One day later.
The Senatorum Imperialis of the Imperium.
Inside the grand corridors, footsteps echoed clearly.
Adam and Guilliman walked side by side, their pace swift and steady. On either side, the Lucifer Black guards stood like metal sculptures, offering the Imperial Eagle salute in unison as they passed, their movements synchronized and their eyes fixed forward.
The air was thick with the unique scent of an unknown incense, its fragrance immediately signaling an exorbitant price. The luxury here surpassed everything Adam had seen in the Imperium thus far.
The corridor walls were inlaid with vast sheets of bioluminescent gemstones from distant star systems, forming massive murals depicting the Imperium's great achievements. The floor was made of rare marble polished to a mirror finish, making every step feel as though one were treading upon the surface of a lake. Massive pillars were wrapped in adamantium and ivory, their capitals carved with Imperial Eagles so complex they could make one dizzy.
Servo-skulls and attack drones drifted silently in the air, their optical sensors subtly adjusting their angles as the two moved. At this moment, Adam even discreetly used his spatial perception, quietly extending it to see more—sentinel mechs moving soundlessly in the shadows, and life signs nestled within ventilation ducts with body temperatures nearly identical to the environment.
...Were they elite Imperial Guard? Or those ghost-like killers from the Officio Assassinorum?
"To be honest, coming here has given me a new understanding of human civilization." Adam's gaze swept over a decorative pillar carved from a single piece of kyanite, which encased an extinct alien fern. His tone remained neutral. "Every gram of building material here would likely be enough to trigger a massive war on some frontier world."
Guilliman's face was grim. He did not respond, only quickening his pace slightly.
"Seriously, this High Lord system of the Imperium," Adam continued, his voice lowered so only the two of them could hear. "...It makes me feel like humanity hasn't progressed for forty thousand years. Forget comparing it to the Golden Age; I think it's inferior even to the socio-political structures of humanity around the M3 era. At least the bureaucratic systems back then knew how to maintain some basic efficiency."
Guilliman's expression darkened further.
The framework of this system, this entire sprawling and bloated Imperial superstructure... tracing back to its roots, much of it was inseparable from his own decisions and designs ten thousand years ago. The thought that one of his greatest tasks upon waking was to clean up the mess created by his overconfident self from ten millennia ago gave the Regent a bout of chest tightness. He wished he could travel back in time.
However, he quickly caught something deeper in Adam's words.
So certain about "the third millennium"? So familiar with the threads of human history? In Guilliman's heart, he had always been curious about the origins of this man who had suddenly appeared by his side.
His thoughts raced.
Could it be...
He is not a man of this era? Is he like the Emperor, or like Malcador—an existence that has survived from ancient times to the present?
A term from an unknown ancient text surfaced in the Primarch's mind.
—Perpetual.
This hypothesis lifted Guilliman's spirits. If that were truly the case... then Adam's insights might be more than just cynical criticism; they might truly contain wisdom from the peak of humanity's power.
By now, the two were approaching the massive gilded doors of the council chamber. Guilliman finally spoke, his voice low: "Criticism is always easy. So, regarding the governance of the Imperium, do you have any... other insights?"
He emphasized the word "insights" slightly, turning his gaze toward Adam with scrutiny and a faint, undetectable flicker of expectation.
"My view? It's simple." Adam didn't even stop to think, blunting out: "Abominable Intelligence."
Guilliman's footsteps came to an abrupt halt. His body stiffened instantly. He turned his head, and in those eyes that were always filled with rationality, an expression bordering on horror appeared.
Was he joking?!
Adam looked at Guilliman's reaction and instead laughed.
"Where do I look like I'm joking? Think about it carefully, Guilliman. Artificial Intelligence served humanity for ten thousand years until the Iron Rebellion. And the Primarchs and Astartes? From the Great Crusade to the Horus Heresy, how many years was that? They couldn't even last a few centuries."
He spread his hands. "See, if you calculate the duration of maintained loyalty, the AI rebellion took ten thousand years, while the Astartes didn't even last a fraction of that. In terms of reliability, isn't the difference clear as day?"
Guilliman fell completely silent, the corner of his mouth twitching imperceptibly.
This... how was he supposed to respond to this?
"Of course, I'm not saying AI is necessarily reliable, and the Emperor obviously had his reasons for issuing the AI ban back then," Adam said. "After all, the Great Crusade only lasted so many years, and the Unification Wars on Terra were only so long. It's obvious what kind of immense destruction AI could cause if it fell into the hands of fallen humans."
He cast a very expectant look toward Guilliman. Clearly, there was someone who would naturally take charge in that regard.
Guilliman was speechless. He only felt a deep sense of powerlessness.
Just then, the side door of the council chamber opened. A figure hurried forward to meet them, aptly relieving the Regent's embarrassment. It was a bloated, middle-aged man wearing elaborate and expensive robes. His face was rounded, bearing a formulaic yet shrewd smile.
This was Alexei Lev Tieron, the Chancellor of the Imperial Council. He was the "Thirteenth Man"—someone who didn't hold a formal seat among the High Lords but actually integrated and coordinated the interests of the twelve, wielding a power that was subtly transcendent.
Adam knew he was a reformist, one of the most "human" figures among the High Lords, maintaining the fragile balance of the Imperial center with superb political maneuvering. In the original timeline, during the dark hours a hundred years later, this man had even actively pushed for the lifting of the restrictions on the Custodes—a rare feat among High Lords that earned Guilliman's approval.
"Lord Regent, Lord Adam."
Tieron bowed slightly with a pleasant smile, his gaze sweeping quickly and cautiously over Adam. Regarding this living saint who had stepped into the Throneroom as a mortal and been granted a miracle by the Emperor, various reports—true and false alike—had already piled up on his desk. Seeing him in person, this man indeed possessed an indescribable aura, different from that of an ordinary fanatic.
Of course, this was exactly why Adam had suddenly decided to wrap himself in a layer of unquestionable identity. This way, as an outsider, he could smoothly integrate into the Imperial political environment without worrying about being excluded by others.
"The High Lords have all arrived and are awaiting you both." He stepped aside to lead the way, his posture respectful.
Adam could feel the quick evaluation and calculation behind the other man's scrutinizing gaze, but that was normal. No one who maneuvered at the peak of power on Terra was a simple character.
The three passed through the final gate and stepped into the true core of the Imperium's power.
—The Senatorum Imperialis.
The circular hall featured a high, vaulted ceiling painted with the grand blueprint of the Emperor unifying Terra. At the center was a massive circular marble table, its surface as smooth as glass. Currently, around the long table, the supreme rulers of the Imperium were already seated in twelve high-backed seats of power.
The Fabricator-General of Mars, the Speaker for the Chartist Captains, the Master of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica, the representative of the Navigator Houses, the Ecclesiarch, the Master of the Adeptus Administratum, the Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum, the Lord Commander Militant...
Gaze after gaze projected toward them like physical weights, converging on Guilliman and Adam as they stepped into the hall.