Chapter 451– Horus' Shattered Dao Heart! A New Political Order!
"Horus, what's really wrong with this position of Imperial Regent? Why are you so determined to reject it? You'd better tell me the truth, otherwise I will absolutely not agree to your request."
Guilliman was no gullible fool. He knew there had to be some hidden trick or complication behind this, but as long as it was something he could help with, he was willing to shoulder the burden—even if it meant walking straight into a trap.
But if Horus deliberately kept things hidden, then no matter what he said, Guilliman would never accept his mandate.
"…Very well. I'll tell you the truth."
Since both sides had now laid their cards on the table, Horus no longer bothered pretending. He came clean to Guilliman about everything that had been happening on Terra during this time.
The entrenched and unrootable corruption, the entrenched cadre of High Lords that Malcador had left behind, the Infinity torrent of administrative documents, and a whole series of historical legacies…
These long-festering dangers and hidden pitfalls had already turned the Imperium into a powder keg, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. One whisper, one temptation from a Chaos God, could spark uprisings and disaster across the realm.
At first, Horus had wanted to use thunderous means, sweeping reforms to smash apart the old system and rebuild the Imperium's political structure. But he quickly found himself helpless.
Every possible path was blocked. Every reform route he imagined was nothing but a castle in the sky—illusory, impossible to implement.
"Now I finally understand Father's painstaking struggles. I thought that once I became Regent, I could inherit his vision and remake the world."
"But the truth is, I can barely even manage the simplest paperwork. If this continues, the Imperium will collapse in my hands."
"Guilliman… this is not where I belong. That is why I need you to govern the Imperium until Father and Malcador return."
Only after hearing Horus' heartfelt confession did Guilliman finally understand the full picture. No wonder Horus had acted in such baffling ways.
The child had been driven to madness.
Guilliman could sympathize with why Horus' Dao heart had shattered. Long ago, he too had been a hot-blooded youth, eager to reform, to build a more advanced order.
But when he first entered the world of politics, the dark and filthy dealings there had sickened him for a long time. Only when his father had taught him hand-in-hand how to handle such matters did Guilliman slowly learn how to survive in the political arena.
Moving from participant to wielder of power always required a long process of learning and comprehension. That needed both the guidance of experienced elders and one's own keen ability to grasp the truth.
After all, in politics, even a single mistake could bury you forever. But for Primarchs with powerful backgrounds, things were different.
Guilliman himself had made plenty of political blunders that brought negative consequences to Macragge, but with his governor-father there to shield him, he could continue to work, learn, and grow.
If that was the case on Macragge, how much worse must it be on Terra, the very heart of Imperial power?
For Horus—a complete novice in politics—to achieve even this much was already a display of rare talent.
He had even conceived the idea of forming a cabinet to counterbalance the High Lords. That was no small matter.
"These past months, I've let the warriors of the Luna Wolves suffer. Now I just want to bring them home to Cthonia. Guilliman, the only advice I can give you is this: go with the flow."
"All attempts at reform are doomed to failure. The only way to maintain the Imperium's administrative system is to rely on the High Lords that Malcador left behind."
"Often, even my word as Regent carries no weight. And if my decisions cause problems, the blame falls squarely on me."
Horus gave a bitter smile and shook his head. Early on, he had kicked out several High Lords, only to trigger a complete paralysis of the Imperium's bureaucracy. Documents piled up in staggering amounts.
Luckily, the Great Crusade had just ended. Otherwise, his rash moves might have delayed countless campaigns and cost untold Astartes their lives.
Through these days of "political experiments," Horus had learned that being Regent did not mean wielding unchecked power. Authority only existed if those below accepted it.
But the Imperial bureaucrats and the High Lords recognized only the Emperor and Malcador. To them, Horus was just a parachuted outsider—not a leader worth following.
Horus despised these bureaucrats, believing their corruption and wasteful infighting were the Imperium's greatest enemy.
But the feeling was mutual. To the bureaucrats, the Primarchs themselves were the real vested interests. Reform, they sneered, was just an excuse for Horus to hoard all the spoils for himself.
Corruption? What corruption? This brute was just picking fights.
To them, Horus was nothing but a reckless warmonger who knew nothing about governance or resource allocation.
Why should Leman Russ' Space Wolves be allowed to plunder at will, ignoring Imperial law, while they, the long-suffering mortal administrators, were condemned for taking a little "hardship pay"?
And so the conflict escalated. Horus' cabinet clashed viciously with the High Lords, plunging Terra's politics into chaos.
On the surface, Horus seemed to have gained a foothold by using his cabinet to disrupt the balance of power. But in truth, the cabinet could collapse at any moment. If he didn't retreat now, the blame for every failure and disruption would fall on his shoulders.
Horus had calculated carefully. If he resigned and left Terra now, he could claim to be a victim too—deceived by scheming ministers. By "taking responsibility" and withdrawing to Cthonia, he could shed the black pot and slip away unscathed.
It was a flawless move.
"Guilliman, once I'm gone, you can offer up the heads of my cabinet ministers to the High Lords. That will earn their goodwill and help you handle state affairs."
"With mortals to aid you, I believe you can achieve harmony just as Malcador did."
Horus had already paved the road for Guilliman. Treacherous though it seemed, the transfer of power always demanded a price.
Even if it meant blood flowing in the streets, so be it.
Horus knew that once he did this, no mortal would ever again pledge loyalty to him, and his political path would be forever closed.
But he did not care.
From now on, he would return to Cthonia with his wolf cubs. Serving as the Warmaster of the Imperium, commanding armies—that was enough.
Guilliman sighed. What was the point of all this? He would try to spare as many of those cabinet members as possible. Exile or imprisonment would suffice—there was no need for slaughter.
Sooner or later, the Imperium would face a true purge, and a new era would dawn. He believed these people would find a new role in that age, and begin again.
Lowering his head in thought, Guilliman finally nodded.
"I understand. Issue a proclamation now, announcing that I am acting Regent. Then you may return to Cthonia with the Luna Wolves."
From his long years of governance, Guilliman knew that taking over Terra's affairs was not as terrifying as it seemed. He had no intention of bringing the Ultramarines into Terra, nor any thought of attacking mortal bureaucrats with radical reforms.
As long as he maintained the status quo, even as a temporary Regent, no great disaster should erupt.
If Horus' description was accurate, then all Guilliman needed to do was continue handling paperwork, cultivate good relations with the High Lords, and let both sides coexist without interference.
Certainly, Terra would involve far more work than Macragge. But Guilliman trusted his own ability to hold the line until the Emperor and Malcador returned.
"That's excellent. I'll have someone arrange the handover at once."
Horus' face lit with joy, like a man freed from prison.
"The Regent's power is immense. Though restrained in some ways, you have absolute freedom in matters of personnel."
"And with the new warp routes now complete, Imperial travel is unimpeded. If you want to push reforms, you can ally with the High Lords and pursue them."
"This is a great achievement—practically within arm's reach!"
Horus had, of course, reflected on his own mistakes. If he had from the start cooperated with the High Lords, using the new warp routes to reorganize and streamline administration…
If he had focused on developing the people's livelihood, allowing the masses to recuperate, fostering commerce and trade, and bringing prosperity…
Then the situation would surely be a hundred times better than now.
At the very least, Terra's political scene would not have become this utterly deadlocked.
Now, these easy accomplishments could only be handed over to Guilliman. Horus believed that as long as Guilliman was willing to cooperate with the High Lords and concede a little benefit to the mortals, those councilors would have no reason to reject him.
After listening to Horus's warnings, Guilliman couldn't help but shake his head with a sigh. If only he had known earlier, none of this would have gotten so messy. What could have been solved with ease has now turned into such a disaster.
Still, perhaps this was for the best—he would be the one to reap the reward.
No politician would turn down ready-made achievements, not even Guilliman. Having taken up the office of Imperial Regent, he naturally wanted to leave behind accomplishments that would make the Emperor and his Primarch brothers look upon him with renewed respect.
Now was the perfect opportunity to prove his ability.
Soon after, Horus, together with his lunar wolves officers, left the study in haste, eager to begin his retreat back to Cthonia. Guilliman remained behind, waiting for the handover of responsibilities and to deal with the mountain of unfinished administrative documents.
Watching Horus's lighthearted, almost cheerful departure, Guilliman wasn't sure whether inheriting the Regency was truly a blessing or a curse. If Horus failed to disclose certain matters honestly, then I may very well fall into some High Lord's trap myself.
"The Regency of the Imperium, a post second only to the Emperor himself, has just fallen into my hands this easily?"
Standing alone in the vast study, Guilliman felt dazed, as if the scene before him were unreal.
In his mind, the seat of Imperial Regent should only go to a seasoned veteran of the political arena—one who had defeated countless rivals and amassed an Infinity list of accomplishments. It was supposed to be the ultimate prize after a lifetime of struggle.
Yet reality had twisted the Regency into something despised and discarded, a loathsome burden. Even Malcador had schemed to trick Horus into taking the poisoned chalice.
Pushing aside his turbulent thoughts, Guilliman sat where Horus had once been, reviewing the files on the desk as streams of information continued to flow across the holoscreen.
He drafted a proclamation announcing himself as Acting Imperial Regent, then resumed the work Horus had abandoned.
After five uninterrupted hours of processing documents, Guilliman finally realized something was wrong.
Why do these files only seem to multiply the more I deal with them…?
Back on Macragge, even at his busiest, six hours of work each day had been enough to settle all affairs. But here on Terra, no matter how much he handled, the pile never diminished.
As a gifted statesman, Guilliman's ability to process matters was far beyond Horus's. Yet even at the outset, he found himself strained.
It wasn't just the sheer volume and complexity of Imperial files—many were redundant, bloated with meaningless detail. Some planetary governors, in their laziness, even submitted records from years past.
Worse, hidden beneath the wording of many documents were tangled webs of factional struggles and competing interests. A single careless decision could easily cause disaster.
It was then that Guilliman truly understood the torment Horus had endured. No wonder he had yearned so desperately to reform the system.
The Imperial bureaucracy was bloated and misshapen beyond measure. Many sector governors either ruled like petty kings, dismissing Terra's commands, or behaved like infants, paralyzed until detailed instructions arrived from the throneworld.
"At this rate, to finish even this backlog would take years—and new documents are constantly appearing. At my current pace, I could spend a lifetime and never be done."
Guilliman chuckled bitterly and shook his head. For now, he handed off some files to the High Lords and cabinet members, while he himself pondered how to raise the efficiency of Imperial administration.
One thing was beyond doubt: systemic reform was urgent. The administrative machine had to be optimized. If he relied on the current framework alone, he would be worked to death.
Unlike Horus, Guilliman's political instincts were pragmatic and methodical. If one path was blocked, another had to be found.
But what path was there to take?
Even the Emperor, even Malcador, even Horus—none of them had found a solution. How could he hope to succeed where they had failed?
At first, Guilliman considered replicating the system he had perfected on Macragge. But he quickly realized it was impossible. Terra's machinery of state was thousands of times more complex. Transplanting old methods would achieve nothing.
"Is there another form of governance better suited to the Imperium?" he wondered, recalling the different systems he had observed across alien civilizations over the last two centuries.
Yet after a long spell of reflection, despair set in. The Imperium's current structure was already the best humanity had been able to create. No government was flawless. Even a wholly new system would require a painful period of trial and error.
If humanity endured that crucible, it might find light on the other side. But if it faltered, it would plunge into unending darkness.
Right now, the Imperium was a cesspit—riddled with flaws, yet still clinging to a precarious balance. Disturbing any part of it risked collapse.
The Emperor and Malcador had already pushed reform to its absolute limit. If the existing framework were to be maintained, no further change was possible.
But if nothing changed… the Imperium was doomed all the same.
"No… wait—there is one other model: the Universal Megacorp!"
The thought of Ideal City burst into Guilliman's mind, and his eyes lit up. At last, he saw what might be humanity's true future.
The gulf between the Megacorp and the Imperium was staggering. Their technological research facilities, their colossal fleets—none of it could even be compared.
By contrast, the Imperium was a medieval relic, refitting ancient agricultural machines into engines of war. Against the Megacorp's AI-driven war engines—sentinel drones, templar guardians, AI chimera tanks, fully-automated wanderer-class dreadnoughts—the Imperium was hopelessly antiquated.
Under the MegaMegacorp's rule, ordinary humans no longer had to fight and die en masse. Only the most gifted psykers and Astartes served in the military, honing their minds and bodies to superhuman perfection.
Meanwhile, the Imperium still conscripted mortal billions for slaughter and relied on fragile flesh to keep its supply lines alive.
Peace was the greatest gift any ruler could give his people. And only a ruler who truly valued the lives of his subjects could claim to govern for humanity's sake. On this point, the Megacorp's governors had achieved perfection.
Moreover, the Imperium had spent two centuries just to unify the galaxy. The Universal MegaMegacorp had taken barely a hundred years to bring nearly ten universes—countless star systems—under its rule.
From what little Guilliman already knew, he could guess the Megacorp's colonies must number in the billions.
Despite the cultural divides and racial conflicts that arose, the MegaMegacorp had somehow held it all together, binding countless factions and alien civilizations into a single unified bloc.
The conclusion was inescapable: the MegaMegacorp's system of governance was unimaginably more advanced than the Imperium's.
"Of course! Father and Malcador must have traveled to the Megacorp precisely for this reason!"
The more Guilliman thought, the clearer his vision became. The Megacorp's emissaries and armies were already here—why ignore them? Why not learn from Paul directly?
With his current rank, summoning one of the Megacorp's executives should pose no difficulty.
"Yes. That's what I must do."
Resolute in his course, Guilliman immediately ordered a ship prepared. He would personally meet with the Megacorp's envoys to discuss the greatest matter of all: the future political system of the Imperium.
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