Replacing the Emperor on the Golden Throne was not as simple as imagined.
The Master of Mankind and the Golden Throne had already formed an inseparable psychic connection, like a vast web of countless tangled threads. The slightest mistake could damage the essence of both.
Lox was also steadying the Golden Throne's Machine Spirit. This restless machine contained endless terrifying power, far beyond the limits of his abilities.
According to Lox's earlier conversation with the Emperor, the Golden Throne had originally been the ultimate creation of those madly ambitious figures from the Dark Age of Technology who had tried to ascend to godhood.
Entering a higher-dimensional state to infiltrate the Webway, or becoming an enormous psychic transmitter, were merely insignificant functions of it.
To it, a human individual as powerful as the Emperor was practically its ideal user. It fiercely resisted being separated from him.
Lox was drenched in sweat from exhaustion, and Malcador was no better off. The Sigillite looked even older, wrinkles rising across his face like ravines.
To sever the connection between them, the Sigillite's psychic power was burning away. With this external aid, the Emperor upon the Golden Throne slowly raised his hand.
Like a patient bedridden for many years attempting to walk again, the Emperor used his palm to prop up his upper body, resisting the Golden Throne's immense pull.
The resplendent and magnificent True One armor erupted with a torrent of energy to resist that force. His upper body pulled away from the backrest behind him, followed by the armor around his hips. He was gradually drawing his body free.
With a silent cry, the Master of Mankind rose from the Golden Throne.
He held the blazing Emperor's Sword in his hand. This divine weapon, possessed of the power to destroy all falsehood and