Chapter 529: Simple—We Shall Ascend to Godhood as Well
"The utilization of this specific power requires careful calibration."
Facing the gazes of his companions, Romulus offered his clinical approval.
"At least for this engagement," Ramesses replied, leaning back. "In my judgment, our response to this crisis was a masterclass in collective cognition. It proves that Mankind can be unified into a singular engine to repel the Divine."
The operation had been a long, grinding affair, but the cost had been managed. They had spent only a fraction of the soul-reserves accumulated through faith and the systematic harvesting of daemons. They hadn't even been forced to play their final hand.
Romulus cast a sidelong glance at the lounging Karna.
If the Webway fragment had fallen under the pressure of the Ork Gods, and if the Emperor had continued His "Tactical Slacking," they would have relied on Karna. Arthur was currently a Null-anchor; he couldn't dive into the deep Warp to wrestle Lesser Gods without risking a terminal paradox. That left the Burning Angel.
Ramesses' maneuver decades ago had been a stroke of genius. By utilizing the void left by Sanguinius's death, he had "launched" Karna under the banner of the Angelic Creed. Not only did this solve the ancient Imperial problem of "Imperial Authority ending at the Hive-Spire," but it had also raised a Warp-tier titan for the team.
That had been their anchor during the battle against the World-Shaper. One Dawnstar Crusade had elevated Karna to a Lesser God. Since then, he had dismantled Mortarion and, alongside the Emperor, set fire to the Plague God's front porch.
Mankind was unparalleled in the art of worship. They were numerous, aggressive, and possessed a decent psychic baseline.
In a universe where the "Market Share" of the Warp was dictated by belief, the human race was a gold mine. Without the Dawnstar's intervention, the species would have manifested a dozen different gods by now—much like the T'au's accidental creation of the Goddess "Va." But faith was toxic; it could warp even the Emperor. That was why they had kept the Legions under a strict "Secular Lock."
Romulus pulled up a report and smiled a weary, administrative smile.
Cegorach had recently volunteered to "sub-contract" the excess Imperial faith. The Laughing God was eyeing the human market with greed, pitching his new corporate brochures: 'The Advanced Guide to Pantheon Synergy in the New Era' and 'The Sovereign Mission of the Formless Manse.'
The Eldar were the "Trust-Fund Children" of the Old Ones. They were born with long lives and stable souls. They possessed things baseline humans could only dream of.
And the Eldar Gods were equally "Blue-Blooded." They weren't easily fractured by conflicting beliefs. They absorbed the "sugar-coating" of faith and let the "bullets" of dogma pass through them.
Old One technology is truly the apex, Romulus mused.
"I'll leave the logistics of the 'Pantheon' to you, Ramesses. Move brick by brick. No rush," Romulus directed.
"My only requirement is that the Dawnbreakers remain the core leadership. The rest is your research."
Ramesses' face fell.
"I'm taking over the HR department of the Formless Manse," Romulus added, anticipating his partner's grumbling.
Though they both wore the "Blue Paint" of administration, Romulus wasn't Guilliman. He was a polymath. With the material universe now being stabilized by the Regent, Romulus had found his own administrative pressure relieved. He needed a new burden.
"Well... if You insist," Ramesses said, rubbing his hands together.
Romulus ignored the psychic projection's posturing.
"I'm sending Eldrad over immediately."
"..."
The tiny flicker of hope that Romulus might do his own filing vanished.
"I said: Immediately," Romulus repeated.
Ramesses was better suited for "Cost-Cutting and Efficiency" than personnel management. He was a natural at the grind.
Seeing Arthur go offline to handle the post-war cleanup on Armageddon while Karna returned to his "State of Leisure," Romulus turned his attention back to his conference with Guilliman regarding the modernization of the Forge Worlds.
"Right then."
Ramesses waved a hand, finalizing Eldrad's reassignment. The old Farseer, knowing when to yield, didn't mention his desire for a vacation to train his successors. He simply stepped through the Warp-gate to report to his new post.
Cegorach also took his leave, showing no hurry to claim his allocated leave-time.
With the level of authority Ramesses had granted him—and the promise of a "Formless Mech-Chassis"—he had too much to research. He wouldn't waste the opportunity.
If only Asuryan had let me drive like this back in the day, the Jester thought.
Ramesses, alone in his domain, watched the industrious flow of his workers. The synergy of God and Mortal was a fascinating meta. It reminded him of the Pantheon of old.
Back then, their roster was impressive. Asuryan was a true Sovereign. He shouldn't have been weaker than the Chaos Gods.
So why did they lose to Slaanesh? Management failure. Pure and simple.
Ramesses began to deconstruct the "Pantheon Problem."
First: The Thrones.
The Empyrean was a cesspool. The "Holy" slots for the Gods had been lost. Only the "Eight-Fold Path" remained afloat in the filth, currently occupied by the Five.
Unfettered Slaughter: Khorne.
The Hell-Storm: Tzeentch.
Ecstatic Perception: Slaanesh.
Rotting Stagnation: Nurgle.
Destructive Destiny: The Emperor (The Black Sun).
Below them sat the shifting, unstable slots of the Lesser Powers: "The Unbound Warp" (Be'lakor), "Greedy Dissolution" (The Great Devourer), and "Wicked Arts" (Vashtorr).
Of these three, the Dawnstar had already secured a "Majority Stake" in Wicked Arts.
The Emperor—the man who had forged twenty-one divine engines and walked further down the path of technocracy than any other—could effectively "cede" that authority to the Dawnstar.
As for the "Ascension Rituals" for the others? Ramesses had a theory.
It was about Creation. If they ignored the "Destructive" baggage, anything birthed in this universe was a masterpiece of power.
Take the Primarchs. Twenty of them turned the galaxy into a warzone.
Whether it was a "Mystical" miracle like a God-Son's resurrection or a "Practical" one like reclaiming an extinct species from the ash—as long as they weathered the interference of the Four, the path was clear.
As for the remaining two slots?
Cegorach had suggested that if Ramesses liquidated Be'lakor and struck a deal with Corax to share the "Shadow" frequency, they could unify into a "Formless Distortion" aspect. The "Slime-Avatar" Ramesses used was already a perfect fit for the meta.
"Greedy Dissolution" was the wildcard. The consensus among the transmigrators was that the Hive Mind occupied this slot, but data was scarce.
Currently, the Tyranid main host was engaged in a multi-species meat-grinder in the Galactic Core. It would be centuries before the next primary wave arrived. Once Ramesses had a sufficient talent pool, he intended to "Intervene" in that sector.
Then there was the matter of the "Living" gods.
The Emperor had triggered his "Mutual Destruction" move, but the damage to the Four was not terminal. They were in the ICU, but they were recovering. To "Delete" them like they had deleted Vashtorr was too optimistic a projection.
Ramesses focused on his current "Assets."
Karna and himself.
They relied on their inherent transhuman traits, supplemented by the emotional output of humans or daemons. Until they solved the "Dogma-Toxicity" of faith, they couldn't simply "God-Mod" the other Primarchs. If they turned Guilliman into a God of Bureaucracy through prayer, the man would likely suffer a mental breakdown before his first shift ended.
So, they had to recruit the "Natives."
Cegorach was a solid hire.
If only he had been in the human camp from the start, Ramesses mused. The pressure would be half of what it is now.
Of course, given the Jester's sense of duty, he probably would have ended up like Malcador—sacrificed to a project before the Dawnstar could arrive to save him.
Then, there was Isha.
Ramesses ticked another finger.
He hadn't met her yet, but according to the "Jester-Leaks," she was the ultimate "Martyr-Archetype."
And not in a negative sense. She possessed a pure, unyielding love for life.
It was a love so intense it allowed her to overcome her own cowardice and fear. She had stood against Khaine and Nurgle.
Khaine was a God of War and Torture; the Drukhari's "Wicked Arts" were his shadow. Yet Isha had defied the ban of Asuryan to aid her children. Even when caught and tortured by the War God, she had wept for her inability to see them, not for her own pain.
Her tenure in Nurgle's Manse was the same. She spent her eternity trying to brew antidotes for the galaxy.
Karna's medics wore hazard suits to save people on Calth. Isha simply drank Nurgle's latest soup to find the cure.
As for her "Intelligence"? Cegorach claimed it was a non-factor.
"She's a simpleton, but she's a saint."
If she had possessed a grain of tactical pragmatism while a prisoner, she could have selectively "nerved" the Eldar's immortality. If they could have died "cleanly" rather than lingering as soul-debt, the Eldar wouldn't be in this mess.
The Drukhari had gone mad. The Craftworlders had turned into cryptic ascetics. They were all desperately trying to manage a reality they couldn't escape.
But Isha only knew one command: 'Give my children the best.'
So the problem was the Execution of Authority.
An entity like Isha required an Advisor. Someone to point out the "Practicalities."
The Eldar Pantheon had been a mix of legends and failures.
Vaul was a simple smith; without the pressure of war, he just hammered away in the dark. Cegorach was a jester who knew everything but lacked the leverage to act. Kurnous and the others provided protection, but they were distant.
They had drifted away from their species. They didn't know what their "Boyz" actually wanted.
Who manages the God? Who takes the responsibility?
Ramesses didn't want the job. He had failed his medical residency back on Earth because he couldn't handle the clinical pressure. He wasn't a leader of souls.
But he believed in the "Group Chat." A committee of peers to debate and audit every move.
The campaign against Gork and Mork had proven it. Under Ramesses' "Lazy Leadership," a group of specialists had handled a divine crisis without a single error.
When the Emperor arrived late, he had found the Webway ownership already settled. With Trazyn's advice and Arthur's arrival, the result was a foregone conclusion.
Ramesses realized his "Employees" were far more reliable than the Chaos Daemons.
What can a Chaos Daemon do?
Act as a puppet. Be a vox-relay. Grind for KPIs until they're spent as fodder in the Great Game.
But his staff?
They were professionals. They "schooled" the Great Daemons in expertise. They weren't missing a cog; they were active participants in the decision-making process. A committee produced a better plan than a solitary god brooding in a dark room.
So, as the authority of the Divine became a tool for the Dawnstar, the "Concept of Godhood" had to be brought closer to the people.
Naturally, Ramesses wasn't a fool. He wouldn't just "Share" power with anyone.
His knowledge of history told him that decentralized authority in an empire like the Imperium—without a singular, guiding voice—led directly to the High Lords. It led to anarchy.
But they could build their own stage.
The plan was clear.
First: The People. They had to be able to articulate their needs and participate in the execution of the Word. The God had to know the Goal; the People had to know the God.
Second: The Pantheon. The authority of the deities had to be restricted. The Dawnbreakers had to be the auditors.
Simple. Practical. Unified.
But for the final execution?
Ramesses pondered, and the silhouettes of his partners flashed through his mind.
Simple—we shall ascend to Godhood as well.
The others weren't trustworthy enough for absolute access. It was too risky. So, his partners would take the seats.
Romulus. Karna. Arthur.
They would wield the authority better than anyone. They would ensure the people's lives were "Standardized" for the better.
Satisfied, Ramesses drafted the framework in record time. He broke the tasks into segments and signaled his staff to "Draft a Presentable PPT." He would hand it to Romulus for executive approval later.
"Sigh..."
As Ramesses emerged from his "Work-Mode," he heard a long, metallic sigh.
He turned to find Trazyn the Infinite.
The Necron Overlord was watching Cegorach brawling and laughing with his Eldar kin. The Jester looked human. He looked alive.
Trazyn had stayed behind after the awards ceremony, watching the "Spring and Autumn" of the xenos fate.
It wasn't that he was upset about his own rewards.
But watching the Eldar thrive...
"Sigh..."
Trazyn watched Cegorach—a God who didn't need a mask of laughter to hide his fear anymore—and let out another sigh.
He was, quite simply, jealous.
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