The clone Lorgar took a deep breath, tore off his robe to reveal his three-meter-six frame, and stepped before the Emperor—before all the Imperium's people.
Some high-ranking Inquisitors and Ecclesiarchs, recognizing his face from ancient records, were utterly shocked. The 17th Primarch, the leader of the Word Bearers, Lorgar.
In the past, his appearance would have triggered a Grey Knights assault, with Inquisitors summoning other Space Marine Chapters to banish this Daemon Prince.
But now, things had changed. The earlier return of Magnus had already caused a sensation across the Imperium, though the common people took it in stride—after all, what did a ten-thousand-year-old feud matter to them?
Most people accepted Magnus's return since he could occasionally take the Emperor's place on the Golden Throne, guide lost ships home, and rescue vessels trapped in the Warp for centuries.
But now, the return of another former Warmaster caused an even greater stir.
Yet still, the people accepted it—one should never underestimate the endurance of the Imperial citizenry.
If the Emperor decreed it right, then so it was. Even the Civil High Lords agreed; they barely understood the Heresy, anyway.
For the high command, they knew that the Chaos Gods had possessed the old Warmaster's body—Horus's soul had been preserved by the Emperor.
So Lorgar's return as the Primarch of the Word Bearers was not an issue.
No elaborate justification was needed. If the Emperor accepted him, then he was loyal.
"People of the Imperium, I am Lorgar—I built the Monarchia City, I wrote the sacred texts of the Ecclesiarchy, and I am your new Ecclesiarch." Lorgar stood at the front, arms wide in proclamation.
He was different from other Primarchs—more like Elena, not divine in soul, but with a cosmic beast companion, he was nothing to scoff at.
"Lorgar has been in stasis within the Imperium all these years—the one who fell was just a clone," the Emperor explained.
With the Emperor's endorsement, no one dared question or argue.
"Welcome! Welcome, Primarch!"
"Praise the Imperium, praise the Emperor, praise the Primarch!" The people cheered.
Rhodes smiled at the scene. Once, the greatest worry about returning traitor Primarchs was that the common people could not accept it.
But it turned out, they were the easiest to accept it after all.
Imperial citizens were truly easy to rule!
If the Emperor said it was right, then so it was.
"Welcome, your Holiness, welcome back!" A senior Archbishop was the first to kneel, offering his blessing.
A new Ecclesiarch parachuted in would mean a loss of power for many, but this was the scripture's author, the Emperor's son.
God's will was all that mattered; asking questions was heresy.
Other high Ecclesiarchy members, despite some resentment, dared not object—they knelt together to welcome their new High Priest, their new Ecclesiarch.
"I will lead the Ecclesiarchy to new heights. My gene-sons will form the new Militant Orders of the Faith." Lorgar announced joyfully.
From this moment, he was no longer an imposter—he was the true Primarch.
How pitiful, my true self!
Hahaha, this feeling is wonderful!
It was all Rhodes's gift—no, he is not just my master, he is my god, my one true God. Praise you, Rhodes!
Lorgar felt no gratitude toward the Emperor—all his thanks were for Rhodes.
Rhodes had given him everything, restored him to the Imperium, granted him the glory rightfully his.
Though he had some memories, now he truly felt alive, able to savor existence.
Guilliman and Magnus, standing nearby, sighed. This clone had become a true Primarch.
A fake turned real! What could be more absurd?
…
The enthronement ceremony lasted three days, the main characters parading the streets of Holy Terra.
Lorgar, now Ecclesiarch, was the star of the show.
A few days later, Lorgar returned to the Ecclesiarchy headquarters with his newly formed Militant Orders of the Faith—and 200,000 Battle Sisters, personally assigned by Elena.
The Sisters of Battle were the Ecclesiarchy's finest warriors—none could compare.
With them and his gene-sons, Lorgar now had total control of the Ecclesiarchy.
His next task was simple: train young boys as priests and send them to preach across the worlds of the Imperium.
He would also train Space Marine Chaplains to serve on Imperial ships, spreading the new faith of Warmaster Rhodes, the new Primarchs, and the new age of the Imperium.
After the ceremony, Rhodes visited the palace to meet the Emperor.
"Rhodes, the return of Corvus will need your help," the Emperor said.
Corvus was steeped in Warp energy—he was, in essence, a Daemon Prince. No Primarch could survive ten thousand years in such conditions, without food or drink.
Perhaps his pursuit of traitors and his hatred allowed Chaos to quietly complete his ascension.
The Emperor once intended to leave him there forever—to tie up a Daemon Primarch and keep the Raven Guard loyal.
But now, with Rhodes's cosmic beast able to evolve, they could summon Corvus back.
"Transforming Chaos Space Marines, even Chaos Champions, is hard—let alone a Daemon Prince.
Though Corvus has not replaced his human body, he has awakened his Warp nature. To fully restore him, he must abandon his current form and enter a cloned body." Rhodes explained.
He had discussed this with his scientists—the only way for Corvus to return was to give up his corrupted body and inhabit a new clone.
Cleansing his body with the cosmic beast would take centuries, with at least ten beasts working constantly to purify the Warp taint.
The best solution was to clone a body and transfer the soul.
"You mean Corvus must give up his body and accept a new clone?" the Emperor asked.
"Yes. Using the gene-vaults, we can clone his flesh, just as we did to resurrect Horus. We will need the Avatar of Death's help." Rhodes replied.
His Avatar of Death could now do this—the ultimate end of death is life; that is the true power of the Ynnead.
Reviving Corvus's body did not even require the Goddess of Life—she was busy nurturing the divine child.
"The only obstacle is whether Corvus will accept this," Guilliman said.
He sensed Corvus would be greatly moved by Lorgar's return as Ecclesiarch and would rush back at once.
But this was a tricky matter; it meant Corvus would die once, his soul fully separated from his body.
"It's not that simple. His soul is also tainted by Warp energy and must be evolved by the cosmic beast. This is easier than purifying flesh, and the beast with him can help," Rhodes said.
"I understand. When he returns, I'll tell him everything. He'll choose correctly. Just prepare a cosmic beast for him—a raven type, or one with shadow powers," the Emperor said.
"Don't worry. I'll handle it."
There were plenty of raven or shadow beasts—he could easily pick one for the Raven King.
From the Ultraman universe: the Crow Alien from Tiga, or the ancestral bird monster Teroches from Jack.
Both looked like ravens, and as for shadow powers, that just meant darkness—he had a Dark Emperor beast on hand.
Infusing them with dark energy would make them shadow beasts, then convert them to cosmic beasts. Unlike ordinary citizens, Corvus did not need to be made harmless; darkness was perfect for him.
"Let's do it your way. Rhodes, there's one more thing: when can we resurrect Malcador?" the Emperor asked.
Between Ferrus Manus and Chancellor Malcador, the Emperor ultimately chose to resurrect Malcador.
Malcador's return would benefit the Imperium greatly, and Ferrus's soul could be restored by other means.
Malcador once sat the Golden Throne in the Emperor's place, if only for a day. He faithfully sealed the Webway, keeping the daemons from Holy Terra.
In the end, he sacrificed everything—his soul nearly burned away. The Emperor was left despondent, silent for nearly ten millennia, until Rhodes appeared, cleansed his negative personalities, and restored his humanity.
"At any time!" Rhodes replied.
In a decade, Rhodes had amassed a fortune—in his return to the cosmic beast world, he would strengthen Yapool to the limit, join them in opening a new dimension, and use ten million system coins to push the Avatar of Death to the limit, allowing a perfect resurrection.
He chose Malcador, the former Chancellor—a hero lost ten thousand years ago.
The Avatar of Death's hand glowed grey, death energy flowing through the Imperial Palace.
A force beyond words, beyond vision, filled the palace.
This grey energy reached across time, reconstructing Malcador's vanished soul.
Next, his body reformed. In moments, the resurrection was complete—Malcador stood once more in the palace.
Malcador, newly revived, was dazed. After sitting on the Throne, he had endured unspeakable pain, nearly driven mad.
He did not know how much time had passed, until the Emperor, dragging his broken body, appeared before him. Then his consciousness faded.
"Welcome back, my friend—my Chancellor!" The Emperor's voice was moved as he addressed the old man with staff in hand.
"Emperor! I—I'm alive again!"