Warhammer 40,000: Mortal Gods

…

The transport plane moved slowly toward Terra.

Enter the atmosphere and fly straight to the highest point on the planet.

When the transport plane passed through a city, Guilliman saw that all the people in the city, both the upper class and the lower class, came out and knelt on the street to kowtow to the transport plane.

The soldiers were holding laser rifles, kneeling while supervising whether others were actually kneeling.

Parts of Terra became chaotic and dirty.

In a neighborhood where the streets were filled with excrement, Guilliman saw a large group of ragged people gathered together, holding high a sign that read "Look at your humble and poor people, God-Emperor!"

Some soldiers tried to persuade the poor people to leave, but Guilliman's transport plane had already flown over. The soldiers roared angrily and rushed to the heavy logging guns to shoot the poor people.

By the time the Primarch's transports reached the top of the block, the soldiers had burned the bodies of the dead poor.

In their view, they had created a clean "corridor" for the Primarch, but the Primarch's superhuman vision had seen everything.

Guilliman stood by the window, glaring angrily at all the atrocities happening on the ground. He did not comment or reprimand, just staring was enough to make everyone in the transport plane dare not even breathe.

The transport plane continued to fly, and when it was still a hundred kilometers away from the palace, Guilliman arrived above a slum.

This slum is even more filthy and chaotic. Some albino people wearing strange clothes ran to the high points of the slum, carrying missiles and trying to shoot down the transport plane.

But then the senior officials of Xingyuting appeared and brought their own personal guards into the slums, killing everyone and burning all the buildings with their psychic powers.

It was clear that Terra was becoming chaotic and that the High Lords Council was losing control of some areas.

"Holy Terra." Guilliman looked down upon everything under his feet. "Some places here have worse living standards than the worst hives in the Five Hundred Worlds. How did this happen?"

"The warp storm has blocked the transportation of food and water. Everyone except the nobles and high-level agencies have been cut off from water." The pilot of the transport plane responded to the Primarch.

The pilot was wearing his ancestral medals.

The person who could fly the transport plane for the Primarch would not be an ordinary pilot, but this pilot was an air general in the mortal army of the solar system.

"No wonder." Guilliman nodded.

If there is a lack of food and water, it is understandable that Terra is not in a good condition now.

After all, Terra's environment was in ruins long before the Terra Unification War began, and the planet relied heavily on external supplies.

"My fleet has brought a lot of food and fresh water." Guilliman faced Caul, "Let the ultramarines go down personally and distribute food and fresh water to these poor areas."

"Yes." Caul nodded and sent a series of orders to the Ultramar fleet.

The pilot also heard Guilliman's words, and he said in a pious tone: "The mercy of the Son of God bathes everyone on Terra. After getting enough food and fresh water, those untouchables will go back to their shacks full of shit and urine. Just stay here."

Guilliman frowned and narrowed his eyes.

The atmosphere inside the transport plane instantly became suffocating. The pilot knew that he had said the wrong thing and quickly shut up.

After another flight, the transport plane arrived at the Terra Palace.

The Imperial Guard guided the pilot to land the transport plane on the tarmac.

When the hatch opened, Guilliman saw half of the Custodes. His father's soldiers were lined up on the road to welcome the arrival of the Primarch.

Guilliman was not in a good mood. He ignored anyone who wanted to talk to him and walked straight into the palace building of Terra.

He was familiar with the place.

When he and Marshal Valdor of the Imperial Guard jointly issued the restriction order on the Imperial Guard, Guilliman stayed in the palace for a long time.

The Imperial Guard also pursued efficiency. They did not perform any strange rituals, but simply arranged for one person to take Guilliman to the location of the Golden Throne.

However, Caul was left on the apron by two Custodes.

Guilliman wanted to take Caul with him, but Caul just shook his head and stood beside the transport plane, waiting for Guilliman to return.

On the way to the Golden Throne, Guilliman thought anxiously.

Is his father still alive?

What will he look like in ten thousand years?

Why do humans worship him as a god? Does he really look like a god now?

This was not the first time that Guilliman felt this uneasy feeling. Ten thousand years ago, his adoptive father was killed by Macragge's tribesmen, and he felt the same way when he went to attend his adoptive father's funeral.

I hope everything is fine, but my heart is filled with grief.

As Guilliman pondered, a group of psykers passed by, led by members of the Custodes and the Astragalus.

Guilliman knew that those were the psykers who served the Emperor as firewood.

These psykers were well-dressed and did not seem to be in any distress. Most of them had only joy and enthusiasm on their faces.

They seemed to have been brainwashed. They did not think that they were about to face death, but that they wanted to go to the throne of the God Emperor and serve the God Emperor forever with their souls and bodies.

"A bunch of madmen," Guilliman thought to himself.

The psykers went to the Golden Throne first, and then there was a series of screams and the sound of music during the ceremony.

In the end, only the members of the Astral Court and the Imperial Guards came out of the Golden Throne. As for the psykers, they had obviously been dedicated to the Emperor.

As he passed by Guilliman, the man from the Astral Court stood against the wall, then knelt down and pressed his forehead tightly to the ground. When the original body passed in front of him, he stood up and turned around in three steps. gone.

The Custodes led Guilliman forward, eventually arriving at a door.

The Imperial Guards stopped and opened the door.

When Guilliman entered the room, the door was closed again.

There are many ceremonial items of the state religion in the vast room, and the golden throne is placed against the wall, making a never-ending buzzing sound.

The Emperor sat on his golden throne, his sword flat on his knees.

At the Emperor's feet was some black dust, which Guilliman had heard was used as anti-psionic bombs by Chulissastien of the Court of Assassins.

"Father," Guilliman whispered.

The Emperor showed no reaction, and it was difficult for Guilliman not to think of him as dead.

The dry skin was attached to the bones, no muscle or fat could be seen, and even the dead trees of Macragge in winter looked more alive than the Emperor.

How could he still be alive?

Guilliman thought.

But the Emperor did live.

Guilliman suddenly felt palpitations. At this moment, in the brain of the primarch, he felt something cast its gaze on him.

The temperature inside the skull increased sharply, as if something was burning the brain.