When it was the Great Angel's turn to take the stage, Malcador was still working away on Terra.
Even an immortal Psychic Power user like Malcador, the strongest among ordinary humans in human history, had died from overwork several times.
As a result, every generation of the Imperium's High Lords was warned that if the Lord Chancellor suddenly dropped dead one day, they should not panic. Instead, the first thing they should do was get some proper rest, while ordering the Imperium's finest medical teams to stand ready for emergency treatment. Other than that, they only needed to wait quietly.
Before long, the Lord Sigillite would enter a state of resurrection, resetting all his conditions to their absolute peak before beginning another hellish life of overtime. As for any High Lords who had failed to rest properly, well, sorry for the trouble.
They were quite likely to be the next ones to die from overwork. If even the Imperium's top medical teams could not bring them back, then they could only return their souls to the Golden Throne.
Extreme Sector.
"For the next emperor, let Guilliman take the position. The others do not seem particularly interested in it." The Emperor seemed to have already settled on a candidate.
"More importantly, it would let Malcador take a few decades of leave," the Emperor added.
"Hm, after ten thousand years of overtime, would a few decades of vacation be too long? Even a production team's donkey would not dare rest like that," Sandman said with a laugh.
"If Malcador quit, would you take his place?" The Emperor smiled at Sandman, who was talking without feeling the pain.
You bastard, back when you were handling the Raven Guard's government affairs, who was the one running away every day?
"Ahem, would a few decades