Chapter 43: 1st Year: A Star's Walk 2
POV: Leon
"Ugh…"
A low groan escaped me as I slowly opened my eyes to a sky littered with stars, the twin moons of this forsaken world drifting solemnly overhead. My body ached, my thoughts disoriented, yet something instinctual stirred me—commanding awareness, commanding action.
And then—clarity struck.
My eyes snapped wide open as I shot upright with unnatural speed, the ground beneath me cracking from the force. I immediately turned my gaze toward the xenos woman seated calmly before a fire, her ancient visage illuminated by the twisting, dancing flames.
She didn't flinch.
"You're awake," she said, not even bothering to look at me. Her voice was melodic, but laced with an eerie detachment. "No need to be wary. I mean you no harm."
Her eyes remained locked on the campfire, and with a flick of her fingers, the flames twisted into strange forms—figures of fire cavorting as if they had minds of their own.
"Who are you… and what do you want?" I demanded, narrowing my gaze.
She waved her hand dismissively, almost offended by the question.
"Oh? How disappointing. You've forgotten me. Hmph—well, I suppose it's not your fault. I did meddle with your memories a bit," she said with a grin. "But you'll remember... right... now."
Suddenly, a flood of suppressed memory surged into my mind.
I remembered... It was back when Mr. Jacob and I were among the few still stationed at the outpost. I had gone alone into the wild wastes that night to eliminate a small bandit encampment. After cleansing the heretics, I discovered her—a xenos female, unconscious among the cages. I had tended to her wounds… and to those of the other surviving captives.
And then...
The memory stopped. Abruptly. As if yanked from the flow.
My eyes returned to her. The same xenos woman now seated before me.
"It's you… Why did you erase my memories of that night?" I asked, my suspicion renewed.
She crossed her legs, her posture relaxed, unfazed.
"Well, since we're finally speaking again, I may as well tell you," she replied, gesturing lazily toward me. "I was looking for you. My fate—our fates—are intertwined. Though I am but a small piece of the puzzle, I am still an essential thread meant to aid your growth."
I frowned, my mind grinding at her cryptic words.
"What do you mean... fate?"
She smirked slightly.
"Exactly what you think it means. You are a child of the Warp," she said, her voice taking on a solemn cadence. "You were never meant to exist within the Materium. And now that you walk within it, you are an empty slate… a vessel upon which all things—light and darkness—seek to inscribe their will. Even your precious Corpse-Emperor has already laid claim to your soul."
Her words hit like bolter fire. My mind reeled.
A child of the Warp? I wasn't supposed to exist?
"What do you mean I'm a child of the Warp? The Warp can't just… create children," I said, barely keeping my voice steady.
She shook her head slowly and sighed, as if addressing a particularly dense mon-keigh.
"The Immaterium—as you call it—is not merely a place. It is an entity. A timeless, sentient force that predates the stars themselves. It watches. It interacts. But above all—it reflects. The thoughts, emotions, fears, and hatreds of every soul echo through it, shaping it."
Her gaze turned serious.
"But the Warp is neutral. It has no will of its own, no purpose. It became corrupted only because the galaxy's collective malice polluted it. And from that chaos… your so-called gods were born."
She leaned closer.
"The karmic balance has tilted too far toward darkness. So, for the first time in eternity, the Warp—fearing what it had become—created you."
I sat there, stunned.
"…Then what am I?" I asked, the truth clawing at my mind like a daemon at the gates of reality. "Am I even… human?"
She met my gaze evenly.
"No. You are not," she said bluntly. "No mortal womb could bear a child of the Warp. You simply came into existence. And by fate, you were entrusted to the most righteous mortal in the galaxy. As it happens... that mortal was human."
My legs buckled beneath me as I collapsed to the ground, my thoughts spiraling.
I wasn't born. I was *given*. Shaped by a force beyond comprehension and placed into the arms of the man I had called father—Vargas.
She watched me silently before speaking again.
"Don't despair. What defines you is not your origin—it is your will," she said. "If you *believe* you are human, then you are. You were chosen by the Warp not to spread madness—but hope. You were placed in the hands of the galaxy's last light so that you might continue his legacy. That is why I'm here… to shield you from the corruptive whispers of the Dark Gods."
Her voice became quieter.
"Remember why the Warp chose him… and why he raised you. To be kind, in a galaxy that has long since forgotten what that word means."
My thoughts turned to Father.
Vargas.
A paragon of virtue in a cursed galaxy. Even as he suffered, even as he bled, he never abandoned his ideals. He was a beacon amidst the shadows. His strength came not from wrath, but from unwavering kindness.
When he fell… the galaxy grew dimmer.
There was no more light to cut through the dark. No path to follow. No hope.
But I did not let the dark consume me.
I rose, even as shadows surrounded me. Even as figures of malice lurked just beyond reach. I stood, because I remembered him.
And now, I would walk his path.
I would become the hope others could follow. I would be the light in the endless night. I would not falter.
**'I am the son of Vargas—the kindest soul this galaxy has ever known. I will carry his will, live his path, and endure until even the darkest stars remember that there is still hope for kindness in this cursed universe.'**
When I lifted my head again, the xenos woman was watching me. Calm. Expectant.
"So," she asked softly, "do you know who you are now?"
I nodded and stood tall, eyes fixed on the stars above.
"I am the son of Vargas."