Chapter 268: The Emperor Ought to Kneel Before Lady Upton

The linen robe drifted slowly within the Cathedral of Guilliman.

Digris smelled only wind and incense, then those scents brushed lightly over his body.

He felt a low growl emanate from his power armor, and his entire frame toppled toward the ground.

The staff of Macordo carved an arc across the floor before coming to rest beneath a distant marble pillar.

Digris raised his head, dazed and pained, trying to see how his attack had been undone.

The night wind slipped soundlessly through the entire Cathedral of Guilliman; the rustling of the linen robe reminded Digris of waves crashing against the city on Macragge.

It was a figure Digris could not begin to describe.

It was taller than Digris, draped in a robe like flowing water, as if a hermit returning from a mountain monastery, snow melting from its fabric, leaving only purity, serenity, and holiness.

A faint glow seemed to envelop it—not light from the material universe, but from the Warp, untainted by corruption.

Like a midnight meteor streaking through an eternal, dark, war-torn universe, bearing the name of hope.

"Who are you?"

Digris shouted at the figure in the linen robe:

"Who are you?!"

The figure said nothing, only turned its head to gaze at Roboute Guilliman seated upon the Throne.

With the motion, silver chains upon its person chimed softly, clear as bells.

The figure gazed at Roboute Guilliman's body, its gaze seeming to rest upon the bloodied wound at his neck.

"Do you know? Rational, logical people are often better at recognizing the darkness and cruelty of reality."

"Hope is but a fleeting illusion; happiness is the beginning of tragedy. Nothing beautiful is eternal, and no sorrow is brief."

Thus, the more rational, logical, and clear-minded one is, the less one believes in ideals, hope, dreams, or a better future.

The linen-robed figure slightly turned its head—as if toward the hidden presence beside it, or perhaps toward Digris.

"But Roboute Guilliman is different. He sees with absolute clarity how cruel reality is, and deep within, he has long understood that the galaxy must descend into a dark future."

"Yet he remains unreasonable—in his bones, he is an idealist. The teachings of King Konnor and Lady Upton are truly astonishing."

Digris was stunned by these words.

The emotion in the linen-robed figure's voice made Digris's soul tremble; he seemed to hear a voice from ten thousand years ago.

Yet this feeling was quickly dispelled,

for the hidden presence suddenly spoke:

"I wish Lady Upton were still alive. The Emperor ought to climb down from the Golden Throne and kowtow to her."

"Then learn from her how to raise children—though for the Emperor, this is a lesson far beyond his current level."

Here, the hidden presence chuckled lightly:

"Perhaps he should first learn from the she-wolf who raised Lorgar. That would bring the curriculum closer to his current level."

"Indeed, even Lorgar's wolf-mother understood child-rearing better than the Emperor."

The hidden presence's words drew a laugh from the linen-robed figure.

Then, a wooden door, red with pink hues, suddenly appeared in midair.

Shilandri the Veilwalker, hiding nearby, her eyes flared with sudden light; she stepped forward without hesitation and leapt toward the wooden door.

Digris instantly realized the door was their escape route.

He surged his psychic energy, yanking Macordo's staff from beneath the marble pillar.

The staff, once belonging to the hero Macordo, fused with Digris's psychic power; raw psychic force surged from his flesh and bone.

In an instant, Digris became a torrent of silver-blue light, composed of supreme celestial might, rushing toward the red-and-pink door.

A broad, sharp longsword blocked Digris's path.

It was a power sword of purple copper, inlaid with ruby gems and the Eye of Terra, its length equal to that of a mortal, its blade wide enough to match an Astartes's palm.

Digris drew a sharp breath.

It was the Emperor's Sword—the former weapon of the Lord of Mankind!

For ten thousand years, it had rested upon Roboute Guilliman's knees, unlit.

Now, somehow, it had come into the hands of the linen-robed figure.

The figure regarded Digris without expression, then slowly raised the Emperor's Sword.

Hssssssss—

A sound like wildfire burning across a wasteland echoed.

Scorching flames leapt along the blade, spewing arcs of smoke, fire, and psychic energy, blinding as a sun.

Ten thousand years later, the Emperor's Sword was reignited.

Digris was profoundly shaken; within the blazing sword, as if from a star, the Emperor's shadow appeared.

"Son of Guilliman, will you still advance?"

The majestic voice rang from the linen-robed figure; Digris was violently cast from the Warp back into reality.

He involuntarily knelt on one knee, gazing upward in awe at the linen-robed figure.

At the same moment, the red-and-pink door opened gently.

The linen-robed figure lowered the Emperor's Sword and hurled it sharply toward Roboute Guilliman.

Digris gasped, nearly crying out.

Yet the Emperor's Sword extinguished midair and landed precisely upon Guilliman's knees.

Then, he and the jester, the hidden presence, vanished instantly into the door.

Digris stared at the scene before him, his thoughts in chaos—he had never felt so lost.

At that moment, faint footsteps approached from outside the cathedral.

Digris fell silent for a moment, then sighed softly.

He swung the staff of the hero Macordo; all around him returned to its original state, the psychic chains binding the entrance unraveling.

Soon, seven Honor Guard entered the Cathedral of Guilliman; their sergeant bowed slightly to Digris.

"Chief Librarian, we are here to relieve you."

Digris nodded in return, offering his salute.

Then, the sergeant seemed to sense something amiss; he glanced around with faint surprise.

"Chief Librarian Digris… did something just happen?" he asked.

Digris paused briefly.

He remembered the Emperor's Sword, blazing with fire.

"No," he whispered. "Nothing happened."

After Shilandri the Veilwalker and Saint Guilliman retreated into their fourth-dimensional pockets, Zhou Yun swiftly returned to the Glory Blade strike cruiser, slipping back into the expeditionary force without notice.

But Zhou Yun did not reveal himself; relying on the Blindspot Star's effect, he remained hidden in everyone's blind spot.

For upon returning, he noticed Euphrine speaking with Archmagos Belisarius Cawl.

Zhou Yun trusted Belisarius Cawl, but not Euphrine.

Though he enjoyed joking about the Regent's Consort, and knew Euphrine and the captured Shilandri the Veilwalker were among the few sane ones among the Eldar scoundrels,

the Eldar Death God Inard behind Euphrine was deeply problematic—full of secrets; even Sanguinius, an Eldar god, cooperated with Him while holding his nose.

Zhou Yun naturally could not fully trust Him, nor could he fully trust Euphrine, who followed His guidance.

Thinking this, Zhou Yun stood silently beside Euphrine and Belisarius Cawl, listening to their conversation.

"Your technology is indeed exceptional, but this artifact can only heal the Primarch's flesh. We all know the true wound lies in the soul."

Euphrine's voice was cold and somber, as if emanating from a realm beyond the living:

"You cannot accomplish your task alone—to awaken the Sleeping Avenger."

The half of Belisarius Cawl's face still covered in flesh twitched slightly; he lowered his gaze to Euphrine.

"What is your suggestion, xenos?"

Euphrine was surprised that Belisarius Cawl so easily accepted her opinion.

Yet she continued in her somber tone:

"I serve the Eldar Death God, the Divine Sovereign who governs the cycle of life and death. He holds the authority to veil death and reverse the natural order."

Belisarius Cawl's eyes flickered with streams of data, as if evaluating the truth of Euphrine's words.

Euphrine clearly had no objection to helping Cawl reach a judgment quickly.

"You may know that the Warp contains many realms, not all of which are occupied by the four Unnameable Ones."

"One realm was born from life's fear and longing for death, from the fate that all things must end; all death returns to that realm."

"My Death God, Inard, claims a portion of that realm. Souls granted death by Him return to His domain; He may use this to veil death, allowing the Primarch to walk among the living once more."

"Only I, through the Old Hag's Blade, can channel Inard's power to accomplish this. Otherwise, his soul will be irrevocably consumed by the Hunger God's influence."

More information flashed in Belisarius Cawl's eyes; he clearly recognized Euphrine's words as truth.

But.

But this meant the xenos witch before him must personally kill Roboute Guilliman, so the Primarch's death would fall under the domain of a xenos god.

Belisarius Cawl could not yet make a decision.

Euphrine assumed Cawl would not refuse this proposal, so she said no more and silently retreated into the shadows.

Watching this, Zhou Yun did not step forward immediately. Instead, he quietly stilled his mind, extending his consciousness toward Belisarius Cawl.

Theoretically, Belisarius Cawl—whose body was mostly mechanical—would still be affected by the power Zhou Yun had gained from the Malevolent Artifice Realm.

The stream of data in Belisarius Cawl's eyes suddenly stuttered; his entire body shuddered.

(End of chapter)