I Want to See the King of Gods!
The Emperor's orders are supreme and must never be disobeyed!
Not to mention that the current God-Emperor can now issue commands, which makes these commands even more sacred.
Loyalty is certainly acceptable, but one must never go against the Emperor's wishes.
The spirit of the people of our Holy Terra is so strong and powerful!
Low-level code is everything!
The Adeptus Custodes stood on both sides of the road, gritting their teeth, watching the Eldar walk past them, their hands on their sword hilts, their knuckles turning white.
800 years ago, they would have drawn their swords and chopped these Eldar into mincemeat in 0.1 seconds!
Terra Noble: It's not that slow at all!
But they did not draw their swords.
Asuryan watched the backs of the Eldar as they headed towards the Imperial Palace, observing the light in their eyes.
The light was truly dazzling, almost identical to the gaze of the proud fanatics of the Imperium of Man.
It's faith, it's worship, it's that kind of fanaticism where "I'd die for just to see you."
His fingers trembled again.
He remembered something.
The nobles of Terra, especially the High Lords, are portrayed in the folklore of the Imperium of Man as a group of pleasure-seeking, cowardly parasites.
The first part is correct; they are indeed pleasure-seeking.
They would rather let the money rot, mold, and grow mushrooms in their own hands than give it to workers who work twenty hours a day in the factory.
But the second half of the statement is absolutely wrong.
They are not afraid of death.
What they fear is not dying a worthy death.
Given the chance, these guys will truly fight tooth and nail for a glorious death.
If someone told them that sacrificing half of them would allow the Emperor to rise from his Golden Throne, they would not hesitate to sacrifice their entire selves.
Don't ask why it's "the whole"; the answer is tolerance for error.
What if there suddenly become two Emperor?
They've really figured out how to use the super multiplier feature.
If only half could be sacrificed, then it certainly wouldn't be half of the weaker nobles being sacrificed while weeping and wailing.
Instead, the powerful nobles would immediately defeat all the weaker nobles and order them not to be killed.
Because their deaths would leave a large number of power vacancies, some nobles had to be left behind to keep the Imperium running in order for the new Emperor to govern it better.
Then, the victor who successfully wins this "who goes to die" tug-of-war will happily slit their own throat and return to the Golden Throne.
This is the greatest blessing.
The same applies to the Eldar.
Especially those Eldar who have lived for countless thousands or even tens of thousands of years.
If they could return to the service of Asuryan, the king of the gods, even just to behold his holy countenance, they would gladly die for it.
After death, at least you can return to the Pantheon, instead of being taken by Slaanesh to be chewed up like a dog.
When the news spread, the entire Eldar on Terra was in an uproar.
The God-King Asuryan was in the palace.
They weren't just passing by, nor were they inspecting the place; they were staying there.
Living in the side hall next to the Golden Throne, he drank Old Terra tea every day, chatted with the Emperor about things from tens of millions of years ago, and occasionally went to the window to get some fresh air and stretch in front of the sun.
The Eldar have gone mad.
They poured out of the exits of the Webway, crawled out of the rifts on the far side of the Luna, and tumbled and scrambled out of the tunnels that had been repaired by the Imperial Fists and Iron Warriors.
Their goal was singular— Imperial Palace.
It wasn't for assassination, sabotage, or any shady conspiracy.
They just wanted to take a look.
Take a glimpse of the living, intact King of the Gods, who has returned from the ruins of the Eldar Pantheon.
One glance is enough.
I'd rather die than not watch this.
The first Eldar entered through the main gate.
They wore the most magnificent spirit crystal armor, their hair was braided into the most exquisite braids, and their faces were painted with the most solemn battle markings.
They marched in neat rows to the main gate of the palace and bowed deeply to the imperial Adeptus Custodes standing before it.
"We wish to see His Majesty the God-King," the leading Eldar said respectfully, his posture humble. "Just one glance. One glance will suffice."
The Adeptus Custodes remained silent.
He simply stood there, his golden armor gleaming in the sunlight, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his knuckles white.
His gaze passed through the row of Eldar and landed on the rising sun in the distance, as if he were pondering what to eat for lunch.
"No." His voice was calm.
"Why?" The Eldar's eyes reddened.
"There's no reason," the Adeptus Custodes said calmly. "Step back."
The first Eldar failed.
They did not force their way in, because they knew very well the consequences of doing so— the Adeptus Custodes's longswords were not for show, and the Sisters of Silence ' stance of silence was the natural enemy of Psyker.
They left dejectedly.
But they didn't go far.
They squatted in twos and threes in the square outside the palace gates, whispering among themselves.
The passing Adeptus Custodes occasionally glanced at them, their eyes carrying a sense of helplessness that said, "You still won't give up."
The second group of Eldar walked along the ceiling.
It's not the ceiling of the palace, it's the ceiling of the corridor outside the palace.
Taking advantage of the changing of the guard by the Adeptus Custodes, they jumped from the roof of the neighboring building onto the beams of the palace's outer eaves, using both hands and feet to climb the dome like a group of geckos.
Their movements were so light that they didn't even disturb the dust.
They moved so fast that even the patrolling Adeptus Custodes didn't have time to look up.
Then they ran into a member of the Adeptus Custodes.
It didn't hit the ground, it hit the ceiling.
The Adeptus Custodes was squatting on the crossbeam eating lunch—a box of instant fried noodles, a single noodle held between his chopsticks, his mouth half-open.
He looked at the Elven Eldar peeking out from the gaps in the pipes, and the Eldar looked back at him.
The two stared at each other for three seconds.
The Adeptus Custodes put down his chopsticks and sighed.
"Go down."
The Eldar obediently climbed down from the beams, lined up, put their hands behind their heads, and squatted in the corner of the corridor.
The Adeptus Custodes continued eating their noodles.
"Which batch is this?" he asked, his mouth full of noodles, his voice muffled.
"The second batch." The Eldar voice was barely audible, like a mosquito's buzz.
"Hmm." The Adeptus Custodes nodded. "Go out through the side gate. Don't go through the main gate; there are too many people there, and it won't look good."
The Eldar were sent out through the side door.
They didn't cry, but their eyes were red.
The third Eldar used the sewers.
Imperial Palace's sewer system is one of the Imperium's most complex engineering feats, with pipes crisscrossing and layering, reaching hundreds of meters underground.
The Eldar obtained a blueprint for the palace's sewer system.
I don't know where it came from; maybe it came from the black market, or maybe it was leaked by some drunken Imperial Army.
Then they assembled an elite team and drilled into a maintenance well three kilometers away.