Chapter 37 Building a Hyper-Expressway in the Warp

Damn…

we are ranking up like crazy.

Already crossed top 100!

Keep the Powerstones coming.

— The full-scale war between the Chaos Gods erupted with apocalyptic violence.

Countless demonic factions and minor Warp entities frantically mobilized, desperately trying to carve out their own territory and seize power during the greatest cosmic upheaval the Immaterium had witnessed in ten thousand years.

Completely oblivious to the absolute, reality-shattering chaos he had just triggered in the Warp, Vane remained in the physical universe.

Having finished testing the mechanics of the three Chaos Idols, he safely stashed them back into his infinite inventory to avoid any unnecessary complications.

Yes, he was universally recognized as the Forefather, and yes, he possessed the absolute, unconditional backing of Imperial heroes like Dante, Dhrost, Seth, and Tyberos.

However, ten millennia of aggressive, dogmatic brainwashing by the Ecclesiarchy, combined with the suffocating, fanatical paranoia of the Inquisition, had deeply ingrained an instinctual, phobic terror of anything related to Chaos into the psyche of every Imperial citizen.

If he was caught casually spamming the localized powers of the Ruinous Powers, some overzealous fanatic would inevitably brand him a heretic.

He wasn’t afraid of the Ecclesiarchy or the Inquisition—he could crush them with a thought—but a resulting civil war would cause massive, completely unnecessary collateral damage and slaughter billions of innocent humans.

Honestly, Vane found the entire situation incredibly hypocritical.

If the Inquisition and the Ecclesiarchy actually applied their own anti-heresy metrics objectively, the very first person they should drag to the stake for practicing unauthorized witchcraft was the old bastard sitting on the Golden Throne!

And they would need to burn him with white phosphorus for at least forty-nine days straight to purge the heresy!

The only reason they hadn’t was that they were all too terrified to actually audit the Emperor.

Before departing, Vane summoned Dante for a private meeting and handed him the heavily encrypted master ledger containing the names of every single Tzeentchian cultist operating in the sector—starting with Johnny.

Over the past few weeks, Dante had been managing all the bureaucratic and logistical administration for the Cryptus System.

It was easy to see why Roboute Guilliman, in the original timeline, had specifically chosen Dante to serve as the Regent of the Imperium Nihilus.

Dante wasn’t just a god-tier frontline combatant; he was an incredibly competent, highly efficient statesman and administrator.

A true, flawless all-rounder.

“These names…

they are all heretics?” Scanning the incredibly detailed ledger, Dante froze, his eyes widening in shock at the sheer volume of embedded operatives.

“Correct.

Every single one of them is a devoted cultist of Tzeentch,” Vane nodded casually.

“I want you to keep a very close eye on them.

Work them to the bone, but make absolutely sure they don’t sabotage anything.” “Forefather, if we have absolute confirmation that they are heretics, why are we not immediately purging them?

Why keep them alive?” Dante asked, deeply confused.

As the Living Avatar of the Emperor, the Forefather’s tolerance for heresy should logically be absolute zero.

Discover a cultist, burn a cultist.

Why on earth was he intentionally keeping a massive, embedded Tzeentchian spy network operational?!

“Because they are incredibly useful free labor,” Vane grinned mischievously.

“Through a series of completely intentional misunderstandings, they genuinely believe I am the supreme Champion of Tzeentch.

I am going to ruthlessly exploit that belief to squeeze every last drop of surplus value out of them.” “Besides, they’re heretics.

If we work them to death, it’s not like we’ll feel bad about it.

Just aggressively maximize their output.” Dante’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

He felt his brain actively struggling to process the sheer audacity of the scheme.

Forefather…

how did you manage to accidentally convince an entire cult that you are the Champion of Tzeentch?!

“I actively hijacked the localized magic of the Changer of Ways.

They couldn’t tell the difference, so they assumed He was personally blessing me.” Vane briefly explained the mechanics of his little gaslighting operation.

Ah.

That explains it.

Dante’s expression shifted from absolute shock to profound, terrified realization.

He literally stole the magic of a Chaos God to fool them.

If it were anyone else, Dante would have executed them on the spot.

But this was the Forefather… “Dante, just ensure they are constantly assigned to the most grueling, high-risk logistical tasks.

The best part?

They won’t even complain.

They will be absolutely thrilled, working twice as hard as normal citizens because they genuinely believe their suffering is advancing the grand conspiracy.” Vane’s casual addition made Dante’s mouth violently twitch.

Not only does he possess god-like combat power, but his mastery of psychological manipulation and political exploitation is absolutely terrifying.

“Alright, the localized cult infestation is mostly contained.

It’s time we set course for Baal and resurrect the Great Angel.” Vane hadn’t forgotten his primary Campaign Quest.

He needed to travel to Baal to resurrect Sanguinius, then head to Macragge to wake up Guilliman, and then track down the Lion.

Wait a minute…

Sanguinius, Guilliman, and the Lion?

Good lord, I’m literally just reassembling the Triumvirate of Imperium Secundus!

“The Blade of Vengeance is fully fueled and provisioned.

We are ready to break orbit on your command.” Hearing Vane’s directive, Dante’s eyes instantly lit up.

The resurrection of the Great Angel meant everything to the Blood Angels.

But beyond the Blood Angels, the return of a Primarch would act as an incredibly potent, galaxy-wide morale booster for the Imperium.

The Great Rift had plunged countless Imperial worlds into absolute, inescapable darkness.

The Astropathic choirs were currently drowning in millions of frantic, despairing distress calls.

If Sanguinius returned, it would loudly declare to the entire galaxy that hope was not dead, granting humanity the courage to stand and fight against the dying of the light.

“Then let’s go,” Vane said, cutting the dramatic monologue short and ordering Dante to finalize the departure protocols.

A few days later, Vane and Dante stood on the command deck of the Blade of Vengeance.

Escorted by a heavily armed vanguard of frigates, the massive Battle Barge slowly broke orbit from Phodia, accelerating toward the system’s Mandeville Point.

The Mandeville Point was the absolute minimum safe distance a vessel had to travel from a star’s gravitational well before it could safely transition into the Warp.

If a ship attempted a Warp jump too deep within a gravity well, the conflicting physics would violently tear the vessel into subatomic fragments.

Vane stood in the primary observation dome, casually admiring the view.

The massive plasma drives burned brighter than a localized sun as the ship steadily accelerated.

Phodia and the Cryptus star rapidly shrank, eventually becoming nothing more than distant, flickering points of light in the infinite void.

Six hours later, the fleet reached the absolute outer edge of the system: the Diamond Shield.

It was a colossal, hyper-dense asteroid belt composed entirely of ice, formed by bizarre localized physics and micro-warp rifts.

At temperatures significantly below absolute zero, the ice had been compressed to an incomprehensible density, suspended completely motionless in the void like jagged, frozen mountains.

The fleet adjusted its formation into a single file line, carefully navigating into a pre-calculated safe corridor that pierced directly through the Diamond Shield.

The Blade of Vengeance slid through the corridor like a dagger, narrowly gliding past colossal, dirty ice-moons and jagged frozen rocks.

The safe corridor looked visually identical to the rest of the belt, but if a ship deviated even a few meters off course, the hyper-dense, anomalous cold would instantly freeze their engines solid.

Even within the safe zone, the ambient temperature inside the ship plummeted violently.

The crew’s breath visibly plumed into thick white fog.

The ship’s atmospheric heaters roared at maximum capacity, but they couldn’t completely banish the biting, supernatural chill.

“Forefather, you should wear this.” Dante approached Vane, respectfully offering a heavy, fur-lined officer’s cloak.

“The ambient temperature drop is quite severe.” “I’m fine, really.” Vane’s armor passively regulated his body temperature, so the cold was completely irrelevant to him.

But seeing Dante’s insistence, he sighed and draped the cloak over his shoulders.

“Does the Diamond Shield interest you, Forefather?” Dante asked, noting Vane’s intense focus on the frozen debris field outside the armaglass.

“It is fascinating.

I didn’t expect to find a localized anomaly like this existing naturally in a standard system.” “The extreme temperature of the Diamond Shield is not a purely physical phenomenon.

It is heavily influenced by localized Warp-bleed…” Dante explained smoothly.

“We estimate we will clear the belt in approximately three hours.

Once we break the perimeter, we will initiate Warp translation.” “Chief Librarian Mephiston has manually charted the localized Aetheric currents.

He confirms a stable Warp-route still connects this sector to Baal.

We estimate the transit will take roughly two hours of real-time.” Vane listened to Dante’s tactical briefing while casually watching the frozen asteroids drift past.

Three hours later, the fleet successfully cleared the Diamond Shield and arrived at the Mandeville Point.

The massive warning bells tolled across the ship.

The automated broadcast ordered all hands to brace for Warp translation, and the heavy adamantium blast shutters violently slammed down, sealing every single viewing port on the ship.

Looking directly into the raw, unfiltered Warp was arguably the most mathematically guaranteed way for a baseline mortal to suffer instantaneous, catastrophic brain death.

Vane personally possessed the mental fortitude to look, but considering he was on a ship filled with thousands of mortal crewmen, he suppressed his curiosity.

Following the fall of Cadia, the intensity of the Warp storms had grown exponentially.

Navigating the Immaterium had become incredibly violent and treacherous.

Even a colossal, heavily shielded Battle Barge like the Blade of Vengeance was tossed around like a frail wooden canoe in a Category 5 hurricane.

The moment the ship punched through the veil, the violent, shuddering turbulence nearly threw Vane flat on his face.

He scrambled to grab a handrail..

Screw this!

Sailing through the Warp like this is way too risky and incredibly uncomfortable!

I absolutely need to build a dedicated, high-speed Nether Highway through the Warp!

Vane’s first instinct as a Minecraft veteran was exactly what anyone would expect: physically construct a massive, hyper-secure transit tunnel connecting every major system directly through the Warp.

If he built a Nether Highway, Imperial fleets could bypass the Warp storms entirely and travel seamlessly between sectors.

To build it, his absolute first choice of material was Obsidian.

In his heavily modded setup, Obsidian possessed extreme, physics-breaking blast resistance, complete immunity to magical and technological damage, and it inherently repelled Aetheric storms.

It was the absolute, undisputed best material for constructing infrastructure inside the Warp.

He could technically use other materials, but the cost-to-durability ratio wouldn’t even come close to Obsidian.

Once I resurrect Sanguinius, I am immediately launching a massive public works project to build the Nether Highway.

Vane silently resolved.

I absolutely refuse to suffer through this horrible turbulence ever again.

No matter how much time and resources it costs, I am building a safe, high-speed tunnel network connecting the entire galaxy!