A trace of insignificant warmth came from the index finger of his cold, massive power gauntlet.
This warmth was so faint that, compared to the armor he wore which could withstand the wrath of stars, it was like a mere speck of dust.
Yet, this speck of dust possessed enough weight to crush a star.
Robert Guilliman lowered his head slowly, with immense stiffness.
He saw it.
That small, golden figure was standing on tiptoes, using her two snow-white little hands, trying hard and earnestly to wrap around one of his fingers.
Her movements were clumsy.
Her strength was very small.
But her eyes were incredibly focused and earnest.
It was as if she were completing the most sacred and important task in this universe.
Guilliman's brain, that super biological computer which had been running coldly for ten thousand years, fell into a logical dead loop at this moment.
He had anticipated countless possibilities.
He thought he would hear an oracle, a cold command like those from ten thousand years ago that decided the life and death of billions.
He thought he would feel a divine pressure, a magnificent will belonging to the Emperor that would force him to kneel and submit.
He had even prepared himself to face a judgment, a final verdict from his father regarding everything he had done over the past ten thousand years.
But he did not.
There was nothing.
No oracle.
No pressure.
And certainly no judgment.
All he felt was that clumsy warmth coming from his fingertip, piercing straight through to his soul.
All he saw was a child, using the purest and most direct way she knew, trying to comfort an adult who was about to break apart.
This... exceeded all his comprehension.
There was nothing in the imperial codex that could explain the scene before him.
All the philosophical inquiries of Ultramar could not analyze this care that contained no ulterior purpose.
His wisdom, of which he was so proud and which was sufficient to manage the entire galaxy, became pale, powerless, and utterly ridiculous at this moment.
Just then.
Terrania spoke.
Her voice was very light and soft, like a breeze in spring that could penetrate armor, gently brushing across the long-barren fields of Guilliman's heart.
"I heard my sister say."
She tilted her little face up, her golden eyes reflecting Guilliman's stunned and pained face.
"Carrying everything by yourself will wear you out."
Boom!
A sentence that could not be simpler.
A sentence that any child in the mortal world might have said.
Yet it was like a vortex torpedo detonating in the deepest part of his soul, shattering the logical dam that Guilliman had just barely managed to build!
He... worn out?
This word, coming from her mouth, was surprisingly so matter-of-fact.
Guilliman opened his mouth, but not a sound could escape his throat.
He wanted to say something.
To say "I cannot be tired."
To say "I am the Regent of the Empire."
To say "I am Emperor's Children."
But these words, before Terrania's eyes which were pure and devoid of any impurities, all seemed so hypocritical, so pale.
Terrania did not seem to expect him to answer.
She was simply stating a fact she had observed.
Her little hand gripped tighter again, as if she wanted to share a little more of her strength with him.
Then, she continued, using her soft, sweet, yet child-like voice that was enough to overturn the cognitive logic of the entire universe, to say the next sentence.
"The 'father' from before..."
She seemed to be trying hard to find a suitable word.
"He was too tired."
"So, he turned Hope into me."
!!!
Time, at this moment, completely stopped.
Space, at this moment, completely solidified.
Guilliman's entire train of thought, along with his heart belonging to a Primarch, completely stopped beating in this instant!
He... what did he hear?
Father... was too tired?
So, he turned Hope... into her?
What was this?
Was this... an explanation?
No!
This was a... confession from his father, one he had never imagined and never dared to Hope for... a confession that was ten thousand years late!
In his memory, his father was never tired.
He was the monarch of humanity, the deity upon the Golden Throne.
His will was as hard as steel, his gaze piercing the future.
He was magnificent, he was majestic, he was cold, he was correct.
He could be anything, but he could never be... a person who would make a choice because he was "too tired."
But now, from the mouth of the little girl before him who possessed his father's aura, he heard a completely different version of the story.
A... father who could get tired.
A... father who, because he could not bear the heavy burden on his shoulders, had to separate his last Hope.
This image was so unfamiliar.
Yet it was also so... real.
Real enough to make him feel a piercing pain.
He remembered the trace of fatigue that his father occasionally revealed during the Great Crusade.
He remembered his silent silhouette on the Golden Throne that had remained unchanged for ten thousand years.
He remembered the suffocating feeling of powerlessness he felt when he awoke and faced this Decay in the Empire.
So...
So, he could also get tired.
So, he too had once carried that heavy burden that made him unable to breathe.
So, he was not born to be a cold statue.
This realization, like a bolt of lightning from the beginning of creation, tore through the ten-thousand-year darkness in Guilliman's heart named "myth."
It pulled that high and mighty, unquestionable "Emperor" back down to the position of a "father" whom he could understand, feel, and even... sympathize with.
Guilliman's breathing, after having stopped for what felt like a century, finally resumed.
He gasped violently, as if he needed to inhale all the air in the room into his lungs to fill the huge, sudden void in his soul.
And Terrania's words were not yet finished.
She looked at Guilliman's face, twisted by extreme shock, and a brilliant, sun-like, warm smile appeared on her face.
She used her other little hand to point outside the door, pointing to the warmest and most solid reliance in her heart.
"But he didn't expect that I would also be lonely, and also be afraid."
"But now, I have Sister Leticia!"
Mentioning this name, her golden eyes instantly bloomed with a radiance as brilliant as billions of stars.
That joy and pride from the depths of her soul could not be disguised by any lie.
"Sister will protect me, will stay with me, will make delicious food for me!"
"I am no longer alone!"
After she finished speaking, she turned her gaze back to Guilliman.
In those pure golden eyes, there was the purest, most unadulterated kindness and invitation of a child.
"So..."
"Uncle, you shouldn't be alone anymore either!"
Boom—!!!
This last sentence was like a cosmic explosion.
It completely, totally, and irreversibly destroyed the final barrier that Robert Guilliman had spent ten thousand years building for himself, the one named "loneliness."
He... shouldn't be alone anymore?
He looked at the brilliant smile on Terrania's face.
Listening to the name "Sister Leticia" that was full of happiness and peace in her mouth.
A brand new, bold, and even arguably "blasphemous" logical chain was crazily and uncontrollably piecing itself together and forming in his mind!
Father created her because he was too tired.
She met Leticia because she was lonely.
To protect her, Leticia created Angronia, Fogremia, Sanguinia... created all of this.
So...
Everything before him, this brand-new power that belonged neither to the Empire nor to Chaos...
Its source was actually... his father's fatigue, which was ten thousand years late?
This... this was simply the most ridiculous joke in the universe!
But, it was also the warmest... fairy tale.
Guilliman was completely stunned.
He sat there blankly, motionless, like a statue that had been weathered for ten thousand years.
His brain gave up thinking for the first time.
Because he knew that any logic, any rationality, would lose its meaning before this pure, warm scene constructed by "family."
He looked at Terrania.
From her, he saw a warm "father" he had never possessed.
One who could get tired.
One who could be afraid.
A... father who, because he could not bear the heavy burden, would turn his last Hope into a little girl who needed someone to accompany her.
This image was ten thousand times more real than the cold god on the Golden Throne.
And... it also made his heart ache ten thousand times more.
Guilliman slowly, slowly closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, all the pain, confusion, anger, and struggle had faded from those azure blue pupils.
In their place was an unprecedented, clear... calmness, like the sky after the rain.
He looked at the little girl before him who was trying hard to hold his finger.
Looking at this... existence that, in a sense, could be considered his "little sister."
Looking at the happiness on her face that came from the bottom of her heart, without a trace of gloom.
He suddenly understood.
Perhaps, he would never be able to understand the source of Leticia's power.
Perhaps, he would never be able to agree with her "selfish" code of conduct.
But...
If all of this could truly let this Hope of "father" remain this happy forever.
Could let her not be lonely anymore.
Could let her not be afraid anymore.
Then...
The corners of Guilliman's mouth, that cold line that had been tense for ten thousand years, for the first time, imperceptibly, curled up into an extremely tiny arc.
Perhaps... this is not bad either.
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