The clamor on the internet was like an endless background noise, while Medici, the man placed at the center of the crucible of public opinion, still maintained a rock-like silence.
He didn't go to forums to debate with people, didn't post any explanations or statements on his social media accounts, and didn't even respond with a single word to the tsunami-like release it petitions.
This silence, in the eyes of fervent supporters, was cool; in the eyes of fierce opponents, it was arrogance; and in the minds of onlookers, it was a mystery.
But no one expected that the way he would break his silence would be so unconventional.
No text, no livestream, not even an announcement.
One morning, his official account, as usual, coldly popped up a video update notification. The title was just one word: The Imperium of Man.
Those who had already set Medici's account to special attention, ready to capture any activity at any moment media, players, opponents, the curious swarmed in within seconds like sharks smelling blood, and the view count instantly exploded.
The video began, still with that familiar, heart-palpitating pure darkness.
Then, sound arrived before the image.
It was a magnificent, solemn chant that seemed to be formed by the overlapping resonance of thousands upon thousands of voices, yet also like an ancient prophet who had experienced endless ages and witnessed the rise and fall of humanity, making a proclamation with his soul.
Every syllable was as heavy as mountains, carrying an unquestionable absolute authority and belief as blazing as a star:
"The Emperor... is the one and only, omnipotent protector of the human race!"
"Absolute loyalty, devotion, and obedience are the only path to redemption and eternity!"
"Heretics, Chaos, xenos... all who do not conform to the Emperor's sacred will are enemies that must be completely purified!"
The power of this voice was so overwhelming that it instantly seized the hearts and minds of all listeners.
Without any visuals, the sound alone was enough to construct in one's mind a magnificent temple towering into the clouds, resplendent with golden light; a supreme sovereign shrouded in sacred radiance, both merciful and majestic; and countless believers kneeling on the ground, their eyes burning with the pure flame of faith.
The camera finally lit up.
The image confirmed the audience's imagination: an extremely grand mega-cathedral combining Gothic spires with futuristic metallic structures.
Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting colorful and sacred patterns on the ground.
On the towering pulpit, an Ecclesiarchy priest wearing luxurious robes and a tall crown embedded with skull emblems, holding a massive tome whose cover appeared to be made from human skin and metal the Imperial Creed, was hoarsely praising the Emperor's greatness and humanity's destiny to the densely packed, endless crowd of believers below.
The believers were enraptured, their faces twisted with fervor, tears mixed with sweat flowing down.
They echoed every prayer of the priest in unison, forming a deafening wave of sound. The power of that faith almost overflowed through the screen.
"This is the Imperium of Man! This is our faith! This is our... God!" an excited voice rang out in the scene.
Countless viewers watching the video, at this moment, couldn't help but be infected by this collective belief pure to the extreme, even feeling an ineffable sense of identification and trembling in their hearts.
Yes, such a powerful empire with firm faith, fighting for the survival of the race, seemed to be... full of tragic heroic grandeur.
Then, without warning, the scene plunged back into absolute darkness.
Dead silence.
Only the echoes of that faithful cry seemed to still reverberate in the darkness.
A few seconds later, a line of rough Gothic text, as if branded onto steel with red-hot iron, slowly emerged, each stroke carrying bone-chilling coldness:
[The Emperor... is not a god.]
The moment these words appeared, it was as if a basin of ice water had been poured over the heads of all viewers, chilling to the bone the identification and awe for the Imperium that had just been kindled.
Not a god?
Then what was all that just now? What was that overwhelming faith?
The camera switched, giving no time for thought.
This time, it was an overhead view. An orbital view of a planet.
This wasn't the dead hive world, but a planet prosperous and magnificent beyond imagination.
The continental plates were covered with endless super-cities, the orbit was ringed with massive space stations and docks like planetary rings, and ships traveling back and forth like a busy swarm.
A narration sounded:
[Holy Terra. Homeworld of the Imperium of Man. Center of Imperial governance. Location of the Golden Throne.]
The camera rapidly zoomed in, sweeping past those building complexes that appeared incredibly magnificent even from such altitude, finally focusing on the planet's highest mountain range: the Himalayas.
The mountain range had been completely transformed, its interior hollowed out, its exterior covered with countless fortress cannons and defensive arrays.
This was the Imperial Palace.
The image entered the palace interior.
Corridors wide enough for tanks to pass through, walls carved with epic reliefs depicting wars and sacrifices that had already been mythologized.
Some figures flashed through the camera:
Giants clad in bright yellow power armor with fist emblems on their armor Imperial Fists Astartes, they patrolled silently, their steps as heavy as mobile fortresses.
The audience, not understanding, only felt shock: "Such huge soldiers..."
Then came even taller, more magnificent, resplendent in golden armor, wielding huge guardian spears: the Custodians.
They were like classical sculptures come to life, each radiating a suffocating majesty and power.
The audience remained confused: "What kind of elite guard is this?"
Without explanation, the camera mercilessly pushed forward, penetrating deep into the palace's most core, most secret sanctuary.
The light became dim and eerie.
The air was filled with a strange smell mixing incense, ozone, and some kind of... aged preservative.
Ahead, a massive, altar-like mechanical structure appeared in the center of the frame: the Golden Throne.
And upon the throne...
The camera pushed closer, giving an unreserved close-up.
The breath of all viewers, at this moment, stopped in unison.
It wasn't the radiant deity they had imagined.
It was a mummified corpse.
A mummified corpse fixed to complex mechanical devices, draped in tattered purple robes, skin clinging to bones, emaciated to the extreme.
Countless tubes, cables, and neural connectors were brutally inserted into various parts of this body, some places even exposing dark golden bones.
Its head drooped, its features long unrecognizable, only an eternally rigid posture bearing unimaginable suffering.
[Master of Mankind. The Emperor. Since the Horus Heresy, has sat upon the Golden Throne for ten thousand years.] A cold electronic voice stated.
Ten millennia.
A living corpse that had endured ten thousand years of endless suffering.
This was the god of the Imperium of Man, the source of the fervent faith of billions of believers, the nominal core that set the massive war machine in motion.
The intense contrast brought not awe, but bone-deep absurdity, sorrow, and... fear.
The camera didn't linger here too long, as if unable to bear or disdaining to show more of this ultimate blasphemy and tragedy.
The scene switched again, becoming a dynamic star map covering the entire screen.
This was the territory of the Imperium of Man, vast enough to span a million worlds, like a sparse yet stubborn cluster of light points in the dark universe.
However, in every direction of this territory, on all sides, burned glaring crimson marks representing war!
Ork WAAAGH!!! tides, Chaos corruption domains, Aeldari raid paths, T'au Empire expansion boundaries, awakening Necron tomb worlds, Tyranid hive fleet shadows of consumption... like countless greedy tentacles and deadly fangs, tearing, squeezing, and infiltrating the Imperium of Man from all directions!
On the star map, the arrows representing Imperial counterattacks or defenses were equally dense, but compared to the omnipresent red threats, they appeared so passive and constrained.
The entire universe seemed to be soaked in endless warfare and blood.
The video ended abruptly here.
Only a blank darkness remained, along with countless viewers in front of their screens, shocked speechless and unable to recover for a long time by the truth contained in these few short minutes: a truth far beyond the servitor controversy, far more grand and far more desperate.
The iceberg had finally revealed a corner.
And the massive, despair-inducing dark entirety beneath the surface had only just begun to appear.