(Additional update today, 14/20)
Holy Terra
Imperial Palace
Throne Room
The core place of power of Imperium is forever shrouded in a layer of dim halo. The light comes from Golden Throne itself. It is huge, majestic, and a huge structure made of endless Adamantium and gold. It is like another machine Behemoth rooted in the depths of the Imperial Palace, devouring nutrients in the hum of eternal operation.
Its surface is covered with precise Rune circuits, and a weak stream of light is constantly swimming through those notches, converging around the body, and then being directed into the bottomless abyss beneath Throne.
Emperor sat on top of Golden Throne, motionless.
His body is covered in thick golden armor, his arms are resting on the Throne armrests, and his fingertips are pressed down.
His breathing was steady and slow, but his eyes were closed and his cheeks were slightly sunken.
He could clearly feel that his Psychic Energy was being extracted by Golden Throne.
Imperial Chancellor Malcador is wearing a gray robe, loyally waiting by his old friend's side.
He stood in the shadow on the side of Golden Throne. The gray robe almost blended into one body in the dim light. The skinny hands exposed under the robe were folded in front of his abdomen, and his fingertips were as cold as bones.
His face was obscured by the shadow of the brim of his hat, revealing only his sharpened chin and pursed lips.
He stood there motionless, but his eyes were always at work, slowly and heavily scanning every corner of Throne Room and every breath of Emperor in the shadow of the robe.
He knew better than any outsider that the being sitting on Throne was consuming himself minute by minute, and all he could do was to make this consumption last as long as possible.
Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes Constantine·Valdor also stood beside Emperor.
He was wearing golden armor and was fully armed, with not even a trace of dust falling on the surface of the armor.
Constantine stood upright at the lower right side of the Throne platform, with his hands stacked on the calibrated handle of Spear around his waist. His eyes were like two sharpened sword lights, constantly scanning the shadows in the hall.
"Webway's pressure has weakened." Valdor spoke, his voice low and methodical.
"We have invested tens of billions of Mortals troops to temporarily hold back the onslaught of Daemons. They used their flesh, blood and souls to forge a Defense Line. Although they suffered heavy casualties, they have pinned the wave of attack in place and prevented it from continuing to expand."
Emperor did not open his eyes, but his breathing rhythm changed slightly.
Valdor continued, "The appearance of the unknown Orks army has reduced the pressure on us among War of the Webway, allowing us to transfer more Adeptus Custodes members to where they should appear."
"Those Orks have not attacked our personnel, at least not yet."
"They... attacked Daemons."
"Those Orks are attacking Daemons on a large scale. The wave of Daemons that was originally attacking Defense Line was torn apart from the flanks by them, and it was impossible to organize an effective front. As a result, our pressure dropped sharply."
"Orks, is it related to Lorgar?" Emperor asked.
"At least for now, that is indeed the case." Valdor nodded.
Lorgar, Primarch of Word Bearers, a name that has disappeared from Emperor's sight for several months, is resurfacing in an unexpected way.
"The Orks troops that appeared on the Webway battlefield, and their leaders, were all shouting the name Lorgar. We believe that this is not a natural Orks tribe, but more like a force that was induced, guided, and commanded."
Malcador's gaze lifted from the shadows and landed on Emperor's side face covered by Golden Light. Then he smiled lightly and said, "How many things does Lorgar hide with us?"
As Malcador's voice fell, Emperor slowly opened his eyes.
In the dim light of the Golden Throne hall, those eyes were like two dark golden coins sinking to the bottom of the water, calm and deep.
Then, a faint smile appeared on Emperor's face.
"Those Orks have not attacked our personnel, at least not yet." Valdor added.
"How long do you think this balance will last?" Malcador turned to look at Emperor and spoke slowly.
Balance.
This word appears repeatedly in the numerous dilemmas faced by Imperium.
The balance with Xenos, the balance with Warp, the balance with an existence possessing huge destructive power, now there is another balance with unknown changes.
Emperor did not answer immediately.
He was silent for a long time, his breathing heavy and high, which was cooled by the cold air in the room and turned into a thin white mist.
He could feel that every part of his body was suffering from the wear and tear of continuous operation, but he could not stop because the thing behind Webway would pour out the moment he stopped.
After a moment, he shook his head.
"I don't know."
Emperor's voice was still steady, but it was enough to shock everyone around except Valdor and Malcador.
"But, I have a hunch..." He raised his head and looked across the dome of Throne Room, as if he could penetrate the layers of gold and rocks and look into the deepest darkness of the entire Galaxy.
"War of the Webway, is the end of one big drama and the beginning of another big drama."
Malcador said no more.
He chewed this sentence over and over in his mind, and his intuition told him that that sentence was not only describing Webway, but also describing the future that all of them were about to face.
Something far greater than the war itself was slowly approaching, like a mountain rising on the horizon, the outline of which they could now perceive only through the faintest tremors.
"Sir." At this moment, a Adeptus Custodes walked into Throne Room.
He walked quickly to Emperor and reported hurriedly, "We have received news from Lorgar."
This sentence is like throwing a stone into water, causing invisible ripples in Throne Room.
Malcador raised his head suddenly, and tightened his hands slightly under his robe.
Valdor's gaze suddenly became sharp, and Emperor's expression suddenly changed, with an almost unstoppable wave flashing through his dark golden pupils.
Surprised and delighted.
He leaned forward slightly, the Rune circuit on the carapace buzzed slightly as he moved, and his fingertips lifted an inch from the Throne armrest.
"Lorgar?" His voice carried a rarely seen urgency.
"Lorgar What happened?"
The Adeptus Custodes lowered his head and kept his voice as steady as the report, but there was a clear pause between the words: "Word Bearers Primarch sent an intermittent communication, most of the content was interfered with by Warp, but..."
He raised his head and his eyes met Emperor: "Word Bearers Primarch reported that Adeptus Mechanicus is currently Fabricator-General and is organizing a rebellion at Mars."
Throne Room fell into silence for a moment.
Emperor said no more. The brief joy in his eyes flashed like fire for a moment, and then sank deeper.
He slowly leaned back on Golden Throne's backrest, like a mountain whose base was once again compacted.
Mars.
Adeptus Mechanicus.
Fabricator-General.
rebellion.
These words intertwined into a new clue in the light of Throne Room, leading his thoughts to a more distant boundary of the chessboard.
He closed his eyes, like a chess player who saw a new chess piece falling, and he was replaying the entire endgame in his mind.