Chapter 453: Trust Him
Ultimately, Rogal Dorn left his command center, leaving behind those cold star maps and tactical data.
He strode with heavy steps, passing through the overlapping, heavily guarded corridors deep within the Imperial Palace, toward the true core of Imperial power, which was also his spiritual refuge—the Golden Throne's audience chamber.
The massive bronze doors, inlaid with the Imperial Aquila, slowly opened before him with a soul-shaking rumble.
The space inside the hall was vast and solemn. The air was filled with the scent of energy mixed with ancient dust, carrying a near-tangible, soul-trembling oppressive might.
Light cascaded from high above, focusing on the immensely grand staircase at the end of the audience chamber, and at the top of those stairs, the colossal machine radiating endless brilliance and energy—the Golden Throne.
Upon the throne sat the Master of Mankind, his father, the Emperor.
Dorn did not hesitate. He stepped up the cold stairs one by one, each step like a drumbeat echoing in time.
When he reached a close enough distance before the throne, he stopped.
Then, this Primarch with a towering physique, who commanded legions of millions, knelt on one knee in an incomparably solemn and devout posture, lowering the head he never easily bowed.
He did not speak, nor did he present that data slate.
He knew his father knew everything.
His vast, shattered psychic presence still acted like an invisible network, sustaining the Imperium's existence and perceiving the crucial nodes of fate.
Dorn simply prayed silently in his heart, presenting his doubts, calculations, desires, and fears without reservation.
He thought of the precise biological network model in Ryo's plan, the fine-tuning parameters aimed at improving synergistic efficiency; he recalled the perfect verification of future power displayed on Reid; he also worried about the collapse of faith and internal rifts this might trigger.
He placed this heavy choice, along with all its potential impacts on the Imperial Fists, all Astartes, and the future of humanity, entirely beneath the light of the Golden Throne.
He did not ask for a specific answer, but prayed for guidance, prayed for wisdom, and prayed to see through the fog to make the correct judgment that served the overall interests of humanity.
The audience chamber was dead silent, save for the eternal, low hum of energy from the Golden Throne, like the whispers of stars.
Time seemed to freeze at this moment.
Rogal Dorn, the Praetorian of Terra, knelt on one knee before the Emperor of Mankind, waiting, seeking a revelation amidst that endless brilliance and oppressive might to help him make his decision.
He did not look up at the core of that light; he simply lowered his head, unreservedly presenting all his internal weighing, hesitation, risk assessments, future deductions, and the fierce tug-of-war between the trust originating deep within his genetics and his sense of duty as a commander into this silence.
He made no sound, but he knew his father could comprehend it all, sensing the subtlest fluctuations at the very bottom of his thoughts.
Time seemed to lose its meaning of linear flow within the eternal hum of the Golden Throne.
Dorn's core thoughts ran at high speed, repeatedly examining every technical detail in Ryo's plan, evaluating the potential chain reactions, and weighing the evidence from the future against the possibility of a potential conspiracy.
This was a complex logical maze; every path led to the unknown and came at a high cost.
Just as the tension between this chaotic thinking and the silence reached a critical point, a "presence" directly branded itself into the depths of his consciousness.
It was not a sound, not language, nor any form of image or emotional implantation.
It was a pure "knowing" that transcended all sensory boundaries, suddenly manifesting like an unquestionable cosmic law.
Its form was extremely concise, yet its meaning was as heavy as a mountain.
Only two concepts were clearly, coldly, and absolutely carved into his cognition:
Trust him.
No explanation, no reason, no additional conditions or warnings.
Merely the absolute directive carried by these two words.
Rogal Dorn's entire thought process seemed to freeze instantly, and then it was as if forcibly reset and calibrated by an invisible power.
All the hesitation, all the weighing, all the risk deductions suddenly lost their decisive weight in the face of these two words.
This did not erase his judgment as a commander, but rather provided him with an ultimate decision-making coordinate that transcended all complex calculations.
He understood.
This was not a suggestion, not an option to choose from; this was the will of the Master of Mankind.
The Emperor saw what he saw, knew what he knew, and at this crossroad of fate, provided an unmistakable direction.
The "him" in "Trust him" pointed clearly and unequivocally to Ryo, who proposed that radical gene-seed optimization plan.
Dorn slowly raised his head. There was no emotional fluctuation on his resolute face, but deep within his sharp eyes, some previously existing fog had dissipated, replaced by a reconsolidated, even firmer resolve.
He no longer needed to weigh the risks and benefits of every technical node in Ryo's plan himself, no longer needed to worry about the reactions other Chapters might have, and no longer needed to delve into whether the future information could be contaminated.
His father had made the judgment, and his duty was to execute this judgment.
This did not mean he abandoned his thinking or responsibility.
On the contrary, he understood that his responsibility lay in ensuring this "trust" could be executed correctly and effectively.
He needed to provide the necessary resources, authority, and political cover for Ryo's plan, needed to ensure the safety and controllability of the experimental process, and needed to be prepared to handle potential resistance from both inside and outside.
But the decision itself was already made.
He lowered his head again, accepting this revelation with an even deeper reverence.
There were no words of gratitude, no impassioned oaths, only silent acceptance.
For Rogal Dorn, actions were always more powerful than words.
He stood up, his massive frame casting a long shadow under the radiance of the Golden Throne.
He turned, stepped, and left the audience chamber.
His steps were still heavy, but they carried an unshakable certainty that was absent when he arrived.
The plan for gene-seed optimization, at this moment in his heart, had transformed from a proposal requiring arduous deliberation into a mission that must be completed.
He didn't need to repeatedly scrutinize whether Ryo's biological network model was perfect, nor did he need to question the feasibility of endogenous development anymore.
The Emperor's will had already endowed this plan with legitimacy and necessity that transcended technical details.
What he needed to think about now was how to translate this revelation from the Throne into reality in the most efficient and secure way.
His pace toward the command center quickened slightly.
He had already begun planning in his mind: First, he needed to officially authorize Ryo to initiate the first phase of the "Gene-Seed Systemic Optimization and Endogenous Modification Protocol"—theoretical verification and seed cultivation—and provide the genetic material samples from himself that Ryo requested.
Secondly, he needed to coordinate the resources of the Phalanx to ensure an absolutely controlled experimental environment.
Thirdly, he needed to begin conceiving how, at the appropriate time and in what manner, to communicate this decision to the core echelon of the Imperial Fists, and even to other Chapters that might be needed in the future, and how to address the ensuing doubts and challenges.
All hesitation and indecision had been utterly shattered by the words "Trust him."
The road ahead was still full of unknowns and risks, but Rogal Dorn's steps at this moment were incomparably firm.
He no longer shouldered merely his own expectations for the future of his sons, but also the direct will from the Golden Throne.
For the Praetorian of Terra, this was a clear enough guide.
[End of Chapter]