Chapter 89 Healing The Emperor

Seeing the Custodes raise their weapons, Sanguinius and Guilliman immediately lowered their own and stepped forward, intending to defuse the situation and get Vane out of the standoff.

Vane glanced at the bristling Custodes blocking his path, then shifted his gaze up to the Emperor on the Golden Throne.

“So, I should just leave?”

The absolute second the words left Vane’s mouth, every single piece of arcane machinery hooked up to the Golden Throne unleashed a deafening, unified roar.

The ancient auspexes monitoring the arcane power conduits began shrieking in a cacophony of alarms. The energy gauges skyrocketed instantly, blowing completely past historical peaks as countless mechanical components screamed under the impossible strain.

The sudden, catastrophic shift left everyone in the room staring at each other in sheer bewilderment, completely clueless as to what was happening. Sanguinius and Guilliman froze in their tracks, exchanging a deeply confused look.

A split second later, golden fire ignited within the eyes of a nearby Custodian.

When the Custodes were forged, their very souls and genetic makeup were specifically engineered to house the Emperor’s power and act as vessels for his will. During the apocalyptic climax of the Siege of Terra, the Custodes who teleported aboard the Vengeful Spirit alongside the Emperor had served as direct conduits for his voice and psychic might.

When Ollanius Persson, the First Warmaster, encountered the Emperor—who was teetering on the absolute edge of ascending into the Dark King—the Custodes who had accompanied him were incinerated into charcoal, their bodies utterly consumed by channeling too much of the Emperor’s unbridled power.

“Stand aside. Let the honored Forefather pass.”

Honestly, if it had been anyone else, the Emperor would have already manifested a few psychic mega-funnels and obliterated them where they stood.

He had waited literal eternities, praying to every star in the galaxy for this guy to finally show up. And now that Vane was actually here, his own bodyguards were actively trying to turn him away!

If Vane actually turned around and walked out, the Emperor wouldn’t just discipline the Custodes. Even if it was one of his own Primarch sons, he would have dragged them out and delivered a few reality-shattering slaps.

Trajann stared at the possessed Custodian, hesitating for a fraction of a second before speaking.

“My Lord—”

The Custodian didn’t acknowledge the Captain-General, simply repeating the command with absolute, crushing authority.

“Let the Forefather pass.”

“Stand down.” Realizing the gravity of the situation, Trajann immediately ordered the Custodes behind him to lower their weapons.

The golden-armored giants lowered their halberds and parted like the Red Sea, clearing a direct path for Vane to ascend to the summit of the Throne.

Immediately, the energy output of the Golden Throne began a rapid, stabilizing descent.

Simultaneously, the Emperor’s will rapidly withdrew from the possessed Custodian. After all, if he lingered too long, the immense psychic pressure would simply incinerate the man’s body and soul. More importantly, the Golden Throne itself couldn’t sustain that kind of peak output for extended periods.

That exact fragility was the core reason the Emperor had remained completely silent for ten millennia. If the Golden Throne ever completely burned out, the Imperium—and by extension, the entire human race—would be instantly doomed.

The blinding golden fire faded from the Custodian’s eyes.

He stood frozen in place, staring blankly for a long moment as he desperately tried to recall what had just happened. But before his brain could even begin to process it, his vision completely blacked out. The giant collapsed backward, crashing to the floor in a dead faint.

Even the absolute greatest defenders of the Imperium struggled to endure the direct channeling of the Emperor’s raw might.

“Take him to the medicae,” Trajann ordered the nearby Custodes, having them carefully haul their unconscious brother away.

Vane didn’t spare Trajann or the rest of the golden-armored guards a second glance. He strode up the grand steps, making a beeline straight for the peak of the Golden Throne. Guilliman and Sanguinius fell in step right behind him.

Because the two Primarchs wielded specific, specialized authorities, both of them could perceive the Emperor’s true, unvarnished condition. The catastrophic wounds he had sustained during his final duel with Horus were nothing short of horrific.

Half of his body was completely shattered. His skull was fractured open, and terrifying, gaping wounds covered what remained of his face.

The most terrifying part wasn’t the physical damage; it was the fact that pure, malignant Warp energy was still actively writhing within those wounds. It was painfully obvious that the foul powers of the Chaos Gods had never stopped torturing the Master of Mankind.

Vane examined the ruined body for a moment before casually pulling out a bucket of milk and a large funnel.

“Quick, Sanguinius, jam this funnel into Big E’s mouth.”

“Huh?!” Sanguinius, who had been completely devastated by the sight of his father’s catastrophic injuries, stared at Vane with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Shove it in my father’s mouth?”

“Well, yeah! What else are we gonna do? Your old man is totally paralyzed; he can’t even open his jaw. I’m definitely not feeding this to him mouth-to-mouth!” Vane huffed impatiently. “Hurry up and stick this thing in his mouth!”

Left with absolutely zero alternatives, Sanguinius reluctantly took the funnel. He approached his broken father and, with agonizing care, wedged the funnel past the Emperor’s ruined lips.

Once Sanguinius had it secure, Vane hoisted the bucket and dumped the milk straight into the funnel.

The pristine liquid splashed down, flowing heavily through the funnel and into the Emperor’s ruined vessel.

The very next second, an absolute miracle occurred.

Thick, localized plumes of black mist immediately began venting outward from the catastrophic wounds that had been infested with Chaos corruption.

By the time the single bucket of milk was drained, the festering, deeply entrenched Warp corruption had been completely and utterly purged from the Emperor’s body.

“Perfect. The debuffs are entirely cleared. Now, time for the Enchanted Golden Apple.”

Vane casually tossed the empty bucket back into his inventory and yanked the funnel out of the Emperor’s mouth.

Next, he produced a heavily enchanted, violently glowing Golden Apple—an item boasting absurdly powerful regenerative properties—and forcefully shoved it between the Emperor’s teeth.

But the Emperor was still entirely paralyzed. The muscles in his face had been shredded by ten thousand years of atrophy and horrific injuries; he couldn’t even chew.

Not missing a beat, Vane grabbed the Emperor’s jaw with his own hands and started manually forcing it up and down, making him forcefully chomp on the glowing golden fruit with loud, rapid crunch-crunch-crunch sounds.

Standing off to the side, Sanguinius and Guilliman watched the spectacle unfold, feeling their souls actively leaving their bodies.

Forefather… could your medical methods possibly be any more unhinged?

Vane’s methods were insanely crude, but the regenerative power of the Enchanted Golden Apple was nothing short of terrifying. The second the fruit was consumed, the Emperor’s ruined, skeletal vessel began to knit back together at a speed completely visible to the naked eye.

Fully restored, the Emperor finally opened his eyes, bringing expressions of absolute, unbridled joy to the faces of Sanguinius and Guilliman.

However, despite being completely healed, the Emperor still couldn’t rise from the Golden Throne.

Ten millennia of relentless, trillions-strong human worship had aggressively eroded the boundary between the Master of Mankind and the Dark King. The Emperor was currently utterly reliant on the Golden Throne serving as his cosmic anchor just to prevent himself from fully ascending into the fifth Chaos God.

On top of that, the Golden Throne was still actively sustaining the massive seal on the Webway. The absolute second the Emperor stood up, the infinite, roiling tides of the Warp would instantly breach the Webway and flood directly into Terra.

Therefore, if they actually wanted the Emperor to vacate the chair, they needed to meet two massive criteria:

First: They had to permanently eliminate the looming threat of the Dark King.

Second: They needed to permanently seal the Webway breach.

Handling the Webway seal was childishly easy for Vane. He simply activated his Void Ring, teleporting directly to the colossal Webway Gate. Then, under the absolutely stunned gazes of everyone present, he whipped out stacks of Void-hardened Obsidian—the exact same indestructible material he used to build his Warp highways—and began rapidly building a solid, impenetrable wall directly over the gate, thoroughly sealing off the demons’ invasion route.

The demonic hordes trapped on the other side of the Webway instantly realized Vane’s intention. They began shrieking in absolute fury, endlessly slamming themselves against the Obsidian wall in a desperate bid to tear it down.

But no matter how violently they bashed against it, they couldn’t inflict a single scratch.

“You morons couldn’t even dent my walls while you were inside the Warp. You really think you’re gonna break them here on Terra?”

Vane admired his freshly built, indestructible wall, dusted his hands off, and used the Void Ring to teleport right back to the foot of the Throne.

“That was incredibly fast,” Guilliman muttered.

“I am officially declaring the Forefather as the Imperium’s greatest architect, completely replacing Rogal Dorn,” Sanguinius added with absolute sincerity.

Sanguinius and Guilliman stared at the imposing black wall sealing the Webway gate, then looked back at the Forefather, deeply moved.

Down below, Grand Master Valdor of the Grey Knights, Living Saint Celestine, and Fabricator-General Rasky, along with the rest of the Imperial heroes, silently clicked their tongues in awe. As expected of the Forefather. The man has an absolutely endless bag of tricks.

With the Webway breach permanently sealed, the final hurdle remained: the Dark King.

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OR