Chapter 408: Everything I Do From Now On Is for the Emperor

"The False God visited Ude Udiya Laski?"

"Then Ude Udiya Laski went to the Imperial Palace?"

Ilto Simotrien, deep within his ancient mansion, listened as Nethos reported on Ude Udiya Laski's movements,

lying on a chair woven from rattan, half his body twitching uncontrollably,

Ilto strained with all his strength to suppress his tremors, as if resisting his ever-declining body,

Where had the once wise, rational, cautious, and reliable Neiwu Force Director gone?

Why do mortals age so easily? Why do they lose most of their strength and wisdom within mere decades?

Nethos felt pity in his heart, but his superb acting kept his expression from betraying it.

Ilto's twitching arm gripped the rattan chair as he struggled, forcing himself to think through the situation, trying to understand the meaning behind Ude Udiya Laski's actions.

Had the younger Ilto been present, he would surely have already grasped the answer?

Clearly, the Saint Doraemon and the Casting General had reached some accord,

most likely because Saint Doraemon had repaired or maintained the functionality of the Golden Throne in some way—something Ude Udiya Laski had always longed for.

Nethos knew that Saint Doraemon had indeed seized control of the portion of the Immaterium tied to the Omnissiah; in a sense, He truly was one of the Omnissiah's candidates,

had it been the Lord of the Ten Thousand Furnaces, Vashthor, the Mechanicum's spirit might still have clung to their false, fractured faith to gain the False Omnicommander's protection,

but Saint Doraemon and the Emperor had already reached agreement—the Emperor clearly intended to hand the Mechanicum over to Saint Doraemon; the Mechanicum had no chance of resistance, not even the thought of resistance would arise,

if their own god had sold them out, what could they possibly do?

Unless Saint Doraemon's power was exhausted, the Mechanicum's spirit was nothing but a plaything in His palm,

yet it was nearly impossible to exhaust Saint Doraemon's power—He had gained the faith of nearly all billion inhabitants of Terra through food, and Mars was far too close to Terra.

Yet for the Mechanicum, it was not entirely bad—they now truly had a god to believe in,

after all, the Mechanicum itself was merely the Emperor's tool, using the Martian Dragon's Dream to filter and safely harness the power of the Malefic Domain, one of the Emperor's countless lies; now, at least, the belief had become real.

Of course, Nethos had no intention of telling Ilto these things—it did not serve his true purpose, nor aid the Empire's reform,

moderate, rational conservatives were more dangerous than extreme, foolish ones, for moderate, rational conservatives often forced reformers into compromise,

while extreme, foolish conservatives merely destroyed themselves,

he manipulated Ilto, guiding the entire Terra bureaucracy's conservative faction toward self-destruction.

"My lord, the Casting General has cared deeply for the Golden Throne for centuries."

"He likely intended to go to the Golden Throne all along—this False God merely happened to visit him just before."

Nethos spoke to Ilto in a voice as seductive as a serpent's.

Ilto's body trembled involuntarily, his neurological degeneration tormenting him.

"Is that truly so?" Ilto asked timidly.

"Of course, my lord," Nethos smiled. "Have you forgotten how the Casting General pledged himself?"

"Now, the Fawu Force, the Ecclesiarchy, and Mars are all yours; the Astra Militarum and Navy will obey you; the Imperial Guard and Assassinorum remain neutral, wavering."

"Our odds are extremely high— we only need to strike at the next High Lords Council."

"Yes, yes, yes," Ilto murmured, his expression dazed.

"Ah, look—you nearly forgot again. It's time for your medicine." Nethos glanced at the clock, then retrieved from a nearby small stasis-field safe the drug prepared by the Mechanicum's Sage,

a pill designed to alleviate Ilto's neural degeneration and invigorate his cells,

Nethos uncorked the vial, letting his sleeve gently hang over the mouth, allowing a barely perceptible drop of neural poison to fall into the oral solution.

Nethos had to admit: the old Ilto had indeed been an excellent Neiwu Force official; even the long years had not entirely broken him,

which forced Nethos to use chronic neural toxins to destroy Ilto's nerves and mind,

a wise Neiwu Force Director, a shrewd conservative leader, would hinder the total annihilation of the conservatives.

This drug was a Legion specialty—even the Mechanicum's priests could not detect it.

Ilto took the medicine from Nethos's hand, drinking it down with complete trust—he naturally trusted Nethos, who was his assistant minister, raised by him since childhood, utterly dependent on Ilto, with virtually no possibility of betrayal,

and Nethos had taken the medicine entirely under Ilto's gaze; it was merely that Ilto's mortal eyes could not perceive Nethos's movements.

The medicine began to take effect; Ilto seemed slightly dizzy.

"My lord, dizziness is normal—didn't the Mechanicum Sage say so?"

Nethos helped Ilto up and walked slowly toward the bedroom,

Ilto struggled slightly: "I have no time to rest—I still have work."

"I'll handle it for you," Nethos smiled gently.

"My child, you are so reliable," Ilto grasped Nethos's hand. "I will protect all we forged, protect the old Empire—and you will inherit my position."

"My lord, I only wish to serve you," Nethos smiled as he tucked the blanket around Ilto, then quietly withdrew to the bedroom door, stepping to Ilto's desk and gazing at the piles of documents the Neiwu Force Director must process,

stacked like mountains—Ilto had handled about half, but as Nethos expected, many of the tasks Ilto completed contained subtle flaws and defects,

his nerves had been eroded by chronic neurotoxins; his will and intellect were far weaker than before, increasingly so over the past decade.

Nethos sighed and began correcting Ilto's minor errors, handling the remaining state affairs.

"If we weren't here, this Empire would collapse."

Nethos shook his head, deeply weary:

"But everything I do from now on is for the Emperor."

What Nethos did not know was that, not far behind him, the Clown Shadow Seer Hylandri the Veilwalker, wearing the Blindspot Star, was watching him,

Humans really do play in strange ways, Hylandri the Veilwalker couldn't help but sigh inwardly,

she had seen every one of Nethos's actions—including the poisoning—clearly,

this boy was clearly not normal, yet Zhou Yun and Guilliman had not ordered an arrest.

"Wait a little longer— who will do the work if we move now?"

Zhou Yun and Guilliman had both told Hylandri the Veilwalker this.

Humans really do play in strange ways—watching Nethos work diligently, the Eldar Clown Shadow Seer sighed again,

human games are truly unique, abstract, and bizarre.

The Adepta Sororitas had two main monasteries,

one located on the Seventh Satellite of Ophelia, the second holy site of humanity and the Ecclesiarchy's second base after Terra—the Sanctum Monastery,

the other, the Primus Monastery, situated on Terra itself—the very one Zhou Yun visited today.

After the Casting General Uwula departed for the Golden Throne, Zhou Yun, per plan, brought Doraemon to visit this headquarters of the Adepta Sororitas,

but Zhou Yun's thoughts still lingered on Uwula's words,

Uwula had asked Zhou Yun about the "Dragon of Mars,"

Zhou Yun of course knew what it was—the Martian Dragon, sealed deep within the Night Labyrinth on Mars, a being suspected to be a fragment of the Star God Void Dragon, likely the true identity of the Omnissiah worshipped by the Mechanicum,

but Zhou Yun did not immediately answer Uwula's question, for this concerned one of the Emperor's greatest lies—the origin of the entire Mechanicum,

instead, he asked Uwula how she had learned of the Dragon's existence; Uwula could only say she dreamed of it, and only when on Mars, forgetting it almost immediately upon waking,

Uwula now remembered only vaguely that a "Dragon" existed, with no specifics.

Zhou Yun planned to consult Guilliman and Sanguinius, then seek the Emperor himself for the full truth before deciding.

"My lord?" Mo Wen Val noticed Zhou Yun's distraction, asking with concern: "Is there something important?"

"Just a lie that's lasted ten thousand years—this moment won't matter."

Zhou Yun shook his head and turned to Mo Wen Val:

"Where were you just now?"

"I was saying that, thanks to your mercy, most residents now have enough to eat."

"But our free distribution of water and food has undermined many guilds' profits; the merchants are very dissatisfied."

Mo Wen Val's lips pressed together slightly, clearly disapproving of those guild merchants.

"Any trouble?" Zhou Yun asked with a smile.

"You know our Sisterhood are poor speakers, clumsy-tongued, no match for those sharp-tongued merchants."

Mo Wen Val smiled faintly:

"But thanks to your blessing, our bolters are always eloquent—they help us negotiate with the guild merchants."

"Our bolters speak with thunderous eloquence, leaving the guild merchants speechless."

"Good," Zhou Yun nodded slightly. "But still, restrain yourselves from killing."

"Huh?" Mo Wen Val blinked, not understanding the implication.

"Try to keep the corpses intact—don't ruin them for protein blocks and corpse starch," Zhou Yun whispered. "I've seen Guilliman's data—food is still scarce. Don't waste."

Bolters were too powerful for mortals; one misfire turned bodies to charcoal, making protein block and corpse starch recovery difficult.

Mo Wen Val bowed her head devoutly, humbly accepting Zhou Yun's instruction,

then pointed to a small annex building before them:

"My lord, the Holy Maiden awaits you inside."

(End of Chapter)