Chapter 460: Blood Sacrifice to the Blood God, Skulls for the Skull Throne! Chaos Invasion!
Ever since Horus brazenly launched his Great Betrayal, of the twenty Primarchs under the God-Emperor's command, many had fallen—dead or wounded—and nearly half had degenerated into lapdogs of the Warp's Ruinous Powers.
The few remaining loyal Primarchs and their legions were still stubbornly resisting, not knowing when even the faintest glimmer of hope might arrive.
If Guilliman could truly awaken at such a time, taking up once more the leadership of the Ultramarines, what a glorious vision that would be.
Even now, with Hera Fortress facing the danger of imminent breach, as long as Guilliman could rise again from the stasis field and lift the Emperor's Sword in his hand, then the morale on the frontlines would soar to unprecedented heights. Every Ultramarine would fight like men injected with raw stimulants, hurling themselves against the Chaos filth.
Even if they were reduced to nothing but teeth, they would still bite two bloody holes into the enemy's flesh.
But could this really be done…?
Alongside his excitement and joy, Calgar remained weighed down by doubts. Who could prove that Cawl's Armor of Fate would truly work? And if something went wrong, who would bear the responsibility?
Sure enough, before the Ultramarines had much time to feel uplifted, Yvraine took over from Belisarius Cawl, mercilessly pouring cold water over them:
"To bring your Primarch back from death, the Armor of Fate alone is not enough. We must also draw upon the power of the Aeldari God of Death."
Though Archmagos Cawl intended to conceal part of the truth on her behalf, Yvraine refused to play along with his little performance.
If they were saving a life, it should be done openly and honestly, not hidden. Otherwise, even if Guilliman was restored, Calgar would be left with a bitter knot in his heart.
The moment her words fell, Calgar's expression instantly darkened.
He had known it—the xenos Aeldari could not possibly have any good intentions. To use Warp powers to defile their Primarch? Dream on!
"Guilliman's wound was caused by a Slaaneshi blade. The corruption of the Warp still lingers within his body. The Armor of Fate alone cannot purge that taint."
Yvraine met Calgar's angry, questioning gaze head-on without flinching, speaking with perfect composure:
"The God of Death I serve, Ynnead, has the power to guide all souls. He can bring Guilliman back, turning death into life."
"Only by allowing Guilliman to die completely, then guiding his soul back into his body through Ynnead, can he truly awaken."
The souls of the Aeldari could reincarnate. But ever since the Warp birthed Slaanesh, the Dark Prince had devoured their gods and claimed nearly all Aeldari souls.
It was only with the emergence of Ynnead that this fate began to shift.
Death was Ynnead's core domain, and even to the Chaos Gods, this was an alien and unfamiliar concept.
Thus both the Ruinous Powers of the Warp and the Aeldari of realspace feared this newborn deity.
No one knew what a fully ascended Ynnead would bring—would all creation sink into Infinity death and silence, or some other horrific fate?
But Yvraine remained firm in her choice of faith, for the galaxy's condition was already dire beyond words. Even if it was like drinking poison to quench thirst, she had no choice but to rely on the God of Death's power to drive back the Chaos hosts.
This was the Aeldari's only hope of escaping Slaanesh.
When Yvraine finished her explanation, Calgar did not hesitate. He drew his chainsword and leveled it at her and her companions.
No one could believe such an outrageous "cure."
"Damnable xenos! I knew you harbored treachery!"
Calgar's fury erupted—he longed to cut down this pack of deranged madmen on the spot.
Their Primarch's condition was already the result of Warp corruption, forcing him into slumber beyond all healing. And now these aliens wanted to introduce another kind of Warp power?
If such a ludicrous operation were truly attempted, the Guilliman who awoke would no doubt be a Chaos-tainted Primarch, polluted beyond salvation!
Such vile and evil intentions—Calgar could never permit it.
The Ultramarines were famed for their rationality, always weighing consequences first. But when it came to their genetic father, Guilliman, he was their ultimate bottom line.
Any affront to Guilliman would be treated as blasphemy, provoking their furious vengeance.
Sure enough, the moment Yvraine finished outlining the healing ritual, the Ultramarines around them roared in rage. Bolters were raised, and they were ready to execute these treacherous xenos where they stood.
But under the glare of those wrathful eyes and black gun barrels, Yvraine showed not the slightest trace of fear. She had come here to solve a problem, and she would stand by it.
If Calgar insisted on clinging to a half-dead Guilliman, wasting precious time, then she would simply leave and seek other allies to hold the Chaos legions at bay.
"You damned alien witch—so long as I draw breath, you will never take a single step closer to the Primarch!"
Calgar raised his chainsword high, aiming it at the small-framed Yvraine. Humanity had already bled too much at the hands of aliens and witches.
A witch of the Aeldari like her was the greatest of humanity's mortal threats. Allowing her into the temple had already been a rare mercy. And now this alien dared to dream of defiling a Primarch? She deserved death a thousand times over!
At that moment, Inquisitor Katarinya and High Marshal Amalrich of the Black Templars also chose their side, stepping firmly in with the Ultramarines.
They were of humanity's own ranks, and naturally stood upon the foundation of human interests. And indeed, Archmagos Cawl's proposed ritual was absurd—no one wanted to gamble Guilliman's fate on such a perilous procedure.
"Archmagos, to think you would entertain such blasphemous and wicked notions, daring to defile the holy Primarch. It must be that little witch who has corrupted you!"
Katarinya's voice dripped with fury as her gaze stabbed toward Yvraine. She had disliked this Aeldari from the very start of their journey.
Amalrich remained silent, as though weighing the matter as an observer. But his stance already spoke clearly—he too stood with the Ultramarines.
Like Katarinya, he could not trust such a ritual. Even if Guilliman were revived, who could guarantee he would be the same Primarch, and not a puppet under the control of a Warp god?
In the blink of an eye, the only human still supporting Archmagos Cawl was the Living Saint, Celestine.
The sole reason she chose to trust Cawl and Yvraine was because the God-Emperor had already sent her visions. Whatever the method, she would support it unconditionally.
At this moment, all sides had declared their stance. The two camps stood locked in a standoff, the air taut with crushing tension.
"Calgar, I beg you, calm yourself."
Chief Librarian Tigurius unexpectedly stepped to Cawl's side, standing against Calgar. He spoke with desperate earnestness:
"The prophecy I foresaw has already come true. No one but Archmagos Cawl can break Macragge's plight."
"Calgar, just this once—believe me!"
But the more Tigurius urged, the angrier Calgar became.
"Silence! You would have us let a xenos kill our Primarch, and allow a Warp god to touch his very soul!"
"What blasphemy is this! Tigurius, don't tell me you've been swayed by them as well!"
Calgar ignored all past bonds, even turning his chainsword toward the Chief Librarian. Suspicion gnawed at him that Tigurius had already been corrupted by the Dark Gods and was deliberately trying to lure him into a trap.
"To dispel the warp-taint left by Slaanesh's blade, one must harness the Warp itself to purge it. There is no other way."
Archmagos Cawl's voice trembled with urgency. The forces of Chaos could breach the fortress at any moment. Every second wasted in argument was one less chance to save Guilliman.
"In the name of the Mechanicus, and upon all the honor and authority of my life, I vouch for Yvraine. She harbors no malice—her only aim is to help bring Guilliman back, for her people too war against the legions of Chaos."
"Our common enemy is Chaos. The Dark Gods hunger for our destruction. To fall into civil strife now is to hand them the very victory they crave!"
Cawl had known the moment he revealed his plan that few would understand, that many would revile him for it. But hope was a thing born of despair; rebirth was seeded in death. All existence obeyed the cycle of ending and renewal.
To cling blindly to the old was to rot away, wither, and die.
The stasis field had preserved Guilliman for ten thousand years, but the Warp's corruption would one day eat away what remained of his body. Then there would be no salvation—only the ascension of another fallen primarch into the ranks of Chaos. And with it, the Imperium's ruin.
"I care nothing for your Mechanicus, nor does your word carry weight here." Calgar's reply was like a blade of ice.
"Chapter Master, this is the Emperor's will, His revelation. Please—"
"Silence!" Calgar's roar cut Saint Celestine short. "You dare sully the Emperor's name with your lips? Are you not afraid of His wrath striking you down where you stand?"
Celestine—the Emperor's chosen, the living saint, the figure who should have commanded the most respect in that hall—was now nothing but a fraud in Calgar's eyes. A false saint cavorting with xenos could only be a puppet, not a vessel of the Emperor's light.
If not for Tigurius shielding Yvraine and Celestine with his body, the Ultramarines would already have opened fire, riddling them with bolter shells.
Seeing his warriors hesitate, Calgar himself seized a bolter from one of his men. He leveled it at Cawl, ready to slay the oily-tongued machine-priest before him.
But in that instant, a Storm Eagle gunship tore through the cathedral's vaulted ceiling. The sanctified silence of the shrine was shattered in a storm of fire, smoke, and shrieking metal.
Through the breach poured traitor Astartes, black-clad and snarling, Chaos Marines of the Despoiler's host, already cutting into the ranks of the Ultramarines.
"Damn it! What in the Throne's name is Argaman doing—how did these vermin breach this deep?" Calgar barked the order at once: "Guard the Primarch! Guilliman must not fall!"
The standoff was forgotten. Enemies only moments before, the defenders turned as one, bolters thundering against the black-clad tide. Chaos and loyalist Astartes crashed together in brutal melee, the gunfire echoing through the shattered shrine.
These were vanguard strike units of the Black Legion, heedless of their own lives as they hurled themselves into the Imperial fire net. Shells tore them apart, yet still they came.
Within minutes, their bodies littered the sanctum floor. But unease gnawed at Calgar's heart.
No… this isn't right. The fortress would never fall so swiftly. This wasn't an assault… it was a probe. Which means…
His worst fear was confirmed when the dying traitors rammed a blood-slicked, daemonic beacon deep into the shrine's floor.
Warp-light flared. Reality screamed.
The sanctum's murals and reliefs began to bleed, crimson ichor running from the walls. Daemonic laughter bubbled from the stone itself as the veil between realms was torn apart.
And from that rift strode the chosen of Khorne, Terminator-armored warriors wreathed in hellfire, stepping from the immaterium into the heart of the shrine.
Calgar's chest clenched. Disaster had come.
"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"
The warcry of Khorne shook the chamber. The Ultramarines ground their teeth in fury, their blood boiling at the desecration. To see these mongrels pollute a sanctum of Guilliman was an unforgivable insult.
Slaughter erupted.
What had been a place of solemn silence was now a charnel house.
Calgar's rage boiled over. The Chapter Master, the First of Ultramar, hurled himself into the Chaos elite with his power fist crackling. Each blow shattered armor, pulped flesh, or sent a traitor's skull flying in shards. He was a storm unto himself, a juggernaut of loyal fury.
Behind him, every warrior of Ultramar was committed. Inquisitor Katarinya, Marshal Amalrich of the Black Templars, even the Grand Master of the Grey Knights all fought at his side.
And Celestine—the Living Saint—no longer faced Calgar's scorn but the blades of the damned. With her flaming power sword, the Blade of Fire, she scythed through daemonflesh and ceramite alike. Wings of light carried her with impossible grace, and holy flames leapt at her call.
Her radiance filled the shrine, brighter than ever before. Power surged through her limbs, her every strike blazing with the Emperor's fury. Since her return from the Warp, her strength had grown. The Emperor's hand was upon her.
Had He seen all this, and chosen to lend her more of His might?
If so, Celestine fought all the harder, faith blazing in her heart.
She would not falter.
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