"The years have stretched on so long that even my memories have blurred..."
A flicker of nostalgia passed through the depths of the Emperor's eyes.
It had been a long time since he had gathered so many Primarchs and personally commanded them in battle.
The last time had been the Battle of Ullanor, late in the Great Crusade, when he had assembled an army to destroy a powerful Ork Empire.
Back then, the Emperor had been full of fire, with loyal sons at his side and a vast army under his command as he led humanity's rise among the stars.
Now he was old. His temples had gone gray, his body was no longer young, and wrinkles lined his face.
He still had many years ahead of him, of course. But he had grown old all the same, and he had lost some of his sons.
The former Master of Mankind had once believed humanity no longer needed him. He had thought he would never have to set foot on a battlefield again, that he would fade from memory in a laboratory while serving humanity in another way.
But now he had to step forward again and command the Primarchs and the Imperium of Man in battle.
The Emperor felt none of his old excitement or vigor. He felt only endless pressure.
He did not know how to defeat an enemy that so vastly surpassed the Chaos Gods and the Dark King.
Nothing in the Galaxy was stronger than Primordial Destruction, than World Malice. Even if the Holy Sun faced it alone, he stood a terrible chance of being consumed and becoming its food!
Beep!
Just then, a new file arrived on the Emperor's Data-slate. His dear granddaughter Xiao Ling had sent him a list of weapons Ron had left