"Even if they came through the Webway... it would still take them some days to get here."
Malcador's increasingly weary voice drifted into the Emperor's ears.
The Emperor felt some heartache for his old friend, but that trace of human weakness was swiftly erased. In the face of the Warp's threat, one had to cast aside humanity. Only by seeing oneself as a pure machine, a disposable tool, could there be any hope of defeating the Warp.
"And that is why we collected those things, in case of emergencies."
Bathed in light, the Emperor flickered to Malcador's side in the next instant. Using a Necron device, he opened a fold in space, then took out handful after handful of psychic essence that the Aeldari regarded as supreme treasures.
These essences were composed of pure psychic energy and souls. They could only be obtained from the very center of a Craftworld's Infinity Circuit, upon the skeletal remains where countless souls had settled.
The Emperor casually produced such an enormous quantity of psychic essence. It was easy to imagine how many Aeldari Craftworlds had been destroyed and plundered by human forces during the Great Crusade under his leadership.
"I've already erased the souls' fluctuations. Use them however you like."
After piling the essences by Malcador's withered feet, the Emperor waited for him to absorb these treasures, each equivalent to the psychic power of hundreds of billions of Aeldari.
Malcador's spirits improved considerably. His eyes shone brightly, and his voice grew louder. Leaning tightly against the back of the Golden Throne, he tilted his head up to gaze at the sky. In the next moment, a powerful psychic spell—one Malcador would never be able to cast a second time—surged out from the Golden Throne, spreading across the entire star system before finally stopping.