Chapter 439: Ten Thousand Years Is Too Long — Seize the Day! Private Agendas!
"Your Majesty, these matters can be handled with careful, gradual planning. Why rush into them?"
Malcador bowed in counsel, reminding that governing a nation was like cooking a fine meal—too much haste would spoil it.
But the Emperor shook his head. This had to be done quickly—striking before the Imperial nobles and aristocrats could react.
Corruption and aristocratic decay in the Imperium were never born overnight; they evolved. The warriors who once stood by his side against alien races and the horrors of the Warp had since turned into bureaucratic fossils and abusive lords.
Now, with the Universal MegaMegacorp as a strong external force to back the reforms, it was the perfect moment to administer a lethal dose of medicine and rip out this "rot" at the roots.
"Ten thousand years is too long. I must seize the day."
The Emperor looked at Malcador with solemn eyes. "I will go to Ideal City myself, to study the Universal MegaMegacorp's system in detail.
Once I am certain of the reform's viability, I will trade my life without hesitation for the bright future of the human Imperium."
As he spoke of that vague yet faintly visible bright future, countless images flashed in his mind—Astartes warriors dying for the Imperium, civilians enduring suffering.
Further still, he saw the confidence and vitality of Humanity during the Golden Age, a heaven-like human civilization he had not witnessed in eons.
Through all these years, he had worked tirelessly, ever vigilant, guiding a crumbling human civilization back toward strength. But the undercurrents that could topple the Imperium never ceased.
To safeguard Humanity, he had to remain on constant guard without a moment's slack. The weight was unbearable.
The supreme throne was, to him, like an Infinity death by a thousand cuts. Yet with the arrival of the Universal MegaMegacorp, he finally saw a sliver of possible release.
For both the Imperium and himself, this seemed… good.
"You needn't worry about the threat from the Chaos Gods," the Emperor reassured Malcador. "The Universal MegaMegacorp will handle that burden. You only need to do your duty—stay on Terra and keep the Imperial administration running."
Malcador remained silent for a long while. After learning all the causes and reasoning, he could understand the Emperor's thinking. But he still didn't want to take on this political powder keg.
He had his reasons.
Malcador cared only for the Emperor himself. His decades of service to the Imperium came from a "love me, love my house" sentiment. Otherwise, he would have long since left the Imperium to live freely.
As a human ruler with a natural "charisma" that drew others in, the Emperor's every gesture commanded the gaze of heroes across the galaxy. His noble character won the loyalty of many great talents.
To the majority of veteran statesmen, the Emperor was the Imperium, and the Imperium was the Emperor.
"Your Majesty, perhaps you should officially appoint Horus as Warmaster and summon him back to Terra to take your place," Malcador finally offered as a compromise.
Because of the Universal MegaMegacorp's arrival, Horus had yet to receive the appointment, and so had returned to his homeworld, Cthonia, awaiting further orders.
Now, calling him to Terra to be invested—Horus would surely accept gladly.
After all, Horus had long been displeased with the Imperial High Lords who controlled core power. This would be the perfect opportunity for him to prove himself.
"Horus…"
The Emperor fell into thought again. This Primarch possessed not only formidable combat prowess but also excellent interpersonal and leadership skills—arguably the most balanced in all areas among his brothers.
Unlike the arrogant and aloof Magnus, Horus had earned the respect and admiration of the other Primarchs through his courage and generosity.
In the original plan, Horus was indeed to be appointed Warmaster, taking overall command of the Great Crusade.
But warfighting and political governance were two different things. Horus's battlefield brilliance didn't guarantee equal skill in politics.
As the Emperor hesitated, Paul arrived unannounced, bearing explosive news—Horus had been "Chosen by the Four."
The so-called "Chosen by the Four" meant the four Chaos Gods of the Warp jointly selecting a material-world champion. In Warhammer lore, the corrupted Horus would become the Chaos Gods' greatest pawn.
Paul had come to the Imperial Palace specifically to warn the Emperor, urging him to make preparations so he would not be betrayed from within.
Upon hearing that his most cherished Primarch would betray the Imperium and become the Chaos Gods' champion, the Emperor's pupils contracted violently—his shock plain to see.
Horus, the foremost of the Primarchs, a Warmaster who had won countless victories—how could he fall to the Four?
Magnus had fallen in pursuit of psychic knowledge, deceived by lies.
But Horus? For what reason? Warp-born psychic power held little allure for him.
"No… if it were another Primarch, perhaps I would believe it. But Horus betray me? Impossible!"
The Emperor eyed Paul with suspicion, wondering if the Universal MegaMegacorp was using Horus as a warning to intimidate the other Primarchs and smooth the path for institutional reforms.
But such a move would be going too far.
Horus had been the second Primarch the Emperor found during the Great Crusade. For over thirty years, he had personally trained him, guiding him from a street orphan to a Warmaster.
In truth, the Emperor had intended Horus to be his successor.
Anyone might betray the Imperium or the Emperor—but not Horus. And certainly not as the lapdog of all four Chaos Gods.
The shock and rage were overwhelming, making the Emperor feel as though he could smash the entire Warp to pieces.
Malcador's gaze shifted between Paul and the Emperor, unsure whose side to take.
By rights, he should speak for the Emperor and defend the Primarch. But the Universal MegaMegacorp's intelligence had never been baseless.
Ignoring their warning could end in disaster for the Imperium.
"Empty words prove nothing. What evidence do you have that Horus will betray the Imperium?"
The Emperor's tone cooled, though his grim expression said enough. If Paul could not provide a convincing answer, this baseless accusation against a Primarch could jeopardize future cooperation.
"The Universal MegaMegacorp merely provides intelligence for the Imperium. As for truth or falsehood—that is for you to judge. I came to the Palace today simply to complete my task."
After speaking, Paul used the holographic projection device on his body to display the Universal Megacorp's analytical report on Horus to the Emperor.
Horus Lupercal, Primarch of the XVI Legion, the Luna Wolves, was a brilliant commander with an extraordinary gift for war. During the Great Crusade, he racked up victory after victory, employing strategies as unpredictable as they were effective.
However, Horus had grown up in the gangs of the streets, which left him with a deep resentment toward bureaucrats and corrupt nobles. He despised those High Lords who issued orders from on high without ever shedding blood for the Imperium.
The Emperor's governing philosophy was that the Primarchs—including himself—were merely tools for the Imperium's revival. Once they had fulfilled humanity's great mission of ascendance, they were to withdraw from the human world and return authority to mankind.
The Emperor believed in a realm "held in common by all."
Horus, however, was utterly different. He believed in rule by the elite—that the Imperium should be governed by the Emperor and the Primarchs, for only then could it grow stronger.
Yet the Emperor repeatedly promoted mortals into the Imperium's central power structure, allowing those same High Lords to lord it over the Primarchs. This infuriated Horus.
Worse still, the Emperor had erased two Primarchs from existence entirely—not even their names remained in memory. This left Horus feeling a constant chill at his back.
If the Emperor could erase a Primarch, then might he not be next? Even if not today, what about tomorrow?
To fight the wars, to build the Imperium's might—only for it all to benefit outsiders; to risk being "erased" at any moment while still playing the dutiful son…
These two matters combined had already destroyed Horus's trust in the Emperor. The temptations offered by the Four Chaos Gods were merely the spark—the true powder keg had long since filled itself, grain by grain, over time.
The rebellion Horus would ignite not only shattered the hope of reviving the Imperium, it left both Emperor and Primarchs broken and bleeding.
Horus was annihilated, body and soul. The Emperor was left crippled, his later years bereft of his "sons."
After reading the report—compiled personally by Li Ang—the Emperor's steady form wavered ever so slightly. The movement was barely perceptible, but Malcador noticed.
"Your Majesty, you…"
Malcador began to speak but quickly found he didn't know what to say.
Magnus, Horus—two "dutiful sons" the Emperor had greatly valued and trusted, and yet each had proven capable of causing such upheaval.
If it were him in the Emperor's place, Malcador suspected he might have collapsed outright.
As for Horus, though Malcador had his share of conflicts with him, he still acknowledged Horus's prowess in war and in forging alliances.
A person's political potential could be judged by a single trait: whether they possessed social skill.
Throughout human history, no matter the era, social ability had always ranked among the top-tier traits.
After all, a politician without social skills could never hold together a political faction. Politics, at its core, was a clash between factions.
A group bound together as tightly as a clenched fist would inevitably possess great strength, and that cohesion almost always came from a leader's ability to draw people together through tact and skill.
Horus, with his Primarch brothers as a foundation, had built an elite social circle of his own—clear proof that his political ambitions were anything but small.
His political capability could not be dismissed.
It was precisely because Malcador saw this that he had once considered recommending Horus to take the Emperor's place in governance. But now, it seemed Horus might not escape imprisonment—perhaps even joining Magnus for company.
The Emperor remained silent for a long time. The Universal Megacorp's report was lengthy, but the amount of information was nothing to him.
The Emperor processed information at extraordinary speed, like a humanoid AI processor. His silence came not from slowness, but from not knowing what to say.
It dawned on him that, from beginning to end, he had been utterly alone.
Malcador did not love humanity; he merely revered and worshipped the Emperor.
Magnus did not love humanity; he loved only his own people and his homeworld of Prospero.
Horus did not love humanity; he loved the Imperium he had conquered for himself—a feudal empire based on the Primarchs, with humanity as little more than his servants.
On the road toward leading the Imperium into its Golden Age, there had been so many whose hearts were set elsewhere, each with their own agendas, each unable to let go of the temptations before them.
Like the dynasties of old—concerned only with their own factions and private gain.
"Your Majesty, shall I summon Horus back to Terra immediately?"
Malcador's eyes searched the Emperor's face, his tone cautious.
Horus was unlike the other Primarchs—the Emperor had truly groomed him as his heir. To learn that Horus had been corrupted and might lead the Imperium to ruin… Malcador feared the Emperor might be crushed.
"Yes. Issue the order in my name—have Horus return to Terra at once."
The Emperor set aside his tangled emotions for the moment and gave the command.
For a long time, he had placed immense trust in Horus, even considering making him Warmaster of the Imperium, coordinating all the Primarch-led forces.
Horus could unite his brothers, fight brilliantly in battle, and—with just a little more cultivation of his political skill—could have been a perfect successor.
But the news Paul had brought was like a bolt from the blue, forcing the Emperor to set aside the idea of Horus as his heir—for now.
Still, Horus was not yet beyond saving.
The Emperor decided that during his visit to the Ideal City, he would keep Horus by his side and work to win him over, to make him understand the Emperor's true intentions.
"What… reason should we give for calling him back to Terra?" Malcador asked after a pause.
If they truly appointed Horus as Warmaster now, wouldn't that be playing directly into the "Horus Heresy" foretold by the Universal Megacorp?
But if they gave another reason, it might raise Horus's suspicions and trigger the rebellion early—especially with Magnus still imprisoned.
Many Primarchs were already uneasy, fearing they might become the next Magnus.
No one knew whether Magnus would be executed as a warning to others or quietly released once things blew over.
In such a sensitive time, being summoned to Terra to meet the Emperor might not seem like good news.
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