Oma Guilliman-bo
Within the magnificent Golden Throne Hall, golden Psionic Energy dust swirled slowly, and the eternal humming sound still echoed.
But at this moment, the atmosphere within this sacred space is completely different from the deathly silence of the past ten thousand years.
Because of Guilliman's arrival, the Emperor was able to have direct verbal communication with Malcador.
Those old friends, separated by tens of thousands of years, can finally perceive each other no longer merely through fragments of thought, but converse with their voices as if they were ordinary people chatting over tea.
Malcador stood beside the throne, his aged yet upright figure appearing remarkably composed in the golden light.
He tilted his head slightly, glancing at the withered body on the throne, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Oh, right?"
Malcador suddenly spoke, his tone so calm it was as if he were reciting some ancient incantation.
The Emperor's voice then rang out, equally calm and devoid of any emotional fluctuation:
"Guilliman."
"Wave."
Malcador continued.
Hahahaha!
The Emperor's hoarse and weary voice suddenly burst into a loud laugh!
The laughter echoed through the hall, causing the golden dust to rise and fall!
Hahahaha!
Malcador burst into laughter, laughing so hard he almost fell over, tears welling up in his eyes!
Guilliman, standing to the side:...
He stood there, his blue-gold Power Armour gleaming in the golden light, his face handsome and his bearing imposing; he should have been the most dazzling presence in this sacred hall.
However, at this moment, he only had one expression on his face—
I have no will to live.
"If you guys are really bored,"
Guilliman took a deep breath, trying to keep his tone calm. "I can make you a set of Gomoku, or Animal Chess."
He spread his hands, his expression so sincere it was almost sarcastic:
"That way you can play freely around this throne, just like the elementary school kids in the 2K era."
If all else fails, I can have Cawl make you something shiny and golden.
You can relax and have some fun here; the day will pass by in no time.
Why make such a meaningless joke?
Guilliman seemed somewhat exasperated.
He rarely wanted to be serious, so he came over to talk about something serious.
Plans for the reconstruction of the Imperium, responses to the threat of Chaos, and arrangements for the return of the Primarch.
As a result, these two guys, one the Master of Mankind and the other the Prime Minister of the Imperium of Man, actually made such a pointless pun here!
"Omabo! Guilliman!"
Guilliman mentally screamed, "What the hell is this?! Is this some kind of stale internet meme from the 2K era?!"
He despised them from the bottom of his heart!
Malcador raised his head and met the Emperor's gaze.
That one glance transcended millennia of tacit understanding, countless years of weathering storms together, and the absurd atmosphere of this moment.
The two said in unison:
"I'm getting anxious~" (×2)
Hahahaha!
Hahahaha!
Then the two of them burst into deafening laughter!
Malcador laughed so hard he clutched his stomach. The Emperor's laughter, though hoarse, was equally unrestrained, making the entire Golden Throne Hall seem to tremble slightly!
Only Guilliman appeared utterly desolate.
He stood there, his blue and gold cloak fluttering even without wind, his face as handsome as a god descended to earth, yet his eyes were empty as if he had seen through the illusions of the world.
The Adeptus Custodes stood ramrod straight, like golden statues.
But if you look closely, you'll notice that the golden armor is swaying slightly!
That wasn't fear, that wasn't trembling—
That was from holding back laughter!
Life over the past ten thousand years has been so boring, completely unlike the vibrant and colorful days we've been living.
The Master of Mankind is joking, the Prime Minister is playing along, and the Lord Regent is bewildered in the wind.
This scene, if placed in any Imperium historical record, would be enough to make later historians question the meaning of life.
But the Adeptus Custodes dared not laugh out loud.
They could only stand upright, using all their muscles to resist the laughter that seemed to burst from their bodies, letting the golden armor emit a slight, chiming sound.
There was no way around it; even the Master of Mankind was joking. As Master of Mankind most loyal servants, they naturally had to play along.
Your Lord Regent, it's not that you're not good enough, it's just that the position of the Master of Mankind is too high!
Guilliman took a deep breath, then another.
His chest heaved, as if suppressing some emotion about to erupt.
"If you two keep doing this," he forced out through clenched teeth, "I'm really going to run away from my family!"
He stomped his foot, the force of which caused the floor of the entire hall to tremble slightly.
"No way! No way! You have to have a conscience!"
The Emperor's laughter subsided somewhat, but his hoarse voice still carried an undisguised mirth.
He asked Malcador a question, his tone so serious it was as if he were discussing the very survival of the Imperium:
Do you act with a conscience?
Malcador stopped laughing and asked in a serious tone:
"If we're being honest, how can we even get anything done?"
"That's right!" the Emperor exclaimed as if suddenly realizing something, his voice filled with deep agreement. "Who acts with a conscience anyway!"
Then the two of them turned to Guilliman at the same time and said in unison:
"Sophisticated!"
"Pfft--!" Among the Adeptus Custodes nearby, someone finally couldn't hold back and let out a short, forcibly suppressed laugh.
The Adeptus Custodes immediately stood even straighter, as if nothing had happened.
Guilliman had never so desperately wanted the Emperor to keep his mouth shut.
Did this old man only remember the memes during his 2K days?!
He was internally ranting and raving.
Those phrases like "Oh my god," "I'm getting impatient," and "So particular"... these are clearly early internet slang from the 2K era!
During the Emperor's long life, he must have experienced the period of the internet's unbridled growth.
Back then, did he spend all his time scrolling through his phone, watching low-quality videos, and then frantically sharing them with his friends?!
A picture involuntarily surfaced in Guilliman's mind—
On the Golden Throne, the Master of Mankind, who should have been incomparably majestic.
Wearing a loose T-shirt, he lay sprawled on a luxurious bed, holding an old-fashioned smartphone, his thumb constantly swiping upwards.
On the screen, one low-quality, funny video after another scrolled by.
"Ha ha ha ha!"
The Emperor laughed as he watched the video, then expertly clicked the share button, selected "Malcador," and sent it.
The chat history contains over 99 video shares, all of which involve this method.
He's like a wild man, sharing over 99 videos a day!
Don't ask Guilliman how he knows.
Because that's the kind of jerk he was back then.
Back then, his friends all said he was like a bird, acting like he'd never used a phone before, constantly sharing videos all day long.
Shocking! So-and-so actually did that! LOL! This is hilarious! This is real skill!