"Hiss. More bad news? Can't the Imperium catch its breath for once?"
Ron heard the communicator's shrill alarm and jolted, his whole body going numb.
Bad news always made people miserable.
No wonder Guilliman had looked so old when he was Lord Regent, even his hairline had receded.
Back then, there had been hundreds of times more bad news than now, and any single piece of it could have yanked out the Old Imperium's oxygen tube and made humanity kick the bucket.
How could anyone not worry and fret, eat poorly, and lose sleep?
After receiving the alarm, Ron no longer had any mood to keep lying on those fragrant thighs.
This was the highest-level alarm, meaning the Imperium might be facing a life-or-death catastrophe, one that had to be handled personally by him, the Savior.
Humanity had only just ended the Black Tide disaster, barely even warming its seat, so how had something gone wrong again?!
"The Warp is relatively calm right now, and the Chaos Gods are all nursing their wounds and recovering. Most likely, this alarm came from realspace in the Galaxy.
"Is it those mechanical shells? Don't tell me the Great Devourer has arrived?"
Ron pondered as he opened that supreme alarm and browsed its contents, his expression growing more solemn.
For a moment, he fell silent.
"Your Majesty?" The Fox-kin demi-human princess looked at the Savior's silent figure and asked with some concern.
Something that could make even the great Emperor of Mankind look solemn had to be a terrible disaster.
She was somewhat worried about the Imperium, and even more worried about her own people. The demi-humans would have to follow the Imperial armies onto the battlefield too.
If the disaster happened near their star system, that would be even more terrifying. Perhaps the