Warhammer Divine Throne

”My... My Emperor?” Carlga spoke, his voice already choked with emotion, feeling deeply ashamed of his own loss of composure. He even doubted whether the Emperor himself had heard what he was saying.

However, everyone understood the Emperor’s intent; the great Master of Humans wanted to see his son.

The Genetic Primarch of the Thirteenth Legion—Roboute Kiliman, sleeping in a static force field due to his severe injuries.

Makulage, Hall of Justice.

Swarms of the Imperial Guard poured into the Holy Hall, their numbers so great that the Ultimate Warriors were somewhat unaccustomed to it, yet their hearts were filled with anticipation. Fervent gazes fixed on the grand figure of the Emperor; many Ultimate Warriors couldn’t help but want to shout.

Their Primarch had been asleep for so long, far too long.

They firmly believed that the great Master of Humans, the father of the Primarch, wouldn’t just visit his son without doing anything, harboring a sliver of hope in their hearts, their eager eyes watching the Master of Humans.

The Emperor walked to the front of the sacred casket.

Before him appeared a pale, lifeless corpse; his son Roboute Kiliman slumbered there, a thin scar on his throat. The demonic poison clung to Kiliman like maggots on the bone. The physicians were powerless to expel this fatal toxin, only able to encase him in a static field, keeping him in this half-alive state.

Just like himself before.

After he fell, Roboute Kiliman shouldered the heavy responsibility of rebuilding the Empire. At that time, the Empire was still engulfed in chaos and crisis: half of the Space Marines had already rebelled with Horus, and the remaining loyal Warbands suffered heavy casualties in combat, leaving the number of Space Marines pitifully low and unable to meet the demands. Meanwhile, humanity’s enemies prepared to exploit the decaying Empire.

Kiliman stepped up, personally leading the subsequent wars and restoring peace to the galaxy. He authored the Astartes Holy Scripture as a guideline for humanity to ensure the survival of the Empire, all of which was witnessed by the Emperor constrained upon the Golden Throne.

However, Kiliman soon fell, gravely wounded by Fugen, the fallen Genetic Primarch of the former Third Legion, now a Slaanesh Demon Prince. In a reckless, senseless assault, Kiliman was severely injured by Fugen, leaving him in his current state.

Under the fervent gaze of all the Ultimate Warriors, the great Master of Humans gently extended his hand towards Kiliman in the sacred casket, expelling the demonic poison that had rendered the physicians powerless with the infinite power of the Emperor. The wounds of the Genetic Primarch healed rapidly at a visible speed, and holy golden light enveloped the entire Hall of Justice.

The pale, sickly complexion quickly faded from Kiliman’s face, and both the Ultimate Warriors and the Imperial Guard had begun to feel the surging vitality emanating from the Genetic Primarch.

This was a miracle; this was a true miracle.

”My heavens, what have we done to deserve this, to witness such a miracle? What have we done to deserve this, to have the Emperor return and gift our Primarch back to us?” Carlga murmured to himself; Space Marines do not cry, yet he suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to weep.

Standing behind the Emperor, the Great Sage of the Mars Mechanical God Cult, Belisarius Kaur, was the first to hear the words from the Emperor, words that were cold and devoid of any emotion.

”Awaken, Roboute Kiliman.”

”I need your strength.”