Warhammer: Empire Reboot

Roderick held it and walked toward Lawson.

He only used this sacred object once.

That time, he burned out a high priest who was disguised as the governor of the empire and was a master of all manner of changes.

This is the second time.

He walked step by step toward Lawson.

The Wheel of Judgment was ten meters, five meters, three meters away from Lawson...

No response.

The Wheel of Judgment was one meter away from Lawson.

No response.

Roderick gritted his teeth and pressed the Wheel of Judgment directly onto Lawson's power armor on his chest.

He was gambling that this sacred object, the moment it came into contact with an "impure soul," would, as it had done for eight thousand years, burst into a dark red flame, proving his entire judgment to be true.

The Wheel of Judgment was affixed to Lawson's breastplate.

It seems like there's some reaction...

Before Roderick could even rejoice, a strand of extremely pure, ancient gold appeared.

The golden hue seeped out inch by inch from Lawson's chest, along the surface of the Wheel of Judgment.

Then, the golden light exploded.

The entire outer 20-kilometer radius of the Iron Oath Fortress was dyed gold.

The golden light was drawn out by Lawson from his body, from the depths of the unseen black hole projection behind him.

This golden light was the wisp of golden flame he had "demanded" from the emperor. Now that it was being activated, it unleashed all the remaining energy within him, like a dam suddenly opening its valve.

This is the radiance of the golden throne.

This is the light that the Emperor emitted from the deepest part of his immortal consciousness.

For ten thousand years, only a very few people in the entire empire's chronicles have ever seen this light.

The loyal Primarchs from Horus's rebellion saw it.

The Custodians of Castellane caught a glimpse of it from afar during their daily shift changes.

The inquisitors who had made pilgrimages to Santa Tera were said to have sensed it during the moment when their consciousness was at its clearest.

But no citizen of the Empire has ever seen the dark side beyond the Great Rift with their own eyes.

Because the dark side is where the light of the golden throne cannot reach.

Now, this light exploded within the inner courtyard of Iron Oath Fortress.

The Wheel of Judgment in Roderick's hand emitted a shrill, mournful cry.

This sacred relic of the Court of Judgments, with its 8,000-year history, cannot bear this level of pure energy.

It chirped for less than two seconds, then, starting from the drop of congealed imperial blood at its center, the entire instrument transformed into a pool of golden liquid, which silently flowed down from Roderick's palm, splashing onto the scorched earth, scattering a few golden sparks, and then disappeared.

Roderick looked at his empty palm.

His knees throbbed as he knelt down.

He looked at his hands, at the golden torrent still gushing from Lawson's chest...

Only one thought remained in his mind: This is true.

This is the light of the Golden Throne!

It can't be fake!

Even if all the evil gods in the entire subspace were combined, they could not forge even one ten-thousandth of it.

Roderick's professional instincts completely collapsed in that instant.

He spent his life judging heretics.

His soul was worn down by this job, layer upon layer of darkness.

His way of looking at the world is to "first assume that everyone is a traitor, and then find evidence of their betrayal."

He believed that his darkness was a weapon given to him by the emperor, the sharpest knife in the dark side of the empire.

But under this golden light...

He saw his own soul.

Turn it over layer by layer.

Every layer is shadowy.

Every layer was filthy.

Every single layer was covered in that dark purple, rotten stuff that he himself couldn't help but vomit at this moment, which he had personally applied in order to "protect the empire."

In that light, he, Roderick, was the filthy heretic.

"The Emperor..."

"Forgive me..."

"Forgive me..."

His tears fell onto the scorched earth.

Inside the fortress courtyard.

More than a hundred brothers from the Flesh-Tearer Warband knelt down.

The two hundred main force soldiers of the Third Company of the Holy Blood Angels knelt down.

The two gray knights knelt down.

The 500,000 Star Realm soldiers knelt down.

The technical priest who was inspecting Storm Raven in the landing module knelt down.

The four living saints also knelt on one knee.

They were the spark ignited by the emperor.

What they are facing now is the original flame from which their spark originated.

In the entire inner courtyard of Iron Oath Fortress, only one person remained standing.

Dante.

The Dark Regent, wearing the mask of Saint Gilles' death and the 1,500-year-old Commander of the Holy Blood Angels, was still standing.

It's not because he lacks reverence.

This is because the mask he is wearing at this moment represents the will of the Primarch of Saint Gilles.

One Primarch, who does not kneel.

No one kneels except the emperor himself.

This is a principle etched in our blood.

Dante slowly raised his hands and placed them on either side of the Death Mask.

He removed the mask of death from Saint Gilles.

Beneath the mask.

It was a face older than the outer walls of the fortress.

Wrinkles extend from the forehead to the jawline.

His eyes were sunken, and there was an old scar at the corner of his left eye.

His skin was a grayish-brown color, tanned for over a thousand years by the red sun of the planet Bal and slowly hollowed out for fifteen hundred years by the curse in the genes of the Holy Blood Angel.

His hair was pure white, short, and plastered to his forehead with sweat.

This is Dante without the Death Mask.

A weary 1,500-year-old veteran.

He stood before this golden light, bearing the name Dante himself.

He took a step forward, raised his right fist, and slammed it heavily onto the sacred armor on his chest.

—The oldest tribute from the Blood Angels.

"The ceremony of going to one's death".

Dante bestowed the most profound tribute of his life upon the golden light before him.

He lowered his head slightly.

"I once thought that the light of the Golden Throne had long been cut off on the other side by the Great Rift."

“I once thought that only embers remained on the dark side, and that I was the only one left, to hold on for the empire for a few more decades amidst these embers.”

"I once thought that the day I died would be the day this dark side was completely extinguished."

"Nowadays……"

His voice was a little hoarse.

"Thank you for today."

"Thank you for proving me wrong."

"The light of the Golden Throne has not yet gone out."

"It simply took a different route and arrived here."

"The Blood Angels and the entire dark side of the empire..."

"A salute to the Emperor's blade."

The golden light slowly receded from Lawson's body.

The entire inner courtyard of the fortress fell silent as the gold faded.