Chapter 462: Twin Suns Illuminate the World! The Four Chaos Gods Tremble! Retreat!
"It's Father who has returned!"
The awakening of Guilliman greatly roused and inspired the surviving Ultramarines. Their stamina had long since been depleted, yet the moment they saw Guilliman, every one of them was filled with boundless fervor.
It was as though an inexhaustible strength coursed through their bodies.
When despair was swept away and hope descended upon their hearts, an overwhelming power surged forth from within the Ultramarines.
This was the bond between the Primarch and his sons. When a Primarch and his gene-sons fought side by side on the battlefield, the warriors would be granted a mysterious blessing of strength.
In that instant, the frenzied Ultramarines rushed to Guilliman's side, shielding their Primarch from enemy strikes. Meanwhile, the Chaos warriors, determined to fulfill their Warmaster's orders, hurled themselves at Guilliman.
The warriors' roars and the blood of their foes made Guilliman's veins boil with battle-fury. His movements grew swifter, and with every stroke of the Emperor's Sword, several traitors fell.
Guilliman's valor and skill in combat inspired more and more Ultramarines. What had been a desperate, outnumbered defense suddenly turned into a force strong enough to blunt the Chaos onslaught.
At the same time, word of Guilliman's resurrection spread swiftly—from the temple, to the fortress of Hera, up into Macragge's orbit, and even echoed within the Immaterium itself.
But an even more earth-shaking revelation followed.
Two suns had appeared in the Warp!
The first was the crippled Emperor, bound to the Golden Throne.
To sustain His life and His power, the Imperium sacrificed thousands of psykers every day, while the Ecclesiarchy ceaselessly preached the faith of the Emperor across the galaxy.
The piety and worship of countless Imperial citizens produced psychic energy that nourished the half-dead Emperor to some degree.
In the Warp, the Emperor's projection resembled a cold sun burning with pale fire, searing any daemons or Chaos Gods that dared approach.
Even the Four Gods of Chaos would not easily show themselves before Him.
This was the terrifying might of a true god.
The Imperial Cult deified the Emperor, which effectively granted humanity a divine patron in the Warp. With the Emperor enthroned, the human race was spared from being utterly annihilated by the Chaos Gods.
But now, a second sun, identical to the Emperor, had appeared within the Warp. Though this sun seemed just a fraction weaker than the Emperor's projection, it was still enough to make the Ruinous Powers tremble.
No one could believe the Emperor had suddenly split into two. Such a thing had never happened in the history of the Warhammer universe.
In that moment, Khorne forgot his rage, panic shaking his brutal heart. Tzeentch racked his ever-scheming mind, unable to discern what had gone wrong. Nurgle's ladle sank to the bottom of his cauldron, while Slaanesh no longer reveled in delight—its mood turned heavy and grave.
The Four Gods of Chaos all turned their gaze toward this second sun. Compared to Guilliman's revival, the emergence of a second Emperor was infinitely more shocking.
"How is this possible… It must be sorcery wrought by the Imperium! There cannot be another Emperor!"
From afar, Abaddon stared at the projection within the Warp. His rotting, disfigured face twisted into a grimace of fury and fear as he bellowed:
"It has to be the work of Imperial psykers! We must not lose our composure!"
He desperately tried to convince himself. He refused to believe there could truly be two Emperors. For if another Emperor had indeed arisen, then the Chaos legions would be slaughtered to the last.
Though Abaddon was the Warmaster chosen by all four gods, he was but a diluted shadow of Horus. Even empowered by the gifts of Chaos, he was still no match for the Emperor.
Two Emperors… even the Four Gods of the Warp would be forced to retreat into hiding.
Soon, Abaddon received confirmation from the Chaos Gods themselves: the solar projection was unlikely to be false. Illusions could be forged, but power could not so easily be faked.
They could not understand how this second sun had appeared, but the Chaos legions' priority was clear—retreat at once, before the Imperium annihilated them.
"Order the full retreat!"
Abaddon bit down in grief and fury, issuing the command to every Chaos force scattered across the galaxy: suspend all campaigns and withdraw into the Warp at once.
Yet his order was met with resistance rather than obedience.
At Macragge, Chaos forces were on the brink of breaching the capital of Ultramar; now, at the very moment of triumph, their Warmaster commanded retreat.
All their efforts would be wasted!
Some obeyed Abaddon, others hesitated in doubt, and some flatly refused.
In truth, the Chaos legions were never united. Formed of many factions, they resembled little more than a rabble of bandit hosts, each driven by its own desires.
Some sought immortality like the gods themselves, some craved power at any cost, some lusted after dominion, seizing star systems to wield life and death as they pleased.
Thus, Chaos forces lacked the loyalty and cohesion of the Imperium.
Outwardly, Abaddon might be the exalted Warmaster, but in reality his direct command extended only over his own Black Legion. Other armies were ruled by their daemon Primarchs, or powerful Chaos lords of greater prestige.
Faced with waves of dissent, Abaddon longed to hurl his treacherous comrades into the Emperor's burning sun to be scorched to ash.
"Damn them! These fools dare defy me?"
Though chosen by all four gods, Abaddon's authority was far from absolute. His words did not bind all legions.
So be it—let them act as they pleased. It would not be him who suffered the consequences.
…
Macragge, Fortress of Hera.
Guilliman's Emperor's Sword moved like lightning, cutting down Chaos warriors one after another.
Before long, he realized the once-Infinity tide of enemies had dwindled into scattered stragglers.
In orbit above Macragge, the Chaos fleets and boarding craft had likewise vanished, as if the battle had never taken place.
Within the vast temple, the defiled beacons left by Chaos sorcerers dimmed into nothing, cleansed by the Ultramarines.
It was plain that the Chaos legions had abandoned their near-certain victory at Macragge and withdrawn entirely.
"What is this? The Chaos horde has simply left?" Guilliman was astonished.
By rights, this was his most vulnerable moment—freshly awakened, his strength not yet fully restored, and easiest to slay.
For the Chaos legions to retreat at the brink of victory was the most wasteful decision imaginable.
If it were him, Guilliman would certainly have tried every means to throw in more Chaos forces, perhaps even sending a Daemon Primarch directly to strike him down once more in his fragile, newly-revived state.
And yet, they retreated…
What in the Throne's name was going on?
At that moment, the battered and blood-soaked Chapter Master Calgar looked with shame upon the majestic figure of Guilliman.
He ought to have led his Ultramarines before their Primarch, to pledge his loyalty and steadfastness. But now, Calgar felt only deep guilt.
After all, until just before this day, he had striven to stop Archmagos Cawl from reviving the Primarch. He had nearly sabotaged the revival entirely.
Had Chief Librarian Tigurius obeyed his orders, both Archmagos Cawl and the xenos Eldar would already have been slain on the spot.
"My sons, come to me. Let me look upon you properly."
With a flash of movement, Guilliman returned to the throne. He drove the Emperor's Sword into the floor before him, his presence radiant as he addressed the assembled Ultramarines.
Though he did not recognize these unfamiliar Astartes, he could feel the blood-bond within them. These new Ultramarines stood as proof of the Legion's unending survival.
Guilliman's mind brimmed with questions—how long had he slept, what was the true state of the Imperium, had the Heresy ended?
Calgar stepped forward to answer, first declaring himself as the current Chapter Master of the Ultramarines, then recounting the causes and course of the battle just fought.
"Primarch, ten thousand years have passed since your slumber. The other Primarchs are either slain, vanished, or fallen as Daemon Princes. Only you remain."
At those sorrowful words, Calgar could not help but sigh within.
From the limited chronicles of the past, he knew of the radiant age ten millennia before—when the Emperor's Imperium had grown ever stronger. All of it, undone by the Warp Gods' treachery.
Ten thousand years… and still this war has not ended?
Guilliman's face remained composed, but fury stirred within.
During the Great Crusade, the Primarchs had swept across the galaxy in barely two centuries, purging uncounted alien species.
And yet, the Horus Heresy had unleashed a war that still dragged on after ten millennia.
He did not need to imagine the toll. Ten thousand years of Infinity bloodshed must have ravaged the Imperium. Countless citizens dead, once-prosperous sectors reduced to ash.
Guilliman's heart ached. For one as shrewd a statesman as he, such a price was unbearable.
"And my father? Where is he now?" Guilliman asked again.
He could not comprehend why the Emperor would allow Chaos to ravage for ten millennia. With the Emperor's power and mastery, the Heresy should have been crushed within ten years at most.
"The God-Emperor's body still sits upon Holy Terra, His power shielding every inch of the Imperium."
Calgar bowed deeply, answering with reverence.
At once, Guilliman's keen mind seized on the word. His brow furrowed sharply as he demanded:
"You dare call Him the God-Emperor? Do you not know how He despised that title?"
Guilliman knew well that the Emperor abhorred being deified. Among his Primarch brothers, Lorgar Aurelian of the Word Bearers had stubbornly proclaimed the Emperor divine.
Back then, to weaken the Warp's grip on reality, the Emperor had enforced a materialist truth across the Imperium. All superstition was to be eradicated.
But Lorgar defied Him. And so, the Emperor had burned his Perfect City in wrath—an act that shattered Lorgar's faith, driving him to become the first Primarch to fall.
Yet ten thousand years later, mankind had done exactly what the Emperor most forbade—raising Him as a god.
Why had He not stopped them? Why destroy Lorgar's city to prevent deification, only to allow the Imperium to deify Him wholesale?
Such contradictions made the present age feel ever more perilous.
Guilliman burned with the need to see the Emperor face to face.
But first, he had to understand these strangers around him.
"Honored Primarch, I am here to fulfill our pact. Much has changed over the millennia, but I hope you still recognize my voice."
Archmagos Belisarius Cawl stepped forward. After ten millennia, no mere flesh could endure. Time had scoured away his humanity.
To keep his promise, he had remade himself as half-man, half-machine—truthfully, far less than half. Not even ten percent of him remained human.
"Cawl! So it is you. I knew you would not break your word."
Guilliman's joy was uncontainable. To behold a friend from ten millennia past was nothing short of miraculous.
To meet in life after so long apart—such fortune was beyond belief.
When Guilliman had learned ten millennia had passed, he had all but abandoned hope that Cawl might still live to honor their promise.
For who could survive so long unscathed?
"I am Yvraine, leader of the Aeldari Ynnari. I came to aid the Archmagos against the forces of Chaos, and to help revive the Primarch of the Ultramarines."
Yvraine met Guilliman's gaze without flinching, her voice calm. She made sure to stress their alliance against Chaos, underscoring the cooperation between Eldar and Man.
After all, ten millennia ago, not long after the Great Crusade, humanity and the Eldar had been bitter enemies. She could not know if Guilliman, once revived, might repay her with betrayal.
Thankfully, Guilliman merely bowed his head in thought for a few seconds, then nodded in return.
He was no rigid fool. If Cawl had sought the Eldar's help, then Chaos must have grown so vast that mankind could not stand alone.
In times of such dire need, all powers that could be united, must be united.
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