Chapter 418: The Issue Isn't That It's Being Ignored—It's Just Being Delayed and Stalled!
The relationship between father and son has always carried an inherent mix of rivalry and cooperation—especially when it comes to power struggles. There's almost a law of conservation at play: "When the father is strong, the son must be weak; when the son is strong, the father must be weak."
Horus carved his path with glorious military achievements—he proved himself through bloodshed and became the most formidable warrior among the Primarchs. For this, the Emperor named him Warmaster, placing the entire military under his command.
Guilliman, on the other hand, relied on his unparalleled administrative skills. He gained the favor of the seasoned elites at the Empire's core, and in doing so, carved out his own place of power.
Magnus, unfortunately, was neither proficient in war nor in governance. Lacking Horus's battlefield prowess and Guilliman's political acumen, he could only lean on his extraordinary psychic gifts—choosing a path of psychic development that offered both high returns and high risks.
On his homeworld of Prospero, Magnus aggressively promoted the construction of psyker infrastructure. The psychic knowledge collected from various worlds was gathered and stored there.
He oversaw the rise of massive structures tied to the Warp and psychic energy—altars, museums, and mysterious observatories. These creations enveloped Prospero in a fervent, almost cult-like, psychic atmosphere.
His goal was to build the largest and most magnificent psychic hub in the Imperium. With it, he hoped to expand his political influence and claim a greater share of the Empire's power and resources.
Magnus meant well—but in his eagerness to impress, he completely ignored the dangers of unchecked psychic development.
Entities from the Warp had long since infiltrated Prospero to its very core.
It had already become a breeding ground for the Chaos Gods. By the time Malcador realized this, the wayward Magnus had already gone too far—the situation was now beyond saving.
"Purging the Warp and exterminating the daemons of the Chaos Gods is in the best interest of all humanity," Paul said, feigning ignorance. "But what kind of assistance is the Imperium hoping The Megacorp can provide?"
When it comes to shared human interests, The Megacorp was, of course, willing to help—but they couldn't make the first move. They had to wait for the other side to bring it up.
And once they did lend a hand, they'd expect something in return—either tangible benefits or a debt of gratitude. They weren't about to play the part of a selfless do-gooder for free. That wasn't how The Megacorp operated.
Malcador, a veteran statesman of the Imperium, knew the game all too well. He didn't beat around the bush and stated the conditions outright:
"We're hoping to borrow The Megacorp's warships, specifically for the Warp-field generators aboard. We intend to use them to neutralize the Chaos daemons."
"Additionally, these devices are critical in our plan to capture Magnus. We need to sever his connection to the Warp in advance—only then can the Primarchs move in safely and take him down."
"Of course, the Emperor has already made it clear: The Megacorp will not be doing this for free."
Malcador was shrewd—he didn't immediately reveal the Emperor's offer but merely hinted that some reward would be given. The actual value of that reward could be adjusted later unless Paul took the initiative and named his price.
At that moment, Paul appeared conflicted. This wasn't a decision he could make on his own—he'd need to consult with The Megacorp's headquarters first.
After all, Warp-field generators were among The Megacorp's most advanced technologies. Designing them had required the theoretical input of no fewer than three gods.
The manufacturing costs were astronomical.
Every single day the field generator ran, it consumed the equivalent energy of an entire star. Only The Megacorp, with its vast resources, could afford such extravagance.
Any lesser civilization would have considered such devices unconscionable waste.
And if the generator were damaged in the process of apprehending Magnus, the Imperium would be unable to offer proper compensation.
"The Emperor hopes this matter can be resolved swiftly. If you're willing to lend us the warships, I am authorized to offer you one STC module," Malcador offered tentatively.
This wasn't a loan—it was a full transfer of an STC module. The Megacorp wouldn't have to return it, and they could keep all the tech it contained.
It was a generous offer.
"I will give this matter my full consideration and report the situation to Megacorp headquarters immediately," Paul said solemnly.
"Two STC modules!"
Malcador clenched his jaw, the veins in his neck bulging. "The Empire's STC reserves are already critically low—this is our final offer!"
Seeing this, Paul nodded with deliberate gravity. "Understood. I'll expedite the request and push headquarters for an urgent decision. No matter what, we'll give the Empire a definitive answer within 72 hours."
This was the art of diplomacy: not outright rejection, but delay and deferral—doing things slowly, in a measured and calculated way.
After hearing this, Malcador looked like he might have a stroke from sheer frustration. What was the difference between this and a flat-out refusal? In three days, the situation might be completely outdated!
But if he offered even one more STC module, the fanatics of the Adeptus Mechanicus might actually riot.
The Tech-priests had initially believed they could leech all kinds of new technologies from The Megacorp without cost. Yet the new interstellar navigation system wasn't even finished—and already, half of their precious STC modules and sacred relics had been carted off!
Who was leeching whom, exactly?
Malcador knew for certain: if he agreed to give The Megacorp three STC modules, the Tech-priests would immediately gather en masse and demand he be publicly executed as a traitor.
"Two STC modules, and you may choose one sacred relic from the Golden Age," Paul finally countered.
As he said this, he clearly saw the ever-composed Malcador bristle with rage—veins bulging, face dark as iron.
Real or not, Malcador was sending a clear message: this was the Empire's final offer. If pushed any further, they would rather walk away from the table.
Paul, reading the signs, knew it was time to stop. If they kept pushing, they risked sabotaging the long-term relationship between both parties.
Even fleece-shearing needed finesse—if you stripped the sheep bare, you'd end up with nothing but resentment.
After all, the Emperor was a formidable leader—the man who had led the Great Crusade and conquered the galaxy. Provoking him would do The Megacorp no favors.
"The Imperium of Man is our most trusted ally. I believe our Supreme Executive will not turn a blind eye to your request," Paul said, finally relenting. "I'll report the situation to headquarters immediately and ensure we get you an answer today."
Hearing this, Malcador finally relaxed.
"Then I'll be counting on you," he said with a forced smile—his heart bleeding inside. This deal had danced right on the razor's edge of collapse.
If Paul had pushed just a little harder, Malcador would've walked away.
But Paul had gauged the situation perfectly, leaving Malcador stuck in a painful stalemate—unable to advance, unable to retreat.
From this alone, Malcador could tell: The Megacorp must've done extensive research into the Imperium. Otherwise, how could they always hit the perfect price point?
Meanwhile, in a separate room, Paul had already submitted the deal's details to headquarters.
Back at The Megacorp's central base, high-ranking executives were embroiled in a heated debate.
Some believed they could squeeze out even more Golden Age relics. Others argued that they'd already pushed far enough and should lend the devices now—before diplomatic tensions escalated.
Both factions had their own valid points. The argument showed no signs of settling.
"Paul only has one warship left. If the Imperium takes it, he'll be completely exposed to the Warp."
V frowned. As The Megacorp's envoy, Paul absolutely couldn't be involved directly in the extermination of Prospero. If anything happened to him, no one would be able to bear the consequences.
But without the Warp-field generator on the ship, Paul would be left vulnerable to both the dangers of the Warp and the Emperor's psychic probing.
The generator shielded him. Without it, the Emperor could read his thoughts as easily as flipping a page. In the vast, trap-laden palace on Terra, ambushes and setups lurked everywhere.
Paul's continued safety on Terra owed a great deal to the shielding effect of the Warp-field generator.
V's warning threw the high-level executives into a dilemma. If that was the case, their only option would be to dispatch another fleet to the Warhammer universe.
But Warp-field generators were outrageously expensive. They required Xeelee Nightfighters to manufacture, making their production painfully slow.
Even at maximum capacity, the next batch wouldn't be ready until next month.
Paul's current device was the last one they had.
On one hand, the Emperor urgently needed to launch a campaign to deal with his rogue son Magnus. On the other, Paul required the generator to protect himself and safeguard The Megacorp's intelligence.
No matter which option they chose, something would go wrong.
The room fell into tense silence. Were they really going to turn down the Imperium's request?
"This is an opportunity."
At that moment, Li Ang—the Supreme Executive seated at the central command console—finally spoke.
All eyes turned to him as he made the final decision: they would not lend the Warp-field generator to the Imperium. Instead, a new fleet would be dispatched to Prospero to assist in capturing Magnus.
Under normal circumstances, The Megacorp was not allowed to deploy official military forces within Imperium territory—it would be seen as an act of war.
But now, with the Imperium's request, The Megacorp had a legitimate excuse to send in its forces and showcase their military capabilities.
Over the last twenty years of tech iteration, the Gellar field generators used to dampen psychic energy had seen significant upgrades.
While they still weren't as effective as Warp-field generators, they were definitely better than the Imperium's own models.
As long as the Emperor approved, this operation would allow The Megacorp to expand its influence in the Warhammer universe.
V, Morgan Blackhand, and the others lit up with interest after hearing Li Ang's plan—it could actually work.
But would the Emperor really accept the terms?
"He will. As long as it helps him capture Magnus, he'll agree."
Li Ang smiled faintly. Right now, it's the Emperor who's desperate—not us.
---
"What? They want to send an entire fleet to help us capture Magnus?"
When Malcador delivered The Megacorp's reply, the Emperor's first reaction was anger and suspicion.
Yes, The Megacorp was a fellow human government, but they each had their own territories. Letting someone else's army waltz into your domain? That would naturally stir unease.
Especially when their technology was far superior to the Imperium's.
Would this not end in disaster—letting the wolf into the fold?
"Yes. According to their envoy, the order comes directly from their Supreme Executive. He has no authority to override it," Malcador explained with a sigh. "The Megacorp promises that as soon as Magnus shows himself, they'll help us apprehend him."
"If they fail, they'll waive the entire operation fee. We save two STC modules and a Golden Age relic."
From a cost-efficiency standpoint, The Megacorp's offer was solid. The Imperium could keep its precious artifacts.
But the political implications were enormous.
The Emperor sat in silence for a long while before finally nodding.
He would accept The Megacorp's conditions.
The reason was simple—he, too, wanted to gauge The Megacorp's true military strength.
If this operation could provide insight into their capabilities, it would be invaluable for future diplomacy.
"Agree to their terms. Also, instruct Horus to ready an elite legion. I may call on them at any moment," the Emperor ordered.
"Yes, I understand."
Malcador paused, then asked, "Should we limit the size of their fleet? According to Guilliman's assessment, their expeditionary forces are quite massive."
"And..."
"Their envoy also said they hope the Imperium will allocate them a piece of territory after the mission—so they can establish a diplomatic outpost for regular communications."
Truthfully, everything The Megacorp requested was reasonable. The problem was simply how overwhelming their technological power appeared.
That alone was enough to make the Imperium's upper echelons nervous about letting their army in.
Malcador didn't resent Paul or The Megacorp's tactics. Everyone was just doing their job from their respective standpoints.
As long as neither side crossed any red lines and maintained fair exchanges, they were still good allies.
And by all current metrics, The Megacorp had proven itself a reliable and steadfast partner to the Imperium.
It was The Megacorp who had provided them intelligence on interstellar travel tech, the mutation of the Thousand Sons, and the Chaos God Tzeentch.
After a few seconds of contemplation, the Emperor finally replied:
"There's no need to limit their fleet size. The more, the better."
After all, The Megacorp was still human and governed many star systems.
Even if the Imperium fell, the ashes would remain within humanity's pot, not scattered into the hands of alien monsters.
Letting the Chaos Gods grow unchecked—that would be the real disaster.
The Emperor had no intention of creating a tragedy where his loved ones grieved and his enemies rejoiced.
"As for their diplomatic base," the Emperor added, "Give them Prospero, once it's been cleansed."
Prospero wasn't exactly close to Terra. If something went wrong, it would still give the Imperium enough time to mobilize a response.
The Emperor wasn't the sort of ruler who saw conspiracies behind every action—but that didn't mean he ignored the worst-case scenario.
If the worst truly came to pass, he had confidence in reclaiming control.
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