Chapter 374: Use It Well—Use It to Death

Tiruien still felt a dull ache in his heart,

perhaps an illusion, perhaps a lingering effect from when the Saint Blood Angel's Librarian repaired his heart damage.

"Your repaired heart can beat steadily for at least twenty more years," the famed Melphistoth told Tiruien.

Melphistoth's face was pale and cold, like a vampire returned from death; merely being stared at by him made Tiruien's skin crawl,

especially when that icy voice spoke—Tiruien could only force a stiff, unnatural smile in response.

Old Tiruien, old Tiruien, why did you insist on coming to the Moon?

Now you'll probably live another twenty years.

If Melphistoth brought fear to Tiruien,

then the three truly important ones brought oppression—the kind of existential oppression,

just being near them made Tiruien feel all his power, his status, dissolve away; their overwhelming presence crushed him, making him momentarily realize that before them, he was merely a fat, old man.

Lord Guilliman spoke briefly with Tiruien,

and Tiruien was nervous, but Guilliman's conversational skill—so astonishing even in retrospect—

was gentle, reasonable, at times earnest, at times warm, occasionally revealing just the right touch of authority; Tiruien felt his will being manipulated by those words, his mouth opening involuntarily as he poured out every detail Guilliman wished to know,

from Terra's recent situation and ten thousand years of history to the habits, preferences, and tendencies of every High Lord—Tiruien, dizzy and disoriented, spilled it all.

The good news was that Guilliman seemed satisfied with Tiruien; he warmly thanked Tiruien for his devotion and shared with him the current state of the galaxy and the full story behind everything,

allowing Tiruien to learn the origins of the two Primarchs' resurrection and the origin of Saint Doraemon.

In the end, Guilliman quietly revealed to Tiruien that he was composing a monumental work—a great book surpassing the Codex Astartes, a comprehensive encyclopedia encompassing every aspect of the Imperium, from politics and production to economy and military, meant to guide every citizen from hive worker to High Lord,

and Guilliman hoped Tiruien would join this great endeavor; Tiruien, overwhelmed by joy and honor, dazedly pledged to devote all his wisdom to this monumental work for the rest of his life.

Then came Sanguinius, who spoke only a few brief words to Tiruien—but those few words lifted Tiruien's spirit, which had been filled with madness, exhaustion, and pain.

The Archangel did not speak to Tiruien of politics or the Imperium; he didn't even address Tiruien first, but sincerely thanked Tiruien's assistant, Jackie,

for helping the Imperium's outstanding Prime Minister endure these painful years, so that Prime Minister Tiruien's wisdom could continue serving the Imperium, the Emperor, and humanity.

"Yes, I have been watching you all along."

"Everything you have done for the Imperium—I, Guilliman, the Emperor, and Saint Doraemon—all have seen."

"Tiruien, you are one of the finest Terra bureaucrats since Macordo. May your wisdom and diligence continue serving humanity."

Sanguinius's words were as soft as feathers, soothing Tiruien and Jackie's hearts, bringing them to tears as they vowed to offer every ounce of their bodies to the Imperium.

There was a third.

On the vessel arranged by Captain Valerian for the return to Terra,

Tiruien sat uneasily beside those far greater beings,

Captain Valerian was whispering to Lord Guilliman,

the Living Saint Celestine, Grand Master Mo Wen, and Sanguinius seemed to be discussing matters of faith,

the Adeptus Mechanicus' Magi were communicating with Magos Belisarius Dora Cawl in binary secret tongues,

all of them were colossal beings, their forms vastly unlike ordinary humans, each larger than the mutated cockroaches Tiruien had seen as a child in Terra's sewers,

the only one whose size resembled Tiruien's, seemingly human, was—

"My lord."

Tiruien gathered his courage and spoke to the entity dwelling within the human body beside him:

"Forgive me for my earlier disrespect."

Saint Doraemon, the one who resurrected Sanguinius and Guilliman, a "god" cramped inside a mortal frame.

Whenever facing him, Tiruien felt tense,

partly because he could keenly sense what monstrous presence was squeezed within that flesh,

partly because he was deeply uncomfortable accepting any faith other than the Emperor's.

This stemmed from his humble origins—he had grown up under Imperial Cult indoctrination, not the rigid education of nobility,

making him one of the most devout Imperial believers among the Imperium's elite, a devotion that was irrational, purely the echo of childhood teaching.

"Don't be nervous—I'm a devout believer in the Emperor too," Zhou Yun said with a bright smile.

". ow many arms does the Emperor have?" Tiruien blurted out instinctively,

not all who worship the Emperor are human—many cults and gene-thieves disguise themselves with the Emperor's faith, something Tiruien had seen countless times in Imperial records.

He had even trained himself to instinctively detect whether a planet had been corrupted by gene-thieves or cults, merely from textual records.

Tiruien's sharp senses also told him that when Zhou Yun spoke of faith in the Emperor, his tone carried a hint of mockery.

"Six arms, of course. Two." Zhou Yun's eyes flickered slightly.

Six arms? That's worse than gene-thieves!

Tiruien's heart clenched again.

"My lord," Tiruien forced a bitter smile: "Rationally speaking, with so many wiser people—Grand Master Mo Wen, the Imperial Guard, the two Primarchs—trusting you, I have no reason to doubt you."

"I'm merely a devout believer in the Emperor, and I feel uneasy about the notion that you are a god. My faith teaches me that only the Emperor is the God of Mankind."

Hearing this, Zhou Yun's eyes brightened: "So you think I'm not a god?"

"No, my lord, I—" Tiruien was taken aback by Zhou Yun's reaction.

"You're right. I am not a god," Zhou Yun said, his gaze toward Tiruien now holding a touch of appreciation.

This stunned Tiruien—suddenly, a passage from the Holy Codex flashed in his mind:

"The Emperor humbly denies His divinity, yet know this: only one who truly possesses divinity will deny it."

"The Emperor's denial of His own divinity is proof of His godhood."

Tiruien didn't know why he recalled it—he whispered it involuntarily in High Gothic.

"Hmm?" Zhou Yun lifted his eyelids slightly, glancing at Tiruien.

"Just like the Emperor," Tiruien blurted out.

"No, no, no—I'm not like the Emperor. The Emperor is truly a god. I am not," Zhou Yun shook his head vigorously.

His repeated denials somehow lessened the irrational doubt in Tiruien's heart.

At that moment, the voidship shuddered slightly—it was beginning its descent into the atmosphere.

Zhou Yun gave Tiruien a slight nod, then rose and walked toward the viewport, seemingly eager to glimpse Terra from above,

not just him—the two Primarchs also ended their conversation and joined Zhou Yun's side.

"An excellent Prime Minister—practical, loyal, rational, and still possessing conscience."

Guilliman smiled and couldn't help but say to Zhou Yun:

"Just as you said—he must continue working for us, for humanity."

He knew Sanguinius had erected an invisible psychic barrier; their voices would not leak out.

"His assistant, Lady Jackie, is equally excellent. Tiruien trained her; after Tiruien's passing, Jackie will be a worthy successor to the Prime Minister's seat," Sanguinius nodded in agreement.

"Yes, yes, just like Cawl—he knows I'm not a god," Zhou Yun nodded slightly.

Zhou Yun knew Tiruien's abilities—surviving decades as Prime Minister proved his talent for overtime.

And in Zhou Yun's memory, in the original timeline, after Tiruien's death, his successor was his assistant Jackie.

Tiruien had trained Jackie into an excellent Prime Minister, whose talent for overtime was only slightly less than his own.

There are many beasts of burden in this world, but those capable of becoming Prime Minister are exceedingly rare,

and someone as exceptional as Tiruien, who can also train his own little beast of burden—that's even rarer. How could Zhou Yun possibly let him retire?

So he had pre-emptively informed Guilliman and Sanguinius about Tiruien,

then Melphistoth subtly strengthened Tiruien's heart, and Guilliman and Sanguinius took turns motivating Tiruien—no, not PUA, but encouraging him.

All Zhou Yun wanted was for Tiruien to serve them for at least another twenty years; if necessary, they could use Rejuvenation Techniques or the Setesh Ritual—adding four or five hundred more years of service wouldn't be impossible.

"Too bad he's too old. He'd have made a perfect Space Marine," Guilliman muttered.

"We could stuff him into a Setesh Ritual canister—he'd live a long time. Or I could find some artifact to extend the lifespan of a supreme beast of burden like Tiruien."

At that moment, Tiruien was completely unaware his fate had already been decided,

still lost in the encouragement from the two Primarchs and Zhou Yun's words,

even resolving inwardly that he must not disappoint the three lords—he would work harder to embezzle, bribe, and corrupt, striving to serve the Imperium more efficiently.

Meanwhile, outside the viewport, the thick, gray clouds suddenly split apart as the ship's prow pierced through—Terra lay exposed before the two Primarchs and Zhou Yun.

(End of Chapter)