Chapter 468: Believers in the Megacorp — Choosing the Day to Ascend, Souls Returning to the Ideal City!
"Leave now. Wait for my orders outside in the corridor."
The Emperor dismissed the others, leaving only Guilliman to speak with him privately about the next steps of the plan.
Afterward, the Emperor contacted the Universal Megacorp's researchers and once again disabled the warp-blocking device, exposing Guilliman beneath the shroud of the Immaterium.
"I'll send you into the warp's secret domain now. Once you find your essence, if my command does not reach you for a long while, then return to Terra on your own."
The warp was not a fixed, immutable dimension. This higher realm shifted and twisted every moment. Though the Emperor could seal the essence of a Primarch in a designated region, he could not fully guarantee that the region would not shift. A little deviation was normal.
Even so, no matter how far it drifted, it would never be too far. As long as Guilliman focused on searching and sensing his own essence, the chances of finding it quickly were still very high.
"Yes!" Guilliman's expression was solemn. "I will find my essence as quickly as I can."
At first Guilliman had been lost, not knowing how to shore up a collapsing empire. Now that the Emperor had given him a clear goal, his heart felt steadier.
Still, this mission was far too unusual. Even knowing the exact steps to take, Guilliman dared not claim he could complete it with one hundred percent certainty.
All he could do was give his utmost effort, and leave the rest to fate.
"Go in. I'll be waiting for you on Terra."
The Emperor unleashed his might, tearing open a rift in the warp. From that savage gash poured strange and turbulent currents. Guilliman lifted the Emperor's Sword, stepped forward without changing his expression, and entered.
He did not bid the Emperor farewell — he only thought of their next meeting.
The rift closed immediately afterward, and everything returned to as it was.
Not long after Guilliman's departure, David Martinez descended near the Hera Fortress aboard a shuttle and came to meet the Emperor.
"We came to the Warhammer 40K universe to conduct the God-Making Project experiment. We can't provide you with much more support. Besides, I also hope you understand our mission here."
David was clearly displeased with the Emperor's reckless disclosure of his identity — let alone bringing Archmagos Cawl and others back to Terra. This was obviously an attempt to take matters into his own hands and personally restore the Imperium.
That wasn't why they had come. They weren't here to babysit someone else's empire.
"I need to report this to headquarters."
David sighed and shook his head. They had brought the Emperor here to execute the experimental stages of the God-Making Project. In terms of warp sorcery, no one but the Emperor could truly be called an expert.
But now he wanted to bring a whole entourage back to Terra, to handle governance? That was pure nonsense!
Seeing David's dissatisfaction, the Emperor remained calm. He already had a clear plan. Returning to Terra was merely one part of it.
"This does need to be reported to headquarters. I also need the support of the higher-ups."
The Emperor knew the Megacorp's rules. He also knew that without personally stepping forward, nothing could be resolved.
Apotheosis was no trivial matter. It had to be completed swiftly, before the Chaos Gods could react, and done with flawless precision. All of it would test the Megacorp's ability to backstop the plan.
David said nothing more. He could tell the Emperor was confident and competent. He wasn't the kind of man to act rashly — there had to be solid reasons behind his actions.
"Very well. I'll contact Supervisor Alt Cunningham. You'll speak with her directly."
At his order, the ship's onboard AI responded immediately, establishing a link through the faster-than-light communications system.
Moments later, a holographic projection appeared before the Emperor. Alt Cunningham's figure and voice came through: "Emperor, how is the God-Making Project progressing?"
Alt was the overall director of the project, with full authority to decide whether it advanced further. Even the Emperor was subject to her oversight.
"The project is moving forward. But this universe's condition is terrible — countless xenos roam the galaxy, the Primarchs are dead, traitors, or missing. Even I myself am little more than a half-dead skeleton."
The Emperor let out a dry, bitter smile. He knew that without the Megacorp's aid, his original timeline would have ended the same way: bound forever to the Golden Throne, unable to leave.
The more he learned about the Warhammer 40K universe, the more grateful he was to the Universal Megacorp.
"What needs to be reported, or where do you need our assistance?" Alt Cunningham nodded. She knew the Emperor wasn't here for idle talk.
He was here to make a request.
The Emperor did not waste words. He spoke directly: "I need the Megacorp's help — expeditionary forces, the scientific achievements of the Research Hub, and the Primarchs of the Warhammer universe."
The greatest difficulty in this universe was the loss of talent. Even someone like Abaddon could be a Chaos warlord and thrash the Ultramarines Legion.
And the Eldar remnants — whom he regarded as refuse — actually had the audacity to approach the Imperium for an alliance. What a colossal joke!
Of course the Emperor could not handle all these troubles by himself. He would focus only on the most crucial matters.
On the other side, Alt Cunningham did not rush to reply. She was weighing the costs and consequences.
For any project to move forward, resources had to be poured in. Even if the Megacorp had vast reserves, those too had limits.
Especially now, with the Aether Resonance Engine burning through the energy of a miniature universe every day, and advanced devices like the Xeelee Nightfighter almost entirely tied up in that effort.
Diverting additional resources to the Warhammer 40K universe — more expeditionary troops, more equipment — was no simple matter.
"Emperor, I need your guarantee. Will this mission deliver results?"
Alt took a deep breath before asking.
She had not personally inspected the Warhammer 40K universe, so she had no clear grasp of the progress or feasibility of the projects the Emperor was taking over.
Calling for expeditionary forces, Primarchs, cutting-edge research assets — that was fine, but if the plan failed, she, as project director, would take the blame.
They couldn't possibly commit resources just because of the Emperor's words, only to end up with nothing.
From what she knew of Li Ang, the Megacorp's leader, waste was never tolerated.
"Nothing in this world is absolute. But I can promise there will be results — even if imperfect ones."
The Emperor knew exactly what she wanted to hear: she feared responsibility, feared wasted resources, feared her superior's wrath. What she wanted was not just results, but someone to share accountability.
But he wasn't concerned about blame. Nor did he linger on the issue. The timing was too critical; every second had to be seized.
"The Megacorp has planetary consciousness beings like Eywa, ancient gods like the Primus and the Unicron, and void-realm deities like Amon and Kerrigan. But you lack a true technology for creating gods."
"I know how to create one. What I lack are the resources and manpower."
The Emperor had studied the Megacorp's achievements. He knew they were already advancing down the path of a divine civilization, and that god-making was one of the most efficient ways for them to control the universe.
Such high-energy, higher-dimensional lifeforms existing between universes were essentially semi-law-level living weapons. Although gods could not directly alter the constants of a universe, they could make use of the rules to the greatest extent possible to achieve their goals.
The God-Making Project was not only applicable in the Warhammer universe; it could be carried out just as well in any other multiverse.
If, in the past, the Universal Megacorp had relied on its near-invincible space fleets to sweep aside all resistance and destroy enemies on the physical level with impunity, then in the future the Megacorp would likely rely on "divine beings" to make preparations ahead of time, sowing the seeds of faith and harvesting countless civilizations' believers across the heavens and myriad universes.
Those who refused to obey would suffer divine punishment. Those who believed in the Megacorp would ascend in due time, their souls returning to the Ideal City.
The Emperor's vision was no less keen than Li Ang's. When he received this operational plan, he immediately realized the implications.
It had to be admitted, this was an extremely efficient way to unify the multiverse. No matter how many times he himself might fail, he firmly believed that Li Ang would keep experimenting until success was achieved.
Having obtained the Emperor's commitment, Alt Cunningham finally set his mind at ease. Their conversation swiftly concluded, and everything the Emperor required, Alt would see prepared for him in the shortest time possible.
After ending the comms link, the Emperor immediately summoned Chapter Master Calgar:
"Have Archmagos Cawl and the others board ship at once. We return to Terra today!"
...
Warhammer Universe!
At the near-orbit port of Cthonia, Horus gathered his brother Primarchs aboard the Vengeful Spirit to celebrate his appointment as Warmaster of the Imperium.
With the exception of Magnus, locked away in prison, and Guilliman, occupied with affairs on Terra, nearly all the other Primarchs who could attend had shown up.
Thanks to the newly established warp route network, travel between the Primarchs had become far more convenient and swift.
Yet without war, many of the Primarchs felt a certain emptiness. They could only while away the time reminiscing about the Great Crusade, sharing old campaign stories, and engaging in roughhousing.
But beneath the entertainment, each of them felt a vague sense of loss. The proverb "when the birds are gone, the bow is put away" rang bitterly true. Without battles to fight, life grew increasingly dull.
Perhaps only the never-ending Great Crusade—conquering one alien race after another—gave true meaning to their existence, rather than gathering here for empty revelry.
Jack Wells had promised to assign each Primarch an honorary post, giving them duties within the Megacorp's Expansion Department. But nearly half a year had passed without the slightest movement, leaving the Primarchs impatient.
"Lord, a letter from Malcador!"
At that moment, Abaddon, Horus's lieutenant, entered and handed him a sealed decree.
Horus hastily broke it open. Just as he expected, it was an order from the Emperor himself—he was to assemble a Primarch host and proceed to Terra, there to await the Emperor's command!
"What is it, Horus? Good news?" Jaghatai Khan stepped forward to ask.
As Primarch of the V Legion, the White Scars, Jaghatai was a master of lightning warfare. Born of the steppe, he was no mere brawler but also deeply interested in culture and education, ranking among the most literate of the Primarchs.
Yet he was close only to Horus; with Guilliman, relations were far less cordial. Guilliman's style of command was strict and methodical, while Jaghatai favored speed, freedom, and maneuver. Only a Marshal of Guilliman's caliber could balance such differences.
"See for yourselves."
Horus smiled faintly and passed the decree along. Reading its terse, unambiguous contents, the Primarchs' hearts leapt with joy.
The fewer the words, the greater the matter!
With just a line or two, the Emperor ordered Horus to pick men and form a force—plainly, this meant they were to take up arms once more.
At once, the Primarchs turned to Horus, their eager gazes wordlessly insisting that he must include them in whatever campaign was to come.
After two centuries of the Great Crusade, the Primarchs had developed both a physical and psychological craving for war. To go without battle even a single day left them restless.
The Crusade was already over, and across the Imperium only petty pacification remained, hardly worth the toil of mustering armies.
Now, at last, came an imperial order. None of them intended to miss the chance to sate their battle-lust.
"Rest assured, I'll see every one of you has a part!"
Horus nodded. His bonds with most of his brothers were strong, and of course he wished to bring all of them along for the thrill.
Besides, the Emperor had not specified numbers. Better to bring too many than too few. As for the rear of the Imperium, Jack's Ninth Expeditionary Legion could watch over it—there should be no great problem.
"The Great Crusade is finished. What pressing war could there be now?"
Sanguinius voiced his puzzlement.
As Primarch of the IX Legion, the Blood Angels, Sanguinius had been born extraordinary: vast white wings upon his back, supreme in personal combat, with beauty and near-divine presence that made him most akin to the Emperor himself.
During the Crusade he had personally led the assault that captured an Eldar Craftworld, driving the Eldar nearly to extinction. For that, he had become the most hated of all Primarchs in the eyes of the Eldar.
Like Jaghatai, he was close to Horus—a brother in every sense.
"I'm not sure either. By rights, even if there truly were some urgent war, it shouldn't fall to us to handle it."
Horus thought back to the uproar some time ago about the AI Iron Men fleets. Born of the Golden Age, the Iron Men were beyond even their capacity to deal with.
The Emperor's call for them to marshal forces was likely unrelated.
"This matter, perhaps only Father himself knows in full."
Horus shook his head. Whatever it was, as long as there was a war for them, it was good news.
"Return to your domains at once. Muster your best troops. In seven days we assemble here on Cthonia, then march together for Holy Terra!"
Horus's command was met with thunderous response from the Primarchs.
"Yes——!!"
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