Chapter 455: The Void Dragon's Murmurs! Five Senses in One, the God of Knowledge!
As expected, after hearing the answer he wanted, the Emperor finally calmed down. A satisfied expression crossed his face as he looked down at Horus and spoke:
"This time I have returned to resolve the problems of the Imperium's governance. From today onward, the administrative system of the Imperium will be rebuilt, and everyone's burdens will be lessened."
Had Horus thought earlier to seek help from the Universal Megacorp, he might not have ended up in this state.
But perhaps, deep down, Horus always regarded the Megacorp as nothing more than a faction of mortals with slightly more advanced technology, who in administration might perform even worse than the Imperium itself. Thus, he had never considered asking for their aid.
Guilliman, however, was not as stubborn as Horus. And so this unearned credit fell to him instead.
"Now I will strip you of your regency, and reappoint Guilliman as the new Regent of the Imperium. Do you have anything to say about this?"
The Emperor glanced at Horus. Even if Horus held resentment, he would have to swallow it back down. Opportunities did not come every day—miss one, and it was missed for life.
Fortunately, Horus was willing to accept his loss. He shook his head sensibly, showing that he held no objections. Ending up like this was only what he deserved.
From the moment he accepted the position of Regent from Malcador's hand, this wretched ending had been fated.
Losing his post was only the first step. Next might come a few days in confinement. After all, the Emperor had already beaten and scolded him. Once his anger was vented, that would be enough.
At the very least, he would not suffer Magnus's fate of imprisonment and decapitation.
"A man must have self-knowledge, only then can he bring out his greatest worth. Overestimating or underestimating oneself is never wise."
The Emperor could not possibly deny Horus's value outright because of this incident. If he could not serve as Regent, could he not still serve as Warmaster?
Two centuries of Great Crusade command experience did not come for nothing.
"I hereby appoint you as Warmaster of the Imperium, to command all its military affairs."
The Emperor's words left Horus stunned. He had already steeled himself for imprisonment and punishment—why was a sweet date suddenly thrust into his mouth?
Every move of the Emperor fell outside Horus's expectations.
"The proclamation of your appointment, alongside Guilliman's, has already been sent out. The investiture ceremony will officially begin in mid-month. All the Primarchs and High Lords will attend, as well as certain senior executives of the Universal Megacorp."
With that, the Emperor sighed in relief.
After striking the child, one must still offer the sweet date. He could not vent his own anger alone—he also had to ease the child's. Since Horus could not be Regent, then he would return to the post of Warmaster.
In any case, no other Primarch was more suited for the role.
At that moment, Horus was moved to tears by the Emperor's magnanimity. He had committed such a heinous mistake, yet the Emperor not only spared him imprisonment, but continued to let him serve as Warmaster.
A father's compassion was as vast as the sea!
The proclamation had been issued in advance—proof that the Emperor had already decided Horus's fate. This visit had only been to teach him a lesson.
At this realization, Horus felt even more ashamed.
"Horus, when you return, reflect carefully on every word I have said. These words will aid you in every moment of your future. Do not commit foolish mistakes again."
Love is deep, and so is rebuke. The Emperor's expectations for Horus were even higher than for Guilliman. Horus was the Primarch into whom he had poured the most of his heart and effort. The Emperor naturally did not wish to see him wasted.
Some priceless "private words" he spoke only to Horus. None of the other Primarchs enjoyed such treatment.
"Soon, I will have to leave the Imperium again. Then you and Guilliman—one managing abroad, one within—will together hold the affairs of the Imperium. With you two brothers here, I can rest easier."
Before encountering the Universal Megacorp, the Emperor's plan had been to prioritize the development of the Webway. Only afterward would he launch a grand genetic optimization project to erase the divide between mortals and Astartes.
If the genetic project proved impossible, he would take the Primarchs and leave the Imperium behind, returning governance to mankind.
But after encountering the Megacorp, the Emperor conceived new plans—gradually allowing their influence to seep in, until finally the Megacorp could assume control of the Imperium outright.
Until that day, however, a capable political leader was still needed to oversee the Imperium's governance—and Guilliman was the best candidate.
As for Horus…
The Emperor believed that after this paternal lesson, Horus would quietly fulfill his duties as Warmaster, keeping his unruly brothers united.
With these two Primarchs, the Imperium would not falter in the short term.
"What? You're leaving the Imperium again!"
Horus could not understand what Ideal City held that drew the Emperor to visit it time and again.
The last time the Emperor had suddenly vanished, it had already caused disturbances within the Imperium. If he disappeared again, it would surely stir up more unnecessary trouble.
After all, no one could imagine what the Imperium would look like once ruled entirely by Primarchs and the Megacorp in the Emperor's absence.
"I am only not often present on Terra. It is not as if I will never return. You and Guilliman must work in unity. I will always be watching over your actions."
The Emperor knew that a day would inevitably come when he left the Imperium. Since parting was inevitable, he might as well begin rehearsing now, accustoming its people to the idea.
Hearing this, Horus grew anxious. He was no fool—he could clearly hear the hidden meaning in the Emperor's words. Not often present on Terra was no different from not returning at all!
Some farewells, once spoken, meant never meeting again.
In the past, Horus had thought Terra distant, but to see the Emperor was never hard. Now, the Emperor seemed as far away as another universe.
From this day on, to see him again would be nearly impossible.
"Father, if you are going to Ideal City, why not bring us along?" Horus asked, confused. Had the Emperor not once promised that, after the war ended, he would retire with them?
Why, then, was he now leaving them behind?
"I need you to remain. Do not worry—you too will go to Ideal City, but not yet." The Emperor offered comfort.
His Primarch sons would surely demand posts within Ideal City. Left within the Imperium, they would only trouble its people.
Better to send these wayward children to trouble the alien races across the cosmos.
Horus fell silent for a moment, then nodded in reply: "Yes, Father. When you are gone, I will watch over the Imperium with my brothers."
"Horus, you have always been the son upon whom I place the greatest hope. Do not disappoint me again."
The Emperor stepped down from the throne, laid a hand on Horus's shoulder, and encouraged him.
The word "greatest" carries uniqueness. Among twenty Primarchs, if the Emperor wished to treat them all equally, he had to be careful in its use.
But now, he used that word to show his favor toward Horus. This left Horus both honored and overwhelmed, ashamed of his past foolish disobedience.
His father showed such mercy and virtue, yet he had so often been rebellious and defiant.
"These words I have spoken only to you."
The Emperor stretched out his hand, and with his great power healed most of Horus's wounds. It was a hint for Horus to keep low-key, not to flaunt it before his brothers.
Horus nodded solemnly. He knew well such things could not be casually told to the others. The last time Magnus had merely received an embrace from the Emperor, he boasted everywhere of being especially favored.
And what was the result? He became the most disliked among his brothers, and was thrown into a prison cell by the Emperor himself.
Jealousy was inescapable for all men. Though Horus did not fear his brothers' envy, he did not wish them to resent their father behind his back.
Seeing Horus now properly corrected, the Emperor finally breathed a sigh of relief.
In truth, much of what he had said to Horus, he had also said to Guilliman. Though Guilliman possessed considerable political experience, when faced with the Emperor's emotional pressure, he too was overwhelmed—moved to tears, vowing to devote his all to the Imperium.
Such is the way of a father.
To inspire children, one cannot cut corners. They cannot be praised together before the others. Each must be drawn aside, face-to-face, and praised individually—for only then is the effect greatest.
Everyone wishes to be the one and only. Yet to the Emperor, none of them were.
"Alright, you may return now. The new Warp Route system is already perfected. Go gather with your brothers, and see if they've run into any trouble."
"From this day onward, as the Warmaster of the Imperium, you need only obey Guilliman's directives. Beyond that, no one can restrain you. But remember this above all—never trust strangers, nor entities of the Warp."
The Emperor spoke like a parent sending his child off to kindergarten, nagging over details with Infinity reminders. Horus, however, listened intently, nodding repeatedly with eager agreement.
When the Emperor finally dismissed him, watching Horus depart the Imperial Palace on Terra, Malcador couldn't help but sigh inwardly. The Emperor truly had a gift for persuasion. Thinking back carefully, he remembered: back then, the Emperor had also spoken to him with such "ambiguous" promises.
The only, the greatest… yet in the end, these years had been nothing but Infinity toil, treated like a mule to drag the weight of Imperial bureaucracy.
At least now, he was finally free.
"Your Majesty, the Universal Megacorp's expedition team has already arrived on Mars. We should depart quickly." Malcador urged.
"Mn." The Emperor nodded, striding out of the palace.
This time, his return had been mainly to coordinate the transfer of the Void Dragon's shard hidden beneath Mars with the Universal Megacorp. Handling Horus and Guilliman's positions had been nothing more than a matter of convenience.
From here onward, the Emperor would gradually fade from the Imperium. He would carefully erase every trace of his presence, so that ten millennia later humanity would remember only a savior—without knowing his true name.
And that was exactly what he wanted: from humanity he had come, and back into humanity he would dissolve.
Half an hour later, the Emperor and Malcador arrived at Mars aboard a discreet airship. Their visit was secret; the Tech-Priests of the Cult Mechanicus were wholly unaware of their presence.
What was about to happen was not something the red-robed priests could be allowed to know.
For though the Void Dragon shard was sealed deep beneath Mars, it could still exert influence through subtle means. It whispered in dreams. It used the ecstasy of machine-spirits to hint at its will.
The so-called Omnissiah worshipped by the Cult Mechanicus was, in truth, this shard of the Void Dragon. And because the C'tan were material entities, their worship did not generate corresponding daemons in the Warp.
Thus, the Emperor had never cared to correct the Mechanicus' zealotry. Instead, he exploited them—fanatics willing to work themselves to the bone, manufacturing weapons for free.
But if the Tech-Priests ever learned that the Emperor was about to hand their "Omnissiah" over to the Universal Megacorp, they would surely descend into madness on the spot.
Do not be deceived by their stiff, engineering-student demeanor. They were always one step away from the edge of insanity. And armed with the Imperium's most advanced weaponry, their collective hysteria would prove troublesome—even for the Emperor.
Thus, the transfer of the Void Dragon had to be swift, precise, and decisive.
Soon, the Emperor and Malcador met the Megacorp's science team led by Paul. The preparations were complete: all necessary equipment arranged, a sealed and isolated environment ready.
"Everyone, come with me."
With a sweep of his hand, the Emperor led them into a long-forgotten vault—coordinates known only to himself. No Tech-Priest could ever discover this place.
Deeper they went, until at last the very fabric of space twisted around them. Colors fractured into dazzling abstraction. They had stepped into another realm.
Here, each person perceived a different vision, heard distinct voices. The Emperor explained: this was the echo of the Void Dragon's shard.
"The Void Dragon was one of the most powerful of the C'tan. Even a fragment such as this cost me dearly to seal away."
"This vault lets it slumber for now, but one day it will awaken. Were it not for your arrival, I would still be wracking my mind for a way to keep it bound."
He reminded them of the shard's danger. But with his presence, they need not fear—even if it awakened here and now, he could protect them.
Xu Shiming, who had studied the Void Dragon's lore, nodded thoughtfully. Even a mere shard of such a star god was unimaginably terrifying. The Emperor's ability to subdue it was proof of his unmatched might.
ROAR—!!
Suddenly, a vast, primeval bellow thundered through the minds of every team member.
Visions overwhelmed them—steam hissing as colossal engines turned their gears, lightning crackling between clouds, subatomic particles leaping like sprites, annihilations of matter and antimatter wiping existence clean…
The roar united their five senses. They saw sound, heard color, smelled the taste of machine oil burning in steam, felt the silence of devoured stars.
For the Void Dragon was the God of Knowledge among the C'tan, master of all technology and creation. Even a single murmured dream from it could immerse mortals in an infinite ocean of truth.
When at last the visions faded, the Megacorp scientists awoke as if from a trance. Only then did they realize—they had hardly moved a step since entering.
"That feeling… so strange, isn't it?" The Emperor smiled. "As though you cannot distinguish dream from reality."
The Megacorp's technologies could counteract Warp entities, but the C'tan were not of the Warp—they were the gods of matter. Their power stemmed from physical law, not thought or faith.
In effect, the Void Dragon was a warrior clad in physics, wielding sorcery-like powers. No amount of "magic resistance" could defend against it.
And so the Emperor worried whether even the mighty Megacorp could truly control this being. Especially since what they faced now was still its sleeping shard. Once awakened, its strength would be far greater.
Paul's eyes widened in astonished nostalgia. He had once felt something like this—when awakening psionics in the StarCraft universe. He thought he would never feel it again. Yet here, in the murmurs of the Void Dragon, it returned.
"Unbelievable!"
The scientists gasped. Compared to this, even potent narcotics were dull. A single murmur from the god of physics had shown them, for an instant, every truth of the universe—mathematical equations, physical laws, the axioms of reality itself.
Yet when the trance ended, the knowledge slipped away like smoke, leaving no trace.
Only Song Zhaomei managed to seize fragments. In that fleeting moment, she glimpsed how thoroughly the Void Dragon understood the three-dimensional cosmos—knowledge rivaling the Megacorp's most advanced science.
Thanks to Halo's neurophysics, StarCraft's Amon and Kerrigan, and their vast think-tank, the Megacorp had nearly exhausted the knowledge of three-dimensional reality. But in matters of higher dimensions, their grasp remained tenuous.
And there, even the C'tan could provide little help.
"The shard's power is immense. Can you truly guarantee control over it?" the Emperor asked again, grave and insistent.
"We'll need your help. Without experiments, we cannot yet confirm if our control measures are effective." Song Zhaomei replied.
The best method was the Emperor's own: the use of psychic power—Warp-based force against a being devoid of such defenses.
The Megacorp had mighty fleets and technologies, yes, but those were bound to physics. A waking Void Dragon could turn them to its own ends.
As for the Matrix…
Unless absolutely necessary, Song Zhaomei would not deploy it. They could not rely on that solution every time. They needed new methods, to spare Li Ang from shouldering every burden alone.
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