Just as he had over the past ten thousand years.
He had always regarded himself as a tool for the flourishing of humanity.
He had never abandoned humanity as a whole.
He had always bound humanity's collective fate together.
But repeated failures had already told him.
He could not save humanity, nor could he completely eradicate the power of the Warp. Even the Necrons could not achieve that. And the Warp would only grow stronger after humanity suffered even greater torment, until it became impossible to resolve.
The Warp was like a malignant tumor rooted in the material universe. From the moment the material universe was born, it had already sunk deep into it like Butcher's Nails fused to flesh. And the greater the stimulation, the more powerful the Butcher's Nails rooted within became.
"But you—"
". Don't worry, old friend. Go do what you must do. Destroy Chaos. Take revenge."
As the voice faded, tens of thousands more voices emerged from The Emperor's psychic power. Every one of them represented The Emperor's will and decision.
Among those tens of thousands of wills, his human will struggled to hold on.
Compared to the agony of sitting upon it and having his energy drained away.
What pained The Emperor more was that those tens of thousands of consciousnesses were making his human consciousness increasingly difficult to sustain.
Malcador already understood The Emperor's will.
He also knew what sort of future awaited the Imperium.
But even he could not change that outcome.
The Emperor had told him of countless plans.
Yet every single one had been rejected.
Not one plan could save humanity from the Warp's influence.
Every plan came with enormous constraints that made it impossible to carry out.
From The Emperor's prophecies, Malcador saw every possible future for humanity.
Yet