A mere few days after Axion departed the Sol System, Vulkan became the first Primarch to arrive with reinforcements.
More than a dozen Salamanders warships, dozens of Ultramarines vessels laden with Space Marines, and over a hundred Astra Militarum regiments dropped out of the Warp and entered Terran orbit. Marneus Calgar had gone so far as to bring Guilliman's own flagship, the Macragge's Honour, to Terra. This overwhelming display of military might terrified both the High Lords of Terra and the Adeptus Custodes, who briefly feared that Guilliman and Vulkan had broken faith and aligned to stage a coup.
In truth, these forces had assembled in Segmentum Ultima before forming a massive armada to chart a direct course through the Empyrean to the Segmentum Solar.
Due to the chaotic nature of astropathic distress signals, many other Imperial fleets and Space Marine Chapters were still racing toward Terra. This frantic mobilization was expected to ripple across the galaxy for years to come. Astropathic communication was plagued by uncertainty; once a fleet weighed anchor and entered the Warp, its astropathic links were temporarily severed. Countless fleets would inevitably miss the subsequent counter-orders. While some might receive updates mid-voyage and return to their original defensive sectors, many would blindly miss the notices until their boots hit Terran soil.
Under the suspicious, watchful eyes of the Custodians, Guilliman personally received his returned brother, explaining the nature of the crisis. Vulkan listened in sheer astonishment as Guilliman recounted how the Iron Men had single-handedly driven the vast daemonic horde and their horrific Chaos constructs back into the Warp in a matter of hours.
Following their brief exchange, Vulkan once again cautioned Guilliman to exercise extreme vigilance in all future dealings with the Iron Men. The Imperium's survival now hinged entirely on Guilliman's administrative genius, and Vulkan had absolutely no desire to involve himself in statecraft. He possessed no talent for governance, nor did he care to waste his strength untangling the perpetual follies of mortal bureaucrats.
Yet, seeing the profound weariness etched onto Guilliman's face, Vulkan offered a rare word of comfort to ease his brother's burden.
"At least these perilous relics of the ancient past stand on the same side of the line as the Imperium, my brother."
Vulkan was not blind to the threat the Iron Men posed, but he was a pragmatist. Under current conditions, if the Iron Men turned their weapons upon the Imperium, humanity's chances of survival were non-existent. Among the Primarchs, Vulkan had always been the one who loathed warfare the most. Now that the Imperium possessed such a devastatingly efficient ally, he could afford to dedicate his time to his true passions. The matter of his missing sons was being resolved, and the Imperium would steadily return to its proper course under Guilliman's steady hand. The Emperor's grand design would endure, and everything was improving. He could finally return to Nocturne and lose himself in the holy work of the forge.
Guilliman knew his brother's nature well; every Primarch possessed their own distinct soul, and he was deeply grateful for Vulkan's swift response.
As they conversed, Vulkan casually asked if Jaghatai Khan had arrived before him. Guilliman only looked back at him with an expression of blank confusion.
Vulkan explained that before their fleet set sail, Jaghatai had intended to lead his Chogorian sons and his fleet toward Lucius on the Dark Frontier. Before embarking, the Khan had stopped by Vulkan's forge to claim a custom-built jetbike he had commissioned. Just as Jaghatai was praising the magnificent 'beauty' Vulkan had crafted for him, the Terran astropathic distress call split the warp-chatter.
Vulkan had generously thrown open his armories, filling the White Scars' vaults to the brim with wargear before mustering his own sons. Jaghatai, his legionaries bolstered by the fresh supplies, had plunged into the Warp ahead of the main force, driving hard for Terra.
Seeing no sign of the Khagan upon reaching Terra, Vulkan had assumed the swift-footed Khan had outpaced them. After all, Vulkan's own voyage had been largely unimpeded. Compared to the churning nightmare of the Empyrean during the Horus Heresy, the Warp this time had been remarkably placid. The blinding light of the Astronomican blazed through the dark, offering an unwavering beacon. Navigational failure under such conditions was highly improbable, especially for a fifteen-ship fleet led by the Khan himself, where it was mathematically impossible for every vessel to suffer a simultaneous navigational mishap.
In truth, Jaghatai Khan had encountered a profound anomaly.
As the Astronomican's light pierced the shallow currents of the Warp, it had unmasked horrors that usually slithered unseen within the deepest shadows. The spectral projection of a colossal planet, radiating a sickening, malevolent aura, had materialized directly across the White Scars' warp-conduit. Though the Khan felt a deep, instinctual dread at the sight of this anomalous shadow world, the urgent distress calls from Terra left him no time to investigate. He ordered the fleet to translate back into realspace to recalibrate their heading and bypass the localized warp-anomaly.
Yet, as they cruised through the void of the physical universe, their Astropaths intercepted the follow-up edict from Terra: the crisis had been averted, and the throneworld was secure.
Upon receiving the message, Jaghatai immediately ordered his fleet to alter course toward the realspace coordinates corresponding to the warp-projection. After a brief transit through the void, the physical manifestation of the massive world materialized before the White Scars fleet.
A sudden, violent surge of raw Chaos energy erupted from the celestial body, instantly triggering a cascade of system failures across several warships. The Stormseers peered into the shifting tides and confirmed that this foul, corrupting energy emanated directly from the planet below. The world's surface was entirely choked by a dense, shifting shroud of warp-miasma, completely blinding the fleet's long-range sensors.
Refusing to leave an active threat unaddressed, Jaghatai Khan ordered immediate reconnaissance drops. However, the three vanguard teams led by veteran White Scars went dark the moment they breached the atmosphere, leaving behind nothing but dead static.
Down on the planet's surface, the White Scars scout teams found themselves stepping into a waking nightmare.
The local ecosystem erupted and mutated with a twisted, feral ferocity. Every square inch of the soil reeked of the shifting rot of Chaos. The flora grew in nauseating, bloated shapes, throbbing as if ready to burst at any moment to unleash a lethal deluge of plague-spores.
Ancient Imperial archives from millennia ago recorded that an Imperial expedition had once established a minor outpost on this world. The logs noted the presence of primitive, highly aggressive xenos beasts, though they possessed no discernable intelligence. The environment was deemed too toxic to support human life. After analyzing the native biology and finding no viable mineral wealth, the Imperium officially categorized the world as a Death World and abandoned it.
According to those historical records, the planet's jungles were supposed to consist of a unique variety of crystalline flora.
Yet, what the White Scars now beheld was a writhing, shifting forest of bark and thorn that swayed like hunting beasts. Everything had degenerated into something utterly alien to the ancient Imperial datasheets. Grotesque, corrupted crystals grew like malignant tumors along the twisted branches, pulsing to maintain a constant, low-frequency field of raw warp energy.
A choking, grey-green haze hung heavy over the landscape, blanketing the dying world in a shroud of quiet horror.
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