The pain is tormenting you, and it doesn't stop for a moment, and you're used to it.

Because you know that pain is a gift to you, a source of calm awareness, the only remaining kindness of the world to you: it is so great, so precious, so priceless that it is so irresistible.

So, after a long absence, you woke up.

Your will has been freed from pure calculation and reasoning to descend on this land that you despise, and the unnecessary emotions begin to reverberate around you: you can feel your pupils open, the colors around you flood into your consciousness, you stop breathing like a normal mortal, feeling your skin as cold as ice, and veins without the slightest fluid flowing.

The bright light pours into your vision, but instead of tears falling from the corners of your eyes, you ignore the dim light, but expand your senses further: about fifty meters below you, you feel the coldness of the ground and the ticking of instruments, all obeying your orders, operating according to the best laws, something that mortals can never do.

Those mortals......

At this thought, your proud mind stops for a moment, and after searching all your memories, you are sure that it has been a long time since you last saw a mortal, or another life: ten years by Terra's standards, or a little longer?

……

That's it, you don't care.

You can feel your mind want to shake your head, but you're missing the organs and limbs necessary for it, and the cold wind seeping through the cracks in those walls penetrates your torso, reminding you that the time is over and it's time to get into the work ahead.

After all, your blood brothers have arrived, and with their weakened warriors, they have set foot in your current realm: they are a little more numerous than you think, and the attack is more powerful than you expected, and you thought that the core fortress world would last a month, but it only took Johnson and his legions a few days to completely destroy it, leaving your calculations to a rare and complete failure.

He is your most ruthless brother, one of the few people in the galaxy worthy of your admiration, and you vaguely remember that you seem to be second only to Rogdorn in your opinion of him: as for the Emperor, no one is qualified to judge him, and no one is qualified to compare with him.

And in addition to this Caliban's king of beasts, you can also feel the breath of the other four, as well as the number of legions that are a little more than you imagined, which makes you want to laugh: five primordials, four legions, in addition to the frenzy of the former Randan alien, in this galaxy, what kind of opponent can make the entire human empire so fierce?

It seems that you have become a great problem for humanity, a disgrace that your brothers want to get rid of through their teeth.

Even though it didn't go beyond your expectations from the start, when these ideas are clearly revealed in your mind, you can still feel a slight weakness in your core computer area that can interfere with your cold logic, and there is nothing more disgusting than this weakness.

Without it, you could have done better, and you could have been more prepared to meet this first batch of crusaders, but you know that there are no ifs. And you can only face the next army in a bad state: it can't help but make you feel frustrated, you are not afraid of that army, you are just hating yourself for not being able to do better.

You must have disappointed the Emperor.

Your cause, your great plan, can only come to light later, and the eternal reign of the Emperor can only be postponed for a while: this is unimaginable blasphemy, and you must redouble your efforts and oppress yourself to restore the shame that it has caused you.

So, the first step is to start with a crusade against your brothers.

You smile, but the pain distorts the smile, and you can feel how hideous your soul is now: it makes you lose your dignity.

Four of the five primordials are no stranger to you: long before you set foot on your own path, you have been commanding endless wars while squeezing out the last bit of rest to study Johnson's way of warfare, and from the moment he returns to the Empire, you have studied every war he commanded, even the behemoths he hunted in the world of Caliban.

As for Riemanrus, he is also another object of your deep study: after all, you know better than anyone else the value of the Bacchus spear, and you know better the cunning mentality of the Fenris wolf hidden under the reckless fur, and the depressed brotherhood, this excess of emotions has turned the wolf into a half-defeated product, and as the executioner of the emperor, he should have been more deadly.

If you have time, you might be able to fix this mistake yourself.

As for Alfaris, the serpent in the shadows, he always thought no one would find him, and for fifty years he had been persistently sending spies and informants to your legion, and it was a tiresome relief to fight with him: but this time, if he chose to stand in front of the stage and join the war in the way he was least good at, you wouldn't mind taking him in hand, the hydra had been deceived and his existence was a threat to the great order of the emperor.

Just like you.

At the thought of this, you want to laugh again, but you have to suppress this feeling, because you also need to analyze the two opponents who make you feel strange: Morgan and Conrad, you know their names and know that they deserve your attention.

Conrad is less of a threat to you, and the areas in which he excels are not suitable for this war, while Morgan is the adversary to be taken seriously: she is second only to Johnson as a threat to you, a dangerous person who can threaten you in both the calculative and mental realms, and you may interfere with your carefully planned plans.

But on the other hand, if she can be your trophy, then your ambition will definitely go more smoothly: you may be able to do more with less.

After all, you are one kind, and the Great Creator has shaped the two of you in a way that distinguishes you from the other eighteen creations, and you know very well that it will be difficult for the two of you to coexist, because you represent the Emperor's two expectations for the future, and these two expectations are opposite.

You have to get rid of Morgan, or master her completely: defeat her, knock her down, make her kneel beside you, touch your palm over her forehead, and merge your soul and consciousness until she doesn't say no to any of your requests.

It's all necessary, and you'll be sorry for it.

But you know that you will not stop: you never stop, this is part of the greatest cause, this is your mission as emperors, and you must burn yourselves in different ways to create a great empire that belongs to the Lord of men. In the true sense of the word, it became the sharpest blade and the best tool in the hands of the emperor. Instead of being like now, because of these superfluous self-consciousness, the pace and journey of the emperor were slowed down.

Your blood relatives may not understand your painstaking efforts, they maybe, no, they will hate you, curse you, force the blade in front of you, and do everything possible to find a way to kill you completely, but it doesn't matter, you will defeat them one by one, you will accommodate and tolerate them, and include them in your network, so that they can understand what you have done.

You will even have the patience to accept their legions, these qualified GMTs, who are the necessary bases and consumables for the further expansion of your network, after accepting them, you will be able to break through the current resource depleted cage and take the entire hazy star field into your hands, and then the imperial order will be established throughout the galaxy.

At that time, they will understand your suffering, and by then, you will be like them: they are your blood relatives after all, your kind, the only little light you need to care about in this absurd world, you cannot abandon them, you are in the same place.

They will be the most reliable tools of the Emperor, free from the disgusting self-consciousness and thoughts, and you will join the great team: after it is all over.

At the moment when [it] was established.

Thinking of this, you begin to turn your body and look at the incomparably great work of art behind you: you have seen the magnificent torch on the Holy Terra, the handwriting of the emperor, and you know that you cannot make a greater product than that, but now you have made a great work second only to it, and it is a miracle of your own.

It's even finished, but it just needs more fuel and sacrifice to wake it up completely.

The Star Torch on the Holy Terra will burn in subspace, guiding the direction of the ship. And the Torch you have built will also burn in subspace, guiding the future of the Empire: the moment it begins to burn, it will be the first day of the Emperor's Eternal Empire.

You've been waiting for that day for a long time: maybe fifty years, maybe more.

Since the day you were utterly disappointed in your legion......

No, it should go a little further.

This thought has taken root in you since the day you saw the Lord of Humanity, or rather, its seed has been hidden in the darkness long after the moment you became conscious, waiting only for the light from the Emperor to awaken it.

Yes, that's it, you're sure of that, after all, like every one of your genetic relatives, you know everything since you were born, and they are deeply engraved in your mind, telling you of your incomparable disappointment and hatred for this sad world.

You remember well that your disappointment and hatred were already accumulating the moment you opened your eyes: as genetic protogens, your brothers' childhoods were always talked about by mortals, and you never revealed your own childhood to anyone, not because of shame or timidity, but because there was really nothing to say.

You've heard that some of your brothers didn't have a happy time in his childhood, that they were either alone fighting monsters or at the hands of an ambitious alien adoptive father, and that you, unlike a few who had a healthy environment and a happy family, did have a literal adoptive father in the first few months of your life: not at all.

You still remember him vividly: he was a human, but with a few alien traits, which came from one of his matrilineal ancestors being insulted by an alien species with no reproductive isolation, and these traits have been passed down from generation to generation, and there is no doubt that they are deeply rooted in his blood.

He wandered the desert world where you landed, on the edge of the great hive cities built by alien minions, and picked up the amniotic pod that encased you as the leader of a family of scavengers.

The moment he picks you up, you have already opened your eyes and engraved the impression of him in your mind: he is a sturdy man in the ordinary sense of the word, with a pair of glasses that have no practical function, a clean scarf that has never been washed, and a large stick that has never been washed, stained with the remains of human blood: it is in this way that he has grasped you in his hand, and he can see at a glance that you are unusual.

Then he laughed and took a satisfied bite of the scarlet fruit that his other hand was holding, and the memory in your mind told you that it was a human heart: the favorite food of your adoptive father, and his first interaction with you was to put this heart to your mouth.

Mortal blood is hot, unpalatable, and stinking: that's your first meal, and the first thing you've learned.

Over the next five or so months of Terra, you'll learn more of the same around him, learning about the value of killing, dissection, and technology: until his fear of you slowly overshadows what little appreciation remains.

As you single-handedly slay the aberrant beast that had terrified the entire tribe, and were about to study and analyze it further, he came to your room, patted you on the shoulder, and chanted your approval and anticipation: but you could hear the cauldron being propped up and hot water bubbling in his room.

The cauldron he had prepared for you was indeed big enough to hold him and his cronies: thankfully, you had no interest in mortal flesh other than the first few drops of blood.

You kick your adoptive father's burning, red body in front of his former followers, and watch these mortals devour it like a desert beast: it plunges you into deep thought for the first time.

Is there any essential difference between the mortals you have seen and the beasts you have seen?

Detached from the accumulation of those generations, who may not have understood the knowledge, history and culture themselves, they seem to be beasts with slender limbs, capable of unceremoniously carrying out cannibalism that ordinary beasts would not do, and even taking pride in it. Take this as the ordinary, take this as the inheritance.

……

Perhaps, this is a mortal.

At that moment, this vague thought manifests itself in your heart, but you still have some disbelief, and you have spent years wandering the desert, meeting and observing one mortal settlement after another, most of whom seem to be no different from these so-called followers behind you, who also gnaw on the fingers and hearts of their fellow kind, while others, though they despise this vice, when they see the petty profits you have taken, the betrayal and dark deeds that flicker in their pupils, and it's really disgusting.

You hate them: hate their savagery and ignorance, cruelty and madness.

And more importantly, you hate their weakness, you wonder why they can still survive in this world, obviously they have not created a single value, they will only indulge in selfish fighting, in your heart, they are all failing.

Of course, you haven't met those who barely qualified: after seeing your strength and virtue, they spontaneously gathered from the desert and followed you, and before you knew it, these guys began to claim to be your "true followers".

The cannibalistic creatures in your team are gradually disappearing, and the mortals who bind their hearts with the bottom line and virtue have formed your new tribe, and they don't even need you to worry about it, they have spontaneously completed the work of establishing a base and containing new members, and those intermediate managers who have come out of the bottom are constantly at odds with each other, but each of them treats you with respect as a believer treats a god.

They preach your mercy and justice, believing that you will bring about a better world, because they have never seen you engage in useless slaughter and tyranny, and you have never asked you to do hard labor or to provide you with pleasure: after all, these things are useless.

And the research you are obsessed with makes them as reverent as if they were looking at miracles, but the results of research that have long been eliminated in your eyes have been taken away by them. But it has also significantly improved the lives of these mortals, and can attract a steady stream of outsiders to your banner.

In your third or fourth year of birth, these followers you have never seen before become the most powerful force in the desert, and the technology you have developed regarding food and clean water has attracted more and more mortals, who have spontaneously formed an organization called the Free Army, and enshrined you as their powerful and withdrawn leader.

Then, the cannibal tribes and mutant tyrants who roam the desert are cleared one by one, and it's a small war that you never cared about, because everything they do is worthless in your eyes.

After all, in your eyes, no matter how the royal power changes in the desert, the biggest change is only the coming to power a ruler who can make people a little more patient, and the real essence of this planet lies in those alien cities, as long as they don't fall for a day, the great deeds that your followers sing about are nothing more than duckweed in dreams.

Your words to prevaricate your loyal followers during an unbearable group visit seemed to set off a storm among the Free Army, and it wasn't long before armies from the desert began a tentative assault on the alien city of the Hive, where the human slaves who had been enslaved for generations became their most reliable allies.

It is only at this moment that you look at them for the first time, after all, this kind of real war is the best place to test your research results, you begin to deliberately provide them with some more powerful weapons, use their blood and tears to improve the new technology in your hands, in your estimation, as long as this war can continue for a few more years, you can accomplish your only purpose: to create a real flying machine, to leave the world that has disappointed you, to find the person who created you, Return to your kind.

As for these followers of yours, let them be.

That's what you had thought: until those alien envoys knocked on your door and offered another, more valuable deal.

These aliens call themselves Esoteric Sects, the real Esoteric Sects, and you perceive the truth from their boasting and rhetoric: the so-called Esoteric Sect is just an organization with more aliens gathered together, and these people in front of you are the losers of the struggle in this organization, and they are sprung up in this world.

But even so, you have to admit that they have technology that can speed up your research, and you're looking at these aliens just as much as you're looking at your followers.

In fact, it wasn't until you returned to the Human Empire that you first learned about the concept of aliens, and until then, these alien creatures, like mortals, were just stupid and unreflective beings in your eyes.

After a short thought, you accept their request, and you become one of the true rulers of the planet, at the cost of those who call themselves your followers, and you don't hesitate to do so, after all, any decent person has to learn to change out of their bloodstained boots before entering the temple.

So, an elaborate show and a bloody massacre go hand in hand, and at the same time as the Freedom Army disappears, you become the hero of the overthrow of tyranny: the ruler of the city: you know very well that these self-proclaimed Secret Aliens just want you to become their new spokesperson, they will be seen as watchdogs in the temple, and you just want to learn the skills in their hands: you take what you need.

But the reality disappoints you.

After spending months stirring up these contradictory alien creatures and getting the technology you want from their disputes, you find that they are far less advanced than you think, and they wield far less power than you might expect: and by the time you realize it, you have enough force to crush the so-called Alien Council once and for all, and they are the remnants of your Liberation War.

Once again, you have returned to the mortal world, as the ruler of the world.

As time goes on, you realize that you can't leave this planet alone, that you need enough men to help you on a long interstellar voyage, and you decide to do enough transformation of the planet: but it is at this time that the productivity of these mortals quickly makes you feel truly hopeless.

They are so incompetent, even after the so-called genetic modification surgery on them, the innate efficiency and the lag caused by the so-called self-thinking make your plan have to be delayed again and again, for you at that time, it is the most correct choice to use the power of machinery to replace these mortals, and the only value of these life forms seems to be to provide enough consumables for your biological research career.

Only at this point are they barely qualified.

At the same time, in your cold eyes, the dirty political drama is staged in every corner of the nest capital: mortals regard you as a monarch who has delegated power, and unscrupulously start a new round of power and political struggle, but it is only a few years, and the interests have completely torn the skin of these so-called kindred, and the oppression of the lower classes has become even more serious than those aliens, and you have witnessed how those mortals in high positions use petty profits to maintain their rule, Establish a decaying and stable ruling body.

You didn't change the system after you cleared them.

And you only realize the correctness of your idea once again: in essence, these well-dressed magnates are no different from the miscellaneous people who once ate your adoptive father in front of you, they are just mortals: mortals who are disappointed, mortals who have achieved nothing, mortals who have only destroyed themselves over and over again.

They are not your kind.

Not before, and not ever.

As you left this world, you confirmed this: you couldn't wait to go out into the Void to find your true blood kindred, and thankfully, it went more smoothly than you thought, and you only traveled a few galaxies before you met the only light in the universe.

That's the emperor.

Your Father, your Creator, the truly great and merciful being, the master of science and truth: the mere fact of standing before you is enough to make you fall to your knees with pleasure, because the moment he meets you, you have completed all your communication in the spiritual realm.

You know how He came to be, how he has survived these tens of thousands of years, how he has struggled to stand in an environment of more despair and hatred than you, how he has created you and your kind, and has given you infinite knowledge in your mind: any one of them is worthy of your heartfelt respect, and when they are combined, the only thing you can do is to bow down to Him.

You know that he is not lying to you, that he is not a god: a sad and ridiculous word like a god is not worthy of being in the same place as the emperor, and you despise your brother Lorga from the bottom of your heart, because you know that every proverb of the god emperor that comes out of his mouth is the most intolerable defilement of your Creator.

But you have never had any opinion on this: the Emperor, the Milky Way is so vast and your kind is so scarce, you have to admit and tolerate their stupidity, otherwise what else can you do?

And these things cannot distract you: from the first day of your encounter with the Emperor, he had a long enough conversation with you to make anyone jealous, and you talked enough to shake the Empire, to shake the Galaxy, to realize for the first time what the Emperor expects of you, for the first time to realize the mission that the Emperor has given you, and you know that everything you have is made for it, and everything you have is for the Emperor, for the great cause that he is shaping, To be able to stay away from the eternal tide of filth in the depths of the highest heavens.

It's not an easy job: but you don't hesitate to take it.

Because you can't refuse the mission that the Emperor has given you, because you can't live up to the Emperor's expectations, and if your existence can't accomplish what He wants you to do, then your existence is a joke, and you're a utterly useless person.

And......

You already have a solution in mind, and you are sure that it is feasible.

In the decades that followed, you were obsessed with the progress of the Great Expedition, sometimes exploring the future of the Method, and the disappointment of the Legion and the Empire may have been expected for a long time, after all, they are nothing more than mortal modifications, and what about having your bloodline, you can always create people who have more of your bloodline, and who are more fanatical and loyal to you.

They don't know you, they don't know what a sacred cause you are doing, they serve the Emperor and the Empire because of the loyalty that has been forced into their minds, they are just a bunch of giant babies with no force and no power of action: after they have failed you again and again like mortals, you have made the only right choice.

Now, no one can stop you from fulfilling the mission that the Emperor has given you: you have given too much to accomplish this mission, you are hopeless, you have made your own thing and soul no longer pure.

……

Yes.

At some point in the Great Expedition, you voluntarily entered the subspace.

In subspace, you sit quietly in the face of the terrible waves of chaos: you know very well that you have to know these guys well enough to think of a real way to deal with them, and why are you able to connect to subspace when you are an untouchable......

……

Every impossibility in this world actually has its solution, and the only thing to consider is the cost: and you have to pay the price, which is not worth mentioning.

You even feel a hint of pride at the thought of this, only this time the pride is washed away by the omnipresent pain: these pains have always been there, and they have never left.

They are the price.

They are a storm of blades, a wave of thousands of poisonous insects and beasts, and they launch new attacks at you every minute and every second, tearing your nerves, ripping your consciousness out, ravaging, tearing apart, devouring and spitting out the rest of your soul over and over again, fusing into new pieces.

They are the malice of the subspace, the hammer of chaos, the gods of the high heavens holding their abominable faces close to your ears, so that you will be surrounded by their endless whispers at all times, and you can feel their stench spitting on your soul at all times: they are watching you, like the trolls of the deep sea watching a boat that is moving forward, and their planet-like projections of consciousness surround you, leaving no gap, not a breeze.

Compared to the incessant whispering, seduction, and threats of these gods, the pain is even less than worth mentioning, and you have long been accustomed to it.

In fact, not even the words of your knowledge can describe the physical and mental suffering, but you can find a perfect analogue: you know that in your father's palace, there is a being called the Golden Throne, which also seems to be a great torture machine, and the knowledge in your mind is telling you that the pain you are experiencing now is exactly equal to the torture on the Golden Throne.

There is not the slightest difference.

And this is the price of connecting to the subspace: you cut a gap in your soul, broke through the shackles set up by the emperor, and forcibly connected into the subspace, and the storm of the highest heavens was able to directly hit the interior of your soul, bringing endless torment for decades.

Yes, from the day you decided to carry out this great project, you have endured this pain, which has accompanied you for decades of expeditions, the Randan War, the long planning, research and work, and even now, they have accompanied you, and you have enjoyed this formless golden throne.

You have to admit that sometimes, you do feel pain, but you know very well that these pains cannot disturb you, in the face of the great cause you need to build, pain and pain are meaningless existence, you have already given up your body, and the pain of your soul can no longer interfere with your thinking and logic, they can even help you feel awake, I help you maintain a calm attitude of rejection in the chaotic hell.

From this point of view, pain is undoubtedly a gift. A gift from your father.

At the cost of this endless pain and pain, you go to the depths of the subspace, you see the future of failure, feel the inadequacy of your brothers from the heart, and little by little find and make up for the way to achieve your great cause.

In the subspace, time has no concept, but the pain is still with you, in this chaotic and painful state, you don't know how long you have been wandering, all the way to the deepest part of the highest heavens, the gods do not seem to welcome your coming, but they do not stop you, they just keep watching you, whispering with ridicule and ridicule that you cannot hear.

Until you reach a temple in the deepest part of the subspace, until you find the throne standing in the temple: it is a creation you cannot describe, for it seems to be a monstrous deformity made up of whips, prisons, and torture instruments, and you see countless screaming and twisted faces on its surface, but each of them has no facial features, as if their personal existence is not worth mentioning.

You observe the throne, curious about what you find, until a voice comes from the throne: a voice that seems to be waiting for you.

You can't describe the voice, you can't even remember what it said, but you can remember it clearly: the throne sent you an invitation.

One has an invitation to the gods.

An invitation to Hate and Slavery.

It first warmly praises your greatness in these two areas, it praises your fanatical pursuit of hatred, of slavery, of extreme tyranny and dim obscurantism, but it admires you most not in these places, but in your example.

It pinpoints your deepest thoughts.

Yes, you hate the world as equals, hating almost all beings except the Emperor and your blood relatives, those mortals and aliens that you hate in the same rank: but you also hate yourself, because you know that you are no more different from them, and that you are all derelict in your contribution to the Emperor, and that none of you have done any better.

Yes, you long for slavery, but it is not your slavery: you are convinced that the world needs a real system of slavery to survive, otherwise, allowing those mortals to keep their minds to themselves will only allow them to be invaded by chaos one after another, and only by keeping everyone's minds eternally under the light of the emperor can chaos be unable to start, you sing the praises of such slavery, but you are sure that you cannot become such a slave.

So, you willingly become one of the enslaved, willingly become the emperor's ruling machine: just as you have set up a future for each of your blood relatives.

Behind you, the second torch flickered, the creature that had poured all your ingenuity into it, a control center that could even contaminate the genoplasm, and the only thing it needed was more people to be controlled: the machine was so clever that it could snowball, and it could control more people to gain more power, and more power to control more, and so on, and so on, until the end.

And this is the ending you have set for all things in the world, and it is your final reply to the Emperor's mission: you will find enough strength to open this machine, and those blood relatives who come to crusade against you will be the first nourishment, and you will be the core of this machine, for this requirement, you will not hesitate to give up your humanity and body, and become a mass of consciousness that can attach to any great machine.

You're going to drive this machine, you're going to find more enslaved, you're going to use it to envelop the entire human empire, and indeed the entire galaxy, to build a truly eternal and powerful future that could be called a gestalt or a swarm: as you can see in the future fragments, this is the way to go.

And this future, at this moment, is being sung and praised by this throne that originates from the depths of subspace, and its fantasies in your heart are simply worshiped to the ground: or rather. Pretend to worship to the point of throwing yourself to the ground.

You can hear the temptation and malice in its voice: the temptation is for you, and the malice is for a guy who calls it the Lord of Darkness, the throne seems to have a very bad relationship with the Lord of Darkness, it spits on the equality of the end and death before all beings, spits on rewarding the world with the destruction of all equals, it tells you that this is a sick future, a regression that will wipe out all life and eternity, and your current thoughts are the opposite, that you will destroy the incomparably abominable equality that the destruction of all, you will build an empire of eternal tyranny and slavery that will never be destroyed.

And you are the most suitable leader of this empire.

And you are the god who should rule all this when hatred and destruction will flood the galaxy

And you, all you have to do is caress the throne in front of you, accept its power, accept this qualification to become a god, and then it is all a certainty: you will be the first candidate to succeed to this throne, and considering that your rivals will be unleashed for nearly eternal millennia, your ascension to the throne is almost unshakable.

All you have to do is make the galaxy burn, you just need to run your machines, you can complete your plans, and you can make a small change: for example, you can make yourself the final point of enslavement, you can become a god, you can become another supreme being in the highest heavens.

The throne says so, and it makes no secret of its admiration for you, and you know from the bottom of your heart that it's not wrong: you have a magical connection to the subspace, and even feel a kind of homely warmth for this throne and this temple, and you know, it doesn't deceive you.

This throne longs to be one with you, it longs to come into this world sooner, the throne is tired of being imprisoned here, it wants to be used, it wants a new god.

It wants you to touch it and then accept the power.

All it takes is a moment.

All it takes is one step.

……

……

It......

What an idiot.

Isn't it?

This time, not even the pain took away the smile from your heart: for you remembered how the throne cursed your impotence and cowardice, and remembered the monstrous fury that shook behind you as you left the temple without hesitation.

Even the gods who have never left you are marveling from the bottom of their hearts, lamenting what a future and power you have given up: they are stupid, they cannot see the true obsession in your heart.

They don't know that you have already seen the truth of the so-called gods: you know that the throne is not lying, you have the possibility of becoming a god, but you also know that gods are not achieved overnight, and for this path you need a lot of sacrifice, you need a lot of blood, you need to make the whole galaxy burn. You'll need to embrace the entire subspace and let the endless forces of chaos enter your body.

Frankly, you don't have any more objections to the first few items, but you don't like the last one: you know that the forces of chaos are not something you can contain, and you know that the process of becoming a god is actually a fusion with another great will, and in this fusion, the mind of the god will distort your perception and worldview more and more, and when you really become a god, you will become those selfish guys, and you will no longer have the mission of the emperor as your first purpose.

You'll ......

Shake your loyalty to the Emperor.

——————

It's something you can't stand it.

——————

In the face of loyalty to the Emperor, in the presence of your great Creator, the power of the gods is worth mentioning.

How can the power of these filthy things compare to the infinite splendor of the light of the Emperor of God in your heart!

So, you ended up rejecting them, firmly refusing.

You have shattered the great body that has been formed by your communion with your own hands, and you have ruthlessly begun the next step: in the first base where you lived, you saw the arrival of demons, some of them slaves of the four gods, others who chanted hatred and slavery, and called themselves your dependents.

You don't have anything to say about those tentacles with their heads, so you give them the same destruction and imprisonment, after all, they were never your target.

You're waiting for something new: behind these swarming demons, the consumables you've been waiting for, you've placed your soul in the most conspicuous place in the entire subspace, and the aroma carried by the original soul is enough to attract the most ignorant and crazy beasts in the entire subspace, the enslavers are the most powerful part of them, but there is no shortage of other mind-controlling species and subspace creatures.

And these guys, that's all you need.

You have attracted these subspace beasts who are proficient in servitude, fought them, and hunted them in droves, you don't know how many enslavers and other mind-controlling races you have killed, but you are well aware that killings like this have been going on for a long time.

Until your slaughter forces these enslavers to combine into a group of giant monsters tens of meters and hundreds of heights, you know it's time to put an end to it all: what you want is finally in front of you.

You've slain those monsters, you've got enough corpses to dissect and study these subspace creatures, and you've built on that to complete your Second Torch's final transformation plan, and now, it can truly spread the Emperor's light across the galaxy, just like the true Torch on Divine Terra, and everyone's mind will be forever shrouded in the light of the Lord of Humanity.

Finally, you can unite all people's minds and truly protect and lead them: Chaos will no longer be able to inflict any intrusion on the real universe, and they will be impotent and furious in the face of a unified wall that is more determined and enduring than even Rogdorn's proudest creation, which will last until the end of time, the end of the years, and you will fulfill the Emperor's commission, to complete the mission you were born to do.

When you imprison the mind of the whole empire in one system, the emperor will take over the system, and his mind will become the mind of all, and his will will will become the will of all, and you are sure that your father will not be corrupted by chaos, nor can he give in to the gods, he will always make the right choice, he will always be able to see the future that you can't see, under his guidance. Humanity will no longer have any selfishness or internal consumption, and a true eternal order will stand proudly above the galaxy.

This is your dream, the great thing you are willing to give everything for, and now, before it is finally completed, you need to make a small trial: the first step in this grind is the crusade army that is only a stone's throw away from your main base, and they are staying outside the system where you are stationed to rearm and call on all living forces.

There is no doubt that they will be your first companions, with only a small amount of means.

And in your calculations, after absorbing this batch, not even the Emperor can stop your plan: your Creator will look at the plan you have submitted again, and he will realize that you are right, and then he will settle the position that he deserves, a position that belongs only to him.

He will become the leader of the galaxy and the sole operator of this system. And you, the genetic protos, will become the secondary molecules below him, the generals who share a consciousness with the emperor, and the real emperor's tools.

Yes, you: your future is like this.

You have no tolerance or favor for yourself: this is both a punishment for you and a love for your brothers, and you will not be any different from them, because from the moment you set up this second torch, you have imposed a basic logic on this great building.

Only the Emperor can open it, only the Emperor can make it operational.

And your task is to keep it charged, so that it can spread to more people: but you are not qualified to use this second star torch.

You won't use it, only the emperor will use it: the emperor will be the master of everything in the future, and you should be the tool by his side, the tool he has the best to use.

In order to prevent your existence from posing any threat to the emperor's rule, you have even designed it to be the inevitable fuel that will be consumed by this second torch during the final launching ceremony, which is your own self-consciousness, the self-existence of Heydrich's thought.

With its opening, your self-consciousness will die out completely, you will become an instrument without any thoughts or senses, and your last consciousness will sink into the infinite splendor and happiness of the great cause that has finally been opened.

At that time, you will truly die, and the Emperor's eternity will truly come.

You'll die at the last moment before dawn, a legendary ending: it's enough to be the reward for all your hard work.

No one can stop this, not even the emperor: you are not sure if he will be disappointed in you, you are not sure if deep down in his heart he no longer sees you as his heir and creation.

But you don't care: you don't care if the emperor is hostile to you, you don't care if the emperor despises your existence and name, you don't care if the emperor sees you as a mere enemy and not his heir.

If he hates you, spits on you, and sees you as an enemy, let him do it: he is your Creator, and He is qualified to do anything to you.

You have no regrets.

After all, on the day you met, the moment He molded you, you got what you deserved.

Loyalty is everything.

Loyal, no need to answer.

(End of chapter)