You Shouldn't Have Come

Golden Throne's main hall has never been so quiet.

Not the kind of dead silence, not the kind of empty silence, but the kind of silence that has been deliberately cleared and has a certain sense of ritual.

Adeptus Custodes were standing outside the main hall, their golden armors forming an airtight wall under the light of the corridor.

Their hands were pressed on the hilts of their swords, their knuckles turned white, and every finger was as stretched as a fully drawn bowstring.

Their eyes were fixed on the closed door, their eyes full of vigilance - no, hostility.

"Damn Xenos."

Black's voice was squeezed out from between his teeth, so low that only he could hear it.

His jaw was tense, and the edge of his mandible was faintly visible on the edge of his helmet.

"What does he want to do to my Majesty?"

No one answered him.

Because no one knows the answer.

Both sides of the corridor were densely packed with Adeptus Custodes.

Not a few, not dozens, but hundreds.

They are elites temporarily transferred from various outposts. Each of them has a record of killing Greater Daemon alone on the battlefield. Each of them has sworn to "guard until death" under the watchful eyes of Emperor.

At this moment, they stood outside the door, like hundreds of golden sculptures.

Guilliman stood at the end of the corridor, leaning against a marble column.

He held a cup of cold black tea in his hand, but he didn't drink it.

He just looked at the door with calm eyes and a faint smile on his lips.

"Don't be nervous." His voice was not loud, but in that quiet corridor, every word carried far, "He just went to catch up with his father."

Black turned his head and stared at Guilliman with his amber eyes, his eyes filled with suspicion of "Are you influenced by Chaos?"

"Your Majesty, that is Xenos. That is the god of Eldar. That is--"

"That's my uncle." Guilliman interrupted him, his tone still calm, "Have a cup of tea and relax. They have to talk for a long time."

Black closed his mouth.

He turned back and continued staring at the door.

His hand was still pressed on the hilt of the sword, and his fingers were still white.

There were only two people in the hall.

In other words, a god and a mummy that is slowly recovering.

Asuryan's pace is very slow.

Not because he couldn't walk, but because he wanted to take a good look at this place.

Golden Throne's main hall was more empty than he imagined. The dome was so high that it seemed like there was no end in sight. The golden reliefs on the four walls glowed softly under the light.

Those reliefs are engraved with a history of ten thousand years, Imperium of Man.

The figure of Emperor in Unification Wars, the heroic appearance of Primarch in the expedition to the star sea, and the tragic scene of Siege of Terra in the sea of blood and corpses.

His eyes swept over the reliefs one by one, and finally landed on the throne.

The mummy lay there.

It's not "sitting", it's "lying".

His posture was so leisurely that he tilted his head slightly to one side.

One hand was placed on the armrest, and the other hand was hanging by his side, like a middle-aged man who fell asleep watching TV on the sofa.

Guilliman The boy adjusted his posture, and Emperor probably didn't bother to correct it himself.

After all, he can still show off his character in front of others, but he has long been too lazy to pretend in front of his own son.

Asuryan walked to the throne and stopped.

He looked at that face.

The dry skin clings to the bones, the eye sockets are sunken, the cheekbones are high, and the lips are dry and cracked into fine lines.

There is no blood, no luster, and no majesty like ten thousand years ago that people dared not look directly at.

There is only fatigue, only traces of time, and only a body that has been burned by Psionic Energy for thousands of years.

He was silent for a moment.

"I'm coming."

His voice was very soft, but in the empty hall, every word seemed to be amplified countless times.

Emperor's eyes did not open.

But his voice rang in Asuryan's mind, hoarse, low, and with a helpless tone of "I knew you would come."

"You shouldn't have come."

Asuryan's mouth corners rose slightly.

"But I'm still here."

Emperor was silent for a moment.

Then, the voice sounded again, this time with a hint of smile.

"Then you come."

Asuryan smiled.

He bent down and sat down on the armrest of Golden Throne. The white-gold cloak hung down and covered the hand of Emperor that was resting on the armrest.

He casually moved Emperor's arm to the side, as casually as if he was pushing aside a branch blocking the road.

"You old thing, you are quite comfortable lying down."

His eyes scanned Emperor's "lying position" from top to bottom, "I guess my eldest nephew adjusted it for you.

Otherwise, with your pretentious character, you must be sitting upright on the throne with an expression on your face that says, "I am carrying the future of mankind on my back."

In fact, he transformed himself into a super Warp Chaos Gods-level Psionic Energy bomb. The explosion directly took all humans in the universe and upgraded them to become the fifth Chaos Gods, part of the God of Darkness and Vengeance.

That's right, it's you yourself."

His tone was full of disgust, but underneath the disgust was a kind of heartache that only old friends could hear.

"A pure beast."