Within the Sanctum,
the pale, stilled corpse in the throne was gone,
replaced by a being brimming with life, eyes burning with fury—the gene-Primarch, a demigod of Imperial myth.
Guilliman's last memories were of the Battle of Thessala against Fulgrim.
That vile traitor, exploiting a wound dealt by Kor Phaeron, mortally wounded Guilliman in their duel.
Guilliman remembered being carried back to the Macragge's Honour by his sons,
Their desperate cries for the Apothecary, their helplessness as his life ebbed away.
At last, his heart stopped. His blood ceased to flow.
His soul stood on a cliff above a hideous, boiling sea of souls,
driven by the mad laughter of the Ruinous Powers.
"Father!!"
Guilliman's final cry, a plea to his father.
A cold golden light enveloped him, shielding him from the soul-sea's roar.
Then—nothing.
When he opened his eyes again, Guilliman found himself in the midst of chaos.
His battered armor replaced by shining blue war-plate,
the Emperor's Sword in hand, burning with golden fire.
Guilliman took in the battlefield, instantly assessing the situation.
He was unfamiliar with the weapons and twisted foes around him,
but with superhuman intellect, he instantly deduced friend from foe.
As the Primarch awakened, the Sanctum fell eerily silent.
Even as war raged across Ultramar, inside the shrine, not a sound could be heard.
All present—friend or foe—were awed to their core, witnessing the mythic return of the Emperor's thirteenth son.
"Blood for the Blood God!"
A guttural roar shattered the silence,
A Chaos Lord devoted to Khorne charged the throne.
His body bulged with unnatural muscle, infused with unearthly power.
A snarling Khorne rune was carved on his face—a mark of favor for sacrificing eighty-eight worlds.
His axe dripped with blood, the faces of the dead screaming within.
The Chaos Lord leapt at Guilliman,
intent on taking the Primarch's head for Khorne.
Guilliman moved—so fast only Yvraine and the Ynnari could follow.
Even they were shocked—this was a speed they could never match.
To be called a myth was no exaggeration for a Primarch.
The Emperor's Sword flashed—a phantom in the air—severing the Chaos Lord in two.
Both halves of the corpse flew, trailing blood across the floor.
Datch silently gave a thumbs up.
Does the Blood God know how brave you are, kid?
[Congratulations! You have completed the mission: Escort Archmagos Cawl to resurrect the Thirteenth Primarch, Roboute Guilliman, to face the Great Rift crisis.]
[Rewards: 2000 XP, 2000 Points, Reputation +60, Protective Sunglasses x1]
A pair of green-quality sunglasses appeared in Datch's inventory.
Equipped: +10 Charisma, +10 Defense.
Without hesitation, Datch put them on.
In gaming, there's an unwritten rule: the wackier your look, the stronger you are.
Mechs weighing a hundred tons can't beat bikinis—such is gaming law.
Yvraine was the first to notice Datch's new sunglasses.
She wondered where he kept pulling this gear from!
The sound of the berserker's corpse hitting the floor broke the silence.
With a furious, hate-filled howl, Black Legion warriors charged Guilliman.
Guilliman strode forward to meet them head-on.
The slaughter began.
First to die were the sorcerers—their dark magic had shaken the shrine.
Guilliman raised his gauntlet. The Hand of Dominion unleashed a storm of bolter fire,
turning the sorcerers to dust.
Next came the berserkers, racing to imitate their bisected lord.
Their fate was the same: in moments, they were nothing but meat within their armor.
The traitors tried to fire bolters at the Primarch.
The rounds exploded harmlessly on his armor—not one could penetrate.
Guilliman was like a T-Rex among sheep, smashing Chaos Marines with every blow.
A roar of pure fury echoed.
First punch—a Black Legionary was sent flying, blood trailing from life to death.
Second—a Chaos Terminator blasted into a marble pillar,
his shattered body snapping the solid column.
Such power stunned Amalrich, Garrein, and the others.
Terminator armor was considered a walking tank, a battle-winner.
Now, one was hammered into the wall with a single blow.
A Chaos Marine swung a power fist like a spear at Guilliman's chest.
But before the strike could land, his arm and torso had already parted company.
Guilliman's counter sent his head flying, and as his body slumped, friction burns blistered on the neck stump.
Every strike was lightning-fast; the traitors' superhuman senses couldn't save them.
No one could challenge the Primarch.
Even those who managed to land a blow only saw bullets bounce off or swords snap harmlessly.
Guilliman's dominance inspired all.
As the Black Legion surged at the Primarch,
the loyalists' pressure lifted, allowing them to regroup and counterattack.
"Praise the Emperor!"
"Thank you for your mercy! How could we deserve such grace, to have him returned to us?"
Living Saint Celestine gazed at the Primarch's towering form, her face alight with excitement.
A son of the Emperor, a demigod of war, would lead humanity and the Imperium against the darkness devouring them.
She offered her deepest thanks to the Emperor for letting her witness this moment.
Faith surged in her blood—her eyes glowed gold.
A Black Legionary charged Celestine, thinking her distracted in prayer.
How wrong he was.
Celestine blazed with light.
Her wounds vanished, her attendants resurrected in holy fire.
She swung her burning sword—one strike pierced the traitor.
Celestine soared, diving at the traitors, her landing sending a shockwave that hurled enemies away,
saving the embattled Inquisitor Greyfax.
"I was wrong!" Greyfax shouted, her voice louder than the gunfire. "I apologize for my foolishness. I once suspected you were a pawn of Chaos, but now I see you are the Emperor's will made flesh, his embodiment on Earth!"
"Vigilance is no sin, Katarinya Greyfax," Celestine replied as she fought. "You have served our Lord faithfully, as have I."
"Do not apologize. Remember—always be vigilant."
"Thank you." Greyfax nodded. "I will do as you wish, Saint. I will remain vigilant and loyal, until the end of my life and the extinction of my soul."
At this moment, Datch, wielding a chainsword and magic rod, received a mission completion prompt.
[Congratulations! You have completed the mission: Assist Inquisitor Greyfax in monitoring Celestine's strange behavior.]
[Rewards: 800 XP, 800 Points, Reputation +60, Jetpack x1]
A green-quality jetpack appeared in Datch's inventory.
With a thought, the jetpack was installed.
It came with a special blessing: Omnissiah's Powerful Jet.
Effect: If activated to cushion a fall from any height, it completely negates fall damage.
Review: "Just open the jets before you hit the ground—you'll be fine!"
…