The Emperor was afraid to let his son see what he looked like now.
The Emperor was losing his humanity. The Emperor was losing everything.
With one small action, under the influence of a certain power, his humanity was being worn away, replaced by the Emperor's gradually returning divinity.
The Emperor's divinity was a peculiar power within his body. In the past, he had barely been able to hold it back with the remnants of his own consciousness, maintaining a pitiful balance.
But now—
The balance within him had been broken. The balance between the two sides was rapidly collapsing, and as a result, his divinity was swiftly squeezing out and erasing his humanity.
Even the Adeptus Custodes standing around the Emperor could clearly feel the psychic power radiating from him—an icy force containing wild, destructive might that seemed to rise sharply with every passing second.
Even the Living Saints resurrected by the Emperor, the power of the Emperor within them, had become unusually cold and terrifying.
This was how every aspect of the Emperor changed after losing his humanity.
"Go to the warp gate."
The Emperor's voice was almost the last command ever issued from the Golden Throne.
A portion of blood containing the Emperor's consciousness emanated terrifying, dreadful psychic power, as though it were about to condense into human form.
Ever since the Emperor had fought Horus and been wounded by him, he had sat upon the Golden Throne. The Emperor seated upon it could barely speak. Over the following ten thousand years, sustained faith had made every word he uttered incomparably difficult. No one could truly hear his voice. Even when he tried to make a sound, all they heard was the Emperor's pained cries from atop the Golden Throne.
And this was almost the last time