“That’s because suowledge was cssified,” Eustace expined, his toie firm. “The information had a strict time lock. Fifty years ago, you wouldn’t have had the clearao know about this. But times have ged.” As he spoke, Eustace tapped the panel in his hand. The ceramite sarcophagus in front of them began to rise slowly, its shimmering surface shifting and transf until it became transparent like reinforced adamantium gss. Inside, Captain Kayvaan Shrike’s body was now fully visible, dispyed in uling crity.

  “Look closely,” Eustace said, gesturing toward the body. “Since his remains were entrusted to the Sanctum of the Honored Dead, some ges have occurred. However, ohing remains sistent—there are no visible external injuries on his body. What felled Captain Shrike was her blood loss nor terminal disease. Not an ordinary attack either. In fact, the scars from his many battles, the ohat once adorned his body, are fading away. What you see now is a body so smooth and unblemished, it could belong to an idle her than a warrior of tless battles. And perhaps most troubling of all, his body has been… shrinking over the past millennium.”

  “Shrinking?” Alen echoed in disbelief. The word sounded absurd, but looking at the figure iransparent sarcophagus, he had to admit it t description.

  Kayvaan Shrike had once been an imposing figure, standing at over 2.9 meters tall in his power armor. This giant-like stature was standard among the Adeptus Astartes, where even the smallest initiates towered over ordinary humans. Space Marines were more than just soldiers—they were living ons, engineered for war. Each Marine underwent brutal geihas and numerous surgeries. Their bones became as hard as steel; they were equipped with multi-lobed hearts freater stamina and redundant ans to ensure survival. Beh their skin y a subdermal carapace tougher than adamantium pte.

  These warriors were built to ehe harshest ditions in the gaxy. Yet now, his old captain—the most formidable fighter of the Raven Guard, Master of Shadows, and a legend in close bat—was reduced to this frail state. Kayvaan Shrike’s once-scarred body, a testament to his tless victories, had bee eerily smooth. It was like the vas of his life had been wiped , his glorious scars repced by an uling perfe. “He’s barely two meters tall now,” Alen whispered, his voice thick with emotion. The transformation was both disturbing abreaking.

  Eustaodded gravely and began reting the events. "During the Horus Heresy, Warmaster Horus succumbed to the temptations of the Chaos Gods arayed the Emperor. The four dark gods—Sanesh, Khorzeentch, and Nurgle—bestowed their blessings and power upon him. Among these blessings were two devastating curses: one was a lethal curse aimed at Sanguinius, the Emperor’s most noble and beloved son. As long as Sanguinius stood, the Emperor’s rule was unshakable. The sed owerful curse intended for the Emperor Himself.

  "But fate did not favor Horus as much as he had hoped. At the most critical moment, your captain, Lord Kayvaan Shrike, stepped forward and shielded Sanguinius with his own body. The curse from Sanesh, which was supposed to strike Sanguinius, was deflected. We all know what followed.

  "Now that you uand this, you should reize the magnitude of your captain’s sacrifice. The survival of the Emperor—and humanity itself—rests heavily on what he endured. Without him, the oute of the Heresy could have been very different."

  Alen was stunned. Of course, he khe rest of the story. At the rebellion's climax, the Emperor and Sanguinius had stormed Horus's fgship, the Vengeful Spirit. Sanguinius fronted Horus first but was struck down in a brutal battle, his perfe broken by the Warmaster’s overwhelming might. The Emperor, in turn, engaged Horus and ultimately emerged victorious, though at a great cost. Severely wouhe Emperor had been fio the Golden Throne ever since—a life-support system that kept Him alive but uo fully recover.

  To this day, the Emperor remains bound to the Golden Throne, His undying will sustaining the Imperium at the cost of His own mortal shell. His state is a paradox—too vital to the survival of humanity to lose, yet too broken to truly live. For the faithful, He is the God-Emperor, a divine bea; for others, He is a reminder of the Imperium's endless sacrifice. Even ihless stasis, His light guides the gaxy, much like the relics of a saints enshrined in the Sanctum San, revered yet forever entombed.

  Alen’s heart ached at the thought. "If my captain hadn’t stepped in, Sanguinius might have survived the curse, but the Emperht not have. And with Horus standing before him, there’s no telling how the battle would have ended."

  "But why," Aleated, struggling to find the words, "why didn’t my captain succumb to the curse like Sanguinius did? He wasn’t… twisted, or broken, or—"

  "You’re asking why he didn’t meet the same fate," Eustaterrupted, his tone calm but grave. "Sanguinius was tortured to death by Khorne’s rage, yet your captain lies here peacefully. Is that what you’re w?"

  "Yes," Alen admitted awkwardly. "It’s just… it was a curse from an evil god. Even if my captain was incredibly strong, Sanguinius was the best of us, and even he couldn’t endure Khorne’s curse. How did my captain survive Sanesh’s?"

  Eustace sighed. "The curses came from different Chaos Gods, each with their own nature. Khorne is the god of violend sughter, and his power mas as uing pain and rage. Even Sanguinius, with all his strength, could not withstand it. Sanesh, however, is the god of excess and corruption. Sanesh’s methods are more insidious, more subtle. Your captain didn’t fall immediately, but make no mistake—he’s not safe.

  "Sanesh’s curse transformed Lord Kayvaan Shrike’s body into a prison and his soul into its captive. The curse slowly weakens his physical form and corrodes his spirit. Eveasis field preserving him ot stop this process. One day, Lord Kayvaan will either awaken briefly, only to succumb, or he will quietly pass away. Either way, the warrior he was will be no more."

  Alen’s fists ched, his voice trembling with anger. "That’s despicable!" He could barely tain his rage. "Warriors like my captain—like all of us—aren’t afraid to die in battle. We wele it. To die in bat, giving everything for the Emperor, is the ultimate honor. But to waste away in a sarcophagus, uo fight… that’s a fate worse thah. It’s a mockery of everythiand for!"