From the three who had arrived to the one who now stood alone, Lox felt loneliness again after so long.
A faint daze suddenly came over him. From arriving alone in the thirtieth millennium, to meeting a group of comrades on Isstvan, it seemed that the companions by his side had only grown more numerous along the way.
Guilliman was his closest friend, and the Five Hundred Worlds felt as welcoming as a second homeland.
Yet after arriving on Terra, the people around him had once again drifted away one by one. Before the Golden Throne, even Malcador and Rogal Dorn, who had accompanied him for the final stretch, stopped and watched him ascend the steps.
He was alone once more.
The endless runic circuits and energy conduits beneath his feet continuously emitted faint pulses. With every step he took, pale blue ripples seemed to spread out beneath him.
He was drawing ever closer to the Lord of Humanity, who sat upon the Golden Throne.
The Emperor was waiting for Lox's arrival.
His unease and apprehension gradually gave way to calm. Yes, he had already come this far. What was there left to fear?
I have overcome countless hardships. Even if the road ahead remains fraught with dangers, I will see my path through to the end.
Never had his heart been so tranquil. Every step he took was a trial for his will and soul.
He could gradually sense the Emperor's presence. It was an incomparably sacred, tragic aura. As a member of humanity, Lox felt empathy and sorrow deep in his heart.
Many hated the Emperor, regarding him as the greatest tyrant of all ages—brutal, immoral, and utterly self-isolated—but everyone had to acknowledge his unparalleled contributions to humanity.
Without the Emperor, there would be no humanity as it