Ramadan Mubarak!
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If the Emperor wanted to do it, let Him do it. It would draw some fire away from Zeke, allowing him to sit on the sidelines and watch the tigers fight.
Pfft! Hot steam sprayed from the side. A complex mechanical component was blown out by the steam and landed right at Zeke's feet.
"The Golden Throne is literally the thing keeping you alive. You really should pay attention to its maintenance."
If I had the ability to fix it, I would have fixed it long ago, okay? The Emperor thought to Himself.
He didn't even understand the technology of the Golden Throne Himself, let alone how to repair it.
Zeke picked it up. The durability was in the critical red zone; it was on the verge of exploding.
Checking it with JEI (Just Enough Items), he saw that as long as he had the relevant materials, he could fix it with a few hits on an anvil.
It just so happened that the Tech-Priest's table nearby was already stocked with all the necessary materials.
"Wait, human! The mysteries of these machines are not something a mortal like you can fathom—"
Just as the Tech-Priest was sternly admonishing him, Zeke had already taken out an Anvil.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three hits. The component that had been dug out was repaired to full durability. Zeke pressed it back into its original position and gave it two kicks for good measure.
"Done." Zeke began to head back the way he came.
The Tech-Priest stared at the facility. It's one thing to fix it, but why does it look brand new? That is completely unscientific.
The Emperor hesitated, wanting to say something like, "Could you maybe fix a bit more for me?"
"I'll contact you if I need anything. I'm heading out first." Zeke ignored the Emperor's unspoken request and stepped out of the Imperial Palace.
Outside the Palace, the Lion's Gate Battlefield.
Khorne Daemons were being cut down under the combined assault of the Custodes and the Sisters of Silence.
Guilliman stood amidst the scarlet rain of blood, battling a daemon that was even larger than himself.
The two dueled amidst burning flames and screams. The Emperor's Sword erupted with a brilliance far more dazzling than before.
Ordinary Khorne Daemons only needed to glance at it to have their eyeballs burst and their bodies explode.
Finally, the Emperor's Sword pierced the daemon's chest and exited through its back.
Guilliman used his massive arm to strangle the beast and chopped the wreckage of its corpse onto the blood-stained hills.
Holding the Emperor's Sword high, standing atop the daemon's corpse, Guilliman announced the news that he had been appointed by the Emperor as the Imperial Regent.
Guilliman immediately issued an order to convene a meeting of the High Lords. All of Terra's highest authorities gathered together.
The twelve High Lords, all dressed in their finest ceremonial attire, gathered in the high chamber on the north side of the Senatorum Imperialis.
They were all strangers to Zeke. He looked at the various High Lords sitting in their seats; fortunately, the nameplates on the table identified them.
Fabricator General of Mars, Raskian.
Grand Provost Marshal of the Adeptus Arbites, Aveliza Drachmar.
Amotalion. Zeke finally saw a familiar face—it was the guy who had interrupted his meal to hand him a business card.
Guilliman stood at the head of the table. Even sitting down, he was much taller than many of the Lords were standing up.
Right off the bat, Guilliman announced a bombshell: He was going to launch a crusade.
"From the ravaged Fenris Sector to Armageddon where the Ork Green skins run rampant, to the Baal System being torn apart by the claws of Chaos, countless Imperial territories are suffering from the invasion of darkness. To strike against these forces, I, Guilliman, will launch a crusade and personally lead the troops to recover the lost planets."
Guilliman glanced at Zeke, intentionally or unintentionally.
This crusade had a deeper purpose: to use this opportunity to deploy Zeke's Webway Nether Portal network on every planet they reached.
This would connect all the territories of the Imperium of Man together, allowing for the exchange of goods and resources.
Hearing Guilliman's words, the High Lords broke into a buzz of discussion.
"A crusade? Are you joking?" Amotalion blurted out, before realizing the person speaking before him was a living Primarch.
"I mean..." Amotalion corrected himself, "The Empire's current condition and logistics are completely insufficient to support a crusade."
Amotalion tried to use practical difficulties to veto the plan.
Guilliman did not deny him. Instead, he went along with his words.
"A great crusade must be built upon an indestructible foundation of logistics. And the Empire's current condition is clearly unable to shoulder such a heavy responsibility. Therefore, before the crusade officially launches, a series of reforms must be carried out. To this end, I will establish a brand new Imperial institution—the Officio Logisticarum." Guilliman continued to unleash his ultimate moves.
"This institution is established to prepare for the crusade and possesses the highest priority over all existing Imperial departments."
A newly established department with authority overriding all established institutions?
As soon as these words came out, many High Lords showed expressions of dissatisfaction.
Guilliman took out a document that had been prepared long ago, the Decree.
As it was distributed, the content of the document was simple: all departments must do their utmost to assist the work of the Officio Logisticarum.
It wasn't just Amotalion; the faces of four High Lords changed color.
Guilliman's gaze locked onto the four High Lords with the ugliest expressions, noting down their names.
The council chamber exploded into chaos. Doubts and objections rose one after another.
Several High Lords even quoted classics and scriptures, attempting to prove the absurdity of this decree through Imperial Law.
Guilliman listened, allowing them to argue for a moment.
When the voices of opposition reached a peak, he raised his hand.
The majesty of a Primarch did not require a roar; a single motion was enough to suppress all the noise.
"I have heard your concerns." Guilliman extended a finger, unceremoniously pointing at the four opposing High Lords one by one.
Without waiting for them to defend themselves, Guilliman directly announced:
"By the authority of the Imperial Regent, I declare that the four of you are relieved of your seats in the High Lords' Council."
The existence of Primarchs had been gone for too long. The High Lords could only glimpse the charisma of a Primarch from ancient legends.
In their foolishness, they even thought they could obstruct a Primarch. In reality, they were just mantises trying to stop a chariot—overestimating their own strength. (TL/N: "A mantis trying to stop a chariot" is a classic Chinese idiom from the Zhuangzi (Chuang Tzu), representing overconfidence and futile resistance. It describes a mantis angrily raising its arms to stop an oncoming chariot, resulting in its destruction. It warns against attempting tasks beyond one's strength)
Of course, these four deposed High Lords had been targeted long ago.
Chancellor Tieron had already been investigating in the shadows and discovered their secret intentions to resist Guilliman.
With the four High Lords deposed as an example to the others, the rest of the meeting went much simpler.
The Officio Logisticarum would be managed by personnel trusted by Guilliman, with the remaining members drafted from other departments.
One of the tasks of the Officio Logisticarum was to prepare sufficient troop numbers for the Indomitus Crusade.
This point would be partially handled by Archmagos Cawl. His Primaris Marines would be an excellent choice, and Zeke would provide appropriate assistance with organ modification.
The second task was various food supplies and provisions.
Zeke declined Guilliman's wish to pull him on board and recommended Bela instead.
Sitting in an office approving documents all day was something only Guilliman could tolerate.
"Guilliman, do your best." Zeke cheered Guilliman on. He had something more important to do now: choose a house.
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Goal = 1400 Powerstones (Not Complete)