Malcador arrived, carrying a box entrusted to Lion El'Jonson. The divine artifact inside was said to date back to the War in Heaven.
Looking at the Golden Throne, piled high with cables and designed without the slightest consideration for comfort, Malcador half-jokingly said to The Emperor, "Heh... is this meant to get me used to my future job ahead of time?"
The Emperor looked at Malcador, and a rare smile appeared on his cold face. He answered with a similar joke. "If this portal really is what I think it is, we can do whatever we want from now on. Even if you want to go farm, I won't stop you."
"You... honestly..." Malcador shook his head. Holding the box, he slowly approached the Golden Throne. He turned back and gave The Emperor a long look. "I'll trust you one more time, then."
Malcador sat down. The Golden Throne began draining his immense psychic power, power capable of moving the stars, and his face and body became even more aged as a result.
Malcador silently endured it all and cracked open the sealed box. A streak of flowing light spilled from the gap, then dissolved into the air, concealing the Golden Throne, the planet, and even the entire sector.
The concealment was so thorough that even the gods of the Warp found it difficult to detect what was happening here.
In his perception, Tzeentch only sensed that the endless sea of souls was missing a tiny speck of dust. He thought for a while, then shrugged and said indifferently, "Better think about how to deal with that delusional fellow's Webway. I have at least nine methods, but only one that can make that bastard wish he were dead. Wahahaha! Magnus, you seem awfully pleased with yourself!"
The Emperor left the