Excerpt from the Private Memoirs of Primarch Roboute Guilliman
Uncle Noah has been protecting and leading humanity for so long that no one—except a select few—even remembers when he was born. What we do know is this: he was there during the Dark Ages. He was the one who first led humanity to the stars. He speaks, occasionally, of his conquests and rule, but never in detail. Father's Great Crusade? That was just a reclamation. A pale echo of what Noah once forged.
The greenskins call him "Krork Krumper." The Eldar still whisper his name to scare their children. The tales surrounding him are so vague, so worn down by myth, I can't say which parts are true anymore. But one thing is certain: he is one of the greatest conquerors the galaxy has ever known, and a terrifying warrior who can battle anything—and survive.
Terra, A.D. 3122
It was an ordinary day. Or at least, it started that way. I had no idea what kind of cosmic bullshit I was about to get dragged into.
With the invention of my Panacea serum, sickness and aging had become relics of the past. Humanity had colonized the solar system and was pushing outward. The future looked bright.
Then everything changed.
The Federal Air and Space Agency—FASA—normally a bastion of cool professionalism, was in utter chaos. Their proud scientists were running around like panicked interns.
The reason?
For the first time in their 900-year history, their deep space radars had picked up something they couldn't explain.
"Contact the capital! Code Black, I repeat, we have a Code Black!" Professor Anthony Copernicus, the agency's 679-year-old director, barked orders with more energy than he'd had in centuries.
"Mr. President is on his way," said a calm, mechanical voice. "Please initiate Protocol Zero. No one enters or exits the building."
"Understood, Prometheus," Copernicus replied. Then, to his staff: "My friends, today we may be witnessing the first contact with alien intelligence. Be proud—your names may be carved into history in golden letters."
Moments later, the room fell silent as the doors slid open. In walked a tall man who looked barely out of his twenties, though every soul in the room knew that wasn't the case. His eyes—old, radiant, knowing—betrayed a mind that had lived for centuries.
Noah Light. President of the Galactic Federation.
"Copernicus, my friend," Noah said with a smile. "I came as fast as I could. What've you got?"
"Signals, Mr. President. From deep space. Not natural, not random. We used a new radar array. They don't match anything we've seen since... well, since before the Age of Darkness. But we managed to decode part of it."
Noah stepped forward, calmly but with a hint of curiosity. The central screen displayed incomprehensible sounds and strange glyphs. "Prometheus believes it's some form of language," Copernicus explained.
But Noah had stopped moving. His eyes were fixed on the screen, wide with horror.
"I... I remember this," he whispered. "No... no, it can't be. Not again. Not this. I don't deserve this. You can't—no—NOOO!"
The room froze as their immortal leader screamed, trembling violently. People rushed to his side.
"Mr. President! Noah!"
He collapsed.
I awoke to the sterile white of a hospital ceiling. Then the memories came flooding in—memories that weren't mine. Or rather, they were, just not from this life.
Genocide. Burning stars. A galaxy torn apart by war. And the words:
In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.
The signals had been in Eldar. I recognized them. Why? Because in a past life, I had learned their language. For fun.
This had to be Warhammer.
Or something worse.
I took a deep breath and started thinking. Planning.
"Okay, Noah. Pull yourself together. You cured disease. You colonized the solar system. This... this is just another challenge."
Then a memory struck me: a figure, golden and immense.
"Prometheus," I called.
{Your orders, Mr. President?}
"I need you to summon Alexander. Immediately."
Alexander. One of my oldest advisors. A man who knew history like he lived it. And now I realized—he probably had.
He entered my office a few minutes later, average-looking, calm as ever.
"You called, Mr. President?"
I stared at him, really looked.
"You can drop the act, Alexander. Or should I say—Emperor of Mankind."
The air thickened. Light shimmered. Pressure pressed down on me as the man's form changed. Golden radiance filled the office.
"How did you know?" he asked, voice like thunder.
"Please, sit down. This is going to take a while."
I told him everything. My birth. My knowledge. My old life. The books, the lore, the stories—about him, about Chaos, about the Primarchs, the Crusade, the betrayal, the death and resurrection of empires.
"I know you, Alexander. I know about the Thunder Warriors, Malcador, the Custodes. I know what you did to Angron. Hell, I know how bad of a father you were."
"Enough," he snapped. The room vibrated.
"You believe me now?"
"What do you intend to do?" he asked, finally.
"Prepare. For the Tyranids. The Necrons. The Aeldari, the Drukhari, Chaos. We need a new plan. Erda was right to run. You need to learn to be a father, not a god."
He stared.
"I need you to make me a psyker," I said.
He raised a brow. "Why would I do that? I could kill you right now."
I grinned. "Humans grow from one cell. Isn't that beautiful? Completely irrelevant to this conversation—but my serum does make regeneration pretty easy."
He smirked back. That surprised me. I thought his face didn't do expressions.
Then, we started planning.
**********
A/N:Thank you for Reading. It is an origins kinda chapter. Should I continue with the part two or do you want to read Noah and Batman.
And for the people question the sybiotes heres a quote from Noah himself
"The panacea serum or the sybiotes are incredibely adaptive microorganisms that merge themselves with the hosts immunity system to repaire and improve their body to the most minute detail. After their distrubition to the people in 2100, the average human lifespan reached over 500. Apparently humans cant deal with so much information.Yet.
The Panacea project and its impacts on Humanity By Noah Lİght.
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