"This line of thinking..."
After reading through the Golden Throne ejection plan, Eden felt a little numb.
"Whose subordinate came up with something this brutal, heretical, and blasphemous?"
In the old Imperium, a plan this grotesquely disrespectful toward the great Emperor would never have been implemented.
You would not even get to the implementation stage. Just proposing it would have been enough to get you tied to a Cyclonic Torpedo by the Inquisition and the Custodes and fired into the void.
As he considered the plan, he let out a sigh.
"I certainly never taught you people to think in such extreme ways. Isn't this just trying to drag me, the Savior, into infamy?"
"Whose plan is this?"
Eden asked again, sweeping his gaze across the chamber, wanting to know which genius had proposed ejecting the Golden Throne.
Yet wherever his eyes passed, every Archmagos lowered his head. No one dared admit responsibility.
Even in the New Imperium, this sort of proposal was still difficult for people to accept.
No matter what, the Emperor, the Master of Mankind, was the founder of the Imperium itself. How could one profane him like this?
Even the most radical extremists within the Mechanicus would probably find this plan a bit too radical.
To exaggerate only slightly, even Chaos heretics might not have thought up something this outrageous.
"This is my plan."
Suddenly, a firm electronic voice rang out, overflowing with self-confidence and pride.
That being was clearly very pleased with his own proposal, carrying an attitude of: I am not targeting anyone in particular. Everyone here is trash.
Eden followed the voice toward the chamber doors.
A flamboyant mechanical figure was slowly approaching atop a mechanical spider.
The fellow had dozens, perhaps hundreds, of mechanical arms mounted on his body, along with numerous data screens, and was still processing relevant information as he moved.
At the same time, he was using binary to insult another Archmagos of the Mechanicus in particularly foul language.
More importantly, his mechanical body from top to bottom was covered in badges of honor.
With so many symbols of distinction, almost no one in the Mechanicus could rival him apart from the Savior himself.
And within the Mechanicus, there was only one tech-priest with that many honors, that many technical achievements, and that much swaggering confidence.
That person was one of the current soul-figures of the Mechanicus, the Honorary Archmagos:
Belisarius Cawl.
"So it was you."
The moment Eden saw the arriving Cawl, his confusion vanished.
That black-hearted oil-drinker really was the kind of person who would come up with something like this.
Still, as long as he was not proposing to launch Eden himself into the void, that was already comforting.
"That's right. It was me. And only a genius like Cawl could devise such a perfect idea."
Cawl admitted it openly and struck a pose that practically said, Feel free to praise me.
Then he came to the Savior's side and plopped himself down in that oversized mechanical chair, as if he were the one presiding over the meeting.
"Since Archmagos Cawl proposed this plan, I assume there's at least something to it.
Keep it on file, in case we need it."
Eden was long used to Cawl's showy manner and did not pay it much mind.
After a moment's hesitation, he chose not to reject the black-hearted oil-drinker's aggressive proposal outright.
Eden trusted top-tier technical talent, especially someone as hard and proven as Cawl.
Cawl had already used countless technical achievements and successful outcomes to prove both his skill and his judgment.
More importantly, the proposal Cawl had put forward happened to align perfectly with Eden's own thinking.
He did not care in the slightest whether something counted as blasphemy or not. What mattered was whether it worked and whether it could effectively damage the enemy.
To be honest, this plan really was hellish.
But at most, it would only make certain figures in the Imperium feel uncomfortable, or come out and condemn it.
The old Emperor himself, on the other hand, would probably not object to it.
"Given a plan this strong, if the old Emperor knew about it, he'd probably feel pretty gratified sitting on the Throne."
That was what Eden thought silently.
If the old Emperor's dark ascension truly became irreversible, then using the last available moment to launch the Golden Throne into the domains of Chaos and dump the ultimate fatal cesspit right onto the heads of the Chaos Gods...
That would be a good thing too.
It might even reduce how much damage the birth of the Dark King would do to humanity, and save a few more lives.
If it came to that, the old Emperor would probably laugh out loud before losing consciousness completely.
Then he would proceed to beat the ever-living hell out of those hated enemies.
To Eden, this was also a form of forced attack.
If the Imperium was going down anyway, then he would simply smash the golden toilet directly into the heads of the Chaos Gods and make sure nobody got to have a good time.
"Cawl, refine the details of the ejection plan properly. I'll find a chance to discuss it with the Emperor."
Eden had already decided to keep this plan in active use. It really was a very good option.
In both practicality and effectiveness, it completely outclassed the plans proposed by the other Archmagi.
As expected, those other Archmagi were still too conservative. They were too restrained in the way they approached problems.
Of course, Eden was not actually going to suddenly launch the Emperor and the toilet beneath him into the Warp without warning.
When the time came, he would still have to notify the old Emperor and ask for his opinion, but he believed the Emperor would not refuse.
Once Eden settled on the plan, he ended this emergency planning meeting.
Afterward, he spoke with Cawl about the progress of the restoration plan.
The emergency handling plan was only the last resort. The restoration plan itself was the real priority.
Otherwise, even if the emergency plan succeeded after the restoration failed, it would amount to nothing more than a method of mutual destruction with Chaos.
Humanity would still be trapped in an inevitable cycle of defeat and extinction.
Fortunately, according to the report from that black-hearted oil-drinker, the restoration plan was progressing very smoothly, with virtually no obstacles at all.
That restoration plan had a ninety percent chance of being launched within one year.
"Ninety percent..."
That clean and exact percentage ought to have been a good thing, but after hearing the number, Eden still felt uneasy.
He looked up at the black-hearted oil-drinker.
"How about you work a little harder and raise the success rate by a few more percentage points?"
That number did not feel auspicious. In fact, it was kind of alarming.
"That is already the highest probability of success, the absolute limit of all our knowledge and experience.
If you are truly concerned about numerological omens, perhaps I could lower the probability instead?"
After thinking for a moment, Cawl answered like that.
He understood the Savior's concern, but he still did not really believe in numerology. Technology was technology. Any form of technology or data statistics was filled with the digit nine.
Surely one could not remove all those numbers. That was impossible.
"No need. We still have to trust science."
Worried as he was, Eden had not yet sunk to the level of blind superstition, much less the point of voluntarily lowering the plan's success rate.
Still, he had the Fortune-Turning Chamber moved into the Palace.
He was preparing to pray for blessings from every immortal, saint, and ancestral spirit he could think of, just to counteract that unlucky number.
And just as Eden entered the Fortune-Turning Chamber to pray, the Warp underwent new changes as well.
...
The Warp, the Plague Garden.
Bubbles rose from the filthy swamp. Some twisted dead trees were sprouting new shoots, and thorn-bushes covered in blisters were slowly growing again.
These warped plants were recovering, gradually covering over the blackened scars left behind by the great fire and the god-plague.
Plague-flies buzzed and sang as they resumed gathering pus in all directions, while Nurglings danced once more.
It seemed as though the old gloom and terror had faded, no longer spoken of.
"No... the Cursed One!"
Suddenly, a muttered cry rang out, echoing through the foul garden.
The plague-beings stopped singing, and unease spread once more.
Even the blooming, foul-smelling rot-flowers folded their petals shut.
That muttering had come from the black wooden hut at the deepest part of the garden, the dwelling place of Grandfather Nurgle.
It awakened the fear of the plague-beings, as though some dreadful event was about to occur.
Inside the black hut.
Grandfather Nurgle's flesh-mountain of a body lay on a decrepit bed, seeming almost infinitely tall. Streams of pus flowed down his body like waterfalls, faintly trickling past blackened, stinking cavities.
Those were all conceptual wounds left behind by the Cursed One's flames.
Nurgle suddenly opened his eyes and awoke, still shaken.
He had dreamed another nightmare, and in that nightmare he had seen something new. A terrible thing would descend upon his Plague Garden in the not-so-distant future.
Grandfather Nurgle had sensed a threat.
His avatar immediately left the black hut and headed toward the borderland between the gods' realms.
It was not only the Lord of Pestilence who had sensed danger. The other Chaos Gods had as well.
Several colossal shadows, vast enough to seem without end, converged and appeared above that borderland.
"What exactly has the Savior done on Terra? Why is that threat suddenly so much clearer?!"
The seductive voice of the Prince of Pleasure rang out, filled with confusion.
The sense of threat spreading through the Warp had only just intensified further. Presumably, some being's action had strengthened a particular event.
As a result, the Chaos Gods were now under greater threat.
And in their vague premonition, the source of this increase in danger pointed toward the Savior.
That was the Warp.
It was like a mirror, reflecting the changes of the galaxy while also being affected by those changes.
At present, among the beings in the galaxy capable of causing such ripples in the Warp, apart from the Cursed One, there was only the Savior.
Every one of his actions affected the Imperium and the human race.
Naturally, that was enough to stir waves in the Warp.
In other words, the Savior had done something that would cause them fatal damage in the future.
Over the years, the Chaos Gods had gradually become more watchful of the Savior's movements. That man was always using unpredictable methods to sabotage Chaos.
He was exceedingly troublesome.
If the Cursed One was a ticking bomb, then the Savior was an unexploded shell that might detonate at any time without warning, which made him even more intolerable.
What was more, the Savior was now on Terra, right beside the Cursed One. No one knew when he might suddenly go mad and light the fuse.
It was exactly this kind of unknown, unpredictable existence that was most frightening.
The Chaos Gods could scheme against the Cursed One and guide him toward a miserable defeat, but against the Savior, they could do nothing.
They could not read his mind.
"Changer of Ways, when will your promise be fulfilled? Why is the Savior still in the capital of the Imperium?"
Khorne the Blood God fixed his gaze on Tzeentch's shadowed avatar and demanded furiously.
Not long ago, the Changer of Ways had promised the other gods that he would use the tracks of fate to lure the Savior away from Terra.
Yet now, there was still no sign that the Savior intended to leave.
More importantly, that shameless creature had apparently done something else of major consequence, something capable of causing visible fluctuations in the Warp.
That made them uneasy.
All in all, the Savior quietly causing trouble like this was terrifying in its own way.
"Blood God, you need not worry.
The track of fate has not changed. Ninety-nine Terran rotational cycles from now, the attack will proceed as planned, and the Savior will leave Terra before then.
He will leave."
The Changer of Ways sent that message to the other gods, brimming with confidence.
"That recent fluctuation was merely a slight possibility of change. It cannot alter the Savior's final descent into failure.
The Cursed One too will, as we intended, be completely sealed by the galactic artifact."
Though tense, the Changer of Ways had spent two hundred years probing at last into the Savior's thoughts and trajectory.
He was now capable of weaving that man into his web of fate and exerting influence upon him.
This god of schemes, this manipulator of destiny, declared with absolute certainty:
"The war against the Cursed One has already begun. Our armies will arrive as promised.
Terra, that pitiful planet, will sink into unprecedented weakness under the weight of fate's trajectory.
Everything will collapse."
Horus and the other Daemon Primarchs had already completed their preparations for war. New Dragon Forest Star was packed to the brim with Chaos elite forces.
The Chaos Gods had never attacked Terra before, not because they were incapable of it, but because they lacked any means to restrain the Cursed One and feared unleashing unpredictable consequences.
Now, they had the means to eliminate that threat: a galactic artifact.
Before long, the daemon world carrying Chaos' elite armies would arrive in the Sol System and complete its decapitation strike before the Imperium could react.
That was the Imperium's weakness.
It had too many places to defend. Even with Webway routes, it still took time for large armies to return and reinforce.
It would be a profoundly unequal war.
Chaos had gathered the majority of its elite forces, more than ten Daemon Primarchs, and an ancient galactic artifact:
The Shadow of Light.
No matter how many defenses the Savior piled up on Terra, he would still find it difficult to withstand them!
The message transmitted by the Changer of Ways excited the other gods, and ripples spread violently from their immense and many-colored shadows.
Yet the very next moment, they restrained their emotions and actively erased all such ripples.
They did not want the corresponding information to travel through the Warp and leak to the Savior, the Emperor of the Imperium.
That might cause uncontrollable deviations in the path of the coming war.
Suddenly, Grandfather Nurgle tilted his head as though listening to something, muttering under his breath.
He was listening to the muffled whispers carried by the plague-flies, intelligence regarding the galaxy and the Warp.
As he listened, Nurgle's brow furrowed slightly.
He raised his head to the other gods.
"My ugly little darlings have brought me news. An Imperial daemon-slaying force has appeared near the region around New Dragon Forest Star. Shall we destroy them and cover our tracks?"
The daemon-slaying force the Plague-Father referred to was the Grey Knights. They had been more active than ever lately, launching one hateful strike after another.
Now the Grey Knights had attacked another daemon world, and that target was not far from New Dragon Forest Star.
He feared that the existence of New Dragon Forest Star might be discovered by the Grey Knights, allowing the Savior to learn of Chaos' military movements.
The moment Grandfather Nurgle finished speaking, the emotions of the other Chaos Gods shifted.
That was indeed a troublesome matter.
Because of the Savior, the armed forces of the Imperium had become extremely difficult to deal with, like cluster after cluster of vicious carrion ants.
They never sent great armies into the Warp. Instead, they relied on strike teams.
You never knew when one of them would suddenly crawl out, bite you, and inject venom.
What made it worse was that once you launched an attack to exterminate such a force, it was like kicking an anthill.
Other Imperial forces would soon follow, launching even more vicious raids.
Under those circumstances, it would have been simple enough for the Chaos Gods to stir up storms or send Chaos elites to annihilate that Imperial force.
But concealing the traces afterward was much harder, and might expose New Dragon Forest Star.
More importantly, they absolutely could not allow the Imperium to discover the ancient artifact on that daemon world, the very one capable of restraining the Cursed One!
Khorne and the other gods looked toward the Changer of Ways, waiting for his judgment.
That god of conspiracy was the architect of this decapitation war.
"Oh no, we need do nothing at all. That would only disrupt the track of fate."
That was Tzeentch's answer.
His shifting, prismatic shadow-form changed constantly as he spoke in a tone of certainty.
"I have seen the daemon-slaying force's ending. An order from Titan, in the galaxy, will recall them.
After they return, they will unleash a storm of chaos within the Imperium itself."
(End of Chapter)
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