GATE: Thus The Imperium of Man Fought There

-M2. Earth. Japan

Ollanius gazed at the city's sprawling scenery from his room, the steam rising from a cup of green tea beside him. The tea, provided by the Japanese, left a lingering bitterness on his tongue, stirring memories of his life in ancient Japan.

"Like the old days, I suppose," he murmured to himself, a hint of amusement crossing his face. With a sigh, he returned to his seat and pulled a small device from his pocket. The gadget hummed to life, projecting a holovid that displayed the Imperium's next plan for Old Earth.

An Imperium official was scheduled to visit Japan to finalize a trade and technology transfer agreement.

Ollanius already knew the nature of the goods the Imperium would offer: rudimentary medical and utilitarian technologies. The agreement would also be marked by Imperium's gesture of goodwill, involving several Arcant officials and a proposal for joint research with Japan—potentially extending to other UN member states.

Finishing the last sip of his tea, Ollanius rose and began preparing for the event. As expected, Rei awaited him outside his room.

"Lord Ollanius," she greeted him with a polite bow.

"Greetings, Rei," he replied with a warm smile. "Shall we head to the event?"

"Yes, my lord," she answered, stepping aside to let him lead.

__________________________________________________________

Ollanius observed the scene unfolding before him, his gaze catching the flashes of dozens of cameras from various press institutions. They were all eagerly capturing his image, a reality he had grown tired of since his arrival on Old Earth.

Despite his distaste for the attention, the constant coverage stirred a long-lost memory—the invention of the camera, a time that now seemed eons ago.

"Something on your mind, Lord Ollanius?" Rei's voice broke through his reverie.

"Just reminiscing about the old days," he replied, scanning the room. His eyes lingered on the flags now prominently displayed—the red sun of Japan alongside the golden Aquila of the Imperium. The staff had clearly spared no effort, ensuring the venue was prepared to perfection for the Imperial delegation.

"Everything is going according to plan," Rei reported, though her sigh betrayed some weariness. "We'll be ready in four hours. However, I do hope it won't be as excessive as before."

The comment drew a chuckle from the Perpetual. "Don't worry; that kind of pomp was reserved for first contact only."

"We'd appreciate that immensely," Rei replied, visibly relaxing as she exhaled deeply. Ollanius couldn't help but wonder how long she had been holding her breath.

"Still," he said with a smirk, "I'm sure they'll bring transhumans as bodyguards."

"Please, don't mess with me," Rei snapped, her cheeks reddening in frustration as she glared at him.

"I'm not messing with you, Lady Rei. It's simply the reality. Transhumans have become the norm in our society," Ollanius replied, though his tone carried a faint bitterness.

"Transhumans..." Rei murmured, almost to herself. "I wonder how the Imperium manages their society."

"Thousands of years of social evolution seem to have paid off," Ollanius said with a small smile.

"The way you describe it, Lord Ollanius, you make me want to visit the Imperium," she replied with measured stoicism.

"If you had the chance, I'd be more than happy to invite you. After this treaty, the Imperium will welcome all humans from Old Earth," he said, his words causing Rei's eyes to widen in surprise.

"Is that true?" she asked, her tone sharp and calculating.

"Perhaps," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Rei's gaze turned judgmental as she regarded him in silence. But even without words, Ollanius easily deciphered her unspoken thoughts.

"I'm a reliable Imperial Herald. Don't worry about it," he said with a playful grin.

The reassurance, however, only made Rei groan quietly as she fought to keep her composure.

Not long after, the preparations were complete. Everything was meticulously arranged—the flags, podiums, and seating were all in place. Ollanius couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of the banners. The very idea of bringing flags to foreign territories during diplomatic engagements had become a distant relic in the Imperium's history.

In the modern age of the Imperium, diplomacy with aliens was rare and often fleeting. The Expedition Fleets encountered countless new lifeforms, most of them eldritch horrors that left no room for negotiation—only war. Even during the rare talks with the enigmatic Eldar, the Imperium never bothered to bring banners to alien domains. Yet here, on Old Earth, this ancient custom was revived, leaving the Imperial officials somewhat baffled. It was a spectacle that, despite its triviality, brightened Ollanius' day.

"Well, one more hour until my officials arrive," Ollanius said, glancing at the chrono-device in his hand.

"Let's proceed to our positions, Lord Ollanius," Rei suggested, gesturing politely.

The two diplomats took their places. They sat opposite each other, separated only by the ceremonial table. Ollanius maintained his usual air of calm confidence, but Rei, despite her composed exterior, betrayed her nerves with the subtle trembling of her thumb.

The long-awaited moment had finally arrived. From opposite ends of the hall, the delegations of Japan and the Imperium began their approach to the podium. The Japanese officials, dressed in their tailored suits, carried themselves with a quiet pride. By contrast, the Imperials radiated an aura of grandeur, adorned in lavish skinsuits that shimmered with an otherworldly elegance. Behind the three Imperial delegates stood two towering transhuman bodyguards, their presence a stark reminder of the technological chasm separating the two civilizations.

At the center of the podium, the representatives carefully placed the agreements before them. Wax was melted and ceremonially poured onto the documents, followed by the press of seals and the flourish of signatures. This archaic tradition, steeped in the Imperium's culture, had been introduced at Ollanius' request.

When Ollanius first explained the ritual, the Japanese officials had been visibly taken aback. Their exposure to visions of the Imperium, relayed through the Emperor's psychic will, had painted a picture of unimaginable advancements. Yet here they were, witnessing a tradition that seemed plucked from humanity's distant past. Sociologists had long debated the paradox of such rituals surviving amidst the Imperium's technological dominance.

Ollanius, however, knew the answer all too well. It was a whim of the Emperor—a decree made for His own amusement. That simple truth often left scholars debating endlessly, their arguments spiraling into irrelevance.

As the wax cooled and the documents were signed, one of the Imperial officials stepped forward to address the room. His transhuman form exuded a natural charisma, his voice commanding attention as it resonated through the hall.

"It is a profound honor to stand here today," he began, his gaze sweeping across the gathered audience. "This era, this connection, has been lost to us for millennia. Today, we rekindle a bond that unites us as neighbors, as allies, and as inheritors of the legacy of Old Earth. Japan's warm welcome has shown us the strength of this bond. Together, we shall embark on a path of shared prosperity, a path that shall benefit the entire world."

The implications of his words hung heavy in the air, but his tone remained unwavering.

"Among His Majesty's wishes," he continued, "we grant you access to certain technologies—wonders of our time—to bring prosperity to your world."

The declaration was met with thunderous applause. The room filled with the sound of clapping hands and murmurs of excitement. Yet, while the crowd celebrated, Ollanius' gaze shifted to Rei. Despite her stoic demeanor, the unease in her eyes was as clear as the sunlit day.

For Ollanius, the scene before him was merely the opening move in a larger, more intricate game. The promise of technology—millennia ahead of anything humanity had ever known—had ignited a spark of hope and ambition among the politicians and scientists present. They understood all too well: whoever mastered these gifts first would hold the keys to unimaginable power.

And so, while the world outside cheered in excitement, Ollanius quietly braced himself for the evolution of this delicate game—one that could shape the fate of Old Earth forever.

Ollanius surveyed the room, his sharp eyes catching every detail, every subtle movement. He fought back a smirk, fully aware of the storm the Imperium was about to unleash on Old Earth. Among the technologies they planned to share, one stood out—a creation known as Ichor.

Its origins traced back to the lost years of the M20, conceived by a brilliant doctor whose name had since been buried within the secure depths of the Imperial vaults. Her work had laid the foundation for centuries of groundbreaking medical advancements. Ichor, a golden liquid, was her magnum opus. Its properties were nothing short of miraculous. Comprised of a unique enzyme, it facilitated the complete reconstruction of DNA and RNA, eradicating foreign invaders with surgical precision.

Ollanius could scarcely suppress a sigh. The introduction of Ichor would undoubtedly ignite a maelstrom. Nations would vie for control, scientists would scramble to comprehend it, and power brokers would see it as the ultimate tool—or weapon. The chaos it would bring was almost inevitable.

He leaned back slightly, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts. Let them celebrate, he mused. They have no idea what Pandora's box is about to open

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When the day's schedule concluded, Ollanius made his way to the Prime Minister's office. This time, Rei was absent.

The journey to the office was eerily quiet. Not a single soul wandered the corridors, and Ollanius quickly deduced the reason. The Assassins had already secured the area, ensuring this meeting would go undisturbed. He opened the door and stepped inside, where Motoi awaited him.

"Lord Ollanius," Motoi greeted, his expression polite yet restrained.

"May I have a seat?" Ollanius asked, his voice steady.

"Of course." The Prime Minister gestured to the chair opposite him. Despite his outward composure, there was a subtle tension in his demeanor.

"I wish to discuss a matter concerning your world, Prime Minister," Ollanius said, locking eyes with the younger man. His tone carried a weight that immediately set the room's atmosphere on edge.

At the mention of "your world," Motoi's expression shifted. His brows furrowed, and his gaze sharpened.

"May I know what this is about, Lord Ollanius?" he asked cautiously, his voice betraying a trace of unease.

"There is an anomaly in the Special Region—at the very edge of your world's borders," Ollanius replied, his tone firm, deliberate.

"The Void?" Motoi rasped, the word hanging in the air like an unspoken curse. He leaned forward slightly, his hands gripping the edge of his desk as though bracing for impact.

"You may call it the Void, but the Imperium calls it the Immaterium," Ollanius clarified, his voice calm but pressing.

At that, Motoi froze. His complexion paled as the weight of the revelation struck him. "The Immaterium? You mean... that hellish place?"

Motoi's mind raced. He vividly recalled the Emperor's revelations about the Immaterium during His global enlightenment. Even now, the memories sent shivers down his spine. The horrifying visions of the Warp—the endless, nightmarish dimension teeming with daemons—had sparked widespread fear. Religious institutions had seized the opportunity, invoking apocalyptic imagery to stoke dread and bolster their influence.

"The Immaterium is encroaching upon Falmart, slowly consuming it," Ollanius continued, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "According to our experts, the worst will occur within a year. When that happens, Old Earth will not be spared. The Warp will spill over, and chaos will reign."

Motoi's breath hitched as he absorbed the enormity of the statement. His gaze locked with Ollanius's, and in that moment, he felt utterly dwarfed. The ancient man's calm yet unyielding presence bore down on him, exuding a sense of authority far beyond comprehension.

"Is there anything we can do to stop this?" Motoi asked, his voice trembling as he struggled to maintain composure.

"The Imperium has its own countermeasures," Ollanius said, producing a holo-tablet from within his coat. "However, we may not have enough time to deploy them. That is why the Emperor has put forth a proposal for the safety of your world."

He activated the device, and a holovid flickered to life. The image displayed the entire Falmart continent, its metaphysical structure rendered in intricate detail. At the edges of the continent, tendrils of red—representing the Immaterium—crept inexorably inward. The holovid shifted to reveal a blue sphere, veins of crimson steadily snaking through its structure.

"This is Falmart's metaphysical existence within the Immaterium," Ollanius explained, gesturing to the display. "The red veins are the Warp's growing influence, spreading through the planet's essence. Once they reach the core, Falmart will cease to exist as you know it."

The holovid zoomed in further, highlighting a singular red vein connected to another entity—Old Earth.

"And this," Ollanius continued, "is the connection we've discovered. Your world is now metaphysically linked to Falmart. The Immaterium's corruption will inevitably spread here."

Motoi's face turned ashen. "You're saying... Old Earth will be swallowed by the Warp?"

"Yes," Ollanius said simply, his tone unflinching.

Motoi leaned back in his chair, the weight of the revelation visibly crushing him. "Is there anything we can do?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice.

"That's where the Emperor's proposal comes in," Ollanius replied, pressing another button on the holo-tablet.

The display shifted to a scanned image of a parchment document, its edges marked by the unmistakable Imperial Aquila. The text etched upon it was intricate and weighty, radiating an air of authority. Yet its essence was brutally simple: salvation demanded a cost.

Motoi leaned forward, his eyes scanning the document. At first, his expression remained calm and composed. But as his gaze trailed downward, his composure began to erode. A subtle tremor flickered in his irises, and his brow furrowed deeply.

"This will attract a great deal of unwanted attention," Motoi said bluntly, his voice firm despite the anxiety creeping into his tone.

"Rest assured, our agents will assist in managing such... complications," Ollanius replied, deactivating the holovid and sliding the device back into his suit. "If executed smoothly, this plan could avert the danger entirely."

Motoi sighed quietly, attempting to regain his composure. "I'll need to consult with my most trusted allies. Japan is already questioning the Gate's stability—the recent tremors and cracks have only fueled their fears."

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Motoi's expression as he continued. "Cults have started to emerge—worshipping the Emperor. We've been doing everything we can to suppress them, but their numbers grow. I know how... unwelcome such things are to your people."

"It is of no concern," Ollanius said evenly, his gaze steady and unyielding. "We will address it for you."

Motoi studied the man for a moment, his unease palpable but carefully masked. "Very well," he said at last. "Where do I sign?"

Ollanius offered a faint, diplomatic smile and retrieved another device from his suit. This one was far thinner than the previous holo pad—crafted from transparent glass, its edges razor-sharp yet sleek, nearly imperceptible when held against the light.

"Place your hand on the pad," Ollanius instructed, his voice deliberate. "It will record your DNA and fingerprint."

Motoi hesitated briefly. There was something about the device—something intangible that gnawed at his instincts. Yet Ollanius's tone carried a quiet authority, a subtle undertone that seemed to burrow into Motoi's subconscious. He found himself compelled, almost involuntarily, to comply.

With a steady hand, Motoi touched the pad. A faint glow coursed through the device as it processed his biometrics. The Prime Minister felt an odd sensation, as if something deeper than just his physical identity was being cataloged.

"All done." Ollanius withdrew the tablet, its surface now glowing faintly with stored data. "We will proceed as planned."

"Right at New Year's Eve?" Motoi asked, his voice low but steady.

"The Emperor has always possessed his own sense of humor," Ollanius replied with a faint chuckle. Then, his demeanor turned serious once more. "The secrecy of this operation is paramount, Prime Minister. I trust you understand."

Motoi nodded solemnly. "You have my word, Lord Ollanius."

_________________________________________________________________________________

-M29. 671. Terra. Imperial Palace-

The Emperor stood in his personal laboratory, a sanctum of incomprehensible complexity and scale. Towering tubes of varying sizes stretched in endless rows, each containing the genetic essence of Geass culled from hundreds of generations. Beneath his feet, lines of golden light shimmered in intricate patterns, weaving a spiraling labyrinth that connected the tubes in a dance of radiant energy.

Walking among the illuminated maze, the Emperor moved with unwavering purpose. Despite the labyrinthine layout, every step he took seemed predestined, as though the patterns themselves bent to his will. His journey ended at a colossal gate of gold, its surface adorned with murals depicting the rise and fall of civilizations long forgotten. Each stroke of the design spoke of triumphs, tragedies, and lessons etched into the annals of history.

He placed a hand on the gate, its cold surface humming faintly under his touch. His expression remained serene, but beneath his eternal calm, a tempest churned—a maelstrom of hope, doubt, and longing.

"I hope... just one day in the future," he murmured, his voice as soft as the flicker of starlight in an endless void.

With a final glance at the golden gate, he turned away, his footsteps echoing softly in the vast chamber. After an hour of walking through halls lined with ancient technology and mechanisms beyond mortal comprehension, he arrived at a section bustling with activity. Here, his most loyal subjects labored ceaselessly. They were a collection of mortals, transhumans, and even Astartes, chosen not only for their unparalleled skill but for their unwavering devotion.

"Your Majesty," one of them greeted, bowing deeply. "May I humbly ask what brings you here?"

"Greetings," the Emperor replied, his tone gentle yet commanding. "I am here to check the parameters."

"As you wish, Your Majesty," the man said, stepping aside with another reverent bow.

As the Emperor walked through the room, every individual he passed acknowledged his presence with a respectful nod or bow. It was not fear that compelled their deference but an almost sacred reverence for the being who embodied the hope and destiny of mankind.

He stopped at an empty space where a figure of immense presence stood, seemingly waiting. The man's armor shimmered and shifted between hues of blue and magenta, as if rejecting the static laws of reality. It was forged not from metal but from the manifested essence of the Warp itself, bound into physical form through arcane mastery to become the vessel of his immense power. No flesh or bone constituted his form; instead, his existence was a manifestation of pure abstract essence drawn directly from the Ether. His body was an ever-shifting construct of immaterial energy, bound together by principles beyond mortal comprehension. The thunder and hammer insignia emblazoned upon his pauldrons were not mere symbols—they were the embodiment of a higher truth. This being was the distilled concept of universal destruction given shape, a walking paradox where raw annihilation and precise intent converged in perfect harmony. His very presence distorted the fabric of reality, a constant reminder that he was not bound by the laws of existence but a force that defined them

"My lord," the being spoke, its voice resonating in countless languages at once, shaking the very fabric of reality. The room seemed to tremble as the Veil of existence strained against the force of its presence.

"Damos," the Emperor greeted, a rare smile gracing his lips. With a mere wave of his hand, a surge of Anathematic power stabilized the room, banishing the distortion and restoring balance. "I assume the Hecaton Legion shall serve as the Logos's representative for the current period."

"Indeed, my lord," The Logos transhuman replied, his voice soft yet layered with the weight of his power.

Satisfied, the Emperor continued to the center of the room, where he called out, "Paleus, show me the plan."

Paleus, the specially designated Ferrous Mind of this facility, slowly makes his appearance. 

"As you command, Your Majesty," Paleus said, its voice reverberating like a thousand chimes in perfect harmony. With a flash of blue light, the room was engulfed in a cascade of holovids, streams of data stretching infinitely in all directions. Each screen displayed the culmination of eons of research: the genetic mapping of humanity from its earliest origins to its current state. Every detail, every lineage, was meticulously cataloged, forming the foundation for the Emperor's ultimate goal—to elevate humanity to its zenith.

The Emperor's gaze fell upon a corner of the projection, where a new variable had been introduced. The Gate's appearance had added an unforeseen element: the humans of Old Earth. The seven billion lives from this parallel world now represented a vast and untapped reservoir of genetic potential. The machine had only begun to integrate their data, and the process was far from complete.

He scrutinized the updated diagram, his expression unreadable. "How will this addition reshape the gene plan?" he mused, his thoughts delving into the countless permutations this new factor could create.

A sudden notification drew his attention. With a flick of his hand, the holovid shifted, revealing the Prime Minister's DNA profile being uploaded and integrated into the system. Motoi's genetic signature now stood as a symbolic bridge between the two worlds.

"So," the Emperor said quietly, "the Prime Minister has agreed."

There he witnessed Motoi's entire DNA being stored and mapped.

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AN: Sorry for the late update. I am working with another writting project with my author friend on his story. My apologies for this, but I hope you all enjoy the chapter.