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Page 351
Perhaps compared to the 40K era, the inhabitants of the 30K human empire could have an extra hour of rest time, and on celebratory days they might even be able to eat Glocks meat pies distributed by the lords above instead of eating that unpalatable corpse starch for the rest of their lives.
The neighbors lived in relatively harmonious relationships. Everyone was an ordinary factory worker, though their appearances might vary greatly, rather than some bizarre cultist with four limbs and an eight-pointed star on their head...
But the burden brought to them by the Great Expedition was not reduced at all, especially when the Emperor specifically chose to have them collect the tithe.
[The workload will be increased by another 20% in the future to increase the resource investment for the Great Expedition, reclaim more worlds, for the Empire!]
For the Emperor!!!
The workers' situation is deteriorating... With higher taxes, whether or not they are related to the Great Expedition, everyone will use this as an excuse to increase the workers' workload in order to squeeze more money out of these docile lower classes.
Why not use such a useful and effective brand name?
When all the new work is for the Great Expedition, who can raise objections, and who dares to obstruct the implementation of the Great Expedition plan?
All tax burdens will be borne by the people at the bottom of society.
The funds and resources funded under the guise of tithes for the Great Expedition mostly ended up in the pockets of local nobles and governors, falling into their hands without any oversight.
The Great Expedition?
What a joke! After paying tithes, isn't everything left yours?
A deeper round of exploitation from top to bottom, squeezing every last drop of life from the bottom to the very limit of what can be done.
But they are not without anything.
They still have one last thing that makes them human—hope.
The nobles promised that once the Great Crusade ended, and once they could survive the Great Crusade of the Human Empire, their busy and arduous work would be over.
From now on, the entire human empire, including them, the lower classes, will no longer have to bear heavy work every day. After the Great Expedition ends, they will all enjoy countless Glocks hamburgers and drink clean, pure water without impurities or odors!
This is the last hope for every person from the lower class who won't live past thirty-five.
...As long as the Great Expedition ends, I will be able to...
...As long as the Great Expedition ends, I can...
...Once the Great Expedition ends, I will no longer need...
Countless hopes coalesce into wishes, and the expectations of countless people yearn to influence existence.
"May the Great Expedition end soon!!!"
......
"The source of chaos has never been the personal likes or dislikes of a Primarch, nor the insidious schemes of a Chaos God, which bring about a fateful end to every bizarre event."
The cause of the inevitable great rebellion lies in every individual, every citizen of humanity.
The Great Expedition was magnificent and heroic.
But for someone who can never leave the Nest City area and will never see sunlight and clean water, the Great Expedition is just a term that means they will have to increase their workload and intensity.
They neither cared nor had the capacity to care about the Great Expedition—because even if he spent his entire life trying, he could not grasp what this great expedition, praised by everyone from the Imperial Truth Proclaimers to his fellow workers near his post, could actually bring them.
Aside from the heavy burden that would fall on their shoulders, what exactly did the Great Expedition bring to every citizen of the Empire?
"The Great Expedition was not ended by a traitor within our ranks, nor by the corrupting influence of the forces of Chaos on our Fifteenth Legion, the Thousand Sons, and our Sixteenth Legion, the Shadowmoon Wolves."
"But it is us humans ourselves."
The emperor's tone became heavy and helpless.
Perhaps he knew all this from the very beginning? Or perhaps he only discovered the problem when the Great Expedition had reached an irreversible point.
I don't know, just as the emperor never revealed his plans to anyone.
"It is humanity, it is each and every one of us, who loathe the Great Crusade, and each and every one of us who wish for the Great Crusade to end."
From the upper class who abhor the tithe, believing it cuts their exorbitant living expenses, to the lower class who know nothing but the need to increase their working hours and intensity.
Everyone is singing praises to the Great Expedition.
But at the same time, everyone is also looking forward to the end of this expedition.
"The existence of the Highest Heaven has taken this wish and imposed it on each and every one of us."
Amidst the flames of war that engulfed the entire galaxy, the Great Crusade ultimately met its inevitable demise.
As for the endless chaos that will gnaw at people after its end, like a leech clinging to a bone...
Who would have thought of this problem?
......
"So... the Great Expedition was rushed too much."
"Casgar said."
"Then, as an immortal being, why don't you choose to slow down the scale of the Great Crusade, gradually taking over the planets and slowly transforming them—like Guilliman and his Five Hundred Worlds?"
As the Primarch of the Emperor's offspring, Guilliman may have been utterly humiliated in one-on-one combat, but the five hundred worlds of Alteramar under his rule were also the pinnacle of civilization within the human empire.
While it's impossible to make every world comparable to the Paradise World within the Empire... in terms of overall development, it's impossible for the Emperor, as Guilliman's father, to be inferior to his son in this aspect.
"why?"
"Because I... don't have time."
The Emperor, this sun that shines with endless golden light and seems to still radiate boundless light and heat, is hinting at the day when it too will one day be extinguished.
"You've lost your power? But—"
There are no buts; Casgar even witnessed the Emperor's decline back then.
In the Tianlong Star Region, facing a horde of green-skinned orcs, the Emperor was being choked by the neck by that enormous orc warlord...
The emperor himself had already weakened to the point that he could no longer break free on his own.
But how could he get old?
Is he not an immortal being, not a Saint George who was able to seal the Void Dragon countless years ago, the embodiment of all human wisdom and power?
Aging is a word that should not exist for emperors!
"But... I will still burn out completely."
"I will still die."
The Emperor was indeed an immortal being, and he possessed power that was as strong as, or even stronger than, his old friend Makado, allowing him to be respected as a powerful scientist in humanity's dark age of technology.
But that's not enough—far from enough.
He was just a scholar, a psionic master.
—But he was never a savior.
He has power, but it is not enough to reverse the ever-declining fate of humanity; he has wisdom, but his wisdom tells him that there is no cure for this situation.
Unless—you burn yourself.
Let him become the light that ignites the torch of humanity, let him become the embodiment of all the great leaders of humanity from ancient times to the present, leading and uniting all of humanity on a great expedition against the alien creations that oppress them and the forces of chaos.
But the flame that burns with life, though as bright as the sun, can blind any navigator who dares to gaze upon its existence...
But this kind of light cannot last forever.
The Emperor gained power far exceeding his capacity, and the result was similar to that of Kasgar—his body shattered and he had to increasingly use his psychic power to suppress this uncontrolled expansion.
"The reason you're so impatient with your expedition goals, and the reason you display divine power while claiming you're not a god, is all because of this...?"
The Emperor did not answer Casca's question directly, but his eyes said it all.
Towards the end of the Great Crusade, the Emperor had to be extremely careful to control his power while fighting on the battlefield, lest he explode and tear the entire world apart.
The defeat of the orc warlords served as a wake-up call for him: the Emperor must not be harmed.
If something goes wrong, there will be one more Chaos God in the world, and one more Eye of Fear.
His body could no longer support him to continue fighting on the front lines of the Great Expedition.
Fortunately, apart from Horus, no one saw his predicament—he had to seize this opportunity to ensure the Emperor's safe return from this battle to Holy Terra.
That golden throne is not only the most terrifying instrument of torture in the world, but it can also freeze him in that moment of death, allowing him and his unfinished glory to forever protect humanity and guide the return of the starlight.
“From the very beginning, you already knew your destiny: to sit on this throne for ten thousand years and ten thousand years.”
Casca's tone was filled with disbelief.
"Yes."
"And, child, I am about to leave."
The emperor's face turned once again toward that magnificent golden light.
His figure was still as tall and imposing as when he first landed in Chemos, radiating a strong golden light that illuminated everything in the world.
But at this moment, in Casca's eyes, his figure was so hunched and insignificant, like an ordinary person accepting the fate he was about to face.
"No! Wait, Your Majesty! I still need your guidance!"
"What do I need to do to restore order to this world after I wake up again?"
"What is the meaning of the Ancient Sage I encountered at the Dalit Star Gate? What is my connection with the Ancient Sage and Asuyan?"
"And Forgrim! How is Forgrim? How can I rescue her?"
Kasga pressed for an answer.
Countless questions await his answers, and endless obstacles rely on his strength.
我们 该 怎么 办?
"What will we do after you're gone?"
It was as if the world was urging him to ask a question.
Kasgar asked this question to the elderly warrior who was about to fight the last battle of his long life.
Yes.
After losing their emperor, what will become of the remaining humans?
A flowing golden light swept across his body, extending into the infinite space. The emperor's tall, hunched figure, strong yet thin, the one who shone with the power to rule over all things and the ordinary man, gradually receded into the distance until he was submerged in the purest, brightest golden light under its radiance.
He turned his head slightly, a smile playing on his lips, and spoke softly to Casca.
"...Only you know."
Click.
Heaven and earth shattered, all things vanished, and everything returned to nothingness.
......
"In the name of the Holy Blood Angel, I command you to cease your madness, Horus!"
"Father--"
"I forgive you, I'll wait for you."
"Horus! I, Guilliman—where is he? Where did all these feathers come from?"
......
An endless panorama flashed before Casca's eyes.
The world turns, and time flies.
Casca felt as if everything was returning to normal for him.
Nothing has changed?
No.
Everything he experienced, from lessons learned to gains, became a precious source of his faith and strength.
No longer worrying about gains and losses, no longer being eager for quick success and instant benefits, no longer fearing failure.
Now, regardless of success or failure, Kasgar will spare no effort to save this human empire, which is like a cesspool.
Even if it takes ten thousand years.
Let him face everything in this 40K era with determination!
For the Emperor, for Vorgrim.