"Am I all right?"
Neos had not expected the first question this old friend of his asked upon meeting him again to be that.
He looked at the body whose psychic power was constantly being drained by the Golden Throne. Its flesh was shriveled and rigid, and the jagged bones protruding beneath it could faintly be seen with the naked eye.
For an ordinary person, being reduced to such a state meant certain death.
The thousand Psykers brought by the Sisters of Silence's Black Ships would be burned to ashes the instant they came into contact with the Golden Throne's power. Even their souls would be utterly annihilated.
"I am the Emperor," Neos said.
"At least it's not too bad."
Lox did not know whether his old friend was telling the truth. Perhaps, for the Emperor, being in this state truly was not so bad.
Seeing that Lox remained silent for a long time, the Emperor began recounting the events of the past on his own.
"I know you have many questions. I will tell you everything I can."
As Neos spoke, Lox vaguely sensed that this old friend had undergone some change beyond his imagination.
Whenever he called himself Neos, the consciousness in control was the reclusive scholar Lox had once known—his old friend and classmate, a mortal of flesh and blood.
But whenever he called himself the Emperor, the consciousness in control was a savior without blood or tears, infinitely resolute and infinitely powerful—a transcendent being whose divinity utterly surpassed his humanity.
Lox did not know whether this counted as a split personality. Perhaps using such a description for the Emperor would be a grave insult, so he merely kept the thought to himself.
"Let us begin at the start, with how our Dark Age of Technology came