The Thirteenth Legion.
One of the most combat-capable Legions in the Imperium of Man, their rage displayed in battle often struck fear into the hearts of their enemies.
While patrolling the void, the Fourth Company's fleet received a distress signal from a ship in the Nur Stars.
Under normal circumstances, a wide-area public distress signal meant the situation was already extremely critical.
The Fourth Company Captain did not hesitate, leading his fleet to jump into the Warp and head straight for the engaged sector.
The enemy was highly likely to be the Rangdan Servants!
This information both surprised and delighted the Captain; surprised by the depth of the Rangdan's infiltration, reaching deep into the Ultima Orientis Segmentum, and delighted by their reappearance.
This battle might become the foundation for the Legion's glory!
He immediately ordered his fleet to encircle the Rangdan Servants, preventing the enemy from escaping.
"Fleet, heed my command," Guilliman said in a deep voice, the authority of the consul spreading throughout the fleet via electronic signals: "All ships disengage from combat, leave this star system, and rendezvous at Macragge."
"This battle is a mistake, perhaps a misunderstanding, or even deliberate, staining what could have been a harmonious encounter with the crimson of blood."
"Fleet, withdraw!"
The Consul of Macragge, his decision was beyond doubt; the great leader had made Ultramar prosperous.
The fleet immediately accelerated to full power to disengage from combat, moving towards the edge of the dark star system under mutual cover.
Facing a rapidly approaching unknown force, if they did not withdraw now, they would be surrounded and annihilated by a large number of ships.
Guilliman had seen the danger and ordered the ships to withdraw. Regardless of whether the future was good or bad, preserving strength was in line with Macragge's strategic needs.
"Filthy creatures, devoid of courage and honor! Wretches who grovel in the mire!"
Seeing the fleet withdrawing, the public channel once again erupted with furious curses, stinging every Macraggean:
"Hypocritical, despicable, and weak, where are your xenos overlords? Let them come here and face our wrath!"
Even the rationally tolerant Guilliman's face was ashen, his hands clenched into fists, constantly suppressing the surge of anger within him.
His nature urged his anger, wanting to rush forward, swing his iron fist, smash the provocateur's front teeth, and tear out his tongue to cleanse the humiliation.
But reason suppressed Guilliman's fury, making him understand the current situation, to prioritize the greater good, and to prevent war from igniting between the two empires.
He shook his head and took several deep breaths, inhaling cold air to combat the heat, urging the fleet to execute his orders.
Guilliman had no intention of responding to the insults and challenges on the public channel; the other party had closed two-way communication, unilaterally spewing verbal abuse.
But he continued to listen, constantly gathering information and building a mental model.
Guilliman had likely deduced the situation clearly.
The vanguard fleets of two factions, the Imperium of Man and the Nur Stars, were searching the void for a dangerous xenos called the "Rangdan."
They could control minds and were a great enemy of the human race, an entity that must be annihilated.
And the Macragge fleet, for currently unknown reasons, had attacked the Nur Stars and was labeled as "Rangdan Servants."
Guilliman stared at the holographic map, watching his fleet escape the encirclement, a look of determination flashing in his eyes.
He lowered his voice and gave an order to the Captain: "Captain, please move the ship closer."
Guilliman pointed at the occupied friendly warship on the holographic map, ordering his command ship to approach it.
"Sir," the Captain felt a surge of panic, which he quickly suppressed; his duty forbade any display of fear. He said with a stiff neck and voice, "We might not return from this."
That fallen warship was also a crucial target for the enemy, the destination of multiple warship trajectories.
"I understand, Captain." Guilliman looked at the middle-aged man, offering a comforting smile: "That is the origin of the conflict; I must go and understand the cause of the incident."
"My personal safety, or the loss of this ship, is far less important than the safety and future of Ultramar."
"If this incident cannot be resolved, what kind of thunderous retaliation will our home world face?"
The Captain remained silent, drawing a navigation route on the holographic map and ordering the ship to proceed at full speed.
Fortunately, the star system where the fallen warship was located was relatively close to their position, allowing them to arrive earlier than the Imperium of Man.
"Shut down weapon systems, activate light signals, and transmit a message of no hostility."
The Captain continuously gave orders, executing his personal judgment of the situation, demonstrating the ship's harmlessness with the utmost sincerity.
Guilliman nodded repeatedly; the Captain had indeed done his best, showing immense sincerity.
The Legion Captain, however, did not see it that way. Regardless, any ship or faction labeled as Rangdan had become synonymous with treachery and shamelessness.
Harmless signals and deactivated weapons were merely the beginning of a ruse.
The Nur Stars had already explained the cause of the incident: Macragge had deceived them into boarding, then launched a sudden attack at close range.
Was the current situation not exactly the same as then?
First, feign harmlessness, then launch a deadly sneak attack when the Imperium let down its guard.
Once bitten by a snake, one fears a rope for ten years.
The Imperium would not trust its enemies! The Legion would not hesitate!
"Plots and schemes will not deceive us!" The Captain's will was as firm as iron as he issued the attack order: "Disable the enemy ship; they can say whatever they want in a cage."
Lances of light pierced the cosmos, attacking the enemy ship to prevent it from approaching the derelict.
Fighters launched from the hangar, carrying anti-ship missiles, determined to sink the enemy vessel.
Beep ~ beep ~ beep ~
On the command ship, alarms blared with vibrations, red and green lights alternating, reflecting Guilliman's constantly changing expression.
He understood the Imperium of Man's resolve; that furious fleet commander showed no hesitation once a target was identified.
"Multiple deck sections damaged, their technology far surpasses ours!" Reports constantly came from the bridge, the crew's voices tinged with tears: "As the distance closes, the power of their weapons will become even stronger."
"Raise shields." The Captain's roar drowned out the crying, raising shields to face the attack.
"I leave this to you; I need to prepare to board." Guilliman was expressionless as he walked to the elevator, turning back to say loudly: "May the glory of Macragge endure forever."
He looked back at the bridge with reverence, until the elevator doors slowly closed.
"May the glory of Macragge endure forever!"
The Captain saluted the giant, his eyes devoid of fear, only the composure and fearlessness of facing sacrifice.
They all knew that no matter the outcome of the boarding negotiations, this warship would never return.
The warships of the Imperium of Man would be merciless; dense lance weapons would tear the warship apart without a hint of hesitation.
The Thirteenth Legion warships and the Macragge warship rapidly converged on the derelict as their center.
"Boarding!" At close range, the Fourth Company Captain issued the boarding order, sending his Legion brothers to attack the enemy warship.
"For the glory of the Legion!" The warriors roared, entering the boarding pods and launching with the force of thunder.
The boarding pods pierced through the cold void, meltaguns searing through the hull, releasing the Imperium of Man's most elite warriors the Astartes.
Huge men in blue power armor, wielding boltguns, burst from the boarding pods, continuously attacking the ship's interior.
Guilliman saw this scene before boarding the shuttle; his pupils sharply contracted.
He had never seen such warriors before: tall, exuding murderous intent, incredibly swift in their movements, and seamlessly coordinated.
He also had a unique feeling that these warriors were both familiar and unfamiliar, as if there was some connection to him.
Then, the disembarking warriors aimed their guns at Guilliman, pulling the triggers and firing at him.
Near the boarding pod, thick smoke billowed from melta-scorching.
Before the smoke cleared, the Space Marines, guided by their helmet visors, locked onto his silhouette and opened fire ferociously.
A tall gene-thrall? The Thirteenth Legion warriors had locked onto a high-threat target!
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
In an instant, Guilliman's vision pierced through the smoke, seeing at least six warriors firing at him.
Guilliman clearly saw the trajectories of the bullets piercing the smoke and immediately took evasive action; for him, it was not difficult.
He dodged the attack, but his accompanying personnel could not, their chests and heads exploding.
Guilliman's heart sank, assessing the enemy's weapons and concluding that they could harm him.
Those armored warriors, though not as powerful as him, were numerous and held an overwhelming advantage over mortals.
While dodging bullets, Guilliman's brain still operated at high speed, gathering information and intelligence, deducing the future course of the battle.
The Imperium of Man possessed at least thirteen such armies; these powerful warriors were absolutely something Macragge could not withstand!
Even with himself, they could not!
Just as he was in shock, a sudden pain in his chest, a stray bullet struck Guilliman, shattering the chest plate of his protective armor.
Instinctively, he looked down at the breach, his brain again deducing the type of ammunition a self-propelled explosive round.
"Buzz ~ buzz ~ buzz ~"
The savage roar of motors came, smoke filled with an agitated atmosphere, as the boarding warriors drew their chainswords.
Guilliman's mouth twitched, the sharp, rotating teeth of the barbaric weapon emitting a terrifying killing intent, shredding everything it touched.
He constantly dodged and weaved, his movements as swift as a ghost, unwilling to get entangled with the boarding Legion Warriors.
It wasn't out of fear of the brutal Imperium of Man soldiers. Guilliman knew very well that killing would not fundamentally resolve this conflict.
Although those Legion Warriors were powerful, with his own strength, he was confident he could eliminate the eighteen Legion Warriors who came out of the three boarding craft within three seconds.
Even if he was currently unarmed.
There was also the most important point: the faint connection between himself and the Imperium of Man Legion Warriors made him abandon any intention to attack.
Guilliman was unwilling to attack, but the Legion Warriors of the Thirteenth Legion didn't think that way; their goal was to eliminate the threat before them.
The Legion Warriors burst out of the thick smoke and saw the massive blue giant fifty meters away.
"Brothers! Steady your minds, resist the psychic pollution of the Rangdan slaves!"
The boarding team leader roared a warning, telling his battle brothers to steady their minds and prevent their spirits from being shaken.
Seeing was believing; the Legion Warriors finally understood why the Imperium and Argent Nur were so determined to eradicate the Rangdan.
The gene-slave in the blue Power Armor before them emitted a strange fluctuation, using an eerie sense of familiarity to deceive the Space Marines' senses.
Just meeting him, the Space Marines' hearts were shaken, let alone how mortals could resist such a psychic impact.
Had they not known about the Rangdan's pollution beforehand, they might have mistaken the person in front of them for a Primarch or a Gene-Father.
After all, from his height and physical capabilities, he greatly resembled a Son of the Emperor; his disguise was extremely clever.
They must strike hard!
Four Space Marines formed an attack formation, rushing forward with bolt pistols and Power Weapons.
The battle brothers behind them continuously fired, compressing the giant's dodging space, launching a fierce, two-pronged attack.
To eliminate this huge danger, a long-range barrage would block his movement, while close-quarters combat would further restrict his range of activity.
The Legion Warriors charged incredibly fast; their Power Armor stomped on the steel floor, their charging figures like heavy tanks.
"Good Legion Warriors!" Guilliman couldn't help but exclaim. He saw in these soldiers a fearless courage, daring to attack anyone.
Within seconds, four Space Marines rushed forward, swinging their weapons and launching sharp attacks.
Their brothers behind them continuously fired and closed in, intending to gang up on the abnormal gene-slave.
Inner thigh artery, psoas muscle, hip, knee joint.
Guilliman analyzed and immediately knew the parts the Legion Warriors were attacking, reacting with incredible speed.
He backhanded, gripping the attacker's Power Armor backpack, and with astonishing strength, swung the opponent, smashing him into the converging Legion Warriors.
The Legion Warrior only felt a blur before his eyes; the enemy's speed was incredibly fast, and once his large hand gripped the Power Armor backpack, an irresistible immense force followed.
By the time he reacted, his body was completely out of control, spinning endlessly in the air.
Bang ~
A crushing sensation came from inside his armor, his leg armor shattered, and the sound of impact transmitted through the ceramite. With the world spinning, he knew he had hit something.
In the squad's information projection, the Legion Warrior clearly saw that one member of the melee squad had lost contact.
The armor monitor showed the battle brother's status; he wasn't dead, just knocked unconscious from being kicked in the head.
Before he could even sigh in relief, his Power Armor flashed an overload warning, his vision went black, and blood spilled from his mouth and nose as he also fell unconscious.
Guilliman, one in each hand, grabbed two Legion Warriors' Power Armor backpacks, slammed them together, and then threw them out.
The last assault Legion Warrior saw a large foot enlarge in his vision and was kicked unconscious before he could react.
In less than a second, the four attackers were dealt with.
The strength of a Primarch and a Space Marine was incomparable; it was a one-sided crushing defeat.
Guilliman looked back; the remaining boarding Legion Warriors did not hesitate, still surrounding him, as if their comrades were not worth their concern.
He shook his head helplessly, abandoned his defensive stance, and actively attacked, intending to deal with them all at once.
However, Guilliman underestimated the Space Marines' resolve!
The fourteen Legion Warriors did not rush to attack; instead, they surrounded him, harassing him with ranged weapons and striking at vital points with their melee weapons.
Guilliman was again amazed; this group of Legion Warriors had extremely high coordination and even faster tactical adjustments, finding the best method immediately.
He lowered his body, deftly dodging bullets, calculating every attack route.
His superhuman perception granted Guilliman a seamless warning circle; even without seeing behind him, he clearly sensed subtle movements.
A large hand encased in protective armor grabbed a Legion Warrior's arm, twisting it gently, breaking it along with the Power Armor.
Guilliman launched his attack from within the encirclement, snatching the Power Axe from the Legion Warrior's hand and beginning to counterattack in all directions.
"I have no intention of being your enemy!" he warned, saying regretfully, "This battle should not be happening."
His response was met with silence, as well as swinging blades and roaring bullets.
Sighing helplessly, Guilliman knew that his words and warnings could not shake the resolute Legion Warriors.
His steps were powerful yet light; he swung a fist with one hand and an axe with the other, repelling the surrounding Legion Warriors.
With one punch, ceramite armor shattered, and a Space Marine flew backward, lying unconscious on the ground.
A physics-defying turnaround, he swept aside a Power Armor backpack, felling three Legion Warriors.
The axe handle spun, shattering a helmet, revealing a face astonished to the point of disbelief underneath.
He spun low with a sweeping kick; the surrounding Legion Warriors had no time to resist and were all swept into the air.
Before they could land, Guilliman moved his agile body, appearing to flash behind them, destroying all their Power Armor backpacks.
When the Space Marines landed, they all fell to the ground, struggling but unable to get up.
In just three short seconds, the encirclement was shattered, and the Space Marines, without even touching their enemy, all fell to the ground, losing their combat effectiveness.
"Who exactly are you? Why does a being like you serve the Rangdan?"
The Legion Warrior, supporting his heavy Power Armor, his body incredibly tough, angrily questioned the blue giant.
"I don't know the Rangdan!" Guilliman's voice remained low, suppressing his anger, imbued with the helplessness of being misunderstood.
Rangdan! Rangdan! Rangdan!
Guilliman firmly remembered the Rangdan, this alien race that had caused him such unjust suffering.
The boarding team leader cursed, "Whether you are Rangdan or not, you attacked the Imperium and Argent Nur, and that is a grave crime."
"You think you're strong? The Warrior King is coming, and he will flay you alive!"
"Shut up!" Guilliman growled, "Don't you understand? If I wanted to kill you, why would I go to such lengths to subdue you? To listen to you insult me?"
"I am committed to ending conflict, not fanning the flames."
The Legion Warriors listened, silent. They could not ignore the facts before them.
Just as the blue giant said, with his strength, killing eighteen assault Legion Warriors would be effortless.
The Legion Warrior stubbornly said, "You just want to use us to achieve your ulterior motives."
Guilliman helplessly covered his head with his gauntlet, suddenly wanting to laugh, amused by the Legion Warriors lying on the ground.
Suddenly, his senses began to give a warning; a new sense of crisis emerged.
Looking up, a second wave of boarding craft appeared, rushing towards the landing pad.
"I mean no harm." Guilliman emphasized again, dropping the Power Axe to the ground with a clang, and turned to run towards the shuttle.
The conflict was escalating; it had to be resolved.
A greater crisis was approaching; that "Warrior King" – just hearing the title suggested he was no ordinary individual.
The Thirteenth Legion Warriors burst out of the smoke, saw the blue-armored figure enter the shuttle, and let out an incredibly unwilling, furious roar.
The waiting shuttle immediately departed, flying towards the wreckage, the initial epicenter of the contact incident.
"The ship is locking down the sector; don't let him escape!" The boarding team was extremely resentful, uploading the shuttle's image to the ship, instructing the fleet to prioritize scanning.
They quickly ran to their battle brothers to check the boarding team's casualties.
"Did we really make a mistake?" A Legion Warrior looked up, his eyes thoughtful, and asked his reinforcing brothers.
"I think you've been deceived by the alien's servant." The battle brother shook his head, scoffing at his brother's weakness.
He didn't answer, letting his brother help him up, recalling the blue giant's figure and words, finding it more and more unsettling the more he thought about it.
Guilliman, riding the shuttle, arrived at the wreckage, his heart finally feeling a slight ease.
The next moment, his slightly eased heart once again soared.
From the Warp's glow, a massive battleship emerged into real space, her figure grand and her demeanor noble, exuding an aura of supremacy.
"Warrior King." Guilliman whispered, knowing that high-ranking Imperium of Man or Argent Nur personnel had arrived.
Anyone with such a title would undoubtedly be known for their martial prowess, and martial prowess, in some aspects, symbolized volatility.
He wondered if the volatile Warrior King would be willing to listen to his explanation.
Guilliman boarded the occupied Macragge battleship, and what he saw was a tragic scene.
Seeing his arrival, the ship's workers and sailors were greatly encouraged, gradually gathering behind Guilliman and following the giant to the bridge.
They followed the giant's footsteps to the bridge, to make contact with the outsiders and understand the truth of the matter.
Hurrying along, Guilliman's brow was tightly furrowed. Debris of varying sizes was scattered in the corridor, and solidified and semi-solidified blood covered the deck. The ventilation system could no longer filter the heavy smell of blood and decay.
He walked through the corridors with a heavy heart, shaking his head repeatedly at the sight of the slaughtered citizens of Ultramar.
Deep down, Guilliman remained vigilant, observing and analyzing, sensing that Argent Nur's soldiers were far from simple.
As he walked through the ship's corridors, his extraordinary observational skills transformed what he saw into a holographic battlefield recreation.
Argent Nur's elite warriors, using cutting weapons, coordinated with ordinary soldiers to tear through the armed sailors' lines and charge towards the bridge.
From the varying depths of bloody footprints, Guilliman discovered that someone was carrying an object equal to their own weight.
Someone was seriously injured!
"What exactly happened?" he asked a nearby sailor, eager to understand the truth to prepare for countermeasures.
The situation was becoming increasingly chaotic; he had to meticulously uncover the truth behind the conflict to prevent its escalation.
Even a slight mishandling could escalate into a revenge expedition against Macragge by two massive powers.
"We don't know," the captain of the sailors was equally bewildered, stammering out everything he had seen:
"The people from Argent Nur boarded our battleship for a normal visit, and were attacked as they were preparing to leave."
"A melta bomb suddenly exploded, and then we received orders to attack those visitors. The captain claimed we were under attack and had to retaliate."
The captain's answer made Guilliman's head pound; there was too little useful information, but at least one thing was confirmed Macragge had initiated the attack.
Then, the entire ship was swept up by the captain's will, launching a targeted encirclement.
As for why Argent Nur's visitors were attacked, only the captain knew; he was the orchestrator of this incident.
"Not good!" Guilliman exclaimed softly, his figure darting forward like an arrow, rushing anxiously towards the bridge.
His alarmed cry and command echoed through the ship's corridor: "You all wait here. If anyone else boards, you don't need to stop them, and do not show hostility."
Even as he left, Guilliman made arrangements to prevent the conflict from escalating further.
He was now very urgent, rushing towards the bridge with all his might, leaving several afterimages behind him.
Guilliman, who had always been revered as a god by the people of Macragge and considered himself omnipotent, prayed for the first time in his heart.
Please don't die!
The captain who issued the attack order was the culprit of the current situation; he absolutely could not die!
If he died, all blame would fall on Macragge, and the Imperium of Man and Argent Nur would unleash their wrath upon innocent people.
Soon, relying on his familiarity with the ship, Guilliman quickly reached the bridge and saw the cut-open steel door of the bridge.
"Stop!" he roared, stopping the armed sailors from surrounding the bridge.
Just then, a strong sense of danger surged within Guilliman; his instincts were screaming a warning.
He immediately halted his advance and dodged to the side. A flat, blue, insubstantial beam of light grazed his body, effortlessly piercing the deck behind him.
After dodging the attack, Guilliman suddenly realized that the situation on the field seemed to be different.
The armed sailors appeared to be besieging, but in reality, they were completely suppressed, too afraid to show their heads.
Even behind cover, shredded bodies of sailors were everywhere, and no one dared approach within the firing angle of the steel door.
The weapon emitting the azure beam ignored any cover, suppressing a large number of sailors.
Hearing the roar, the armed sailors turned around and saw the towering figure of Guilliman, a flash of relief in their panicked eyes.
"Sir, they have hijacked the captain-"
Guilliman raised a hand, interrupting the sailor, his stern expression finally relaxing slightly.
He had heard some encouraging good news: the captain was only hijacked, not in mortal danger.
"Friends from Argent Nur," Guilliman's towering figure hid out of the line of fire, adjusting his tone to be as gentle as possible, conveying friendliness into the bridge:
"This conflict stems from a misunderstanding, or a selfish personal decision. Can we talk?"
As a Primarch, endowed with the extraordinary charisma bestowed by the Emperor, Guilliman's voice was resonant and echoed with sincerity through the ship's corridor.
The outside of the bridge immediately fell silent, awaiting an answer.
"Put away your tricks," came a response from within the bridge, extremely firm, filled with distrust and disdain: "We won't fall for it again.
Only Argent Nur's wrath awaits you."
"King Nowick has already arrived. He will wield the Hammer of Judgment and smash your hypocrisy and baseness to pieces."
"If you want to attack, come! The Sentinels are not weak, and fear no one!"
Guilliman was momentarily speechless, standing in the corner and sighing, knowing that once trust was broken, it would be difficult to mend.
Argent Nur's visitors, bravely displayed trust upon their arrival, only to be betrayed by the people of Macragge.
Trust was split in half by betrayal, creating an insurmountable chasm that would take a very, very long time to bridge.
"Lord Guilliman! Save me quickly " A crying voice came from the bridge; the captain recognized the identity of the newcomer by his voice.
"Shut up!" The Mortal Auxiliary Army member swung his iron fist, knocking out a mouthful of the captain's yellow teeth, and cursed: "No one here can save you."
Taking advantage of the talking, the Sentinels signaled his comrade to set up a teleportation beacon, sending teleportation coordinates for reinforcements.
"Please forgive my rudeness. I will apologize to you afterward." Guilliman's expression tightened again. After apologizing, he charged towards the bridge door.
He had to do this; for Macragge and Ultramar, he absolutely had to control the captain.
His eyes fixed on the inside of the bridge, Guilliman dared not relax, his mind highly concentrated, quickly analyzing the Sentinels's movements.
The beam weapon approached the speed of light; he knew he couldn't dodge it or rely on his body's defense.
He could only avoid it by observing the warrior's movements, analyzing the firing angle, and utilizing his own agility.
In a few strides, fully utilizing his speed and reaction time, he charged to the bridge door.
The Sentinels immediately counterattacked. They were surprised by the enemy's speed, but not helpless.
"Rapid fire, blockade the door!" The veteran quickly adjusted. Since aiming was impossible, they would use suppressive fire.
He took an egg-shaped grenade from his waist and threw it at the doorway, fearless of the enemy's high-level combat power charging in.
Guilliman halted his charge and retreated. His senses told him not to rush forward recklessly.
Sure enough, as soon as he retreated, the egg-shaped grenade exploded, forming a transparent circular area.
Bullets entering it became extremely sluggish, barely advancing, slowly moving forward along their trajectory.
Stasis grenade. One of the Sentinels's optional armaments, a temporal weapon made with ancient technology.
Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and Guilliman's eye twitched occasionally. What exactly was Argent Nur's background? To possess portable temporal weapons.
Five seconds felt like five centuries. When the stasis effect ended, Guilliman was about to charge again, but saw the Sentinels take out several more identical grenades from his waist.
He froze for a moment, retreating back to the corner, taking an automatic rifle from an armed sailor, removing the magazine, and squeezing out the bullets into his hand.
Holding the bullets in his hand, Guilliman no longer hesitated, his figure moving as he charged towards the bridge door.
This time, he had to succeed. To reclaim the only living witness.
Because inside the bridge, teleportation light had flared.
The Sentinels again threw a stasis grenade to hinder the enemy's progress. Just five seconds, and teleportation support would arrive.
Guilliman seized the opportunity, flicking a bullet from his hand, precisely hitting the stasis grenade and knocking it away.
The Sentinels couldn't have imagined that the seemingly unsolvable situation would be resolved by the enemy with such a method.
The towering figure dodged the shots and rushed into the bridge, clearly aiming for the captured captain.
Seeing this, the Sentinels fought back, unwilling to let the attacker be snatched away.
In a flash of lightning, four Sentinels members pounced, executing a combined attack tactic.
All four attacked simultaneously, their dimensional rays overlapping, blocking the enemy's path.
This was a disaster. The dimensional rays were indestructible, piercing indiscriminately through the bridge, directly cutting through the bridge's protective layer.
The pressure alarm sounded, internal pressure gradually leaking out. If this continued, the captain would surely die.
"Damn it!" Guilliman, usually gentle and refined, cursed under his breath, swinging his fists and feet at the Sentinels.
He realized that if he didn't defeat them, he wouldn't achieve his goal.
How could the might of a Primarch be blocked?
Guilliman's punches and kicks were so fast that the Sentinels couldn't react.
He swept his iron fist, striking the first warrior's head with appropriate force, knocking him unconscious.
Then he kicked the warrior's abdomen, denting the power armor. The severe impact on the internal organs caused a fainting reaction, rendering the warrior unable to resist.
Immediately, with a swift turn, he grabbed a warrior by the back of the neck and slammed him against the steel wall, knocking him out.
"I mean no ill will." Guilliman declared again, reaching out to grasp the throat of the warrior whose armor was distinct.
Just as he was about to choke him unconscious, the teleportation light intensified, and a tall figure appeared on the bridge with a flash of white light.
Guilliman's hairs stood on end, his body's alarms screamed, every cell sending a signal to escape.
He moved quickly, following his instinctive judgment, immediately letting go and lightly leaping backward.
Guilliman was fast, but someone was faster than him!
After Blazkowicz teleported in, he saw a huge human figure, wearing simple protective armor, attacking the Sentinels.
In an instant, without time to analyze the situation on the field, surging rage filled his heart.
These Sentinels veterans had followed him through countless battles; now someone dared to kill them right in front of him?
No matter who he was! He must pay the price!
As that person retreated, Blazkowicz, filled with fury, chased after him and grabbed his arm.
Guilliman had not yet clearly seen the newcomer's face when he felt a tremendous force from his arm, forcibly halting his backward movement.
Blazkowicz gripped the attacker with his left hand, his fingers like eagle claws tearing through the protective armor as if it were paper.
He raised his right arm, and it descended like a war hammer, striking the attacker's right shoulder and shattering his collarbone.
Guilliman heard the sound of bones breaking; the sound transmitted through bone was faster than air, and he felt half of his body lose control, shattered bones piercing his muscles, slowly severing ligaments and blood vessels.
He immediately counterattacked, swinging his left hand, tensing all his muscles and exerting his full strength, clenching his fist and smashing it towards his opponent, fighting back with all his might to seize a chance to survive.
Yes, Guilliman felt that if he didn't fight with all his strength, he might die here.
His fist, containing the power to split mountains, smashed forward but was caught by a large hand.
At this moment, as Guilliman's attack was blocked, he finally saw the image of the person before him.
The newcomer had black hair and black eyes, a heroic face that was twisted with ferocity, and the rage in his eyes seemed ready to tear him apart.
"I " He was about to explain when he was interrupted by brute force.
The two immense forces instantly clashed, and Blazkowicz used a headbutt to cut off any explanation.
Head collided with head, as if they were not flesh and blood, emitting the clang of steel, and a blazing white light erupted at the point of impact, with the compressed air creating an explosive sound.
The protective helmet instantly shattered, revealing Guilliman's face; blood flowed from his seven orifices, his mind was a chaotic mess, and his eyes rolled back as he was on the verge of unconsciousness. However, the Primarch's formidable physical functions restored his awareness, and his life flashed before his eyes.
From indifference to cheerfulness, his stern adoptive father Conor, his gentle adoptive mother Euten.
His mother was waiting for him to return; Macragge could not be without him; he must go back!
"Hmph!" Guilliman roared, releasing his fury, the wild rage suppressed by reason and love.
Now, with hands interlocked, he roared, bleeding from his seven orifices, his image like an Asura returned from hell.
The Thirteenth Legion Warriors in the combat zone felt a surge of fury spreading from the depths of their hearts to every corner of their souls.
They didn't understand what was happening, but they seemed to hear a roar filled with rage.
Respond to toughness with toughness, and repay rage with rage!
Guilliman tightened his grip on the arm to prevent the other party from escaping, leaned backward, creating distance, and tensed his abdominal muscles, returning an equally violent headbutt.
Boom!
A louder thud than before sounded, and the two giants collided again, blood and a sonic boom erupting together.
Guilliman's forehead was shattered, his scalp split open, and blood drenched him, turning him into a blood-soaked figure, weakly gasping on the verge of fainting.
Although Blazkowicz's scalp was split and bleeding, his figure stood like an ancient pine, without the slightest tremor.
He shook his neck, bones cracking, his eyes without a trace of turbidity, still clear, his combat power unaffected.
He suddenly used force with both hands, pulling the attacker over, and struck his abdomen with his knee.
The hardest joint of the human body striking the softest part of the human body, the result was self-evident.
Guilliman's brain reeled, his abdominal nerves spasmed from the heavy blow, and an extremely uncomfortable physiological urge to vomit surged within him.
"Ngh " He let out a pained moan, his body involuntarily curled up, tears flowing with the blood.
At this moment, Guilliman thought a lot, feeling that he might die.
He just still didn't understand why that damned captain would go mad and attack Nurian people.
Blazkowicz showed no mercy, punching the person before him unconscious, and casually throwing him to the ground.
He looked up, his face as cold as ice, taking in everything in the bridge.
The trembling, obese captain was bound, the tall figure lay on the ground, and the Sentinels were unconscious.
Facing the mess, Blazkowicz retracted his gaze and instructed the Doom Slayers who had teleported in: "Take everyone, we're leaving here."
He lowered his head slightly, staring at the blood-soaked, unconscious giant: "Lock him up, he's very dangerous."
The teleportation light glowed again, and the long-range teleportation brought everyone back to the Royal Majesty.
Blazkowicz walked into the washroom, washing away the bloodstains, and said to Sophia: "Inform the Emperor via Astropathic Choir to come and see if that person is his Son of the Emperor."
That golden-haired giant had left a deep impression on him, and it was highly likely he was a Son of the Emperor.
But Blazkowicz did not regret what he had done; he clearly knew that Macragge had attacked Argent Nur.
This was an undeniable fact, no matter who the attack order came from, the Nur Stars needed an explanation.
When Blazkowicz returned to the bridge of the Royal Majesty, the Company Commander of the Fourth Company of the Thirteenth Legion had been waiting for a long time.
"What's wrong, Gaius?" Blazkowicz sat on the throne, a gentle smile on his face, as he asked the Space Marine in blue power armor.
He was very grateful for the Thirteenth Legion's assistance, and his tone was naturally much more intimate.
Gaius looked haggard at the moment, with no joy of victory, and his expression was somewhat stiff.
"Great Primarch, I bid you farewell." Gaius knelt on one knee, performing the Warrior's salute to the Warrior King, expressing his intention to leave: "We wish to patrol the surrounding star systems to search for our Gene-Father."
The nameless fury that erupted during the battle was felt by every Warrior, and it very likely came from their Gene-Father.
He might have met with misfortune and was suffering somewhere in the void.
"Oh?" Blazkowicz narrowed his eyes slightly and asked Gaius : "Do you have any news of him?"
"Not at the moment." Gaius shook his head, his brows filled with sorrow: "But we can sense his rage; our Gene-Father is likely nearby."
Hearing Gaius say this, Blazkowicz's expression became a little strange; he thought of a possibility the person he had captured was very likely the Primarch of the Thirteenth Legion.
Only that person had shown instantaneous rage during the battle, and the timing was quite consistent.
"Heh heh " Blazkowicz coughed lightly, his face straightening, and said to the kneeling Gaius below: "You need not search for my brother; I have some clues here."
Upon hearing this, Gaius trembled all over, and a look of intense joy erupted on his slightly worried, square-shaped face.
The Warrior King's reputation was excellent within the Imperium; his words and promises had never contained any falsehood.
"Do you truly have news about our Gene-Father?" Gaius asked in surprise, then realized his impropriety: "Please forgive my disrespect; it is not doubt or disrespect."
He lowered his head very low, expressing his apology carefully in a sincere tone.
"Indeed." Blazkowicz nodded, waved his hand for him to stand up, "I have some news, awaiting the Emperor's confirmation."
"The Thirteenth Legion will forever thank you!" Gaius exclaimed, his expression uncontrollably excited.
Waiting for the Emperor's confirmation?
That almost certainly meant that Argent Nur indeed had news about the Gene-Father, which had been verified by multiple parties, and was just waiting for the final step!
With the successive return of the Primarchs, the various Legions were secretly competing, and while conducting the Great Crusade, they were also searching for their respective Gene-Fathers.
But the galaxy was vast, and the Primarchs were scattered everywhere; describing it as searching for a needle in a haystack would not be an exaggeration.
"You all can rest assured and wait, just prepare yourselves and be ready to welcome him."
Blazkowicz suppressed his strange expression and advised Gaius to wait patiently in a calm tone.
He thought a lot, wondering how the Primarch of the Thirteenth Legion would treat his Son of the Emperor who had shot him, after they recognized each other.
This was also good; Blazkowicz could use these events to observe his brother's character and magnanimity, as a touchstone for their future interactions.
Gaius left happily, conveying the news to the Legion that the Gene-Father might have been found.
For a time, cheers erupted in the communication channel, and the Space Marines burst into enthusiastic applause.
Blazkowicz couldn't help but smile, stood up, and left the bridge, heading to the deck level where the captive was held.
When Guilliman awoke, his body had recovered as before. He shook his head to clear the dizziness, his consciousness came back online, and he immediately realized his predicament.
He was in a prison, surrounded by high-energy laser fences, and as far as his eyes could see, there were no contact points.
After just a simple observation, Guilliman abandoned any thought of escaping; he touched the material beneath his feet, which had almost no possibility of being destroyed.
The owner of the prison understood him very well; the cell was very specifically designed.
"You're finally awake." A voice from behind startled Guilliman, who quickly turned to face the speaker.
He saw a tall figure, sitting outside the laser fence, looking at him with a half-smile.
"Who are you?" Guilliman asked tentatively, his forehead throbbing from the pain of being defeated by this very person.
He sat upright, with black-armored warriors, completely different from the Sentinels, standing behind him, exuding an extremely sharp aura.
Guilliman didn't know where he was a world or a warship.
If it was a world, what he saw before him was unlike anything he had ever seen: lights illuminated white grid walls, soft and not dazzling. His gaze extended to various hatches and corridors, arranged no differently from a warship.
If it was a warship, the space was too wide and bright, the utilization rate seemed very low, and there was no slight tremor from a warship's engine.
With numerous doubts in his mind, Guilliman chose the safest approach: asking for the other party's origin to establish some initial understanding.
"Blazkowicz Novick."
Unexpectedly, the valiant man, wearing power armor on his lower body and bare-chested with a mark on his chest, readily gave his name.
"Roboute Guilliman."
Out of courtesy, Guilliman stated his name, his gaze fixed on the man.
He had never encountered such an existence powerful, having taken him down in mere seconds.
Recalling it now, those few seconds felt longer than any previous duel, as if centuries had passed.
No matter how Guilliman replayed the events, he had to accept a terrifying fact: he could not defeat the person before him.
"Why did Macragge attack us?" Blazkowicz's expression turned serious as he asked Roboute Guilliman, "I need an explanation." After capturing the enemy warship and personnel, the Royal Majesty's technical staff thoroughly examined everyone, including the corpses.
The results of the examination were unexpected: the people of Macragge showed no signs of the Ran'dan's mental corruption.
Thus, the reason for their opening fire became intriguing.
Blazkowicz was incredibly furious about Macragge's despicable sneak attack; a Sentinels was severely wounded, still unconscious, and hovering on the brink of death.
If he had died on the battlefield, Blazkowicz would have been heartbroken but not this angry.
Noble and brave warriors should die on the front lines; a vile sneak attack was scorned by the people of Argent Nur.
"I don't know." Guilliman shrugged, looking helpless, also wanting to understand the reason that had nearly cost him his life. He shook his head with a bitter smile, saying:
"I boarded the ship to clarify the points of conflict, not to escalate the animosity between us."
"After all, the continuation of conflict represents the birth of hatred. We are all humans, rising again from the dark star systems; we should not be fighting among ourselves."
These words were skillfully spoken, indicating his lack of intention to conflict, his fundamental stance on ending conflict, and also articulating profound righteousness and kinship from a broad human perspective.
Blazkowicz raised an eyebrow; his lost brother, it seemed, had grown up in a court and was an excellent politician.
A few simple sentences completely shifted the blame and, incidentally, suggested that he too was part of an investigation.
"Mere one-sided words," Blazkowicz shook his head slightly, dismissing Guilliman's sincere but politically motivated explanation. "I will investigate this matter thoroughly."
He snapped his fingers, and walls like partitions rose around the cage imprisoning Guilliman, cutting off outside information.
The confinement was not truly isolated; the inner walls of the cell had holographic projections that could transmit signals and display images.
As the cage was sealed, another cell rose on the other side, imprisoning the ship's captain.
When the captain's cell partition dropped, he slumped inside, pale-faced, the shoulder of his captain's uniform, representing honor and courage, stained and discolored by a foul-smelling liquid.
Seeing this man on the projection wall, Guilliman took several deep breaths, sitting cross-legged on the ground to suppress the anger in his heart.
He had orchestrated a disgraceful sneak attack against visitors, and now, in his pathetic state, he had thoroughly disgraced the soldiers of Macragge.
He dared to act but lacked the courage to take responsibility.
If he had shown a tough demeanor, Guilliman might have looked at him with more respect, acknowledging him as a bold and resolute iron-willed man.
Guilliman narrowed his eyes and pricked up his ears, remaining silent in the cell, wanting to hear what reason the captain would give for attacking Nurian visitors and instigating this conflict that should never have happened.
"Marcus, you are not as strong as your name suggests." The interrogator spoke, the black-robed interrogation master beginning to question the prisoner with a mocking tone.
Blazkowicz and the Doom Slayer were behind a partition; such a despicable wretch was not worth their interrogation, the interrogator was most suitable.
Marcus's face grew paler, his body trembling like a sieve. He struggled to rise from the cage, subconsciously wanting to lean on the edge of the cage to voice his grievances, but was suddenly jolted awake by the high heat.
The high-energy laser burned, like a sharp sword cutting through weakness, exposing everything about him to the interrogation master's eyes.
He was terrified; the interrogation master's waist bore torture tools stained with dark red rust, clinking as he moved.
The cowardly Marcus recalled the situation at the time.
During a routine exploratory voyage, his fleet encountered the people of Argent Nur and agreed to their request to board the ship for a visit.
Marcus, of course, had selfish motives; from the moment he saw Nurian ship, a desire named "greed" began to swell.
Warp travel, Macragge's lost technology if he could present it to Guilliman, his family would be etched in history forever!
The Nurian people boarding the ship were simply lambs to the slaughter.
As a captain, he naturally understood the stakes; a faction possessing Warp travel technology could very likely overthrow Macragge.
However, in the vast universe, how many ships went missing every day?
Would the core of the opposing faction truly go to great lengths, expending vast financial and material resources, to search for an exploratory vessel?
Having thought this through, Marcus began to prepare his plan, ensuring it was foolproof.
He immediately contacted his trusted subordinates, and during the farewell, detonated melta-bombs hidden in their bodies.
Up to this point, the plan had gone smoothly.
But everything that followed caught him off guard; the original plan deviated from expectations, plunging into a crazy abyss.
The meticulously prepared melta-bomb, which should have killed everyone on the other side, failed to achieve the desired effect at the most crucial moment.
Its terrifying power was blocked by personal shields, only severely wounding the closest core personnel and eliminating a few insignificant ordinary soldiers.
The Nurian people reacted immediately, killing everyone present and retreating deeper into the ship.
The warship reacted even faster; before their side could open fire, it disengaged without hesitation, using stealth technology to hide.
Everything happened too quickly, and Marcus felt a wave of dizziness. He knew that things were irreversible and only then realized his foolishness and reckless ambition.
Since there was no turning back, he would go all the way!
As long as he brought back the Warp engine and eliminated Nurian people, everything that happened here would merely be an insignificant shadow beneath a medal of honor.
Marcus immediately ordered his fleet to besiege Nurian ship and armed sailors to hunt down the boarding warriors.
The power of those extraordinary warriors and the sharpness of Nurian ship were even more beyond his expectations.
Things gradually evolved into the current situation.
The Consul of Macragge's fate was unknown, the fleet had long since withdrawn, and he himself was a prisoner.
Marcus knew that all of this was caused by his own greed, but he wouldn't say it.
"It was the Macragge high command that ordered me to ambush your side." Although his voice trembled, his eyes were unusually firm: "Without high command orders, how would I dare to open fire rashly?"
Blazkowicz smiled. Through the other party's trembling tone, flickering eyes, and even momentarily erratic heartbeat, he knew Marcus was lying.
He smiled because he saw Guilliman's stunned expression in the cage and almost couldn't help but laugh out loud.
Guilliman was stunned. He somewhat suspected whether he had misapproved a document, leading to Marcus's fleet opening fire.
Within a second, he recalled all documents and found no relevant content.
"Lies!" Guilliman roared in the cage, his iron fists clenching with a cracking sound.
If he could break out now, he would surely tear Marcus limb from limb.
"Why would they order you to open fire?" The interrogation master didn't expose him; instead, he nodded thoughtfully, following Marcus's line of reasoning to ask.
One lie requires more lies to cover and prove it, eventually leading to logical inconsistencies.
"Uh " Marcus hesitated slightly, but was dazzled by the interrogation master's torture tools, stammering his reply: "The high command wanted to seize your Warp travel technology."
This statement was half-truth, half-false, shifting his true intentions onto the so-called "high command."
"How did you know the high command's thoughts?" The interrogation master's voice was slightly mocking, as if he saw through everything.
Marcus fell silent, licking his dry lips with his tongue, his mustache twitching constantly, his brain working at high speed, trying to weave a lie.
Just as he was thinking, the partition beside him crashed down, and Guilliman was staring at him with a furious expression and bloodshot eyes!
"I should have thrown you to the dogs long ago!" Guilliman cursed.
----
AINZOOALGOWN RECCOMENDED READS
Warhammer 40K: My Fiancée Fulgrim
Warhammer : Macragge's Glory