This is the bonus chapter for reaching 400 Powerstones.
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Before being confined to the Golden Throne, the Emperor could appear before anyone as He pleased.
He had a thousand faces for a thousand people; whenever someone looked upon the Emperor's face, they would see exactly what they most desired to see.
To most people, or in most depictions of Him, the Emperor appeared as a giant clad in golden armor, with long brown hair and an angelic halo above His head.
Malcador had told Zeke that the Emperor disliked this form and had attempted to correct this image during the Great Crusade, but ultimately failed.
Regardless, this was the first time since the Horus Heresy that the Emperor had once again appeared before the eyes of the Imperium's masses with His own face.
The rumors recorded in forbidden tomes—claiming the Emperor was dead, that He had lost hope in humanity and would no longer appear before the world—were all shattered without a single blow.
Everyone only knew one thing: the Emperor had returned once more.
Amidst the cheering crowd and devout faces, a few panicked expressions occasionally surfaced.
Those high-ranking officials who constantly used "the Emperor's will" as an excuse showed regret for the first time.
In the past years when the Emperor was absent, they often flagrantly abused their authority, condemning any act that defied their own will as blasphemy against the God on the Throne.
But now that the Emperor had appeared, these excuses would finally face their own judgment.
They could only pray that insignificant ants like themselves would not draw the Emperor's attention.
Zeke saw the Emperor and Malcador talking and laughing; soon, the two seemed to align on a common goal.
After sharing a brief embrace, they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, facing the citizens of the Imperium down the steps.
"Father is calling me. I should go up. What about you, Zeke?" Guilliman pushed through the crowd and arrived at the stone pillar where Zeke was sitting, looking up at him.
The squad of Ultramarines he brought with him cleared the nearby crowd away as much as possible.
Guilliman had originally intended to invite Zeke to go with him, but after spending so many days with Zeke, he felt it necessary to ask for Zeke's consent first.
The crowd below was fanatical. Standing on the towering stone pillar, Zeke suddenly felt a wave of loneliness, a sense that it's lonely at the top.
"Forget it. It's a family matter for you guys." Zeke said, though his action of jumping down had already betrayed his true thoughts.
"Zeke," Guilliman hesitated, about to speak—
A ray of light that tore through the clouds descended from the sky, pure white wings tracing an immaculate arc in Terra's atmosphere.
The only one who dared to fly above Terra could only be him.
"Look! It's the Great Angel Sanguinius!"
The roar that erupted from the crowd seemed ready to shatter the Imperial Palace's dome.
Sanguinius hovered gracefully above the undulating sea of people, dancing wildly in the wind, before locking onto his target and landing beside the stone pillar with a divine elegance.
"Zeke," the Great Angel's voice carried an irresistible sincerity, "It was you who granted us a second life. Every turning point the Imperium sees right now bears your traces."
While Sanguinius requested Zeke's presence, he was also secretly calming his own heart, which trembled with excitement.
This would be his first time directly facing his father since awakening from his long slumber.
When he first arrived on Terra, he wanted to see the Emperor, but was refused and stopped outside the palace. The Emperor had sent him a telepathic message saying they would meet soon.
He never expected this moment to arrive so suddenly, much less that the Imperial Regent, who had long turned to dust, would return alongside Him.
When the Lion's figure also appeared in the crowd, Zeke, half-yielding, fully realized he couldn't politely decline anymore.
"Seriously, I still wanted to test out the Reaper's Scythe and redecorate my camp."
Zeke sighed. Flanked by the three Primarchs, he walked up the radiance-bathed steps toward the Imperial Palace.
The crowd's gaze converged on Zeke. Even though Zeke prided himself on his extraordinary composure and having skin as thick as a city wall, he found it a bit hard to bear.
He sort of understood the Emperor's helplessness when being worshipped as a god by the Imperium's people; it was indeed a bit terrifying.
When Zeke and the three Primarchs arrived beside the Emperor...
The sight of so many figures who should only appear in history gathering in the same place stimulated everyone present.
Historians were frantically scribbling with their quills, attempting to capture this momentary miracle with dry words.
Meanwhile, the court painters permitted to attend fell into a state of near-madness.
One painter gripped his brush tremblingly, a sense of euphoria surpassing physiological limits climbing up his spine like poison.
"This... this is beauty..."
The painter murmured. His brush began to dance across the canvas, and to his astonishment, he found his painting skills had improved to an unprecedented level.
It wasn't until he finished painting the Emperor's likeness that this state suddenly vanished into thin air, leaving the painter with a look of bewilderment and lingering fear.
At the same time, outside the material universe, deep within the Warp shrouded by eternal mists and depraved pleasures.
In Slaanesh's magnificent palace, built upon hundreds of billions of pleasures, identical lines and colors were simultaneously appearing on a matching canvas, presenting the news of the Emperor before Slaanesh.
"Has He returned...?"
Not just Slaanesh, but the other Chaos Gods of the Warp were also doing their utmost to watch this grand performance.
–
Before the Eternity Gate,
"Emperor, what are you trying to do by pretending to stand up?" Zeke tilted his head, looking through the Emperor's body into the interior of the Imperial Palace; there was clearly still a person sitting on the throne.
Zeke's voice was loud, heedless of anything else. As long as the Emperor didn't want others to hear, it didn't matter how loud he spoke.
"This is nothing but the afterglow of a psychic projection, Zeke."
The Emperor's voice echoed in Zeke's mind. "I have mostly recovered. Although I cannot leave the Throne immediately, weaving a visible, false phantom is but a simple effort for me."
Listening to the Emperor's words, Zeke couldn't shake the feeling that this guy wasn't telling the whole truth; He was only telling half of it.
Malcador had been resurrected. If the Emperor was ruthless enough to repeat the event of Malcador sitting on the Throne, He truly could leave the Golden Throne for a short while and free His hands.
And then have him resurrect Malcador again, so Malcador could take the Emperor's place on the Throne once more.
Rounding it out, didn't that basically mean the Emperor could probably stand up from the Throne for a very long time?
Zeke thought this, but if the Emperor truly treated Malcador this way, Zeke would definitely look down on Him.
"So you still haven't answered my most important question," Zeke asked again. "Why are you making such a big scene?"
"Yesterday, a few Dark Eldar sneakily made their way beneath the Golden Throne through the Webway," the Emperor recounted plainly.
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Next Goal = 900 Powerstones.