210: Chapter 210 The Emperor Voluntarily Accepts His Birth

The countdown for Project Regicide reached its final moment, five years after the destruction of The Swarm's vanguard.

The Taiping Star Domain had been completely assimilated, and sixty-seven percent of the vast Imperial civilian population had completed their transformation through the Reshaping Crucible. In the eyes of the new generation of Taiping people, the Emperor's glory had been replaced by the order of the Human Federation; the Golden Throne was no longer the end-point of faith in their hearts, but a historical relic of a bygone era.

Ultima Segmentum was surrounded on three sides. Guilliman's Indomitable Crusade fleet was trapped within the Macragge system, their supplies cut off and morale low. Every day, the Astropaths from the core territories of the Empire transmitted news of one world after another falling or surrendering.

Terra, the birthplace of human civilization, the heart of the Empire, and the seat of the Golden Throne, had become the only isolated island in the galaxy not yet covered in dark gold.

But Han Zhe was in no hurry to attack; he was waiting, waiting for the man sitting upon the Golden Throne to make his final choice.

When that solitary, unarmed shuttle crossed the blockade of the Human Federation Fleet and slowly descended toward the Terra Imperial Palace, everyone knew: the moment had arrived.

The shuttle's hatch opened, and Han Zhe stepped out alone.

No guards, no weapons, no protection of any kind. He wore the simple uniform of the Human Federation's Supreme Archon, with only a single dark-gold badge representing order on his chest.

Behind him was a Source of Order-class fleet that blotted out the sky, powerful enough to blast Terra into fundamental particles.

Before him were the palace gates that had not opened to an outsider for ten thousand years. The gates slowly swung open, and Han Zhe walked inside.

Golden Throne Room

It was the most sacred yet most desolate place in human history.

Along both sides of the towering hall stood the honor guard of the Emperor's Children legion—dauntless warriors clad in golden Terminators armor who had guarded this hall like statues for ten thousand years. Their power armor had fused with the floor, and their life signs had long since vanished, but their loyalty remained frozen in an eternal vigil even after death.

At the end of the hall was the legendary Golden Throne.

Upon the throne sat a person, or rather, a shell that was once human.

The Emperor.

His body was withered, like weathered stone. His skin clung tightly to his bones, inscribed with countless ancient runes, each burning with a faint golden light. His head hung low, as if crushed by the weight of ten thousand years. Behind Him, He was connected to countless pipes and cables of various thicknesses, extending deep into the hall, into the core of Terra, and into the sea of faith formed by the prayers of trillions of Imperial believers.

The only proof of His continued existence was His eyes. They were open, but they were no longer the eyes of a living person; they were two spheres of golden fire that had burned for ten thousand years. Within that fire lay ten thousand years of human history, ten thousand years of pain, ten thousand years of sacrifice, and ten thousand years of despair and hope.

The moment Han Zhe stepped into the hall, those two spheres of fire turned toward him simultaneously.

"You have come."

It was not a voice. It was a whisper echoing directly in the depths of his consciousness, spanning ten thousand years. In that whisper, there was no hostility, no anger, nor even any emotion that could be categorized—only an indescribable, ancient exhaustion.

Han Zhe stopped and met the gaze of those two spheres of fire.

"You knew I would come."

"I knew," the Emperor's whisper seemed to come from the end of time. "From the moment you appeared, from the moment you escaped the Empire's borders, from the moment you first announced the establishment of the Human Federation on the ark, I knew you would come."

"You tried to stop me," Han Zhe's voice was calm as usual. "Your gaze, your Binding Legion, your Guilliman. You did everything you could."

"Yes," the Emperor's fire flickered slightly. "I did everything I could."

"But it was not enough."

The hall fell into a brief silence.

Han Zhe spoke slowly, "You know why I am here today."

"I know," the Emperor answered without a hint of hesitation. "You have come to kill me."

"Correct."

"Do you know what killing me entails?" The Emperor's fire suddenly blazed. "I have sat upon this throne, enduring ten thousand years of pain, not because I wished to live. It is because I must live. My existence is humanity's final line of defense against Chaos. My death means the collapse of the Empire's faith, the loss of protection for the souls of trillions of believers, and the reopening of the Warp gate—that rift I have suppressed for ten thousand years using myself as a seal."

"Are you prepared to face all of this?"

Han Zhe did not answer.

He simply raised his hand and pressed it to his temple.

In the next second, a holographic image unfolded in the center of the hall.

In that image was the dark-gold pulsation of the Sea of Order, the remaining fissures of the Eye of Terror completely stitched shut, scenes of the Four Chaos Gods' domains being repeatedly hunted by the Human Federation Fleet, the broken escape trajectory of Slaanesh, two-thirds of Nurgle's essence being extracted, and a mountain of biomass formed by the corpses of The Swarm's main vanguard after their hive mind was severed by the Causality Eradication Cannon.

In that image was a panoramic star map of the galaxy. On the map, the Human Federation's dark-gold territory covered seventy-seven percent of the galaxy. Only the Segmentum Solar, where Terra was located, and Guilliman's Ultima Segmentum remained as lonely points of gold.

In that image were the seventeen microseconds when the cold observer's observation channel was sealed by the Spear of Paradox and implanted with backdoor commands—seventeen microseconds during which humanity, for the first time, made the fundamental logic of the universe submit.

Han Zhe lowered his hand, and the image vanished.

He met the Emperor's gaze once more.

"Those things you worry about," he spoke, his voice as calm as if discussing tomorrow's weather, "we have already resolved."

"Chaos is no longer a threat. The Eye of Terror has been stitched shut. The Swarm has been harvested. The Eldar have vanished from the galaxy. The Necrons have been exterminated."

"As for the Warp gate, I have ordered the deployment of thirty thousand Nullifier Nodes around the perimeter of Terra. When I leave this hall, they will activate simultaneously, permanently sealing the connection between Terra and the Warp. That rift you have suppressed for ten thousand years will no longer require any being to suppress it."

"Because the rift itself will be erased."

The Emperor's fire flickered violently.

It was not anger or fear, but something deeper—it was an ancient shackle that, at this moment, finally showed its first crack.

"You..." His whisper carried a hint of disbelief. "You truly did it."

"It was not me," Han Zhe's voice remained calm. "It was every person who believed in order over the last five hundred years. Every person who died on the battlefield. Every person who endured transformation in the Reshaping Crucible. Every Law Furnace sacrificed to the Spear of Paradox."

"I did not do it. The Human Federation did it."

The Emperor fell silent.

A long silence.

The dauntless warriors on both sides of the hall still stood like statues. Their loyalty had long since solidified, and their sacrifice had long since become eternal.

Finally, those two spheres of golden fire spoke again:

"Do you know why I allowed you to come?"

Han Zhe said nothing.

"It was not because of your fleet. Not because of your weapons. Not because you could kill me."

"It was because I believed you would do better than I."

In that whisper, for the first time, appeared something that could be called emotion—something that had been buried at the deepest depths for ten thousand years, long forgotten.

"Ten thousand years ago, I sat upon this throne, thinking I could save humanity."

"I suppressed the Warp with my flesh and blood. I nurtured the Astropaths with my soul. I traded my pain for the continuation of the Empire."

"I thought that if I held on long enough, one day, humanity would stand up on its own and take over my burden."

"I waited for ten thousand years."

Those two spheres of fire dimmed for a moment before Han Zhe for the first time.

"Do you know what it feels like to wait for ten thousand years?"

Han Zhe remained silent.

"It is watching my most beloved sons betray, fall, and die one by one. It is watching the Empire I protected slowly rot, stagnate, and fall into despair. It is watching humanity tremble before Chaos, slaughter each other in the darkness, and destroy themselves in ignorance."

"It is eternal loneliness."

"Eternal—"

His voice cut off abruptly.

Because Han Zhe took a step forward.

He crossed the hall, traversing the distance that no one had crossed in ten thousand years, and walked directly to the front of the Golden Throne.

He reached out his right hand and pressed it onto the Emperor's withered, cold, rock-like hand.

"You need not wait any longer."

His voice, for the first time in five hundred years, carried a hint of warmth.

"Your ten thousand years are over."

The Emperor's fire trembled violently.

"You... are willing?"

"It is not that I am willing," Han Zhe's voice returned to its calm state. "It is that the Human Federation is willing."

"You guarded humanity for ten thousand years. In return, humanity shall grant you final liberation."

"But before that, I need you to do one thing."

The Emperor's fire steadied.

"What is it?"

"Under the order of the Human Federation, complete your Ascension to Godhood."