Chapter 465: Chaos Octagram! Ascension Ritual! Erosion and Destruction!
The Emperor gave a gratified smile. He had not misjudged Guilliman—this was indeed the Primarch he valued most.
"Now, I can entrust this task to you without worry."
Under Guilliman's burning gaze, the Emperor slowly revealed his entire plan.
"I want you to become a god of the Warp, to counterbalance the four Chaos Gods on behalf of the Imperium of Man. With you in the Warp, the Four will no longer have as much strength to meddle in the material universe."
In truth, the Four Chaos Gods of the Warp were by no means a united front. Each embodied utterly different traits, and at the root of it, these differences dictated constant conflict among them.
For instance, Khorne's pursuit of instant, violent slaughter was hardly compatible with Nurgle's slow, rotting corruption—one craved decisive bloodshed, the other longed for drawn-out decay.
Likewise, Tzeentch's schemes of Infinity complexity were often disrupted by Slaanesh's indulgence in fleeting pleasures.
The strength of each god depended on offerings of faith and sacrifices from their worshippers in the material universe. And with the galaxy currently in utter turmoil, all four were receiving roughly equal portions of what they craved.
But once a new god arose in the Warp, backed by the devotion of humanity, that power would not be something the Four could easily withstand.
The most likely outcome would be Guilliman's ascension, forcing the Four into retreat within the Warp and prompting a fresh redistribution of domains and power.
Rather than uniting against a newly risen Guilliman, it was far likelier that one of the Chaos Gods would ally with him to devour the power and territory of the others.
After all, Guilliman's divine aspect would not necessarily conflict with every god. So long as his nature did not directly clash, cooperation was possible.
This was exactly what Li Ang and the Emperor foresaw: by creating a god to alter the Warp's balance of power, the so-called alliance of the Four would fracture, and once that equilibrium was broken, the rest would be much easier to handle.
Yet Guilliman clearly struggled to grasp the Emperor's true intent. Could he really become a god? Was such a thing even possible?
"What if I don't ascend as a true god, but as some twisted daemon of the Warp instead?" Guilliman felt the whole notion far too fanciful, almost absurd.
"Each Primarch is a seed I hand-picked. I believe that once you wield the power of a god, you will not fall into corruption. When you complete your ascension, even a reborn Horus will be no match for you."
By rights, the Four could have elevated Horus into a Chaos god in his own right, but they had only made him their chosen champion, binding him with their leash. They never intended to give him any true share of their dominion.
Each Chaos God was the supreme shareholder of their realm—none would tolerate a newcomer seizing their "emotional resources."
In their eyes, the only one with the potential to join their pantheon was the Emperor, after his death.
"Every Primarch's full potential is sealed in the Warp. To reclaim it, you must abandon your mortal vessel in the material universe."
The Emperor held nothing back. He was only a step away from saying it outright: Guilliman would have to die to complete the ascension ritual.
To relinquish one's flesh was almost akin to severing the Three Corpses, ascending like an immortal. But Guilliman had only just been brought back to life—and now he was expected to march straight into death again? It left him disoriented.
Archmagos Cawl had spent Infinity effort to restore him, yet Guilliman had barely lived again for a handful of days before being told he must sacrifice himself. Would that not make Cawl's labor meaningless?
The Emperor seemed to perceive his doubts, and offered an explanation: "Cawl's work was not in vain. Without purging the Slaaneshi toxins from your body first, your ascension would have been compromised."
"I will not force this upon you, but you must understand—you are the best candidate. You are destined to sacrifice yourself, to bring peace to the Imperium."
Guilliman fell into silence. Memories surged before him—of the Great Crusade's passion, of ruling Ultramar, of defending Terra itself.
Had not everything he done been for the Imperium of Man? The Emperor's vision of humanity's rebirth was already etched deep into his very soul.
"I don't understand—why am I the best candidate? What about you?" Guilliman looked at the Emperor. His loyalty to the Imperium and humanity was absolute, but why had the Emperor not chosen to become the god who would guard mankind? Why take such a detour and appoint Guilliman instead?
Was Guilliman more unique than even the Emperor himself?
The Emperor was silent for a long moment, debating whether to speak. Finally, he revealed the truth.
"There are eight divine seats in the Chaos Octagram. The northwest—heartless slaughter, Khorne. The northeast—storm of change, Tzeentch. The southeast—rapturous sensation, Slaanesh. The southwest—decay and rot, Nurgle.
"I am the north—Erosion and Destruction, embodiment of pure annihilation and ultimate void."
When he revealed his nature, the Emperor's voice carried no emotion. He had long accepted his own origin. Such power was not something any mortal could possess—only a god could wield godlike might.
Guilliman froze once more. Today he had heard more revelations than he could endure, each one more earthshaking than the last. His heart should have been numb, yet the shocks kept striking.
No one could have imagined that the Emperor—sworn foe of the Chaos Gods—was in truth so close to them, even sharing the same divine lineage!
"He should have died during the Horus Heresy ten millennia ago, ascending as the God of Erosion and Destruction at the cost of humanity's annihilation—becoming the Fifth God of Chaos."
The Emperor and the God-Emperor of this parallel universe were one and the same, and thus he fully understood the other's reasoning.
The God-Emperor had refused to sacrifice mankind in exchange for becoming the God of Destruction. Instead, he used the Golden Throne to trap himself in an undying, half-dead state.
So long as he did not die, he could never ascend.
Through this method, humanity had survived for ten thousand years. But the price the Emperor bore was Infinity torment.
To linger on the boundary of life and death upon the Throne—such a state would drive an ordinary mind insane in less than half a minute. Yet the Emperor had endured for millennia.
Only someone of his iron will could carry the fate of mankind alone.
"This solution cannot last. Every point of the Chaos Octagram will manifest—it is the unbreakable law of the cosmos, the destined fate of all life."
Even the mighty Emperor felt profound helplessness. The Aeldari's god of death, Ynnead, was in truth the western seat of the Octagram: Formless Distortion, symbol of unspeakable change and the twisting of souls.
The southern seat of Greedy Dissolution belonged to the Tyranids' Great Devourer—embodying Infinity consumption and the entropy of unbounded expansion.
The vast cycle of the cosmos would not remain jammed forever by one stubborn cog. One day, the Emperor on the Golden Throne would finally collapse, lose himself, and fall—becoming the God of Erosion and Destruction.
Hearing this, Guilliman seemed to grasp some of the cruel truths behind the laws of the universe.
The Eldar's extreme hedonism had brought about the birth of Slaanesh, and Slaanesh devoured their souls, leading to their extinction. That in turn gave humanity the chance to unify the galaxy.
And humanity's eventual destruction would in turn promote the birth of a god of corrosion and annihilation, aiding the Emperor in ascending as a new divinity.
After that would come the rise and fall of the Tyranids of Terra, with the god of greed and dissolution attaining godhood.
Every race was destined to die, while immortal gods would gradually manifest within the Warp. When all eight points of the Chaos Star blazed alight, perhaps that would mark the end of the universe itself, the moment the cycle restarted.
Such a perfect yet merciless mechanism.
In realizing this, Guilliman finally understood how heavy the Emperor's burden truly was. He bore alone the agony of humanity's eventual destruction, while the mechanical gears of cosmic law ground relentlessly against his soul.
As long as the Emperor could endure, humanity would not perish, the Chaos Octagram would not be fully lit, and the next god would not arise.
It could be said that the Emperor was performing a miracle never seen before and never to be repeated. Perhaps this was even why the Four Gods of Chaos had not sought humanity's complete extermination.
The Emperor's insistence that humanity not be extinguished suited them well, for it allowed them to feast upon the galaxy. Humanity's pain and struggle, its confusion and violence—all of it nourished the Chaos Gods.
"I suspect he's nearly at his limit. Time erodes humanity bit by bit. Ten thousand years is long enough for humankind to accomplish much, yet you have not found any way to save yourselves in that span."
The Emperor felt regret for the version of himself bound to the Golden Throne. After his departure, humanity had produced no figure strong enough to deliver the species from ruin.
"If every point of the Chaos Octagram is destined to blaze forth, then what meaning is there in my ascension? I still cannot prevent everything from ending."
Guilliman's voice was nearly a lament. The words man can conquer heaven had become a bitter joke. No matter how desperately they struggled, they could not resist the tide of destiny.
"Chaos is not the embodiment of absolute evil. It is the integration of good and evil, right and wrong. Khorne represents not only brutality and bloodshed, but also valor and courage.
"Nurgle is not only decay, but also renewal and the cycle of life. Tzeentch's scheming can be seen as cleverness and adaptability, and Slaanesh's revelry as joy.
"At present, they lean wholly toward evil—so a new variable must appear to shift them. And you are that variable."
Though the Emperor was not certain that the full lighting of the Octagram meant the universe's final end, he was sure of one thing: if every point of the star became wholly consumed by evil, the universe would collapse.
He would have to find a way to arrange a balance—four righteous gods and four dark gods—so that equilibrium could sustain the cosmos.
"Balance… but I'm only one man. How can I hope to maintain it?" Guilliman shook his head, feeling the effort far too futile.
Even if he truly ascended as a god, the Warp's balance would still stand at one against four. Even if the Emperor himself were added, that was only two against four.
And if the Emperor became a god, humanity would perish along with it.
A universe without humanity—what meaning could that hold for Guilliman?
"No, you are merely the beginning. If you succeed in ascending, more gods will emerge to claim the righteous thrones."
The Emperor smiled faintly. The Megacorp's Tyranids could replace Terra's great devourer and take a godseat. Guilliman himself would be another.
That would allow the Warp's pantheon to be split evenly—three against three. All that remained was to sow division among the Four, peeling away one more.
The Emperor was confident that with his and the Megacorp's means, such a thing was well within reach.
And even if the Megacorp could not manipulate the Four directly, they could simply cultivate new gods until the thrones were filled.
That way the balance would still be struck, the Four kept in check, and the equilibrium sustained.
After hearing the Emperor's explanation, Guilliman finally felt a spark of hope ignite within him. He could not fully comprehend all the details, but he trusted that the Emperor—and the power behind him—could save humanity from doom.
"What exactly must I do?"
Guilliman asked urgently. He no longer wished for his father to remain chained to the Golden Throne in Infinity torment. The faster they acted, the sooner the Emperor's agony would end.
If he could truly ascend as one of the Warp's gods, perhaps the Emperor could at last step down from the Throne, free of suffering.
"I will harness the Megacorp's power to make you humanity's racial god. From there, you will use that divinity to ascend as one of the righteous Chaos gods.
"Throughout the process, I will guide you."
The Emperor gave Guilliman a simple introduction to the Megacorp's origins and designs, warning him to be prepared for the long term. Ascension to godhood would depend on circumstances—sometimes months, sometimes years, even decades.
What the Megacorp lacked least of all was living beings.
From higher-dimensional entities of other realms to data-wraiths drifting in cybernetic space, life under the Megacorp's dominion numbered beyond counting.
It would be no difficulty to channel a portion of that belief into Guilliman, fueling his growth until he swelled into divinity.
But the faith he required was human faith. The best path was to have the humans of the Warhammer universe worship Guilliman.
Conveniently, in the Emperor's own time, he had just handed the authority of the Imperium to Guilliman. He could easily direct humanity's devotion toward his son, letting that force be diverted to the Warhammer 40K Guilliman.
Through such a sleight of hand, the chances of Guilliman's ascension were not low.
And once there was a single successful case, the rest of the "God-Making Project" would proceed with ease!
Two Warp gods, both from Warhammer universes, would thereafter fall under the dominion of the Megacorp's highest echelons.
Who would be the next god of the Warp would no longer be up to fate— Li Ang would decide.
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