So You Usurped the Throne After All, Robert

"Rise, my old man!"

The sound reverberated, reaching all the way to the Warp and even to the Banks of the Styx!

Malcador felt as if he were constantly wading through an invisible river.

Beneath my feet lies flowing nothingness, and beside me stretches a vast expanse of pure white.

He forgot many things, even who he was.

who I am?

Where am I?

What am I supposed to do?

These three ultimate questions about life have troubled him for countless years.

Just now, he felt everything around him becoming clearer.

That is the ethereal height of the the Warp, and the vastness of the Sea of Souls.

Have I returned?

He wasn't sure.

My consciousness Chaos that I can't even clearly think about "who I am".

Until a sound pierced through the barrier.

It travels across eternity from the Material Universe, directly reaching this place where consciousness resides.

It's a call from ten thousand years ago!

"Rise from the dead, my old man!!!"

In an instant, Malcador's Chaos eyes suddenly cleared.

Malcador knows who he is!

I am Malcador!

The Sigillite is the Chancellor of the Imperium of Man and a loyal friend of the Master of Mankind!

I am the Perpetual human, Malcador!!

The dust that had clouded the soul was swept away.

A brilliant yet gentle light emanated from within that body, a symbol of the Law of Eternity that had completely solidified the soul and body!

The light gradually faded.

Those eyes, closed for ten thousand years, slowly opened.

At first, I was bewildered and out of focus, as if trying to adapt to the light and understand "existence" itself.

The gaze slowly moved, finally settling on Guilliman —the giant with blue armor, a red cloak, black hair, and blue eyes.

Consciousness returned quickly, and memories flooded back like a tide.

The sacrifice ten thousand years ago, the Emperor's final gaze, the roar of the Golden Throne, the excruciating pain and liberation of a burning soul... and, before me, this familiar yet somewhat different face.

Malcador's lips moved slightly, his voice dry and hoarse, yet incredibly clear:

"Robert... the thirteenth son?"

He tried to prop himself up; his movements were a little stiff, but his strength was quickly returning.

He looked down at his hands, which had become younger and more energetic, then touched his cheek, his eyes filled with utter confusion.

"Has this... also... perished?"

Is this... the afterlife?

Or is it the Emperor's domain?

His logic is struggling to piece together a plausible explanation:

"No... this feeling in my body... it's too real... and you, Robert, you look... a little different than before."

"More... 'brighter'?"

Guilliman looked at the Imperium's first prime minister, his father's best friend and right-hand man, the greatest mortal of ten thousand years ago.

A bright smile, filled with relief and a sense of accomplishment, blossomed on his face.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Sigillite Malcador, the Marker."

Guilliman bowed slightly, performing a solemn gesture. "This is still Terra, within the Royal Palace."

Ten thousand years have passed since the day you sacrificed yourself.

As for why I am here, and why you have returned...

He straightened up, his smile turning somewhat sly, "It's a long story, involving many things... um, a 'surprise'."

But before that, there is someone who has been waiting for you to reunite, waiting for far too long.

I imagine he has so much to say to you."

Guilliman turned to the side, pointing towards the door, his gaze seemingly piercing through the wall, looking towards the direction of the Throne Sanctum.

Malcador followed his gaze, though he couldn't see anything.

But a deep, timeless bond and a stirring within him made him instantly understand who Guilliman was referring to.

His pupils contracted slightly, his body stiffened, and his breath paused for a moment.

"... His Majesty?"

He asked in a low voice, a slight, almost imperceptible tremor in his tone.

"Yes."

Guilliman nodded, his tone gentle and affirmative. "He's still there."

Moreover, my father... needs you very much, teacher.

Whether as the Imperium's prime minister, or as... his friend."

Malcador remained silent for a moment, and the wisdom and composure accumulated over thousands of years quickly overwhelmed his initial shock and bewilderment.

He slowly sat up from the workbench, flexed his brand-new, powerful fingers, and then looked up at Guilliman.

His gaze became sharp and profound, regaining the air of the most powerful mortal in the Milky Way.

"So, Robert,"

Malcador's voice calmed down, taking on a familiar, cautious tone:

"Before I go to see His Majesty, shouldn't you first give me a brief introduction to this 'resurrected old relic'...?"

What exactly happened to the Imperium over the past ten thousand years?

Furthermore, what method did you use to accomplish something that even His Majesty might not have been able to do at the height of his power?

His gaze fell on Guilliman, as if trying to pierce through the blue-gold armor and see all the secrets hidden within.

Guilliman smiled.

It's normal for Malcador to have some concerns; the old man has been thoroughly terrified by the Chaos Gods.

As a representative of the Imperium of Man, Guilliman would naturally not do anything to be harsh on the old man!

"It's very simple, teacher."

Guilliman slicked his hair back with one hand, looked arrogantly at Malcador, and said confidently:

"As long as I have control over life and death, isn't that enough!"

"..."

Malcador silent.

Is this really not some trap set by the Chaos Gods?

How could my thirteenth disciple have become like this? He was my beloved student, whom I personally trained!

What is this flashy thing in front of me?

Looking at the silent Malcador, Guilliman knew that his unparalleled charm as a grandmaster had already won over the old man before him.

I completely understand you, old man. This is the difference between a supreme master of martial arts and an ordinary person!

"I'm certain this is the Material Universe; the Chaos Gods couldn't pull off such a trick."

"Well..."

Malcador let out a long sigh; he preferred to believe it was a trick by the Chaos Gods.

Even someone with hemorrhoids could tell that Guilliman was standing right in front of him, while the Emperor and the other Primarch were nowhere to be seen.

That proves one thing.

The sole ruler of the Imperium of Man stood before him.

Hiss...!

As expected of you, Thirteenth Prince! You really did usurp the throne!

You didn't let me down!

If it were any other Primarch, Malcador wouldn't have thought this way, but there's nothing he can do...

That's what reputation is all about, Robert!

"Teacher, I feel like you're thinking something very rude."

Guilliman watched as Malcador performed a Sichuan opera face-changing act.

I was shocked, pleasantly surprised, and a little relieved.

Finally, there was emotion and extremely strong self-affirmation.

What on earth is that old man thinking?

"How could that be? Thirteenth Brother, I've just not thought about anything for too long, my brain is a bit numb."

Malcador awkward laugh. He had to cooperate with the thirteenth prince from now on, and he absolutely couldn't afford to break ties.

It's alright, your usurpation is a secret known only to heaven, earth, you, and me!

As for how others know, that's none of my business!

You've been ambitious for quite some time now.