Vik's appearance and his clearly familiar attitude towards Eilaas caught the attention of other Tech-Sergeants from the First Company who were maintaining a Thunderhawk Gunship nearby. They paused their work, casting curious glances. After all, the First Company's hangar area was usually only accessible to its members and specific logistics personnel. A Sergeant from another company appearing here was somewhat unusual.
However, when they saw the withered but well-preserved wreath on Vik's arm guard and Eilaas's surprised and joyful reaction, they generally understood that this might be Eilaas's 'old acquaintance'. Most of the First Company's Tech-Sergeants were steady-minded and focused on technology. Seeing the two merely sitting and chatting, not touching any sensitive equipment or areas, they no longer paid much attention and returned to their respective tasks. As long as no rules were violated, they didn't mind giving their little sister some private time to catch up.
Vik naturally felt those gazes, but he didn't mind. He continued to say to Eilaas, "I'm currently in the Eighth Company, serving as a Sergeant of a tactical squad. I have nine brothers under me, all new recruits who passed the assessment at the same time as me." His tone was calm, yet carried a hint of responsibility as a commander.
"Sergeant?!" Eilaas's eyes widened, and her mouth formed an O-shape. "Then... isn't that the same rank as Sergeant Karl?!" In her little head, 'Sergeant' was a very powerful and important rank, just like Gaius.
Vik was amused by Eilaas's innocent and direct reaction and quickly shook his head, explaining, "It's not the same, Eilaas. There's a big difference between Sergeants."
He patiently explained, "Sergeant Karl is a Sergeant of the First Company. The First Company is the elite of the Chapter, a hall of veterans. Every warrior who can enter the First Company is a battle-hardened veteran with outstanding achievements. Sergeant Karl is an elite among the First Company, and his Sanks Squad carries out the most dangerous and arduous missions. His experience and strength are far beyond what I can compare to."
Vik's eyes were filled with respect for Gaius, and also with a clear self-awareness: "And I am just an ordinary tactical squad Sergeant of the Eighth Company. The Eighth Company is an assault company. Although equally important, there is still a huge gap compared to the First Company, which represents the Chapter's top strength. Between Sergeant Karl and me... there is still a very long way to go. I need to experience more battles and tempering before I can even hope to touch the threshold of the First Company."
Eilaas nodded, half-understanding. She probably understood that, just as Tech-Sergeants also had ranks, some could only maintain ordinary Bolters, while others (like her admired Luna) could maintain master-crafted weapons and Dreadnoughts. Sergeant Karl was clearly among the most formidable Sergeants.
"Oh... so that's how it is..." Eilaas suddenly understood. "Then you, Vik, must also work hard! Join the First Company later!"
Vik smiled and didn't say much. Entering the First Company was every Ultramarine's dream, but it required strength, merit, and opportunity; it couldn't be forced.
The two chatted for a while longer, mostly Eilaas chattering about interesting things that had happened on the battleship over the years, and the situations of Gaius, Dorian, and Luna. Vik listened quietly, a gentle smile on his face, as if through these words, he was making up for the time he had missed over the years.
After a while, Vik checked the time, stood up, and said, "Eilaas, I should go back. The Eighth Company still has training missions. When Sergeant Karl, Dorian, and Luna have all recovered, I will officially visit them. I won't disturb their rest now."
"Mhm! Goodbye, Vik!" Eilaas nodded vigorously, waving goodbye to Vik.
Watching Vik's red-helmeted figure disappear at the hangar door, Eilaas sat back down, leaning against the cold armor of the wrath of corax. Her little head, however, began to wander with whimsical thoughts.
"Corax... Raven Lord..." She savored Vik's earlier explanation. "Raven, as in the bird... It doesn't sound as grand as Primarch Guilliman..."
She began to compare: "Primarch Guilliman is our Primarch, super powerful! He governs all of Ultramar! So... between the Raven Lord and Primarch Guilliman, who is more powerful?" This question was clearly beyond her knowledge, so she could only guess by feeling: "Hmm... it should be Primarch Guilliman, right? After all, we Ultramarines are the best!" A small sense of Ultramar superiority spontaneously arose.
As she thought, her mind jumped to other Primarchs. She often heard warriors mention the names of other Primarchs, such as... "Oh, right! There's also the 'Lion King'!" Eilaas clapped her head, remembering this frequently mentioned, very imposing name. "Lion King... Lion King... What was his name again?" She started to get confused again, only remembering the honorific, forgetting his given name.
She tried hard to search her memory, as if she had heard some old veteran boast about it while drinking... Was it... Ly... Ly-what?
"Ly... Lyon?" Eilaas mumbled uncertainly. "I think it was Lyon? No, no... Lyon sounds like a name... Oh! I remember! It's Lion! Lion El'Jonson! Yes! The Dark Angels' Chapter Master! No... he's a Primarch!"
She finally dug the complete name out of a corner of her memory, nodding with satisfaction. Lion King Lion, he sounded as mighty as Primarch Guilliman!
"But the Dark Angels warriors all seem so mysterious..." Eilaas recalled the silent Dark Angels warriors in their deep green power armor she had occasionally seen on Terra, muttering softly.
And so, Eilaas sat alone in the vast hangar, leaning against the Dreadnought named after the Raven Lord. Her mind flitted between comparing which Primarch was more powerful and pondering the Lion King's given name, completely immersed in her self-woven world of imagination about those legendary heroes. It wasn't until a pang of hunger struck that she remembered it was time for an energy bar. She patted her bottom, stood up, and skipped out of the hangar, leaving the wrath of corax standing silently, as if guarding the little Tech-Sergeant's innocent and vibrant daydreams.
Meanwhile, in the First Company's medical lounge, Gaius sat in the designated resting area, wearing a lightweight medical support brace. This brace helped support his body, alleviating pressure from his back wound, but it restricted his extensive movement. He hadn't stayed in the infirmary but had chosen to come to this common lounge, which allowed lightly wounded personnel to move about. Rather than rest, it was more like a self-imposed contemplation.
His brow was furrowed, his gaze unfocused on the smooth metal floor, as the final moments in the depths of the Austin Star rift replayed in his mind.
The eerie, almost frozen flow of time... Luna's terrifying back wound when she fell... Dorian's painful roar as he shielded the beam with his body... And the melta bomb that ultimately failed to enter the portal, as if obstructed by an invisible hand... Each image was etched into his memory like the clearest relief, bringing waves of sharp pain.
But what bothered him the most was the incredibly powerful and precise Chaos beam from the shadows above. What kind of weapon was that? What entity fired it? Why could it so easily penetrate Terminator-level protection? These questions gnawed at his heart like venomous snakes.
This was his first mission failure since joining the First Company and becoming a Sergeant of the Sanks Squad. Although Chapter Master Marius Calgar himself had set the tone, and Lieutenant Golden had clearly conveyed it—"Mission failure, not a fault of war"—emphasizing that they faced a threat far beyond conventional understanding and had done their utmost.
However, rational understanding could not completely eliminate the emotional frustration and guilt. Deep down, Gaius still felt deeply remorseful for failing to lead his squad to complete the mission, resulting in his comrades being severely wounded. He felt that if he had been more vigilant and reacted faster, perhaps the outcome would have been different.
This emotion was somewhat out of place with the atmosphere in the lounge around him.
There were four other wounded warriors in the lounge, all Sword Veterans of the First Company, who had sustained injuries of varying degrees in previous battles. They sat quietly, either resting their eyes or conversing in low voices, their expressions calm, as if long accustomed to the cycle of pain and recuperation.
Gaius's gaze inadvertently swept over their white-painted, scarred helmets or shoulder pads. On them, golden service studs gleamed with steady, glorious light under the illumination. Two, three, even four! Each represented over a hundred years of loyal service and countless bloody battles.
Gaius subconsciously raised his hand and touched the solitary silver service stud on his head. This represented over fifty years of service, a proud record for an ordinary Astartes, but among this group of battle-hardened veterans of the First Company, it seemed so 'young'.
'I'm not lacking anything,' Gaius told himself in his heart, 'I passed the trials, earned the laurel, commanded the squad...' But looking at those golden service studs, he still had to admit that what he lacked was the accumulation of time, the tempering of more war. Shallow seniority, at times, indeed meant a gap in experience and the ability to handle extreme situations.
Just then, the lounge door was pushed open, and a small head peeked in. It was Eilaas. She held several standard nutrient pastes, clearly there to bring 'snacks' to the wounded.
"Sergeant Karl!" Eilaas's eyes lit up when she saw Gaius, and she greeted him cheerfully. Then her gaze fell on the four Sword Veterans, especially the one with four golden service studs, and her eyes instantly became even brighter.
"Hello, brothers!" Eilaas flew over like a little butterfly, unceremoniously squeezing into the empty seat next to the four-stud veteran, distributing the nutrient paste she held. Then, she looked up with an expectant gaze at the veteran, "Quick, quick! Tell me a story! Just tell me a story about your battles from before!"
Gaius recognized the veteran; his name was Cascan, a legendary figure who had served in the First Company for over four hundred years. It was said that the service studs on his head had long exceeded the years represented by four, but according to unwritten rules, service studs were generally only installed up to four; any more would appear strange. So Cascan had always kept four, but this did not affect his highly respected status within the company.
Cascan's weathered face, covered with fine scars, showed a hint of helpless yet tolerant smile. He had clearly been pestered by Eilaas for stories before. He took the nutrient paste, not eating it immediately, but looked at the other veterans and Gaius around him, then slowly began to speak, his voice hoarse and magnetic, as if carrying the dust of ages:
"Eilaas wants to hear a story again... All right, then I'll tell one... a story about my homeworld."
Eilaas immediately sat up straight, adopting an attentive posture.
"I was born on an industrial world in Ultramar," Cascan's gaze became distant, as if traversing time. "It wasn't as grand as Macragge, but it was filled with massive factories and refineries, tirelessly producing weapons and supplies for the Imperium day and night. Under Primarch Guilliman's governance, our lives, though busy, were fulfilling and peaceful, full of hope."
His tone carried nostalgia for the past.
"Until one day..." The veteran's voice suddenly deepened, carrying a subtle pain, "Disaster struck. Those accursed, fallen Word Bearers and World Eaters... suddenly appeared in orbit! They launched a surprise attack on our unsuspecting world! Bombing, slaughter... They wanted to turn it into scorched earth!"
Even after centuries, mentioning this, Cascan's fists still unconsciously clenched.
"I was just a boy then, hiding in the ruins, watching the destroyed defense platforms in the sky, watching the traitors rampaging through the streets... feeling utterly despairing." He described the tragic scene at the time.
"But just when we thought we were doomed," the veteran's tone took a turn, carrying a complex emotion, "reinforcements arrived! It was a Blood Angels battleship! They had received the distress signal and rushed over, regardless of the cost!"
"I saw the Blood Angels' drop pods, like red meteors, breaking through the atmosphere and slamming into the midst of those traitors! The hatches opened, and countless Blood Angels warriors in red armor surged out!"
At this point, both Eilaas and Gaius were captivated. The Blood Angels were loyal pillars of the Imperium, and their timely support was undoubtedly a godsend.
However, Cascan's next words made the atmosphere somewhat eerie:
"But... those Blood Angels... they were somewhat... strange." The veteran frowned, seemingly recalling extremely vivid details. "They fought incredibly bravely, one might even say... frantically. But as they fought, they kept shouting two words..."
The veteran mimicked that fervent and pained tone: "'Horus!'... and... 'For the Blood of Sanguinius!'"
"Horus?!" Gaius's heart jolted! That was the name of a Traitor Primarch! How could the loyal Blood Angels shout a traitor's name?
"They were like... caught in some extreme rage and... sorrow," Cascan continued, his tone filled with confusion, "charging headlong into the Word Bearers and World Eaters, even trading blows and lives! That kind of fighting... it scared me at the time."
"I was hiding in the ruins, and when I saw those World Eaters charging with chainaxes, I was so scared I turned and ran! I ran for my life! Maybe because I ran so fast, or maybe because those Blood Angels drew most of the fire... anyway, those World Eaters actually didn't catch me!" Recalling his own discomfiture from back then, Cascan's face showed a trace of self-mockery.
"Later," he sighed, "the battle lasted a long time, until our Ultramarines' main fleet finally arrived and completely purged the traitors from the planet. And I, because I 'ran fast' and a bit of luck, survived, and was later chosen by the Chapter to become a new recruit..."
The story finished, and the lounge was silent.
Eilaas blinked, seemingly not fully comprehending the 'strangeness' of the Blood Angels in the story, only feeling that those red-armored warriors were very brave.
But Gaius's heart was stirred by this story. The Blood Angels shouting "Horus" in battle? That sounded too unusual! What secret lay behind this? Was it related to the tragic death of the Blood Angels' Primarch Sanguinius at the end of the Horus Heresy?
Could it be? He thought of the Blood Angels' gene-flaw, the 'Red Thirst' and 'Black Rage.' This secret was only circulated among a few ancient First Founding Chapters and strictly forbidden from being spread by the high command of various Chapters. But he still didn't understand why the Blood Angels would shout Horus's name, and appear so frenzied and enraged.
Austin Star, Northern Wasteland.
This defiled land, once permeated with Nurgle's plague and Slaanesh's whispers, was now enveloped by a more absolute, colder power. The Grey Knights' silver warships hovered in low orbit, like the Sword of Damocles hanging over a sinner's head. On the surface, Inquisition personnel and Tech-Priests in sealed hazmat suits worked like busy worker ants, establishing massive energy arrays and purification devices. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and high-temperature scorching, replacing the previous stench and sickly sweetness.
Purification, or rather, the prelude to extermination, had begun.
On this desolate land, solemnized by the impending ultimate judgment, a figure suddenly appeared on a prominent, weather-beaten giant rock.
He was tall and slender, nearly three meters in height, yet relatively thin, as if coalesced from shadows. He wore a set of night-black attire, not power armor, but more like an ancient and noble ceremonial robe, made of a peculiar material that shimmered with a dark luster. The collar, shoulders, and cuffs of the attire were adorned with numerous black raven feathers; these feathers were distinct and smooth as satin, remaining perfectly still even in the sand-whipping gales sweeping across the wasteland, as if independent of the world's airflow.
His skin was a bloodless pallor, like a creature long dwelling underground. His face was handsome but lifeless, with features as sharp as if carved by a knife. Most striking were his eyes; their pupils were a pure black, like the deepest midnight, with almost no whites visible, so profound they seemed capable of drawing one's soul into them.
He stood silently atop the rock, like a phantom from another world, indifferently overlooking the Inquisition and Grey Knights' purification preparations below. The pure black pupils reflected the flickering arcs of light as the energy arrays activated, yet showed no ripple of emotion.
Then, he slowly turned his head, casting his gaze towards the distant rift, the former location of the Warp Gate. Even from afar, one could seemingly sense the residual, chaotic fluctuations of mixed Chaos powers there, and... an extremely faint, yet particularly noticeable, aura of an ancient nemesis.
His gaze lingered on that area for a long time, and a subtle, data-stream-like flicker of light seemed to pass through his pure black eyes, as if analyzing and recording something.
Just as a Grey Knight below seemed to sense something and looked up at the giant rock—
The figure atop the rock suddenly changed.
He made no movement of jumping or gliding; instead, his entire body, like a shattered mirror, instantly disintegrated and dispersed, transforming into a large flock of flapping black ravens!
The numerous ravens were silent; they swirled like a living black vortex in the air, then swiftly flew away in the opposite direction from the purification forces, merging into the dim horizon of the wasteland and vanishing without a trace.
The entire process happened in a flash, silently, as if everything on the rock just now was merely an illusion.
Below, the Grey Knight warrior who had looked up frowned slightly. He had just felt an extremely faint, fleeting abnormal fluctuation, but when he tried to perceive it carefully, he could no longer detect anything. He shook his head, attributing it to residual Chaos interference on the planet itself, and refocused his attention on the purification ritual at hand.
Soon after, the massive energy arrays finished charging. At the Inquisitor's cold command, the Grey Knights raised the holy relics in their hands.
An indescribable, pure white energy beam, containing ultimate purification power, shot from the main cannon of the orbiting warship, precisely striking the core of the energy array! Immediately after, the energy array amplified and diffused this power, transforming it into a psychic inferno that swept across the entire surface of Austin Star!
Wherever the white flames passed, all defilement was cleansed and purified! Nurgle's fungal mats, Slaanesh's crystals, Khorne's bloodstains... and even all residual demonic entities and Chaos corruption, shrieked and turned to nothingness under this ultimate power directed at Warp entities!
Mountains were reshaped, rivers evaporated, and the land became smooth as glass. This was a 'surgery' on the planet's soul, cruel yet necessary.
Austin Star was being thoroughly 'cleansed' from a physical to a spiritual level.
Meanwhile, the flock of black ravens, transformed from the mysterious figure, had long since departed from this area destined to become an inferno. They flew across the wasteland, through mountains, and finally reconvened over a relatively calm highland, re-coalescing into the pale, gaunt figure in the raven-feathered black robe.
He cast one last glance at the area enveloped in pure white light, gradually becoming silent, his pure black pupils still devoid of any emotion. Then, he turned and stepped into a swirling light and shadow behind him, disappearing completely.
It was as if he had never appeared, merely a silent observer quietly passing by a scene of apocalypse.
His arrival and departure left no trace, except for... perhaps the records in those pure black eyes concerning the chaos of Chaos, the Imperial resolve, and that faint, elusive aura of an ancient enemy.
For the Imperium, this purification was a necessary conclusion after a hard-won victory. But for certain entities hidden in the shadows, it was perhaps just a noteworthy scene, an ordinary act in a grand drama.
The chapter of Austin Star turned to its final page in the flames of purification. And a new storm, perhaps, was brewing in deeper darkness.
The Warp's torrents are endless, where color and law lose their meaning. In this chaotic sea of pure energy and will, a suffocatingly vast fleet was quietly assembling. They were not the uniform steel phalanxes of the Imperial Navy, but blasphemous creations pieced together from twisted flesh, rusted metal, writhing living tissue, and bones shimmering with unholy energy. Each warship was like an independent demonic entity, emitting groans of pain or fervent roars; they were the extension and talons of the Chaos will in the real universe.
At the center of this terrifying fleet, a particularly massive flagship was guarded. Its form resembled a mobile dark cathedral of brass and black stone, with countless spiky towers pointing into the void, from which hung still-bleeding trophy skulls and still-wailing soul fragments. The ship's hull was covered with blasphemous runes glowing with dark red light, and its immense energy fluctuations even distorted the surrounding Warp.
At the highest point of this flagship, named 'The Divine Oracle', on a terrace overlooking a vast plaza below, the terrifying entity that had appeared in the depths of Austin Star's rift now stood majestically.
It—or rather, he—was Lorgar Aurelian, the Primarch of the Word Bearers Legion, the first traitor to openly embrace Chaos and ascend to a Daemon Prince.
At this moment, Lorgar had long lost the handsome form of a human Primarch. His body was tall and twisted, covered in dark, heavy armor that seemed cursed by a thousand years, every inch of which was inscribed with dense, darkly burning Chaos True Words. His face was hideous and terrifying, his skin a dark metallic hue, his features distorted, yet only his eyes, burning with a molten red glow, held the wisdom of ten thousand years of resentment and an almost insane devotion. On his bald head were even deeper, blasphemous scriptures, as if branded into his very soul, these words wriggled like living things, whispering dark secrets.
Below the terrace, the assembled army gathered. Tens of thousands of Word Bearers Chaos Space Marines stood in formation like a forest, their dark red armor inscribed with hymns to the Dark Gods, their gazes beneath their helmets fervent and focused. In addition to the native Word Bearers warriors, there were numerous Chaos Space Marines from other warbands, mutants, and even some amorphous demonic entities, all drawn by Lorgar's charisma and the will of the Dark Gods.
Lorgar Aurelian slowly raised an armored hand with sharp fingertips; the entire plaza instantly fell silent, with only the Warp's energy howling around the ship. His voice resonated, not through the air, but directly in the depths of every listener's soul, like a thousand blasphemous scriptures chanted simultaneously, filled with unquestionable authority and seductive power.
"My children! Loyal servants of the Dark Gods! And all warriors who crave true power and eternal truth!"
His voice was like a great bell, carrying an eerie sense of the sacred.
"We have just witnessed a pathetic farce! On that insignificant planet named Austin, those who still blindly follow the living corpse on the Golden Throne, those Executioners who call themselves 'Ultramarines', have once again wielded their 'destructive' iron fists!"
He deliberately emphasized the words "destructive," his tone filled with cold mockery and bitter hatred.
"They are always like this! Calling themselves guardians of 'order' and 'reason', yet they are best at reducing beautiful things to ashes! Ten thousand years ago, they, at the command of the False Emperor, razed the jewel of faith on Colchis—the perfect city! They destroyed not just a city, but the devout hearts of billions of believers! The pursuit of divine truth!"
Lorgar's voice grew high-pitched, full of incitement, as he gesticulated, as if accusing an invisible enemy.
"They do not understand creation! They do not understand faith! They do not understand the sublimation of the soul! They only use bolters and swords to mercilessly obliterate everything that does not conform to their rigid dogma! They, Roboute Guilliman and his sons, are the most hypocritical and pathetic destroyers in the universe!"
His words precisely struck the deepest scars in the hearts of the Word Bearers; the crowd below began to stir, emitting low, angry roars.
"And that False Emperor!" Lorgar's voice was like the most vicious curse, "He denies the existence of true gods, stifles humanity's spirituality, and binds the entire race to his doomed, cold chariot of reason! He is the greatest liar! The greatest tyrant!"
"But!" He changed his tone, his crimson eyes blazing with dazzling light, "The Dark Gods have opened their eyes! Truth shall be revealed! And we, as pioneers of truth, shall undertake the greatest mission—to utterly cast this decaying, hypocritical Imperium into the long river of history!"
He pointed towards the depths of the Warp, as if indicating a specific direction.
"And the first stop of our vengeance will begin from the home of those Executioners! From Guilliman's so-called 'perfect' sector—Ultramar!"
"We will use war and blood to wash away the shame of the perfect city! We will make those blue-armored Executioners personally experience the pain of everything they cherish being destroyed! We will turn the Five Hundred Worlds into a bridgehead for the Dark Gods to descend into the real universe!"
Lorgar's speech was highly infectious, perfectly combining the Word Bearers' ancient enmity towards the Ultramarines, their hatred of the Imperium, and their fanatical devotion to the Dark Gods. The crowd below completely erupted!
"For the Dark Gods!"
"For Primarch Lorgar!"
"Long live Lorgar!"
"Destroy Ultramar! Bloodbath the Five Hundred Worlds!"
Blasphemous war cries rose and fell like a tsunami, sweeping across the entire plaza and even shaking the massive flagship. Chaos Space Marines pounded their weapons and shields, daemons shrieked, and everyone's desire for battle was ignited to the extreme. A destructive force was coalescing, aimed directly at one of the Imperium's most prosperous and heavily defended sectors—Ultramar.
Lorgar Aurelian quietly overlooked the fanatical army below, a flicker of satisfaction in his molten eyes. He knew that hatred and fanaticism alone were not enough; meticulous planning and absolute power were required. He turned his head and looked at several silent yet powerful figures in the shadows—they were his most formidable Dark Apostles, Warpsmiths, and corrupted powerful daemons.
"The plan begins," Lorgar's voice deepened, filled with cold calculation, "Let our 'allies' also move. The Blood God craves blood, the Lord of Change weaves conspiracies, the Lord of Pleasure enjoys depravity... and the Lord of Plagues, he will get the 'rebirth' he desires. Ultramar will become the stage for the gods to display their might."
"Yes, Lord!" The entities in the shadows responded in unison.
The vast Chaos fleet began to adjust its course, guided by Lorgar's will, slowly sailing towards a corresponding real-space coordinate deep within the Warp, like a pack of sharks scenting blood. A long-planned storm of vengeance against the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar had finally officially begun.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the real universe, the Macragge's Honour was bathed in the stable starlight at the edge of the Ultramar Sector, undergoing tense rest and replenishment. The officers and men within the battleship, whether it was Vik, who had just returned to duty, Gaius, Dorian, and Luna, who were still recovering, or the busy Golden and Eilaas, or Chapter Master Calgar, who was strategizing, were all unaware that a huge shadow, stemming from ten millennia of enmity, was rushing towards their beloved home with destructive force.
Times of peace are always fleeting. The clouds of war have once again gathered on the horizon.
The massive hull of the Macragge's Honour, like a resting metal whale, floated silently in the void anchorage at the edge of the Ultramar Sector. Around it, several smaller frigates and transport ships, like loyal schools of fish, circled and patrolled. After the fierce battle on Austin Star and the long journey, although the battleship was still busy internally, the pace had noticeably slowed, and the air was filled with a sense of rest and replenishment.
The greatest activity came from the giant drop pod receiving port on the lower deck. Accompanied by heavy hissing sounds and metallic clangs, huge drop pods were precisely transferred by mechanical arms from transport ships onto the battleship's receiving tracks. As the hatches opened, out stepped young, resolute faces that, despite their determination, could not hide their nervousness and excitement.
Two hundred Ultramarines recruits, the latest batch to pass their assessments, had officially arrived.
They wore standard recruit carapace armor, a plain dark gray, not yet bearing the azure livery of a formal company. Their equipment was basic; their Bolters were polished to a shine but lacked the marks of years of combat. Despite rigorous training and selection, standing on the deck of the legendary Macragge's Honour, feeling the immense history and martial aura of the battleship, these young men still couldn't help but feel a little reserved and excited.
Orpha, the 10th Company Commander, personally led the reception. He was a stern-faced veteran with piercing eyes, two Golden service studs on his head. He scanned the neatly arrayed recruits, his voice, amplified by his helmet's vox-caster, steady and powerful:
"Welcome to the Macragge's Honour, recruits! You have passed the trials and proven your potential to become guardians of Ultramar. But remember, this is only the beginning! From today, you will be assigned to various scout squads within the 10th Company, learning in real combat and growing in blood and fire! Forget past achievements; your eyes must always look forward, and your lives, from this moment on, are completely dedicated to the Emperor, the Primarch, and the Five Hundred Worlds!"
"For the Emperor! For Ultramar!" the recruits shouted in unison, their voices echoing through the vast port. Though still a little raw, they already showed the nascent form of steel.
Orpha nodded and began assigning the recruits, according to the pre-arranged list, to the 10th Company Sergeants who were already waiting. These Sergeants would lead the recruits into dangerous areas at the edge of the Sector, carrying out patrol and reconnaissance missions—the first crucible where new recruits would be forged into steel.
Meanwhile, in the rehabilitation room of the medical bay, Gaius had shed his auxiliary braces and was undergoing restorative training. He wore lightweight training gear, repeating basic tactical movements and weapon drills under a simulated gravity device. The wound on his back still sent faint stabs of pain during strenuous exercise, but he gritted his teeth and persevered.
His movements were precise and stable, just like his character. However, beneath his calm exterior, his inner self was not entirely peaceful. The last images from Austin Star, that deadly beam of Chaos energy, still invaded his mind in the dead of night, bringing with it a cold sense of dread and an unresolved feeling of frustration. He forced himself to channel this emotion into more rigorous training, believing that only by becoming stronger could he protect more comrades and accomplish more arduous tasks in the future.
In contrast, Dorian in the adjacent medical pod was much more "lively."
"Easy there! You clumsy servitor-skull! Are you trying to poke another hole in my back?" Dorian grumbled gruffly, baring his teeth at a servitor-skull that was treating the wound on his back with light. His massive body lay on the medical bed, almost completely filling it.
Although his injuries were healing remarkably fast, it would still be some time before he could jump around. Boredom and confinement made Dorian's temper even shorter than usual. He could only vent his frustrations by constantly bothering medical staff or complaining to Golden and Gaius, who could walk around, when they visited him.
"I'd rather go fight some greenskins than lie in this damn bed!" Dorian waved his uninjured arm. "Smell that disinfectant! It's going to ruin my combat nose!"
Golden could only shake his head helplessly each time he visited him, gently soothing this easily ignited Bolter. Gaius would sit silently nearby, occasionally sharing the latest news from the battleship or observations about the arrival of the 10th Company recruits, trying to distract Dorian.
Luna Aisa, whose condition was the most severe, remained in a deep coma and under observation after continuous surgery. Her medical pod was heavily guarded, personally monitored by Apothecary Vorlak. Complex life support systems and mechanical implant interfaces surrounded her emaciated body, with only tiny indicator lights flashing, testifying to her tenacious vitality. Golden, Gaius, and others could only watch silently through the observation window, praying for her in their hearts.
Late at night, the lights in the medical bay dimmed, and most of the injured had entered stasis.
Dorian lay on the medical bed, snoring loudly. However, his seemingly sleeping brows were tightly furrowed, and his muscles twitched spasmodically from time to time.
He was back in that nightmarish, blood-red plain.
Underfoot were crunching bones, and the sky was an eternal dark red. The distant sounds of battle were deafening, and that massive throne constructed of brass, skulls, and congealed black blood still stood at the end of his vision, emanating a soul-shaking pressure.
This time, the figure on the throne was not silent.
"Why resist..." The voice, like the roar of a myriad battlefields, directly assailed Dorian's consciousness. "Your soul yearns for battle... yearns for power... yearns to prove your worth with the skulls of your enemies..."
Dorian wanted to roar but couldn't make a sound. He looked down and saw himself once again covered in that crimson World Eaters power armor, adorned with spikes and skull decorations. The heavy and familiar feel of a chainaxe came to him, its teeth spinning unconsciously, emitting a low growl.
"Look at you..." Khorne's whispers were full of temptation. "This is your true inner desire! Break free from those false shackles! Embrace the purest violence! In my realm, you will be invincible!"
The scene abruptly shifted. He was once again in that bloody battlefield, with the dark red tide of Word Bearers surging towards him. Gaius and Golden fought valiantly behind him, and Luna, still in her maiden form, leaned weakly in his arms.
"Dorian... protect Gaius..." Luna in his arms made a faint plea.
"Dorian! Go! I'll hold them off!" Gaius's voice was hoarse.
A furious rage instantly overwhelmed Dorian! He roared again, swinging his chainaxe and charging into the enemy! Hacking! Tearing! Destroying!
With each kill, he felt a twisted pleasure, as if some inner craving was satisfied. Blood splattered on his armor, and the wails of his enemies were like sweet music... "Yes! That's it!" Khorne's approval was like thunder. "Unleash it! This is your true nature!"
"Ugh!"
Dorian suddenly sat up on the medical bed, gasping for breath, trembling uncontrollably. A tearing pain shot through the wound on his back from the violent movement, bringing him fully awake.
He looked around, confirming he was still in the safe medical pod, with the tranquil starry sky outside the window. But the bloody scene from his dream, the thrill of killing, and Khorne's tempting whispers remained vividly in his mind.
"Damn it..." Dorian cursed under his breath, rubbing his face hard, trying to dispel the strange sensation. He was certainly no traitor! His loyalty to the Emperor and Ultramar was beyond doubt! But that dream... that feeling of power... why did it make him feel a hint of... fascination?
This conflicting feeling made him extremely agitated. He instinctively touched his head, as if trying to pluck those chaotic thoughts from his mind.
While Dorian wrestled with his inner demons, in the tactical intelligence center near the bridge, Chapter Master Marius Calgar, along with Captain Cassius, Sicarius, and Company Commander Hek Hansen, who had just returned from a patrol mission, were reviewing the latest Sector status map.
On the star map, the stars representing the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar shone like blue gems. However, at the edge of the Sector, particularly in the void near the direction of the former Austin Star, some unusual signs began to appear.
"Chapter Master," Hek Hansen pointed to several flashing red markers on the star map, "the Third Company's patrol squads reported abnormal Warp fluctuations in sectors K-778, G-441, and M-209. The intensity is not high, but it is persistent, and the distribution points show a tendency to form a vague 'channel.'"
Sicarius added, "The 2nd Company's long-range reconnaissance outposts also detected some sporadic, unidentifiable jump signal traces, very brief, almost untraceable, but their frequency has increased over the past few standard weeks."
"The Inquisition has also received unofficial intelligence, Captain Cassius said in a deep voice. "Several Inquisitors in neighboring sectors report that some long-dormant Chaos warbands have suddenly become more active and are showing signs of moving toward the Ultramar Sector."
The intelligence, when pieced together, painted an unsettling picture. While there was no direct evidence of a large-scale invasion, these scattered, seemingly unrelated anomalies were like tiny bubbles on the surface of the sea before a storm, portending a massive upheaval brewing beneath the deep.
Chapter Master Calgar's expression was grave, his fingers lightly tapping the tactical table. He recalled Primarch Guilliman's warnings about Lorgar and the Word Bearers, and the mysterious demon's taunts on Austin Star.
"Notify all companies to raise battle readiness to Level Two," Calgar ordered, his voice steady but with an undeniable resolve. "Increase the patrol density and intensity in all border star systems. Sicarius, your 2nd Company, deploy to the sector where anomalous signals are most frequent."
"Yes, Chapter Master!" both Company Commanders responded in unison.
"Additionally," Calgar looked at Captain Cassius, "send encrypted warning communiques in my name to neighboring sub-Chapters like the Meteor Hawks and Nova, sharing the anomalous intelligence we currently possess, and advise them to raise their vigilance."
"Understood."
Orders were swiftly issued, and the vast war machine began to quietly accelerate. Although the surface remained calm, Macragge's Honour and the entire defense system of Ultramar had keenly sniffed out the subtle, sulfurous, and bloody scent preceding the storm.
The addition of new blood injected vitality into the Chapter; the recovery of the wounded gradually restored elite fighting strength; and the distant dark clouds urged everyone to prepare faster. The tranquility of Ultramar might truly have entered its countdown.
Just as Macragge's Honour raised its battle readiness and border patrol forces were quietly strengthened, on another side of the Ultramar Sector, in a silent void far from major shipping lanes and surrounded by a sparse asteroid belt, an anomaly was occurring.
The normally calm Warp veil, like water into which a stone had been thrown, began to violently ripple and distort. Then, accompanied by an ear-splitting shriek that tore through the fabric of realspace, a huge Warp rift, glowing with an ominous red light, was forcibly ripped open!
First to emerge was the iconic, dark cathedral-like behemoth—the Oraculum Veritable. Close behind it was the massive Word Bearers fleet, swarming out like hyenas scenting blood, quickly forming up in the void.
But this was only the beginning.
The rift did not close; instead, it stabilized, like a festering wound. Immediately afterward, more fleets of vastly different styles, yet all exuding a strong aura of Chaos, emerged in succession.
There were Thousand Sons warships, their hulls covered in bizarre geometric patterns and flashing with ever-changing lights, representing Tzeentch's cunning and knowledge.
There were Emperor's Children warships, adorned with enchanting purple and gold reliefs, their forms sleek like works of art, symbolizing Slaanesh's excess and depravity.
There were World Eaters fleets, brutal and wild, their armor hung with skulls and spikes, their engines roaring like beasts, carrying Khorne's pure fury.
There were Death Guard warships, slow and heavy, their hulls covered in pustules and rust, exuding deadly plagues, spreading Nurgle's "love" and decay.
Finally, when a massive fleet, uniformly painted deep black and exuding a cold, ruthless battle will, appeared, even the Word Bearers, long accustomed to internal Chaos strife, couldn't help but turn their gaze. It was the Black Legion, the direct forces of Chaos Warmaster Abaddon, representing the most organized and strategically astute will of destruction within the Chaos factions.
Inside the command deck of the Oraculum Veritable, the Daemon Primarch Lorgar Aurelian gazed through a massive projection at this vast allied army, which had gathered the elites of the Four Dark Gods and the Black Legion. On his twisted demonic face, lava-like eyes burned with the flames of satisfaction and ambition.
"Do you see, my warriors?" Lorgar's voice echoed through the hall, addressing his core Dark Apostles and Warpsmiths. "This is true power! Transcending the narrow confines of individual deities, united under the common goal of destroying the Imperium!"
He spread his arms as if to embrace the entire star chart: "Abaddon, the master of the Black Legion, the Warmaster who continues Horus's legacy, has forged an alliance with us! He will fully support this crusade! With the Black Legion joining us, Guilliman's self-righteous defenses are nothing more than paper walls!"
A Dark Apostle, clad in heavy ceremonial armor and holding a massive scroll, bowed and asked, "Great Primarch, Warmaster Abaddon... will he challenge your leadership...?"
Lorgar let out a low, confident laugh: "Rest assured, Erebus. Abaddon is pragmatic. He knows that to break through the tough nut that is Ultramar, he needs my... 'expertise,' and my deep 'understanding' of Guilliman. Our goals are aligned, and at least until Ultramar turns to ash, our alliance is unbreakable. As for afterward..." A glint of cunning and ruthlessness flashed in his eyes, "...that will be decided by the will of the Dark Gods."
His gaze once again fell upon the star chart, focusing on the blue sector representing Ultramar's Five Hundred Worlds, finally settling on the brightest one among them—Macragge.
"The perfect city..." Lorgar's voice became like a serpent's hiss, filled with the coldness of ten millennia of resentment. "Guilliman, and your blue-armored Executioners... the suffering you inflicted upon Colchis, your trampling of faith, it is time for it to be repaid a hundredfold, a thousandfold!"
His voice grew, filled with destructive fervor: "We will make every inch of Macragge burn with flames hotter than the perfect city! We will make those Ultramarines who call themselves 'perfect' taste despair more painful than death in their own home! We will drag Guilliman's cold, rational kingdom completely into the maelstrom of Chaos!"
Finally, his gaze seemed to pierce through countless light-years, directed at the heart of the Imperium of Man.
"And this is just the beginning!" Lorgar's declaration was like a final judgment. "Once Ultramar falls, the Imperium's flank will be completely exposed! We will march directly on Terra! We will drag that living corpse from the Golden Throne, smash his throne to pieces! Let the truth of Chaos descend upon the ruins of humanity's pathetic cradle! The entire galaxy will be bathed in the glory of the Dark Gods!"
Inside the command deck, all the Word Bearers high command knelt fanatically, shouting the names of Lorgar and the Dark Gods. The spectacular sight of the allied army gathering and the grand blueprint Lorgar described made them firmly believe that victory was within reach.
However, neither the complacent Lorgar, nor the fanatical Word Bearers, nor the calmly observing representatives of the Black Legion, noticed that on the edge of the void, just shrouded by the shadow of the Chaos fleet, a nearly undetectable ripple quietly vanished in the shadow of an inconspicuous, crater-covered asteroid.
The moment the rift opened and the first Word Bearers warship emerged, a raven, completely black with deep-set eyes, stood silently on a rocky ledge of this asteroid, taking in everything. It seemed to merge with the shadows, and even the most sensitive detectors failed to capture its presence.
When the massive Chaos fleet fully manifested and began its initial formation, the raven's pure black eyes reflected this blasphemous starscape. It made no sound, simply observing quietly, recording the fleet's size, composition, and general direction.
Moments later, it once again silently transformed into a faint black mist, dissipating into the vacuum without leaving any trace, as if it had never appeared.
The arrival and departure of this dark raven went unnoticed by anyone. But the intelligence it carried could become a critical variable in the coming storm of destruction that would engulf Ultramar.
And on the flagship of the Chaos allied army, Lorgar Aurelian had already issued the first order:
"All forces, maintain silence, proceed along the predetermined shadow route towards the Ultramar border. Let those mongrels enjoy a few more moments of their pathetic 'perfection' in their final tranquility."
The massive Chaos fleet, like a pack of predators hidden in the deep sea, began to quietly close in on its prey. A war cloud, far exceeding the scale of Austin Star and aimed at annihilating the entire sector, was slowly descending upon Ultramar with the force of a collapsing mountain.
The bridge of the Macragge's Honour was as solemn and efficient as ever.
The light of the stars streamed through the massive observation windows, casting a glow on the polished deck, reflecting the calm, busy figures of the Ultramarines officers and crew.
Chapter Master Marius Calgar stood before the central tactical command console, his brow slightly furrowed as he scrutinized the still-flickering anomalous signal markers on the sector status map.
Despite having raised the alert level and intensified patrols, the wait for decisive evidence always caused a nagging anxiety.
Just then, an extremely sharp, highest-priority communication alert broke the bridge's usual rhythm!
This sound did not come from any known Imperial or Ultramar internal channel; its encryption protocol was ancient and unfamiliar, carrying an undeniable sense of urgency.
"Chapter Master!" the communications officer's voice held a trace of surprise and doubt, "Receiving a highly encrypted, directed communication from an unknown source!
The signal source cannot be traced, and its authorization... its authorization is identified as... the Imperium's highest level!"
"Highest level?" Calgar's gaze sharpened.
The Imperium's highest communication authority was usually limited to Primarchs, high lords, or certain reclusive Inquisition magnates.
Who would contact him in this manner at this time?
"Patch it through to my personal tactical terminal, highest isolation mode," Calgar ordered in a deep voice, while motioning for Captain Cassius and Sicarius to approach.
On the personal terminal screen, there was no image, only lines of cold text messages composed of gothic characters, as if directly etched onto the screen:
"To Chapter Master of the Ultramarines Eighth Company, Marius Calgar:"
"The shadow has reached north of Ultramar.
The traitor legions gather, their might far exceeding your imagination.
The shadow of Lorgar already looms."
"Your enemies are not solely the Word Bearers.
The pawns of the Four Gods, and even the Black Legion, have all answered the call."
"The objective is clear: annihilate Ultramar, cleanse Macragge with blood, in revenge for the Perfect City."
"Believe it or not, the decision is yours.
The warning has been delivered, act accordingly."
The message abruptly ended there, with no signature, no source identification.
The terminal screen quickly returned to normal, as if everything that had just happened was an illusion, but the opponent had accurately used Calgar's rank from after the Horus Heresy, which made his heart clench again.
The bridge was utterly silent.
Cassius and Sicarius's faces were filled with shock and disbelief.
The amount of information was too vast, too horrifying!
Lorgar personally leading not just the Word Bearers, but a massive combined force of the Four Gods' elites plus the Black Legion?
Their target directly Ultramar and Macragge?
This sounded like a mad rumor, or worse, a carefully designed trap.
But in Chapter Master Calgar's mind, countless clues instantly connected: the daemon on Austin Star, possibly linked to Lorgar, and its taunts; the recent anomalous Warp fluctuations on the border; the unusual movements of Chaos warbands; and Primarch Guilliman's personal confirmation of the threat from Lorgar...
All of this perfectly aligned with the content of this anonymous warning!
"Chapter Master..." Captain Cassius's voice was low, "This information... its source is unknown.
Could it be a trick of Tzeentch? Intended to move our forces and create vulnerabilities in our defenses?"
Sicarius also looked doubtful: "How could such a massive Chaos coalition approach Ultramar silently?
Why did our reconnaissance network give no warning?"
Calgar remained silent, his gaze sweeping across the tactical star chart, finally settling on the vast star sector north of Ultramar.
There, precisely, was the area with the most concentrated anomalous signals recently.
Better safe than sorry!
If this warning was true, then every second of delay increased the danger of Ultramar being ambushed!
Once such a large enemy force breached the border and penetrated deep into the sector's interior, the consequences would be unimaginable!
The stakes were too high!
He could not gamble the safety of the entire Five Hundred Worlds on the truthfulness of this information.
Instantly, Calgar made his decision.
He abruptly looked up, his eyes sharp as blades, completely different from his usual composure, filled with an undeniable wartime authority:
"Attention all ship personnel!" His voice, broadcast through the bridge, instantly echoed through every corner of the Macragge's Honour, and even reached the escort fleet via encrypted channels.
"I am Chapter Master Marius Calgar!
I now issue the highest emergency combat order: Cancel all current missions, the entire fleet is to immediately prepare for a Warp jump!
Target sector — Ultramar's northern border, coordinates K-778 to M-209 fan-shaped area!
Repeat, immediately prepare for Warp jump!"
As soon as the order was issued, the entire bridge first froze for a moment, then erupted into unprecedented efficient operation!
Navigators rushed to the navigation dome, the engine room outputted full power, weapon systems began final self-checks...
Cassius and Sicarius exchanged glances, no longer hesitating, and immediately saluted: "Understood, Chapter Master!"
Calgar's orders continued, his words rapid as lightning:
"Cassius! Immediately, in my name, send the highest priority alert to all Ultramarines successor Chapters still in Ultramar, such as the Astral Eagles, Nova, and Iron Snakes, as well as all Imperial Navy forces within the sector!
Inform them of the intelligence regarding a possible major Chaos invasion from the north, and order them to immediately enter highest alert status and gather at the northern border!"
"Sicarius! Order all 2nd Company forward reconnaissance units to infiltrate the warning coordinate area at all costs, I want to know what is truly there!
At the same time, notify Macragge itself to activate the 'Final Bastion' protocol, and fully activate planetary defense forces!"
"Notify the entire Chapter!" Calgar's voice rose to its maximum, carrying a determined aura, "Ultramarines, all personnel prepare for the highest level of combat!
This is not a drill, nor is it a minor skirmish!
What we are about to face may be the greatest threat to Ultramar since the Badab War!
For the Emperor!
For Ultramar!
For Macragge!"
"For the Emperor!
For Ultramar!
For Macragge!" On the bridge, all officers and crew roared in unison, their fighting spirit instantly ignited!
Piercing battle alarms blared throughout the Macragge's Honour!
Blue lights were replaced by flashing red alert lights.
Whether it was fighters being prepared in the hangar, warriors resting in the barracks, or Tech-Sergeants maintaining equipment in the factory, everyone rushed to their battle stations at top speed.
In the medical bay, the piercing alarm also sounded.
Gaius abruptly jumped off the recovery training equipment, Dorian struggled to sit up but was sternly stopped by the Apothecary.
Lieutenant Golden's figure appeared on the communication screen, his expression more serious than ever: "Gaius, Dorian, highest alert!
You two continue to recover for now, and be ready for assignments as soon as you're healed!"
Even outside the medical pod where Luna lay in a deep coma, guard forces were increased.
Eilaas was in the hangar, chattering to the wrath of corax about her new ideas, when the alarm startled her, almost making her jump.
She saw the Tech-Sergeants with grave expressions beginning emergency combat activation procedures for the Dreadnoughts, and immediately dropped her precious gauntlets, running to help pass tools, her small face full of tension and excitement.
Inside the massive battleship, the roar of the engines reached its peak.
Within the navigation dome, the navigator's three eyes stared intently at the violent torrent of the Warp, searching for a relatively stable route.
With a violent tremor and the dizzying sensation of spatial distortion, the Macragge's Honour and its escort fleet resolutely entered the kaleidoscopic Warp, beginning a life-or-death jump towards the unknown battlefield.
The entire Ultramar Sector was completely shaken by this mysterious raven shadow warning and a decisive order.
Countless warships began to ignite their engines, countless warriors took up arms, and countless worlds sounded alarms.
A great war that would decide the fate of the Five Hundred Worlds was slowly drawing its curtain.
The Macragge's Honour had already jumped into the Warp, its hull trembling slightly in the unreal currents.
In the isolated stasis chamber, specifically used for the highest-level, ultra-long-distance communications, Chapter Master Marius Calgar initiated another crucial procedure — directly contacting Terra, contacting the Primarch, Lord Regent of the Imperium, Roboute Guilliman.
Establishing communication took more time than expected, filled with complex processes of encryption protocol verification and psychic signal relay.
Finally, the holographic projection flickered, and Guilliman's figure appeared before Calgar.
He was still seated in the magnificent office filled with data-slates and processors, but Calgar keenly noticed that the Primarch's fatigue was more pronounced than usual, and deep within those eyes that held infinite wisdom, a subtle, hard-to-detect irritation seemed to be suppressed.
"Marius," Guilliman's voice was still steady, but slightly faster, "I received your emergency communication request.
What is the situation in Ultramar?
Are there new developments regarding the border anomalies you mentioned earlier?"
He had clearly already received Calgar's previous warning report.
"Primarch," Calgar said, kneeling on one knee, performing the highest etiquette, then quickly rising and concisely reporting, "The situation may be more severe and urgent than we anticipated."
He then repeated the content of the unknown source's highest-level communication word for word, including a detailed description of the coalition's composition and their explicit intention to destroy Ultramar.
Guilliman listened quietly, his face showing no change in expression, but when he heard "the shadow of Lorgar has already enveloped" and "the pawns of the Four Gods, and even the Black Legion," his fingers on the table tightened slightly.
"...Given the above intelligence, and its high correlation with numerous recent anomalous signs, I have ordered Macragge's Honour and its accompanying fleet to immediately make a Warp jump and proceed at full speed to the northern border of Ultramar. At the same time, the highest alert has been issued to all successor Chapters and Imperial forces within the Sector, demanding full readiness for battle and assembly in the north," Calgar concluded, adding, "Primarch, this warning... what do you think of its credibility?"
Guilliman was silent for a moment, his gaze seeming to penetrate the holographic projection and fall on the distant Ultramar Sector map.
He let out a soft sigh, which carried the helplessness and weight of one in a high position.
"Marius, your decision is correct," Guilliman first affirmed Calgar's actions. "At this critical juncture, hesitation means destruction. It is better to misjudge than to not guard against. Lorgar... he is indeed capable of such a thing. The hatred for the perfect city has festered in his twisted mind for ten millennia, enough to drive him to launch a war of revenge of this magnitude."
However, his next words caused Calgar's heart to sink slightly.
"But," Guilliman's tone carried an undeniable sense of practical consideration, "I cannot personally return to Ultramar for now."
"Primarch?" Calgar couldn't help but speak out.
With Ultramar facing such an existential crisis, if the Primarch could personally appear again, it would undoubtedly greatly boost morale, just as in the Battle of the Cadia Gate, and turn the tide of battle with absolute power.
Guilliman's lips curved into a cold, mocking smile: "Terra... those fools in the High Lords of Terra, they have never stopped infighting and obstruction. Some factions are trying to push a 'reform bill' aimed at weakening the autonomy of the Astartes Chapters, while others are eyeing the expeditionary forces' supply lines.
If I were to leave Terra at this time, even for a few days, these worms would dare to turn everything upside down. The Imperial bureaucracy is sometimes more deadly than the armies of Chaos." His words revealed a deep disgust and weariness with the political quagmire of Terra.
He looked at Calgar, his eyes firm: "Ultramar is the home I personally built, and one of the most important cornerstones of the Imperium of Man. I will never stand by and watch it be destroyed. However, with intelligence not yet fully confirmed and the political situation on Terra so delicate, I must, as Lord Regent, stabilize the core of the Imperium."
"However, this does not mean Ultramar will face the threat alone," Guilliman changed the subject. "I will immediately issue orders, in the name of the Lord Regent of the Imperium, to all loyal Chapters in the Sectors surrounding Ultramar, requiring them to closely monitor developments.
Once it is confirmed that a Chaos army has indeed invaded Ultramar, they will be required to provide unconditional, full support! This includes the Space Wolves, Blood Angels, White Scars... and even more distant Chapters and successor Chapters. I will make them understand that defending Ultramar is defending the future of the Imperium!"
Hearing this, Calgar felt a little relieved.
If they could get the support of many brother Chapters, the Ultramarines' pressure would be greatly reduced.
"I understand, Primarch. We will hold our ground, await reinforcements, and confirm the enemy situation as soon as possible," Calgar nodded heavily.
"Very good. Keep communications open, Marius. Report any major developments to me immediately," Guilliman paused, seemingly hesitating, and finally said, "As for the source of that warning... you don't need to delve too deeply.
There are very few beings who possess such authority and are so knowledgeable about Lorgar and the movements of Chaos."
The communication ended, and Guilliman's holographic projection disappeared.
Calgar stood in place, pondering the Primarch's last words. "Very few beings?" Who could it be? Was it some reclusive Inquisition grandee? Or...
At the same time, on Terra, deep within the Terra Palace.
After ending the communication with Calgar, Guilliman almost without pause immediately activated another communication channel with a higher encryption level and a smaller connection range.
This channel led directly to Lion King's castle in the Terra Palace.
The communication connected unexpectedly quickly.
In the holographic projection, a figure appeared, seated on a throne, clad in deep green power armor, with a majestic, lion-like face and eyes as sharp as blades. It was Lion El'Jonson, the Lion King.
"Robert," Lion King's voice was low and powerful, carrying a sense of ancient wisdom from countless battles, "I rarely see you contact me proactively these days. Haven't the affairs of Terra completely buried you yet?" His words were direct, even carrying a hint of subtle teasing.
Guilliman did not mind his old friend's tone, and said with a solemn expression: "Lion King, long story short. Ultramar may be facing a catastrophe."
He quickly and concisely informed Lion King of the situation Calgar had reported, especially the content of that mysterious warning.
Lion King listened quietly, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly, and when he heard "Black Legion," his hand on the armrest of the throne imperceptibly tightened.
"...That's the situation," Guilliman said. "I will order the surrounding Chapters to stand by for support later, but I need more reliable forces. Your Angels are relatively close to Ultramar."
Lion King did not answer immediately. He pondered for a moment, as if weighing something.
Finally, he looked up, his gaze meeting Guilliman's: "Lorgar... that traitor, if he truly dares to come out in full force, he is indeed a huge threat. As for that communication..." A complex light flashed in Lion King's eyes, a light mixed with vigilance, memory, and a hint of... unspeakable understanding?
"To be able to predict the movements of Chaos so precisely, and to warn in this manner..." Lion King said slowly, his tone meaningful, "Robert, you and I both know that there is one person... or rather, one entity, who has always been accustomed to acting in this 'low-key' manner.
He is like a Raven, always observing from the shadows, only occasionally letting out a few calls to guide the way, or... to warn of danger."
Guilliman's eyes flickered slightly; he understood Lion King's hint.
That name was almost on the tip of his tongue—Corvus Corax, Primarch of the Raven Guard, the Raven Lord.
His brother, who had delved deep into the Eye of Terror to hunt down traitors in the late stages of the Horus Heresy, whose whereabouts had been a mystery for ten millennia, only occasionally appearing like a phantom or giving mysterious warnings at the Imperium's most critical moments.
"Is it him?" Guilliman asked in a low voice, more like talking to himself.
"Perhaps it is him, or perhaps other forces unknown to us. But in any case, the content of the warning is worth taking seriously," Lion King did not give a definitive answer, but his subsequent words were exceptionally firm, "Ultramar cannot fall.
This concerns not only your home but also the stability of the entire Imperium. Rest assured, Robert, my Angels will do their part. I will dispatch a sub-fleet to the star systems near Ultramar to stand by.
Once the invasion is confirmed, they will be among the first reinforcements to arrive on the battlefield."
"Thank you, Lion King," Guilliman said sincerely. With the Dark Angels' promise, Ultramar's chances of victory increased by another point.
"Don't thank me, Robert. This is for the Imperium," Lion King waved his hand. "Remember, it's not just the enemy ahead that you need to be wary of." He added meaningfully, then ended the communication.
Guilliman sat alone in his office, Lion King's words echoing in his mind, as well as the mysterious Raven shadow's warning.
Corax... if it truly was him, was he currently lurking in some shadow of Ultramar, watching all of this unfold? This impending storm seemed to involve more and more ancient entities.
And in the distant Warp lanes, Macragge's Honour was cutting through the waves, sailing at full speed towards an unknown destiny.
Every warrior on board, from the Chapter Master to the newest recruit, clearly realized that what they were about to face might be the ultimate test that would decide the survival of their home. Battle intent and determination burned in every azure-clad figure.