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Chapter 49 - Reminiscence

The sky over Planet Brewster was still shrouded in sparse smoke and spore clouds, but the continuous roar of Bolters and the shriek of Chainswords had gradually subsided. On the surface, Ultramarines and Krieg Death Korps fought in coordination, meticulously clearing every area like the most precise harvesting machines.

The remnants of the Black Legion, who had resisted stubbornly, ultimately could not escape their complete annihilation after losing orbital support and any hope of retreat. Their bodies and shattered armor were scattered among the ruins, serving as the final epitaph for the traitors. As for the Tyranids, after launching several large-scale but futile attacks and suffering heavy casualties, their Overmind seemed to finally determine that this planet, lacking sufficient biomass, was no longer worth expending more forces. The Tyranid swarm slowly retreated like an ebbing tide, disappearing over the barren horizon.

The crisis was temporarily averted.

Inside the hangar of the Cleansing Blade, the atmosphere was no longer as tense as before, but it was still busy. Supply shuttles from the Fourth Company and Fifth Company frequently took off and landed, transferring valuable ammunition, equipment spare parts, and medical supplies. There was no need for many words between brother companies; a glance, a fist-to-chest salute, was enough to express all their support and camaraderie.

Captain Orestes of the Fourth Company and Captain Harvis Bell of the Fifth Company personally boarded the ship and held a brief meeting with Captain Hek Hansen of the Third Company.

"Well done, Hek," Captain Orestes said, patting Hek Hansen's shoulder firmly. "Not a single one of those traitorous bastards escaped."

"You arrived just in time, otherwise, it would have been a lot more trouble in orbit," Hek Hansen replied, his voice carrying a hint of relaxation after the fatigue.

Captain Harvis Bell was more concerned about the situation below ground: "That device has been jointly sealed by the Inquisition and the Tech-Priests; they will send more personnel to garrison it long-term. This was truly a close call."

After a brief exchange, the two Captains departed. Their ships would escort the remaining Imperial Navy fleet back to the main fleet's star system. The Cleansing Blade, after completing its resupply, would continue its unfinished patrol mission, vigilant against any potential main Tyranid fleet.

At the ship's armory distribution point, Luna was collecting some replacement parts and consumables. The Tech-Priest responsible for dispensing supplies handed her a small but exquisitely crafted metal box.

"Tech-Sergeant Luna, this is your standard issue as ordered by the Lieutenant," the Tech-Priest said in an uninflected binary tone.

Luna took the box and opened it. Inside, in addition to the usual parts, there was a small device that was clearly new—a finely structured, matte metallic, sleekly designed miniature Power Fist. The back of the Power Fist was emblazoned with the Ultramarines Chapter emblem and a tiny, unique personal mark—that was Eilaas's initials.

"This is… the 'Eilaas-type'?" Luna picked up the Power Fist with some surprise. She had long heard that this equipment, designed by the Dark Eldar girl and named after her, had begun small-scale testing and deployment within the Chapter, but she hadn't expected it to be her turn so soon.

She skillfully put the Power Fist on her right hand. Unlike traditional, bulky Power Fists, this miniature version was extremely lightweight and form-fitting, not affecting her fingers for any delicate operations, whether screwing in a bolt or operating a data-slate. But she could feel the energy core and intricate force field generator contained within the Power Fist; once activated, the instantaneous impact force would be enough to crush a helmet or cause considerable damage to light vehicles.

Looking at the Power Fist, a rare, gentle smile appeared on Luna's usually stoic Tech-Sergeant face. Her thoughts drifted back to a long time ago… when Eilaas had just been brought back to the Macragge's Honour as spoils of war. She was still a little girl who would secretly cry from homesickness and had timid eyes. At the time, the Chapter Master thought she still had some use and didn't imprison or execute her, but instead gave her a job… cleaning the floor in the 7th Company's lounge.

Who would have thought that the little captive, who once reluctantly wielded a mop taller than herself, could now design equipment adopted by the entire Chapter's Tech-Sergeants?

"...What an amazing child," Luna murmured to herself, gently clenching her fist, feeling the perfect feedback from the Power Fist.

Gaius, who also received new equipment, noticed that Tech-Sergeants were beginning to widely equip themselves with these miniature Power Fists. He looked at the one he received (as a Sergeant, he also had a spare) and was equally filled with emotion.

He recalled more of Eilaas's "glorious deeds."

This was back when they were still part of the 7th Company. On one occasion, the 7th Company Captain was called to the command center by Chapter Master Marius Calgar for some tactical errors and was thoroughly reprimanded for a full hour. Eilaas, who was still a little tot at the time, and whom the 7th Company Captain had privately taken good care of, mistakenly took this reprimand as the Chapter Master bullying the 7th Company Captain.

So, when the 7th Company Captain emerged dejectedly from the command center, and the Chapter Master followed close behind, this audacious little one, mustering all her courage, shouted "Don't bully Captain!" and, with her short legs, rushed forward, using all her strength to deliver a "thump" to the Chapter Master's elaborately embossed chest plate!

Everyone present was stunned! Especially Captain Cassius of the First Company and the Captain of the Honour Guard, who were standing nearby; their faces turned pale with fright! Laying hands on a Primarch's scion, the Chapter Master? This was an unforgivable crime!

However, to everyone's surprise, Chapter Master Marius Calgar not only didn't get angry but paused for a moment, then burst into hearty laughter. He even knelt down, patted Eilaas's puffed-up little head, and praised her: "Commendable courage, little one! To dare to punch an opponent far stronger than yourself to protect someone you deem important, this is precisely the quality we Ultramarines uphold!"

Of course, afterward, for "lax supervision leading to a non-combatant assaulting a commanding officer," the 7th Company Captain was additionally reprimanded by the Chapter Master for another two hours. So much so that during that period, the 7th Company Captain would instinctively feel weak in the knees and try to hide whenever he saw the Chapter Master… And Eilaas, it seemed, was also inspired by that incident, or rather, realized the inadequacy of her own punching power. She began to obsess over how to make her "little fists" more "persuasive"… This, perhaps, was the original motivation behind the later development of this "Eilaas-type" miniature Power Fist.

Recalling these past events, a warm smile involuntarily curved Gaius's lips. Those days, though also filled with training and battles, seemed less heavy and… complicated than now.

"What an amazing child," Gaius offered the same assessment. His gaze passed through the porthole, looking out at the endless starry sky, as if he could pierce through the distance to see Eilaas, currently engrossed in tinkering with new inventions in the Macragge's Honour workshop.

His thoughts continued to drift, returning to an even earlier time, when they were still the 7th Company, Second Squad.

Lieutenant Golden was their Sergeant, steady and reliable, the anchor of the team. Dorian was the assault specialist who was always at the forefront, always full of energy. Luna was the calm and meticulous Tech-Sergeant. And there were Lex and Cliff, two equally brave brothers, who later, due to their excellent performance, were transferred to the Eighth Company and Ninth Company to serve as Sergeants, and now they were independent Sergeants. There was also Thor, the fellow who was always interested in pharmacology, and eventually, he got his wish, becoming an excellent Apothecary, saving lives and healing injuries.

And… Lina. That excellent human auxiliary warrior, their close comrade, she should be training new Tech-Sergeants for the Chapter now.

A flicker of imperceptible sadness crossed Gaius's eyes. Time had flown, and things had changed. Comrades who once fought side-by-side were now scattered, or even separated by death.

It seemed only Eilaas, this Dark Eldar girl who joined later, in an unexpected way, continued a certain bond, accompanying these "old-timers," bringing them some comfort and surprise with her whimsical ideas and growth.

The Cleansing Blade completed its resupply, its engines humming steadily as it slowly departed from Brewster's orbit, merging once again into the silent void, continuing its long patrol voyage.

Inside the ship, the warriors used this rare lull in combat to rest, maintain equipment, and debrief. In the medical bay, Draculas's condition had stabilized, but he still required a long period of recuperation. Luna began to adapt to and use her new Power Fist, and started designing new servo-arms. Gaius, meanwhile, immersed himself in more rigorous personal training, as if trying to suppress the turmoil within and the deep-seated whispers with physical exhaustion.

Lieutenant Golden observed everything. He did not press for details about Brewster, but instead focused more on Gaius and Luna's states, and provided timely guidance and tasks to keep them busy and focused.

Everything seemed to return to normal.

But everyone knew that some things had quietly changed. The shadow of Brewster, the whispers of Tzeentch, and the hidden danger deep within the soul, like a persistent malady, could resurface at any moment.

The journey ahead was still full of unknowns and challenges. And the Ultramarines would continue their advance, amidst the intertwining of glory, duty, and hidden currents.

The Cleansing Blade sailed steadily through the void, its engines emitting a low, constant hum, like the heartbeat of a giant. The fierce battle in the Brewster system had been left behind, but the scars it left would take time to heal.

Inside the medical bay, Luna sat at a workbench, her expression focused and serene. A brand new, even more precise, servo-arm, gleaming with a matte blue luster, had been perfectly connected to her Power Pack's interface. The Tech-Priests had completed the repair and upgrade work with the highest efficiency and quality. This new arm, integrating various tools, weapon interfaces, and sensors, seemed like a natural extension of her body.

She nimbly moved her new mechanical fingers, performing micron-level calibration tests, with various miniature tools popping out from her fingertips, switching and rotating like a dance. Occasionally, she would pick up the "Eilaas-type" miniature Power Fist placed beside her, put it on her right hand, and test its coordinated operation with the servo-arm. Precision and brute force, two vastly different pieces of equipment, appeared exceptionally harmonious in her hands.

The feeling of powerlessness from losing her arm had vanished, replaced by the reassuring sense of once again having the full capabilities of a Tech-Sergeant. She devoted most of her energy to work, assisting in maintaining the warship's systems, analyzing data from the Battle of Brewster, and beginning to conceptualize how to further optimize the squad members' equipment, especially how to counter the disintegration field weapons that could easily breach Terminator defenses. The busyness of work allowed her to temporarily forget the fears of Tzeentch and unknown forces.

On the training deck, Gaius was undergoing high-intensity personal training. He was shirtless, sweat dripping along his well-defined muscles, and heavy training dumbbells were lifted and lowered repeatedly in his hands as if weightless. His movements were swift and precise, each exertion carrying an almost masochistic focus, as if to completely drain some restless energy within him.

The fractured ribs on his chest had largely healed with the help of Astartes superhuman recovery and medical technology, leaving only some faint bruises. But his training intensity far exceeded the standards for normal recovery training. Lieutenant Golden had visited once; he didn't stop him, just observed silently for a while before leaving. He knew that Gaius needed a way to vent and process the stress and confusion brought by the Brewster incident.

During training breaks, Gaius would pick up the miniature Power Fist and examine it. This ingenious invention always reminded him of Eilaas, of his time in the 7th Company, and of his old comrades who were now scattered.

He walked to the communication console, hesitated for a moment, and finally entered a string of encrypted codes. After a short wait and transfer, the communication connected.

The holographic projection flickered, revealing a familiar figure. She was no longer wearing her combat suit, but a neat Tech-Sergeant uniform with the 7th Company's insignia on her shoulder. Her face was much more mature than he remembered, with the characteristic focus of a technical worker and a hint of fatigue in her brows, but her eyes were still bright. It was Lina.

"Lord Gaius?" Lina's voice carried a hint of surprise and joy. "I never expected it to be you! I heard your Third Company has been very busy with missions recently, and you even handled the Brewster crisis? Is everyone alright?"

"Lina," Gaius showed a genuine smile. Seeing an old comrade was always a pleasure. "We're fine, some minor injuries, but we all pulled through. How about you? How are things on the Unyielding Will?"

"Busy off my feet!" Lina sighed dramatically, but her face showed a sense of accomplishment. "These new recruits are so hard on equipment! From firearms to vehicles, nothing is easy. But thankfully, we can manage. It's much better than rolling around in the mud with you guys back then; at least I don't have to constantly worry about being blown sky-high by a greenskin or a traitor's cannon."

Her words still carried that familiar carefree spirit and a touch of complaint, but Gaius could hear her love and pride for her current work. As the chief mortal Tech-Sergeant of a strike cruiser, her responsibilities were significant, and her position was extraordinary.

"That's good." Gaius nodded approvingly. "Lieutenant Golden would be very pleased if he knew how capable you are now."

"Don't even mention Lord Lieutenant!" Lina made a face. "He came to inspect last time and criticized my carefully organized spare parts inventory, saying my classification logic didn't conform to the Codex Astartes! My goodness, how many years has it been since he left the 7th Company!"

Both of them couldn't help but laugh, as if they were back in the days of the Second Squad, when Lina often "argued" with Golden over various technical details.

They chatted about some old anecdotes and inquired about the recent situations of their other old comrades. Lex was doing well in the Eighth Company, rumored to be promoted to Senior Sergeant soon. Cliff had participated in a raid against greenskin Orks in the Ninth Company and earned commendations. Apothecary Thor was said to have distinguished himself during a plague crisis, saving many civilian lives.

Hearing that his former companions were all well and thriving in their respective roles, Gaius's mood also lightened. Those warm memories and the enduring camaraderie acted like a shield, temporarily warding off the cold and treachery of the Warp.

"Alright, I can't chat anymore; I need to go supervise those rookies maintaining the Thunderhawk engines. Last time, they almost installed them backward!" Lina complained, but her eyes shone. "Keep in touch, Lord Gaius, and come back alive."

"You too, Lina. For the Emperor and Ultramar." Gaius said solemnly.

The communication ended. The holographic projection vanished, and the smile on Gaius's face gradually faded, but the warmth brought by the camaraderie lingered. He took a deep breath and plunged back into training, but this time the rhythm seemed less tense and oppressive.

The days of patrol were monotonous and long. The ship sailed along its predetermined course, like a silent hunter, scanning every sector, searching for any trace of Tyranid fleets. Aside from occasionally needing to clear out some sporadic, unorganized pirates or xenos probes, most of the time was uneventful.

The warriors used this time for rest, training, and equipment maintenance. Draculas' condition continued to improve; he had been moved from the medical pod to a regular ward and was undergoing some simple rehabilitative training. His taciturn habit remained, but occasionally he would nod to Gaius and Luna when they visited, and even offer incisive suggestions on certain tactical issues.

Luna had fully adapted to her new servo-arm and miniature Power Fist, even beginning to try integrating some of Eilaas' design ideas into her own technical modifications. She spent most of her time in the workshop or library, arming herself with knowledge and research.

Gaius, meanwhile, resumed his daily duties as a Sergeant, leading his squad in tactical drills and discussing patrol routes and emergency plans with Lieutenant Golden. He buried that unpleasant memory deep, dedicating all his energy to his current responsibilities and the well-being of his brothers. He visited Dorian the most, the brute often grumbling and telling the servitor to take away the damned nutrient paste.

Lieutenant Golden assisted the Captain in keeping everything meticulously organized; he was like a steady captain, steering the Cleansing Blade and the warriors of the Third Company through the perilous star-sea. He no longer brought up the anomalies of Brewster, but his attention to Gaius and Luna remained undiminished, always subtly offering support and guidance.

However, beneath this seemingly calm routine, everyone knew that the threat was never far. The shadow of the Tyranids still loomed over the entire sector, the forces of Chaos lurked in the dark, and the deep-seated hidden danger within Gaius was a bomb waiting to explode at an unknown time.

All they could do was remain vigilant, constantly grow stronger, and believe that their bonds could withstand any storm.

The Cleansing Blade continued its journey, carrying its crew and warriors towards an unknown tomorrow. The starry sky outside the bridge was vast and indifferent, but within the warship, the camaraderie of the warriors, the steadfastness of duty, and the hope for the future, like an unextinguishable beacon, illuminated their path forward.

Inside the medical pod, the soft glow of the regeneration fluid illuminated Declan Catonia's sleeping face.

His body steadily recovered with the aid of precise instruments; broken bones reconnected, torn tissues slowly regenerated, and his powerful heart beat vigorously, pumping nutrient-rich blood and healing factors throughout his body.

However, in the depths of his consciousness, there was no tranquility.

He felt as if he were walking through an endless, colossal hall made of dark red steel and scorching rock.

The air was thick with a nauseating stench of blood and sulfur, and his ears echoed with an unending cacophony of mad battle cries, pained wails, and the grating clash of weapons.

As far as his eyes could see, there were terrifying mountains of countless skulls, stretching like mountain ranges!

These skulls varied in form, belonging to different races, some still bearing the fear or rage of their final moments, their empty eye sockets seemingly staring silently at him.

Blood flowed like streams between these skull mountains, pooling into the churning blood-lakes below.

At the end of the hall, a towering brass throne, impossibly vast and constructed of twisted metal and solidified lava, rose into the sky.

Upon the throne, an immense figure, indescribably vast and terrifying, was enveloped in a raging inferno of wrath and blood-light.

His form was blurred and shifting, as if condensed from pure concepts of violence and slaughter, with countless twisted faces and struggling souls appearing and vanishing around him.

Though he couldn't discern the specific features, Dorian could clearly feel two gazes, scorching like lava and filled with an endless desire for destruction, cast down from that throne, locking firmly onto him!

A primal, furious rage, wanting to tear everything apart and destroy everything, surged uncontrollably from Dorian's heart, almost overwhelming his reason.

He wanted to fight, to roar, to fill this accursed land with the skulls and blood of his enemies!

Just as he was about to be consumed by this external will, a faint yet incredibly resolute azure light seemed to flash across his forehead—that was the will of the Ultramarines, the discipline of Ultramar, the loyalty to the Emperor and the Primarch deeply ingrained in his soul!

"For... the Emperor!" Dorian let out a muffled, struggling growl in his dream.

The figure on the brass throne seemed to emit a displeased, low rumble, like the collapse of myriad worlds, shaking the entire bloody hall.

But those lava-like eyes slowly moved away from Dorian, as if losing interest, or perhaps merely postponing their attention.

The dream receded like a tide.

Inside the medical pod, Dorian suddenly opened his eyes, his chest heaving violently, gasping for breath, his entire body drenched in cold sweat.

"Damn it... what kind of dream was that..." He shook his still-groggy head, cursing softly.

The dream, filled with blood and slaughter, felt incredibly real, even now making his heart race, the residual rage making him want to smash something.

But his thick-skinned nerves and muscle-filled brain quickly attributed it to post-injury hallucinations and drug side effects.

"Those Tech-Priests must have given me too strong a shot..." he mumbled, quickly dismissing the strange dream.

His mind was now entirely on more "important" matters—getting the hell up and moving!

He couldn't lie on this damn medical bed for another minute!

And his Laurel of Victory!

Awarded personally by the Chapter Master!

Once he recovered, he'd have to wear it to the bridge, to the mess hall, to the training grounds... everywhere there were people!

Let those guys get a good look!

"And my Terminator Armor..." He tried to move his fingers, feeling his strength gradually return, already wondering how his battered Saturnine Terminator Armor was being repaired, "Don't let them shrink it..."

While Dorian was thinking about his Laurel and armor, on the bridge of the Cleansing Blade, Captain Hek Hansen of the Third Company received an urgent, top-priority order from the Macragge's Honour.

The order was brief and urgent: The Third Company was to immediately cease all current missions and return to the main fleet's rendezvous point at maximum speed!

Company Commander Hec Hansson frowned deeply.

The order came from the Chapter Master himself, its tone brooking no argument, yet it provided no reason.

Such an unusual emergency recall often signified an extremely significant event, potentially even endangering the entire Chapter.

Without any hesitation, Company Commander Hec Hansson immediately gave the order: "All ship personnel, attention! Immediately cease patrol!

Set the fastest course back to the main fleet's rendezvous point!

Redirect all non-essential power to the engines!

Prepare for maximum power, longest-range Warp jump!

Execute immediately!"

The massive strike cruiser, the Cleansing Blade, once again roared like a waking beast, its engines thundering as its colossal hull slowly turned, tearing through the veil of the real universe and plunging into the kaleidoscopic, perilous currents of the Warp.

The long Warp journey began.

This time, the atmosphere within the ship was noticeably more somber.

Although the Astartes didn't know exactly what had happened, such an urgent recall itself portended ill.

Everyone silently checked their gear, intensified their training, and prepared for the difficult battle that might lie ahead.

Gaius, Luna, and Draculas, whose injuries were slightly better, also sensed this unusual atmosphere.

They made the most of this time to recover and improve themselves.

They sailed through the Warp for an unknown duration, even encountering several minor Warp storms and demonic whispers, but these were all repelled by the warship's Gellar Field and the unwavering will of the crew.

Finally, with a violent tremor, the Cleansing Blade successfully exited the Warp and returned to the familiar real universe.

Not far ahead, the colossal forms of the Ultramarines main fleet were already visible, led by the magnificent Macragge's Honour.

Without a moment's pause, the Cleansing Blade quickly rendezvoused with the main fleet.

Docking instructions came through, and all injured personnel and those needing rest were immediately prepared for transfer.

A massive docking tunnel connected the two warships.

Gaius and Luna followed the contingent, walked through the tunnel, and once again stepped onto the incredibly familiar, grand and spectacular hangar of the Macragge's Honour.

As soon as they entered the hangar, a small figure shot over like a cannonball, almost colliding with Gaius.

"Lord Gaius! Lady Luna! You're back!" Eilaas looked up, her Eldar green eyes filled with joy and worry.

She was wearing a Tech-Sergeant's uniform, her face still smudged with a bit of oil, clearly having just rushed out of the workshop.

"Eilaas." Gaius's face broke into a gentle smile as he ruffled her hair.

Luna also nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

Eilaas stood on tiptoe, peering through the crowd behind them, a hint of confusion on her small face: "Huh? Where's Lord Dorian? And... that new, quiet big guy?"

Gaius and Luna's smiles receded slightly.

Gaius knelt down, looking Eilaas in the eye, and said gently: "They were injured and needed treatment, so they were sent directly to the medical bay.

Don't worry, they'll be fine."

Upon hearing this, Eilaas pouted slightly, but wasn't too surprised, instead showing an "I knew it" expression: "Oh... Lord Dorian got himself broken again... Really, it's always like this..." Her tone sounded like a complaint, but her eyes held concern.

After all, Dorian's return with serious injuries had almost become routine.

Gaius was amused by her words, his mood lightening a bit: "This time it's different.

This time, Dorian rendered great service and became a great hero!"

He briefly recounted to Eilaas Dorian's heroic deed of holding the line alone on Vellan II, fending off countless Genestealers.

Eilaas's eyes widened as she listened, her small face filled with adoration: "Really? Lord Dorian is that amazing!

Will he get a big medal?"

"Of course." Gaius smiled, "The Chapter Master personally awarded him the Laurel of Victory; he can wear it once he recovers."

"Wow!" Eilaas exclaimed, already imagining Dorian showing off his Laurel everywhere.

Luna also stepped forward, raising her right hand to display the "Eilaas-pattern" miniature Power Fist, her voice carrying a rare note of approval: "Your design is excellent, Eilaas.

It has already helped many Tech-Sergeants.

You've done a very good job."

Upon receiving Luna's praise, Eilaas's small face immediately lit up, and she puffed out her chest proudly: "Of course!

I'm going to be the best Tech-Sergeant!"

Her previous worries were instantly replaced by pride.

After a brief exchange, Gaius and Luna needed to report and debrief.

Eilaas, understanding, didn't cling to them, but skipped back to the workshop, seemingly eager to share the news with others immediately.

Gaius and Luna watched her retreating figure, exchanging a smile.

This little one always managed to bring a lighter atmosphere.

However, when they proceeded to the Chapter Master's meeting room as instructed for their report, they found the atmosphere to be far from relaxed.

In the corridor outside the meeting room, all nine other Company Commanders and their Lieutenants were gathered: Captain Cassius of the First Company, Cato Sicarius of the Second Company, Orestes of the Fourth Company, Captain Harvis Bel of the Fifth Company, Hector of the Sixth Company, Captain Cassius of the Seventh Company, Sibilus of the Eighth Company, Talos of the Ninth Company, and Olfa of the Tenth Company... Almost the entire core command of the Ultramarines Chapter was present!

Each of them had a solemn expression, standing silently on both sides of the corridor, conversing in low voices. The air was thick with a tension that presaged a coming storm.

When Company Commander Hansson and Lieutenant Gorden arrived, they immediately sensed this unusual atmosphere. They nodded to the other Company Commanders and then quietly stood to one side.

The heavy door of the meeting room was tightly shut, and the voice of Chapter Master Marius Calgar could be faintly heard from within. He seemed to be engaged in a highly encrypted communication with someone, his tone serious and urgent.

What kind of major event necessitated the emergency recall of all Company Commanders, and even required the Chapter Master to conduct such a secret conversation personally?

All those standing outside the door were filled with the same questions and unease. A storm that could engulf all of Ultramar, or even a larger area, seemed to be brewing.

Outside the meeting room, the atmosphere was so heavy it could almost drip. The ten Company Commanders and their Lieutenants, these commanders who usually dominated and each led hundreds of elite Astartes, now stood silently on both sides of the corridor like students awaiting a lecture from their teacher. Only the occasional solemn glance and extremely hushed whispers revealed the turmoil within them.

Time passed minute by minute, each second feeling exceptionally long. The tightly closed meeting room door seemed to separate two worlds. What important conversation was taking place inside? Why did it take so long?

Finally, after a suffocating wait that lasted for nearly a standard hour, the heavy adamantium door slowly slid open to both sides with a low hiss of compressed air.

Inside, Chapter Master Marius Calgar still sat on his massive command throne, his face more serious than ever before, even with a hint of an imperceptible... urgency. And to the left and right of his throne, like two silent golden guardians, stood two tall warriors clad in magnificent Terminator Armor, inscribed with countless badges of honor—the Victrix Guard of Primarch Roboute Guilliman!

The appearance of the Victrix Guard was like a giant stone dropped into calm water, causing all the Company Commanders' hearts to sink! The Victrix Guard usually only attended the Primarch; their presence often meant that the Primarch's will, or even he himself, was about to arrive!

Cato Sicarius, the Second Company Commander, known for his bravery and tactical intuition, his gaze swept over the cold faceplates of the two Victrix Guard warriors. He seemed to have guessed something, and his expression became exceptionally solemn.

"Company Commanders, Lieutenants, come in." The Chapter Master's voice broke the silence, steady yet carrying undeniable authority.

The Company Commanders and Lieutenants quickly entered the meeting room in order, standing solemnly before the throne according to their company numbers. No one spoke; everyone's gaze was fixed on the Chapter Master and the two Victrix Guard.

Marius Calgar's gaze slowly swept over each Company Commander. His eyes were as sharp as an eagle's, as if he could see through everyone's inner anxiety.

"I'm sure you're all wondering," he began slowly, his voice echoing in the silent meeting room, "why you've all been recalled so urgently from the front lines."

He paused, letting the weight of the statement fully settle, then continued: "According to the latest news bravely sent back by our reconnaissance fleet dispatched to the furthest reaches of the western stellar region, combined with calculations from the Navigators' Guild and the Tech-Priests... one of the main fleets of the Tyranids, the primary tendril of the Hive Fleet 'Leviathan,' is estimated to arrive at the western border of Ultramar's Five Hundred Worlds within forty standard days!"

Although they had a premonition, when the name "Leviathan" was spoken by the Chapter Master himself, everyone in the meeting room couldn't help but gasp! Leviathan! That was the largest and most destructive Tyranid Hive Fleet known to date! Wherever it passed, planets became desolate, and billions of lives were consumed! Its threat level far exceeded any Tyranid splinter fleet they had encountered before!

"The Primarch views this matter with the highest level of importance," the Chapter Master continued, his tone growing even deeper. "And just a short while ago, I received a top-priority message from Holy Terra, conveyed personally by..." He subtly gestured to the Victrix Guard beside him, "...the Primarch's Victrix Guard."

The two Victrix Guard warriors remained motionless like statues, but their very presence spoke volumes.

The Chapter Master took a deep breath and announced the decision that would make every Ultramarines' blood surge, yet also feel immense pressure: "The Primarch has decided that Lion King Lion El'Jonson will temporarily oversee Holy Terra, while he himself—Roboute Guilliman—will personally come to Ultramar to lead us in confronting this unprecedented crisis!"

The Primarch's personal arrival!

This news struck like thunder in the heart of every Company Commander and Lieutenant! The great Primarch of the Ultramarines, Lord of the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, Lord Regent of the Imperium, would personally come to the front lines! This was undoubtedly a tremendous encouragement and honor! But it also meant that the situation had become so severe that it required the Primarch's personal intervention!

"We will muster our forces on Macragge, awaiting the Primarch's arrival," the Chapter Master's voice was resolute. "Subsequently, under the Primarch's personal command, we will proceed to the Cadia Gate region to establish a defensive line and directly confront the main force of Hive Fleet Leviathan!"

The Cadia Gate! Although the planet Cadia was destroyed, that stellar region remained a critical strategic choke point for entering Ultramar and the heart of the Imperium! A decisive battle there meant that the Ultramarines Chapter would bear the absolute primary responsibility of defending their home and resisting the Tyranid tide as the foremost line of defense!

"This will be a battle that determines the fate of Ultramar and even the entire eastern Imperium!" The Chapter Master's voice suddenly rose, filled with undeniable resolve and power. "I need you, I need every company, every warrior, to be fully prepared! Whether in body, equipment, or will! We must let those damned xenos know that Ultramar is not a place where they can run rampant! The Ultramarines will be an unyielding wall of steel that they cannot overcome!"

"For the Primarch! For Ultramar! For the Emperor!" All the Company Commanders and Lieutenants simultaneously straightened their bodies, clenched their fists over their hearts, and let out a deafening roar! In everyone's eyes, fierce fighting spirit and unwavering conviction burned brightly. The Primarch personally leading and fighting alongside the entire Chapter—what an honor and responsibility!

"Return to your respective companies immediately and begin mobilization and battle preparations!" The Chapter Master issued the final command. "The Primarch could arrive at any moment. I do not wish him to see any slackness or insufficient preparation! Dismissed!"

"Yes, Chapter Master!" Everyone responded in unison, turning and leaving the meeting room swiftly and orderly.

Every Company Commander's face was etched with solemnity and urgency. Forty days was a short time for interstellar-level war preparations. They needed to act immediately, allocate resources, overhaul ships and equipment, intensify training, integrate auxiliary forces... In the corridor, the Company Commanders walked quickly, already beginning to converse and deploy in low voices.

"Orestes, what is the status of your Fourth Company's heavy weapon reserves?"

"Harvis, the Fifth Company needs to immediately conduct anti-large biological assault training!"

"Sibilus, the Eighth Company's boarding teams need to be strengthened..."

"Talos, the Ninth Company's long-range firepower..."

Lieutenant Gorden followed Company Commander Hansson, whispering, "Company Commander, we need to immediately assess the Third Company's equipment losses and personnel situation, especially the Terminators and heavy firepower units. Also, the recovery of Dorian and Draculas needs priority attention; they are crucial assault forces."

Company Commander Hansson nodded heavily: "That's right. Also, inform Gaius and Luna that the Primarch is about to arrive, and tell them to be ready to be summoned at any time. Especially Gaius..." He paused, his eyes deep, "The Primarch's insight is extraordinary."

Lieutenant Gorden's heart tightened, and he solemnly responded, "Understood!"

The entire "Macragge's Honour" and indeed the entire Ultramarines main fleet, like a massive war machine, instantly went into high-speed operation due to the news of the Primarch's impending arrival and the approaching Leviathan!

An atmosphere of tension, solemnity, yet also surging fighting spirit, permeated every warship, every corridor, and the heart of every warrior.

They would, under the leadership of the great Primarch Roboute Guilliman, proceed to the Cadia Gate to defend their home and fight to the death against the all-consuming Tyranid tide!

The news that Primarch Roboute Guilliman would personally lead the army against the Leviathan Hive Fleet injected the most potent stimulant into the heart of every member of the Ultramarines Chapter fleet.

After a brief moment of shock, there was an unparalleled exhilaration, followed by a nearly frenzied wave of preparations.

The massive fleet, like a fully awakened steel beehive, operated with unprecedented efficiency.

The engines of every Strike Cruiser and every frigate underwent the highest standard of inspection and debugging to ensure they would be in optimal condition for deployment when the Primarch's command was given.

On the weapon decks, Heavy Bolters, plasma cannons, and laser cannon arrays were disassembled, cleaned, and calibrated; countless rounds of ammunition were brought out from storage, piling up like mountains.

The training decks were even more bustling.

The warriors forewent all their rotations and engaged in extremely high-intensity, targeted training.

Crossfire drills against Tyranid swarm tactics, assault and decapitation training against large bio-nodes, and survival and combat training in simulated Norn-Queen environments... Roars, the hissing of Bolters, and the whooshing of Power Weapons filled the air day and night.

Everyone was determined to display the most elite side of the Ultramarines before the Primarch.

The Tech-Sergeants became one of the busiest groups.

They shuttled between armories, hangars, and workshops, conducting the most thorough pre-war checks and maintenance on all equipment.

Especially the precious Terminator Armor and Dreadnoughts, which received the highest priority care.

Precise servo-systems were repeatedly debugged, energy cores were charged to saturation, and weapon systems underwent live-fire calibration, ensuring these powerful war machines would enter the decisive battle in perfect condition.

In the Tech-Workshop area of the Macragge's Honour, a special section was designated.

Here lay two severely damaged but meticulously repaired heavy armors—Draculas's white-helmeted Indomitus Terminator, and Dorian's iconic Saturnine Terminator.

Responsible for this important task was not the most senior Tech-Priest, but Eilaas—the Dark Eldar Tech-Sergeant—who led a group of equally enthusiastic mortal Tech-Sergeant 'disciples' she had personally selected and trained.

Eilaas's small face was smudged with oil, but her eyes shone remarkably bright.

She held a data-slate, constantly moving between various workstations, issuing commands in her unique, peculiar terminology, a mix of Aeldari and gothic.

"Here! The energy conduits must be re-laid using the third standard! The original design's redundancy was insufficient!"

"The buffer valve assembly on the left shoulder pad needs to be entirely replaced! Bring me a set of 'Taurus'-pattern spare parts!"

"Recalibrate the Power Fist's force field generator output again! I want it to reach one hundred and five percent of its rated power! Lord Dorian likes it strong!"

She had been so busy lately that her feet barely touched the ground, even her eating and sleeping were compressed to the extreme; she often just grabbed a nutrient paste and worked while chewing.

But she enjoyed it; being able to repair armor for Lord Dorian and that cool-looking white-helmeted uncle, and contributing her strength to the upcoming great war, filled her with a sense of accomplishment.

In the medical bay, Declan Catonia's recovery speed was nothing short of a medical miracle.

Perhaps spurred by the news of the Primarch's personal campaign, the brute's vitality seemed to be fully ignited.

He was already able to get out of bed for simple activities and even began attempting some light strength training, though he was always strictly stopped by the Apothecary.

"Lord Primarch! It's Lord Primarch who will personally lead us!" Dorian exclaimed, his face flushed, waving his thick arms, almost knocking over nearby medical equipment.

"Damn it! I must participate! I'll smash the brains of those bugs one by one with my hammer for Lord Primarch to see!"

The Apothecary helplessly injected him with a powerful sedative and a mixture of recovery drugs, finally pressing the over-excited fellow back onto the bed.

"If you want to participate in the battle, behave yourself! If you move around again, I'll give you a stasis shot and let you sleep until the battle is over!"

Dorian then grudgingly quieted down, but the flames of war still burned fiercely in his eyes.

He did not know that a great honor, far beyond his imagination, awaited him—his yet-to-be-held Laurel of Honor ceremony would be personally bestowed upon him by the great Primarch, Roboute Guilliman himself!

Gaius stood outside the observation window of the medical bay, watching Dorian, who, though suppressed by the Apothecary, was still excited like a child, and a smile involuntarily curved his lips.

But as he smiled, the smile gradually took on a hint of sadness.

He thought of Elisa.

"If only Elisa were here now…" Gaius murmured softly to Luna beside him, "She would have seen Lord Primarch with her own eyes… She always admired the Primarch so much…" He recalled Lina's sparkling eyes whenever she mentioned the Primarch, and how she would secretly imitate the tactical regulations from the Primarch's work, the Codex Astartes.

Luna nodded silently, her eyes also a little dim.

She knew that Elisa's sacrifice was an eternal pain in his and Dorian's hearts.

"I wonder if Lord Primarch still remembers her…" Gaius's voice was very low, with a hint of uncertain hope, "Remembers that… loyal daughter… who fought for him, and died for him…"

Meanwhile, in the Macragge's Honour's largest assembly square—the Hall of Honor—Captain Cassius personally oversaw a grand arrangement.

Giant Imperial Aquila and Ultramarines Chapter banners were hung at the highest point, and a solemn ceremonial platform was being erected below.

This would not only be the venue for the pre-war oath-taking rally but also for a special Laurel of Honor ceremony—for the valiant Sergeant Declan Catonia, and it would be personally presided over by the Primarch!

The warriors watched all this from afar, their eyes filled with envy and excitement.

To be crowned by the Primarch himself! What an honor!

They could almost imagine how magnificent and inspiring the scene would be!

This would undoubtedly greatly boost the morale of the entire army.

In the Chapter Master's office, Chapter Master Marius Calgar was not involved in the specific preparatory work.

He stood before the large viewport, his back to the office, his gaze passing through the glass to the Hall of Honor on the lower deck, where busy preparations were underway.

He could see Captain Cassius's busy and meticulous figure.

His gaze shifted slightly, falling upon Captain Cato Sicarius of the 2nd Company, who stood nearby, also awaiting instructions.

Sicarius's distinctive, intricately crafted crown spanning his helmet, a symbol of company-level command, and the Laurel of Honor on his helmet, still shining brightly after countless battles, gleamed with a steady light under the illumination.

Looking at that crown and Laurel, Marius Calgar's thoughts drifted back to the distant past.

At that time, Sicarius was a newly promoted Captain, full of vigor, yet a little impetuous.

It was he, Marius Calgar, who, witnessed by countless comrades, personally placed that crown, symbolizing responsibility and honor, on Sicarius's head, and at the same time entrusted him with the heavy burden of leading the 2nd Company.

Time flew by, and the young Captain of yesteryear had now become one of the Chapter's sharpest spears, with illustrious military achievements.

And soon, he would again witness another supreme honor, personally bestowed by their great gene-father upon an ordinary warrior who had accomplished extraordinary feats.

This seemed to be a legacy, a legacy of courage, loyalty, and honor belonging to the Ultramarines.

The Chapter Master slowly turned around, his gaze sweeping over the scrolls and sacred relics in the office that recorded the Chapter's ten-thousand-year history.

His eyes were firm and profound.

No matter how powerful the enemy they faced in the future, no matter how great the sacrifice, this legacy would never be broken.

Because they were Ultramarines.

Because the Primarch was about to return.

Because the Emperor watched over all his deeds.

Three days flew by amidst the extremely tense and expectant preparations.

The entire Ultramarines Chapter fleet had entered the highest state of combat readiness; every warship was polished to a brilliant shine, every warrior's armor was wiped spotless, and their spirits were full and morale high.

Finally, the long-awaited moment arrived.

The largest main hangar of the Macragge's Honour had been meticulously arranged, no longer bearing the rough, oil-stained, and mechanical feel of its usual state. The floor was thoroughly cleaned and polished, reflecting the bright lights from the ceiling. A wide, scarlet, heavy carpet, like a burning path of blood, stretched straight from the hangar's massive main entrance to its deepest part.

On both sides of the red carpet, like a steel forest, stood two rows of towering figures—on the left were twelve Honour Guard warriors in precious Saturnine Terminator Armor, and on the right were twelve battle-hardened veterans from the 1st Company's elite, clad in standard Ironclad Pattern Terminator Armor. They stood like two insurmountable steel mountains, silent and majestic, Power Fists clenched, Bolters upright, and cold eye-lenses gazing forward, guarding the path to the Primarch.

And this was just the beginning. On all available high platforms, empty landing pads, and even the giant gangways and maintenance platforms around the hangar, Ultramarines from every Company stood densely packed! They were neatly arrayed according to Company structure, utterly silent, with only the faint hum of their Power Armor's servo systems forming a low background sound. Thousands of eyes, filled with endless reverence, excitement, and anticipation, focused on the end of the red carpet and the empty landing zone. No one wanted to miss this historic moment; everyone yearned to witness the glory of their genetic father firsthand.

At the very end of the red carpet, three core leaders of the Chapter stood solemnly. Chapter Master Marius Calgar stood at the forefront, clad in his most ornate, master-crafted Power Armor, inscribed with countless battle honors, his crimson cloak draped behind him like congealed blood. To his left was the rock-steady Captain Cassius of the 1st Company, and to his right was the sharp and imposing Captain Cato Sicarius of the 2nd Company. The three stood like three blue statues, their faces solemn, their eyes holding an indescribable mix of excitement and responsibility.

The entire hangar was silent, the air seemingly solidified, and an atmosphere of solemnity, reverence, and immense fervor permeated every corner.

Suddenly!

A magnificent and unique engine roar came from outside the hangar, different from the violent power of a Thunderhawk Gunship, and unlike the dull hum of a transport craft; it was a more steady, more powerful sound, with a certain rhythm.

He's here!

Everyone's hearts leaped into their throats!

The massive main hangar gate slowly opened upwards, and the light of the external star shone in. A streamlined, elegant, and majestic exclusive gunship, painted in Ultramar blue and gold, adorned with the Imperial Aquila and the Ultramarines Chapter symbol, glided smoothly into the hangar, accompanied by several escort fighters. It precisely hovered, then descended as lightly as a feather onto the starting point of the red carpet.

The engines cut out, the ramp had not yet opened, but that boundless, overwhelming pressure, as if from the very source of their bloodline, already enveloped the entire hangar like a tangible force! It was the aura of a Primarch! The spiritual light of their creator!

Click—

The gunship's ramp slowly opened downwards with a soft sound, forming a set of stairs.

First to step out of the ramp were ten Victrix Guard warriors, clad in golden glory and ancient Terminator Armor! They were like golden guardians from myth, their steps heavy and unified, quickly and orderly arrayed on both sides of the gangway, forming the final and most robust protective barrier. Their gazes swept across the entire scene like scanners, ensuring absolute safety.

Immediately following, an incredibly tall, majestic figure appeared in the doorway.

He was clad in the galaxy-renowned "Armor of Fate," blue and gold, with energy flowing across its master-crafted plates, and complex conduits connecting to the life support system on his back like veins. The massive Imperial Aquila and Ultramarines Chapter symbol on his shoulder pads were awe-inspiring. He wore no helmet, revealing his handsome and resolute face, like a classical sculpture, his golden short hair meticulously combed, and his eyes as deep as a star sea, seemingly containing endless wisdom and the weight of ages.

Roboute Guilliman! Lord of the Five Hundred Worlds, Primarch of the Ultramarines, Lord Regent of the Imperium, he had arrived in person!

When his battle boots firmly stepped onto the scarlet carpet, laid specifically for him—

Led by Chapter Master Marius Calgar, every blue-armored giant in the entire hangar—whether the Terminators standing on both sides of the red carpet or the regular warriors on the high platforms—all simultaneously, with breathtaking precision and uniformity, knelt on their right knee!

Boom!

The sound of thousands of heavy objects hitting the ground converged into a muffled yet earth-shattering roar!

Immediately after, all the warriors simultaneously raised their right arms, clenched their fists, and, with the most standard and powerful gesture, heavily struck the armor over their heart on their left chest!

Clang!!!

The sound of metal striking reverberated through the entire hangar like war drums!

Finally, from the deepest parts of their souls, with all their strength, came a magnificent and unified roar from all the warriors, like a tsunami, deafening, as if to tear through the warship's deck and pierce the heavens:

"Hail, Lord Primarch!!!"

This roar contained endless loyalty, adoration, excitement, and vows! They welcomed their creator, their father, their commander!

Guilliman's deep gaze slowly swept over the kneeling blue ocean before him, over each loyal son. A subtle expression, a mix of satisfaction and solemnity, appeared on his face. He could feel the surging emotions of these warriors, and he could also feel the shadow of the great war that was about to come.

He slowly raised a hand, his voice calm yet carrying supreme authority, clearly reaching the ears of every warrior, as if whispering beside them:

"Rise, my warriors."

No excessive words, just simple commands, yet imbued with immense power.

All the warriors, once again like a single entity, stood up neatly, their movements clean and sharp, their armor clashing with a metallic rustle. They remained in a solemn stance, their gazes fiercely fixed on the Primarch.

Guilliman began to walk along the red carpet towards the Chapter Master and the others. His steps were steady and firm, each one seemingly measuring the Imperium's territory and responsibility. The Victrix Guard flanked him, vigilantly watching their surroundings.

Marius Calgar immediately led the two Captains forward, saluting again: "My Lord, welcome back! The Ultramarines Chapter has assembled and awaits your command!"

Guilliman stopped before the three, his gaze falling on Calgar, and nodded: "Marius, you have done well. I see a well-prepared and high-spirited legion." His voice carried a reassuring strength.

"To serve you and the Imperium is our honor!" Calgar responded solemnly.

Guilliman's gaze then swept over Cassius and Sicarius, giving a slight nod of acknowledgment, and the two Captains excitedly struck their chests in salute again.

Subsequently, Guilliman's gaze passed over them, once again looking out at the boundless blue ocean, at his sons. He took a deep breath, his voice amplified through a vox-caster, echoing throughout the hangar:

"My warriors! The shadow of the xenos is drawing near our home! The threat of the Tyranid must be ended! I, with you, will go to the Cadia Gate, and with Bolter and blade, tell those all-consuming swarms—"

He paused, then his voice suddenly rose, filled with undeniable resolve and power:

"Ultramar, shall never fall! Ultramarines, invincible!"

"For the Emperor! For Ultramar! For Lord Guilliman!"

----

Two days passed in a flash, but for Declan Catonia, it felt like two centuries. He barely managed to suppress the heart that felt like it would leap out of his chest, enduring those forty-eight agonizing hours under the strict supervision and "threat of force" from the Apothecaries.

The day of the crowning ceremony finally arrived.

The ceremony was held in the Hall of Honor, meticulously arranged by Captain Cassius. It was even more solemn and grand than when the Primarch was welcomed previously. Beneath the colossal Imperial Aquila and the Ultramarines Chapter banner, a temporary but equally magnificent ceremonial platform had been erected. Below the platform, representatives from each Company stood in strict formation, their armor gleaming, their eyes burning with anticipation to witness this glorious moment.

Upon the platform, the great Primarch Roboute Guilliman sat on the central throne, with Chapter Master Marius Calgar and Captain Cassius, as well as 2nd Company Captain Cato Sicarius, standing on either side. Their gazes were all directed towards the side door of the hall, which was slowly opening.

All the warriors' eyes also focused on it in unison.

Heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed from the corridor behind the side door, each step seemingly in time with everyone's heartbeat.

First to appear were the iconic, enormous, semicircular shoulder pads, clearly emblazoned with the Third Company's insignia and Dorian's personal mark—an Ork head smashed by a Thunder Hammer. Following closely, the massive, majestic Saturn-pattern Terminator Armor, meticulously restored to new condition by Eilaas and her team working day and night, fully appeared before everyone.

The Armor was polished to a mirror sheen; every scar had been carefully filled or transformed into a mark of honor, and the deep blue coating shimmered with a profound luster under the lights. The Power Fist and Storm Bolter had also undergone thorough inspection and refurbishment, appearing brand new.

Declan Catonia, wearing his beloved Terminator Armor, a symbol of strength and glory, stepped into the Hall of Honor, moving towards the platform set for him.

He walked slowly, steadily, each step exceptionally heavy. Even wearing such a tall Saturn-pattern Terminator Armor, his height was only comparable to that of Lord Primarch Guilliman seated on the throne. This made him even more acutely aware of his genetic father's god-like, towering presence.

At this moment, Dorian wondered for the first time why the heavy thudding sound of this Terminator Armor walking was so loud. *Clang… Clang…* It seemed to reverberate throughout the entire hall, making him inexplicably nervous and uneasy, afraid that he might accidentally step on and ruin the beautiful red carpet, or… trip.

He did not wear his Terminator helmet, revealing his face, which was flushed red and even somewhat distorted from excitement and nervousness. His usual fearless, reckless expression was gone, replaced by a look of almost reverence, mixed with immense pride and an awkward bewilderment.

Finally, he reached the base of the platform, directly in front of Primarch Guilliman's throne.

He stopped, his massive body pausing for a moment as if gathering courage. Then, under the gaze of thousands, he performed an extremely standard, even textbook-perfect, action—his right knee heavily struck the ground with a dull thud, his massive Power Fist supporting him, and he bowed his head, which he rarely lowered.

The entire hall was silent, save for the faint hum of the Power Armor's servo systems.

Guilliman slowly rose from his throne. His tall figure instantly became the absolute center of the entire hall. He took an item from the Chapter Master, who presented it with both hands—a laurel wreath crafted from adamantium and Ultramar sapphires, glowing with brilliant and sacred light under the illumination.

The Primarch stepped forward, approaching Dorian.

Dorian could feel the enormous shadow enveloping him, and the awe-inspiring yet incredibly familiar presence originating from deep within his genes. He was so nervous he could barely breathe, his heart pounding like a drum.

Guilliman lowered his head, looking at his son, who knelt before him, having achieved such glorious victories. His gaze was profound, as if it could see through Dorian's nervous exterior to his pure and courageous heart.

He did not speak immediately, but slowly and solemnly, with the hands that had written the Codex Astartes and commanded countless armies, he carefully and precisely placed the laurel wreath, a symbol of supreme honor, upon Dorian's head, covered in short, stiff black hair.

The cool metallic touch on his scalp felt as if it ignited all the blood in Dorian's body!

Next, Guilliman took another item from the Chapter Master's hand—Dorian's iconic helmet, adorned with eagle wings. At this moment, a slightly smaller, but identical in style and material, honorific laurel wreath emblem had been cleverly affixed to the front of the helmet, just above the brow, with both wreaths complementing each other and merging into one.

The Primarch held this special helmet, leaned down again, and personally placed it on Dorian.

Click.

The helmet perfectly sealed with the gorget.

Double crowns bestowed!

On his head was the physical laurel wreath symbolizing his supreme valor and spirit of sacrifice, and on his helmet was the matching, permanent emblem of honor! This was an extremely rare and exalted honor within the Ultramarines Chapter, the highest recognition of Declan Catonia's heroic deeds on Vellan II!

At this moment, Declan Catonia's name would be forever etched into the Ultramarines' annals of honor!

Upon the platform, Gaius, Luna, and Lieutenant Gorden watched this scene intently. Gaius's eyes were filled with genuine pride and satisfaction for his brother, Luna's usually cold face showed a rare, heartfelt smile, and Lieutenant Gorden nodded slightly, his eyes full of emotion, thinking how this reckless brother, who always caused trouble, had finally earned the glory commensurate with his courage.

And in the observation area to the side of the hall, Eilaas was already crying uncontrollably, tears and snot mixing, but she didn't bother to wipe them away. She wasn't sad, but overwhelmed with extreme excitement, emotion, and pride! She had personally seen Lord Primarch! And! The magnificent Terminator Armor worn by Lord Dorian was repaired by her and her team! Now, Lord Dorian was wearing it, receiving the crowning personally from Lord Primarch! It felt like a dream! She felt like she was about to faint from happiness!

After Guilliman placed the helmet on Dorian, he took a step back and said in a deep voice, "Rise, Declan Catonia. Lift your head, and let your brothers see your glory!"

Upon hearing this, Dorian took a deep breath, and with immense willpower, he drove his somewhat shaky legs, slowly standing up. With the helmet on, he was no longer as nervous, but the excitement within him surged like a volcano.

He turned, facing all his comrades in the hall.

All eyes focused on him, on the brilliant laurel wreath on his head and the shimmering emblem on his helmet. In those gazes was envy, admiration, congratulations, and, even more, ignited fighting spirit!

According to protocol, he should now say some words of gratitude, some appropriate, morale-boosting remarks. Lieutenant Gorden had indeed secretly slipped him a small note filled with eloquent phrases, telling him to memorize them.

But at this moment, Dorian's mind was blank! Those awkward, flowery sentences had long been thrown to the winds! He struggled for a long time, his face under the helmet turning red, and finally, all his excitement, all his glory, all his loyalty, converged into the simplest, most direct, yet most representative of his current feelings, a heartfelt battle cry that shook the heavens!

He suddenly raised his massive Power Fist, capable of smashing city walls, pointed it at the sky, and with all his might, let out a thunderous roar:

"For the Emperor!! For Lord Guilliman!!!"

This pure and ferocious battle cry was like lighting the fuse of a powder keg!

Instantly!

The entire Hall of Honor, all the Ultramarines, whether the Captains on the platform or the ordinary soldiers below, were all infected by this raw, passionate battle cry! They simultaneously raised their weapons or fists, letting out an even more colossal, more deafening response, the sound wave sweeping through the entire hall like a tsunami, even penetrating the thick decks, reverberating throughout the entire "Macragge's Honour"!

"For the Emperor! For Lord Guilliman!!"

"For the Emperor! For Lord Guilliman!!"

Dorian's accidental, unembellished battle cry achieved a better effect than any meticulously prepared speech! It pushed the atmosphere of the ceremony to its climax!

On the Primarch's handsome face, Guilliman also showed a faint, almost imperceptible smile. He seemed to appreciate this unpretentious directness, full of the true character of an Ultramarine.

Amidst the earth-shattering battle cries, Dorian, feeling a bit dazed, awkwardly descended the platform and, as instructed, took his place in the line of Saturn-pattern Terminator Honour Guard. He felt as if he were walking on clouds, light-footed.

Subsequently, the crowning ceremony concluded, and the pre-battle oath-taking assembly officially began.

Primarch Roboute Guilliman walked to the front of the platform and began his highly infectious and inspiring speech. He expounded on the threat of the Tyranid Leviathan, emphasized the importance of defending their home, recalled the Ultramarines' ten millennia of glory and tradition, and expressed his firm determination to fight alongside all his sons until victory.

His words were like a resounding bell, striking the heart of every warrior, thoroughly igniting their morale, and forging them into an unstoppable tide of steel!

Dorian stood among the Terminators, listening to the Primarch's speech, feeling the soaring battle intent of his brothers around him, and touching the cold yet seemingly fiery laurel wreath on his head. The excitement and sense of honor in his heart gradually settled, transforming into an even more resolute and ferocious determination to fight.

He would fight! For the Emperor! For the Primarch! For the glory of the Ultramarines! He would make those damned Tyranids taste the might of a dual Laurel of Honor recipient!

The blade of the Ultramarines was already drawn, pointing directly at the Cadia Gate!

The earth-shattering battle cries gradually subsided, but the fervent atmosphere in the Hall of Honor lingered. The air still seemed to echo with the warriors' heated breaths and surging battle intent. Declan Catonia stood in the Saturnine Terminator formation, the cold Laurel of Honor pressing against his scalp. The newly added laurel emblem on his helmet gleamed faintly under the lights, constantly reminding him of everything he had just experienced, like a dream.

The initial extreme excitement and dizziness slowly faded, replaced by a deeper, heavier sense of responsibility. This honor was not an end, but a new beginning, a burden that needed to be defended with more and more glorious achievements. He unconsciously straightened his back, making the newly repaired Terminator Armor appear even more formidable. Beneath his visor, the simple and excited expression on his rugged face was gradually replaced by a rare tenacity, like that of a true veteran.

On the high platform, Primarch Roboute Guilliman's speech was drawing to a close. He did not overly sensationalize fear, but instead focused on emphasizing the traditions, discipline, and unwavering confidence in victory of the Ultramarines. His words were like precise navigational beacons, guiding this vast legion and instilling an iron will.

"...The xenos think they face another world to be devoured? They are wrong!" Guilliman's voice boomed like a great bell, reaching every corner of the hall. "They face the Emperor's Angels of Death! They are the guardians of Ultramar! They are the inheritors of ten thousand years of glory! They will crash against the Imperium of Man's strongest shield, its sharpest spear! They will meet utter destruction outside the Cadia Gate!"

"Ultramarines! Advance with me! For Macragge! For the Emperor!"

"For Macragge! For the Emperor! For Guilliman!" A thunderous, unified roar erupted from below again, the sound waves almost tearing off the dome.

The rally ended at its climax. The Captains immediately began issuing final preparation orders to their companies. With fervent blood and unwavering faith, the warriors left the hall in an orderly and swift manner, returning to their respective posts and ships. They needed to transform the fighting spirit ignited by the Primarch into final combat readiness checks.

Dorian followed the Honour Guard, preparing to leave. As he passed the high platform, he couldn't help but look up at that majestic figure again. Just then, Guilliman's gaze seemed to sweep over him, and in those deep blue eyes, a faint trace of... approval? Or perhaps expectation? seemed to flash.

Dorian's heart skipped a beat. He quickly lowered his head and quickened his pace to catch up with the team, but his heart felt like it held a ball of fire, burning with strength.

During this period, with the Primarch's arrival and the Macragge's Honour preparing for battle, not everyone was immersed in excitement and glory.

In the Tech-Sergeant workshop area, Eilaas finally recovered from her extreme excitement and tears. She looked at her small hands, somewhat worn and even scalded from days of repairs, and then recalled the scene of Dorian receiving the Primarch's anointing while wearing the armor she had repaired. An indescribable sense of accomplishment filled her chest.

But she didn't have much time to savor it. With a major war imminent, more equipment needed maintenance, and more technical requests flew in like snowflakes. She wiped away the remaining tears and snot from her face, took a deep breath, and plunged back into her busy work, her small face filled with a focus and determination unsuited for her age. She wanted to ensure that every piece of equipment that passed through her hands would enter battle in the most perfect condition.

In the medical area, Luna had thoroughly familiarized herself with and optimized the coordinated operation of her new 'Blessed Arm' and 'Eilaas-pattern' Power Fist. She used the remaining time to meticulously check the equipment data of all members of First Squad, especially Gaius's sniper rifle and Draculas's heavy flamer, ensuring everything was foolproof. Her calmness and efficiency were indispensable pillars of the squad.

Gaius, meanwhile, was engaged in his final meditation and mental adjustment. He stood in the quiet observation deck, gazing out at the vast fleet outside the window, which was beginning its final assembly, engines lighting up. The Primarch's return and Dorian's anointing greatly encouraged him, but deep down, the shadow of Tzeentch's whispers and the Mark of Change still clung to him like a maggot, constantly reminding him of the potential danger. He buried this vigilance deep in his heart, transforming it into stricter self-control and a keen perception of his surroundings. He absolutely could not make any mistakes in that decisive battle.

Lieutenant Golden moved through various parts of the battleship, coordinating the final preparations and checking every detail. His gaze was sharp, missing nothing. As Lieutenant, he needed to ensure that the Third Company would enter the Primarch's strategic deployment in the most perfect state.

And in the strategic command center of the Macragge's Honour, a top-level military conference was underway.

Roboute Guilliman sat at the head of the table. A huge star map of the Cadia Gate star system and the predicted advance routes of the Leviathan Hive Fleet were projected onto the tabletop. Chapter Master Marius Calgar, all ten Captains, and their Lieutenants gathered, listening intently.

Guilliman's finger traced across the star map. His voice was calm and clear, every word imbued with immense authority and wisdom.

"...The main thrust of the Leviathan is expected to advance along this ancient trade route. The space here is relatively stable, suitable for the navigation of their massive fleet. But they will undoubtedly also send out a large number of splinter fleets for flank harassment and infiltration." His finger pointed out several key nodes. "Our main force will be deployed in the core area of the Cadia Gate—the 'Indomitable Fortress' world cluster. This is a defense line we have operated for thousands of years, with complete defensive platforms, minefields, and mobile fleet anchorages."

"Marius," he looked at the Chapter Master, "the Ultramarines main fleet will serve as the core strike force, deployed at the forefront of the fortress cluster. I want you to be like a nail, firmly hammered here, facing the most ferocious impact of the swarm head-on!"

"Yes, Primarch!" Chapter Master Calgar pounded his chest.

"Cassius, the First Company's Terminator company and Dreadnoughts, will serve as strategic reserves and a counter-attacking iron fist, ready at any time to enter the most critical war zones and tear apart the Tyranid node organisms."

"Yes!" Captain Cassius acknowledged the order.

"Sicarius, the 2nd Company's assault boats and boarding parties, your mission is to use speed and flexibility to focus on eliminating Tyranid bio-ships attempting to approach defensive platforms or deploy spore cysts."

"Understood! Leave it to us!" 2nd Company Captain Cato Sicarius's eyes gleamed with warlike light.

Guilliman's gaze swept over the other Captains, issuing orders one by one: "Orestes, the Fourth Company will coordinate with the Navy fleet, responsible for the left flank's security... Harves, the Fifth Company will be responsible for the right flank and deep-space clearing... Hector, the Sixth Company..."

His deployment was precise and efficient, fully considering the characteristics and advantages of each company, perfectly integrating the strength of the entire Ultramarines Chapter into every critical point of the defense line.

"...This is not a simple defensive battle." Guilliman concluded, his gaze as sharp as a blade. "We will use the defensive advantages of the fortress cluster to maximize the attrition of the Leviathan's effective strength, and then... seek opportunities to launch a counterattack! The objective—identify and destroy the main brain node of the Hive Fleet! At least severely cripple it, forcing the Leviathan to retreat!"

Decapitation strike! This was the Primarch's true goal! Merely repelling the swarm was not the end; he wanted to inflict unbearable damage on the Leviathan!

All the Captains felt immense pressure, but even more, they were ignited by the Primarch's boldness and determination!

"For the Emperor! For Ultramar!" All the commanders roared in unison.

The final preparation time flew by.

The engines of the Macragge's Honour let out a deafening, full-power roar! The massive hull slowly adjusted its direction, pointing towards the Cadia Gate.

Around it, countless Ultramarines strike cruisers, frigates, and Imperial Navy warships lit their navigation lights, engines spewing a ghostly blue exhaust, beginning to assemble and gather like countless stars.

A colossal fleet, embodying the most elite forces of the Imperium of Man, had taken shape!

On the bridge, Roboute Guilliman stood before the massive observation window, gazing at the boundless starry sky ahead. Marius Calgar stood slightly behind him to his side.

"All fleets report, ready!" the Navigator reported loudly.

Guilliman nodded slightly, his voice, broadcast across the fleet, reached every warship:

"All fleets... set sail!"

"Target—Cadia Gate!"

"For Macragge! For the Imperium of Man!"

Boom!!!

Countless engines simultaneously outputted maximum power! The vast fleet, like an awakened torrent of steel, slowly began to accelerate, heading towards the final battlefield that was about to be stained with blood and fire!

Honor had been bestowed, blades had been drawn! The Ultramarines, personally led by the Primarch, set off for the battle of destiny!

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