of sleek black steel and shimmering glass were built into the very trees themselves, merging with the natural world rather than replacing it. Luminous power conduits ran through the massive trunks, conducting energy without disturbing the delicate balance of the ecosystem.
The result was a world that defied logic—where nature was not conquered, but harnessed.
And it was beautiful.
Gaius had spent his entire life on war-torn planets, in the trenches of the Imperium's conquests, surrounded by the iron scent of blood and the never-ending thunder of artillery fire.
To see something so untouched, so alive…
It was beautiful.
As if this planet belonged to something greater than the Imperium.
The cruiser drifted lower, approaching one of the larger sky-cities. Gaius caught glimpses of enormous beast-like creatures moving through the lower forest levels—four-legged colossi with bioluminescent fur, avian beasts with wings as wide as warships, small creatures darting between branches with impossible agility.
A different kind of world.
The ship docked smoothly into the primary port of Aureon Prime, one of the planet's largest sky-cities. The city itself was a marvel—suspended platforms, great bridges of steel and stone stretching between titanic trees, entire districts carved into the trunks of the living giants.
Technology and nature intertwined at every level.
Great aerial lifts carried passengers from the forest floor to the city heights, their engines whisper-quiet, powered by Imperial anti-gravity mechanisms. High above, glowing sky lanterns floated in perfect synchronization, their pulsing lights guiding the flow of air traffic.
Despite the grandeur and beauty, the presence of the Imperium's military was unmistakable.
Legionnaires patrolled the bridges in well-formed squads, their dark armor a stark contrast to the vibrant world around them. Surveillance drones hovered in perfect alignment, scanning everything with cold precision.
This planet was a Tier-2 World.
That meant it was not just a place of beauty.
It was a place of control.
And control was what the Imperium did best.
The examinees disembarked in silence.
Hundreds of them poured from the cruiser, guided by the strict efficiency of the Operators, their movements perfectly synchronized. The nobles walked with measured confidence, their expressions unreadable, while the commoners kept to themselves, their gazes cautious, already aware of the invisible hierarchy that separated them.
Gaius walked at his own pace, his eyes scanning everything—not with awe, but with calculation.
Every city had patterns. Weak points. Strengths.
Aureon Prime was a fortress disguised as paradise.
The architecture was deliberate—wide-open bridges, watchtowers hidden within the great trees, built-in choke points that could turn the city into a kill zone at a moment's notice.
And above all, the sky.
The real power of this world was not on the ground.
It was above them.
The Imperial orbital fleets hung in the upper atmosphere, hidden beyond the cloud cover, their presence unseen but always felt. A silent promise that this world belonged to the Imperium.
And yet, beneath all of that, there was something else.
Something deeper
Gaius didn't believe in myths, in gods, in fate.
But some planets had a soul.
And this one?
This one was still watching.
They were led into the main atrium of the Examination Authority, a vast structure suspended between three titanic trees. The inside was no less impressive—polished floors that reflected the artificial sunlight, towering columns lined with intricate carvings, enormous banners displaying the sigil of the Imperium.
Everything was pristine. Perfect.
Like a stage set for something greater.
A man was waiting for them.
Not just any man.
A Praetor.
The moment he stepped forward, the air shifted.
There was no announcement. No ceremony.
But everyone fell silent.
Even the nobles.
Because there was only one Praetor here.
Octavian Valor.
The Marquis of the 7th War Sector.
A figure of absolute power.
He was not young, but neither was he old. His face was sharp, his dark hair streaked with silver, his presence as immovable as a fortress wall. His uniform was black and gold, lined with medals of war, his crimson mantle draped over one shoulder.
And when his golden eyes swept over the crowd, it was not with recognition.
It was with judgment.
Even the nobles, those born to power, stood straighter beneath his gaze.
"Examinees," he said, his voice like the grinding of stone against steel.
A single word.
But it carried.
"We do not have time for weakness."
There was no preamble. No grand speech.
"Your examination begins soon. Some of you will succeed. Some of you will fail. Some of you will not leave this world at all."
Silence.
Cold, suffocating silence.
Then, he turned without another word.
And just like that, the Imperium's reality crashed down upon them.
This was not just a test.
This was a battlefield.
And not everyone would survive it.
They were led deeper into the facility, past the gilded halls of the atrium, down into the lower levels, where the polished grandeur of the upper city faded into something more functional.
More cold.
The corridors were made of dark steel, lined with automated security turrets and scanning devices. The walls were seamless, the air sterile, the lighting dim and utilitarian.
This was not a place of beauty.
It was a place of control.
They arrived at the accommodation sectors, massive dormitories arranged in perfect symmetry. One by one, examinees were directed to their assigned rooms.
When Gaius reached his, the door slid open with a quiet hiss.
Inside was exactly what he expected.
Sleek. Functional. Identical to every other room.
A compact sleeping pod. A holographic workstation built into the wall. A small, sterile kitchen unit. A single bathroom.
Everything reproducible at mass levels.
Everything identical.
Designed not for comfort, but for uniformity.
He stepped inside, letting the door slide shut behind him.
The room was silent.
The first true silence he had felt since leaving Fort Primaris.
For a long moment, Gaius simply stood there, breathing in the stillness, feeling the weight of the moment settle over him.