I'm a magnetic field madman

He cannot allow the war to make mankind great again to be cut short before it even begins.

“If you are questioning me, shepherd, why don’t you go and ask him?”

Guilliman stared at the foolish tall hat before him and said in a low voice...

"We servants are not worthy to step into the throne room and behold His presence," the Pope said with a humble and heartbroken expression.

"And who knows what you did to our great Majesty? Traitor, surrender and face our trial. If you are innocent, you can certainly prove it!"

This analogy—"If I put you on a fire and you die, you're pure... If you don't die, you're a heretic"—made Guilliman laugh in exasperation.

He said no more, only calmly replying...

"What I mean is, he will come out and talk to you in person."

Guilliman's answer silenced the room, but the silent commander of the Imperial Guard sensed something.

His eyes widened, and he rushed into the throne room without hesitation!

The next moment, everyone saw that Trajan, the High Lord of Terra and Marshal of the Royal Guard, knelt on one knee.

What kind of person could possibly make a proud Imperial Guard Marshal, a great Supreme Lord, kneel down?

There's no need to think; even a child would understand who he is.

That magnificent and sublime figure radiates dazzling light, but that light is by no means glaring or blinding... Anyone, any life, can look up to its magnificent existence.

Just like the sacred murals that exist in various parts of Terra, they depict the glorious scene of this being slaying evil dragons and saving the world!

Even the Silent Sisters could not see through the magnificent essence shrouded beneath that sacred face.

Their eyes could only penetrate the veil of psychic energy to see the emperor's attire.

A bodysuit, trousers, and a cape—an outfit never before worn by an emperor.

But so what? As long as it's the attire of a great emperor, no matter how lacking in aesthetics... he'll instantly transform into the sacred figure sought after by the entire empire!

No, they even believed in their hearts that the emperor's poor fashion sense was a sin deserving of death!

That's absolutely beautiful teeth!

This must be passed down; from now on, the vest and cape will be the sacred equipment of our national religion!

Great! Great!

The limited vocabulary is insufficient to describe the supreme existence, so at this moment we can only use the most intuitive words to describe it.

Guilliman silently watched his father, who was in such a state. At this moment, no matter how dazzling the Emperor's light was, it could not dispel the cooled emotions in the heart of the son of vengeance.

But in any case, he still played his role well. He knelt on one knee before the emperor to play the role and fulfill the identity that a "son of God" should have.

My lord... my great emperor! Our lord of humanity... has returned!

Trajan's imposing figure, shrouded in radiant gold armor, trembled as he struggled to believe that this had actually happened.

His Majesty, who had protected humanity for ten thousand years and was also the human lord whom they had watched over for ten thousand years, returned to this world.

What glory, what sublimity! There could be no greater or more moving scene in the world!

The Imperial Guards, who would never cry, were now weeping uncontrollably, unable to utter a single word. And for the mortal believers, the same was true.

Fanaticism, ecstasy, and sorrow—the emotions filling the hearts of these believers at this moment are too complex to be simply expressed in words.

Everyone present rushed to kneel down, countless hands made the Eagle salute in front of their chests, and countless voices tried to shout out their oath of loyalty—but they did not, or rather, they dared not disturb this sacred silence.

They would rather bite their own lips or scratch off their own skin with their fingernails, using pain to suppress the emotion in their hearts and the fervent worship.

Because they cannot profane the silence, they must not utter a single word before the emperor speaks!

The loyal soldiers dared not, the fanatical nuns dared not, the valiant Astartes dared not—even the Pope of the state church, who was said to be the closest to the Emperor, dared not utter a single word.

In fact, the Pope's face was deathly pale at this moment... Even though no one said a word, and no one showed him any appreciation, he felt a sensation as if his soul had been ripped out from within.

Shame, torment, doubt—Pope Lester was torturing himself madly in his heart!

He couldn't imagine what he had said before, whether he was really the emperor's most devout believer.

If that's really the case, why didn't the emperor receive any divine guidance for such a momentous event as waking up?

Could it be... that he was merely a pathetic and laughable heretic, unrecognized by the emperor?

Leicester was undoubtedly devout, and even though the Pope of the Church of England was a man who had made many despicable decisions to advance the Church's interests... he was certainly one of the most devout believers in the entire Church of England.

This is, after all, a world where God exists, and they are the people closest to God. If he had no faith, how could he sit on the papal throne?

So, despite his fanaticism, he was unaware of the resurrection of his God—and he even questioned Guilliman, the first person to know about it, denouncing him as a heretic!

If the emperor's son of God is the greatest being closest to God, then what is he who questions him?

"heresy……"

Pope Leicester muttered the word he had condemned countless times, and this time, he used it on himself.

I am a damn heretic!

Leicester's head hung low, the holy papal crown slipping from his head, proclaiming a fact as his pale hair fluttered in the wind.

He died of old age.

149. Coronation of the Regent

There is no greater sorrow than a broken heart.

Pope Leicester was an absolutely devout believer, and that's why... but when he realized the folly of his actions and how he had disobeyed the Emperor's orders, he felt a soul-deep shame and self-denial.

So he lowered his head, he knelt on his proud knees, he clasped his hands together in a gesture of supplication for forgiveness, and then—

He just died of old age.

Even if he had received the High Lord's life-extending surgery, he could not delay his death.

Perhaps for Leicester, dying in repentance before his great God-King was the best possible ending for this heretic.

But Lester's death went unnoticed; no one paid him any attention, even though he was a great high lord and the head of the Imperial religion.

All eyes remained fixed on the emperor.

Everyone was waiting for the God-Emperor's words.

"I have returned."

The Emperor spoke calmly, but his words resonated in the hearts of everyone present, from the fanatical nuns to the Primarch, igniting a fire of loyalty within each of them…

No further words are needed; this one sentence speaks volumes.

Countless people began to weep uncontrollably, but these were not cries of sorrow, but cries of joy—cries of joy belonging to all of humanity!

The conservative high lords who opposed the Primarchs for the sake of the Empire's stability were also speechless.

They dared to oppose the Primarch, even to lay a hand on him, but they would never dare to utter a single word against the Emperor's orders.

They are not Macardo, and even if they were, they would never disobey the Emperor's orders.

Talion trembled, but not from fear or dread; rather, from a profound sense of shame, much like Lester's.

Look at what they did! They led armies to surround His Majesty's golden throne, even if they did it to save the empire—

Blasphemy, utterly fucking blasphemy!!

I deserve to die, I really deserve to die!

Talion roared and without hesitation, he drew his weapon, pointed it at his forehead, and pulled the trigger on his own head!

With his head exploding, he used death to dispel the insult and blasphemy against the emperor!

The court representative, Ers, did not do so, even though he also had the same intense shame and urge to self-destruct, he did not commit suicide on the spot.

Because he cannot die yet; he still has a mission, a mission that must be completed!

But regardless, the representatives of the court knelt down without hesitation to show their submission... All the high lords, everyone, chose to surrender unconditionally!

Yes, that's exactly what should be expected, isn't it?

These Highlords, whom Guilliman needs to think about, consider, and even compromise to appease and resolve, what are they to the Emperor?

There's no need to think about how to deal with them, or even make any nonsensical plans. Just a glance is enough for them to choose to submit unconditionally.

If you ask them to die, they will die without hesitation! If you ask them to submit, they will kneel on the ground and beg for wisdom! If you ask them to do something, they will do it to an even greater degree!

This is the allure of an emperor; this is the supreme and exalted position that the ruler of mankind holds over this empire.

Undoubtedly strong, undoubtedly great, and undoubtedly—disliked by emperors.

His face beneath the laurel wreath was completely expressionless... People could not discern what thoughts the great emperor held for them.

But there is no doubt that Guilliman could sense that the Emperor at this moment was completely different from the one ten thousand years ago.

Even though he still cares about humanity, even though he still pretends to be the same as he was ten thousand years ago—

Guilliman lowered his head, not wanting those mortals to see his expression of disgust and disappointment.

Because only in the presence of the Emperor could Guilliman truly deny the question he had been avoiding all along.

He is already a god, so what is he?

What will it be then? If this man, after ten thousand years of worship, can be twisted to this extent, then what will become of himself and his brothers...?

Guilliman gave up thinking about it, because if he continued to think about it, he would probably start to question the Emperor's and his own position.

There are too many things to deal with, and too many things to correct.

After standing up, the emperor's thoughts raced... If he were to take charge, it would take at least five years to adjust the empire to an acceptable level.

Clearly, he no longer has that time.

The evil gods wouldn't give him any extra time, nor would Bai Wujie. Neither of them were patient people, and their desires would not be delayed in any way because the emperor wanted to cater to humanity's wishes.

He needs an heir to do all the work.

The Emperor turned his gaze to Guilliman beside him, and Guilliman, realizing what he was about to do, raised his head—undoubtedly, he already knew what the Emperor was about to say.

"Robert Guilliman, my son, my appointed ruler of the Empire."

The Emperor lowered his eyes to look at his most prized tool, while Guilliman knelt down on one knee without hesitation, showing his submission to his father...

“You did a good job, you did a very good job. Perhaps the Terran lords do not understand your good intentions and the necessity of obeying my orders... but whether it was bombing Terra or uniting with the Eldar, you did a very good job.”

The Emperor’s calm and solemn voice rang out, and he unhesitatingly took the blame for Guilliman and Leon’s “stain” upon himself.

But could this be a stain on the emperor's reputation?

Even if the Emperor truly killed hundreds of billions of people on Terra, to the Empire's devout followers—it can only be seen as a blessing bestowed upon those people by the Emperor!

Even though it brought death, what supreme glory it was for those who died at the hands of the emperor!

They were sacrificed by the emperor himself, so their souls will surely return to the Golden Throne after death!

Wow!! What an honor, what luck! If possible, countless trillions of people in the galaxy would gladly take the place of the dead!

This is not an exaggeration; in fact, it's an overly conservative assessment.

The emperor's majesty was so inviolable that if the emperor wanted to rule, they would kneel down; if the emperor wanted them dead, they would not hesitate to take their entire families with them as martyrs! If the emperor wanted to kill their wives, they would even offer themselves up!

Even if the emperor wanted them to think, they would never use their self-righteous stupidity to question the emperor's wisdom... because they believed that they were absolutely not qualified!

The rule of an emperor is essentially a super-enlarged version of hellish politics... except that this "great ruler" hopes that his people will have the courage and wisdom to challenge him.

As for allying with the Eldar and the Xenomorphs?

If the Primarch were to utter such a statement, it would be considered a grave violation of the political correctness of the Empire of Man. However, if it comes from the Emperor—then it becomes the golden rule of the Empire of Man, the new political correctness!

He said black was white, and the Empire would have to change all its statements the next day! He said the Eldar were allies, and the next day any Imperial citizen who received orders and dared to attack the Eldar would be immediately shot!

The fact that he was offline for thousands of years did not weaken the Emperor's ruling authority... On the contrary, his deification amplified his ruling power infinitely. In front of the Emperor, it is hard to imagine how many humans would dare to disobey him.

"Heh..." Bai Qian Shuang chuckled softly from behind, holding the Star of Avalon, then thought with a hint of wistfulness...

It seems that all rule by the strong eventually turns into a hellish political system.

A ruler with immense power will almost inevitably become a tyrant once that power is consolidated in his own hands.

Because if you want to achieve your ideals, you naturally have to make everything revolve around your will.

Emperors rule humanity in such a manner, yet they expect humanity to break free from them and learn to think and be wise.

The prerequisite for doing so is the demise of this empire.