In the void, the squadron of Thunderhawk Gunships led by Captain Cassius, like dozens of quenched blue daggers, plunged with astonishing precision and decisiveness into the seemingly impenetrable defensive formation of the Leviathan Hive Fleet!
They did not choose to engage the outer defence bio-ships, which swarmed like hyenas, but instead pushed their engines to the limit, relying on the gunships' superior maneuverability and heavy frontal armor to forcefully carve a path through countless small Tyranid claw ships and dense bio-weapon fire!
The hull was constantly assailed by grating sounds of acid corrosion and bone spike impacts, but the gunships pressed on, unwavering, towards their largest target—the Hive Mind ship!
"For Macragge! For the Primarch!" Captain Cassius's cold and resolute voice echoed through the comms channel to every gunship. "Lock onto the target ship's weak points! Fire a full volley and withdraw immediately! Do not linger!"
The moment the gunship squadron entered optimal firing range, the heavy flamers on the bellies of all gunships and the assault cannons on their flanks simultaneously roared deafeningly!
Dozens of scorching streams of flame, capable of melting battleship armor, licked fiercely at the Hive Mind ship's hull, which was covered in thick bio-armor, like enraged fire dragons!
At the same time, dense armor-piercing rockets and heavy assault cannon shells rained down on the same area like hail!
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
The violent explosions instantly turned that area into a sea of fire!
Under such concentrated and ferocious firepower, the tough bio-armor finally succumbed, cracking, melting, and shattering over large areas!
Green slime and burning organic tissue splattered everywhere, and the massive body of the Hive Mind ship even trembled slightly from the sudden, powerful assault!
After delivering this thunderous strike, the 1st Company's gunships showed no hesitation, immediately turning around with the same swiftness they arrived, unleashing their remaining ammunition on the Tyranid claw ships attempting to encircle them, while retreating at maximum speed towards the human fleet!
The Hive Mind's attention seemed to be entirely drawn to the engagement between Macragge's Honour and the outer fleet, paying little heed to this small force that 'tickled' it before swiftly retreating.
It only instinctively dispatched some nearby bio-ships to pursue them.
Relying on their excellent performance and the pilots' superb skills, the 1st Company's gunships successfully disengaged from the most dangerous area after sustaining minor damage.
However, the 1st Company's fierce attack was merely creating an opportunity for the true killing blow!
Just as the Hive Mind ship was engulfed in flames and explosions, and the torn deck had not yet fully self-repaired—
The 2nd Company's boarding parties moved!
Five full tactical squads, personally led by Lieutenant Titus, riding in three specially reinforced assault pods equipped with heavy drills and breaching charges, shot towards the still burning and fracturing wound area like three deadly torpedoes, with pinpoint accuracy!
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Accompanied by dull impacts and the grating noise of the deck being forcibly torn open, the custom drills of the three assault pods plunged deep into the Hive Mind ship's hull, securing them firmly!
The hatches then blew open!
"For Ultramar! Purge all xenos!" Lieutenant Titus's battle-filled roar was the first to sound!
His Power Sword gleamed with cold light as he was the first to charge out of the assault pod!
Following closely behind were fifty of the 2nd Company's most elite warriors!
Like a blue steel torrent, they instantly surged into the Hive Mind ship's interior, filled with slime, pulsating flesh walls, and eerie biological conduits!
The Hive Mind clearly had not anticipated that humans would dare to launch a boarding action directly against its core ship!
In its haste, it could only instinctively mobilize the existing defensive forces within the ship—countless newly hatched Ripper and Termagant surged like a tide from pipes and orifices on all sides, hissing and pouncing on these audacious intruders!
However, the 2nd Company's warriors had already anticipated this situation!
"Advance steadily! Alternating fire! Purify them!" Lieutenant Titus calmly commanded.
The warriors immediately formed standard assault formations, their Bolters precisely and efficiently firing at the charging hordes of bugs.
With each volley, large numbers of Tyranid beasts fell.
Their steps were firm, like a massive, moving steel roller, slowly but unstoppably advancing deeper into the ship's hull!
After advancing a certain distance, two warriors would detach from the squad, swiftly installing a powerful Meltabomb, specially modified by a Tech-Sergeant, at critical nodes on the flesh walls or support structures.
The bomb's indicator light would illuminate, entering a ready-to-trigger state.
The resistance of the bug horde grew increasingly frenzied, with even Warrior Tyranids and more agile Lictors beginning to appear.
But the 2nd Company's warriors, with their seamless coordination and rich experience, steadily withstood wave after wave of assaults with powerful firepower and close-combat skills, continuing their steady advance towards the Hive Mind ship's presumed core area.
The string of dangerously red-glowing Meltabombs they left behind were like deadly stingers buried within the giant beast's body, awaiting the moment of final detonation.
At the same time, the pressure on Macragge's Honour and the entire Imperial Navy had reached its peak!
Although the valiant actions of the 1st and 2nd Companies had diverted some of the Hive Mind's attention, the Tyranid fleet on the main battlefield still held an overwhelming numerical advantage.
Countless bio-ships continued to charge the human lines relentlessly, and more spore cysts slammed into the various warships like a rainstorm.
Inside Macragge's Honour, the battle had entered the white-hot stage of close-quarters combat.
The corridors were filled with intense gunfire, explosions, the roars of warriors, and the hissing of the bug horde.
Although the Victrix Guard were exceptionally combat-effective, facing an endless surge of increasingly numerous elite Tyranid units, they too began to suffer casualties.
One Victrix Guard warrior, covering the retreat of a wounded Honour Guard warrior, was hit head-on by a heavy bio-cannon from a Tyrant Guard.
Even with Power Armor protection, he was severely wounded and fell.
Another warrior, while simultaneously fending off two Lictors and a Trygon, had his shoulder armor pierced by a Carnifex that ambushed him from the ceiling, noticeably slowing his movements.
The defensive line was constantly retreating, more and more areas were falling, and the Tyranids were gradually devouring the internal space of this magnificent warship.
Just at this most critical moment—
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Heavy footsteps, so profound they seemed to override all battlefield clamor, echoed from the end of a main corridor!
Accompanying these footsteps was an immensely majestic, immensely powerful aura, as if it could dispel all gloom and despair!
A tall and imposing figure, clad in gold and blue, appeared at the end of the corridor!
The Emperor's Sword in his hand, burning with pure flame, was like a lighthouse in the darkness, instantly drawing the gaze of all warriors and xenos!
It was Chapter Master Marius Calgar!
He stood at the very front of the battle line, like a true War Lord!
His master-crafted Power Armor, tempered by countless battles, was covered in scars, yet it only added to his majesty.
Every roar of his Bolter Pistol surely meant the head of an elite Tyranid beast was blown open!
And the Power Fist 'Fist of Macragge' in his other hand, symbolizing the Chapter Master's authority, contained destructive power.
Every swing could smash the carapaces of a Tyrant Guard or even an Executioner, sending them flying backward!
"Ultramarines! Advance with me! Purge these filthy xenos!" Chapter Master Calgar's voice thundered throughout the corridor!
The Chapter Master's personal entry into the battlefield instantly greatly boosted the morale of all warriors!
The previously faltering defensive line once again became impregnable!
Following the Chapter Master's footsteps, the warriors launched a fierce counter-charge, pushing the surging bug horde back!
However, the Hive Mind also seemed to be enraged by this suddenly appearing powerful individual!
More elite units were mobilized, and even an exceptionally massive Executioner smashed through a side bulkhead, roaring as it charged towards Chapter Master Calgar!
Just as Chapter Master Calgar prepared to confront this giant beast—
A taller, more imposing figure, as if containing endless wisdom and power, appeared silently before the Chapter Master, as if teleporting.
He merely stood there, yet he seemed to become the center of the entire universe.
He needed no roar, no declaration; his very existence was the strongest war cry and the firmest conviction!
The great Thirteenth Primarch, Father of the Ultramarines, Lord of the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, Lord Regent of the Imperium—Roboute Guilliman, had finally personally stepped onto this bloody battlefield!
His gaze calmly swept over the ravaged corridor and the grotesque bug horde, finally settling on the charging giant Executioner.
That look was like a scholar observing a praying mantis attempting to stop a chariot wheel.
He did not use any ranged weapons, simply raising the greatsword in one hand, burning with the Emperor's sacred flame.
The next second, his figure seemed to blur.
No one saw how he moved, only a golden streak of light instantly flashed past the massive Executioner!
Guilliman's figure appeared behind the Executioner, slowly sheathing his sword.
And the charging Executioner's massive body suddenly stiffened, then a thin golden line spread from its head all the way to its tail!
Immediately after, its massive body neatly split into two halves along this golden line, smoothly sliding and collapsing to the left and right sides!
The cut was smooth as a mirror, with no green blood spurting out; all organic tissue was completely purified and annihilated the moment it touched the sacred flame of the Emperor's Sword!
Silence!
A deathly silence enveloped the corridor!
Both humans and Tyranids seemed to be stunned by this sword strike beyond comprehension!
But the next second, earth-shattering cheers erupted from the human warriors!
"Long live the Primarch!!"
"For Lord Guilliman!!"
Guilliman's appearance was like throwing a sun onto a dying bonfire!
The morale of all warriors instantly burned to its peak!
Following the footsteps of the Primarch and the Chapter Master, they let out even more furious roars, launching an overwhelming general assault on the bug horde!
And the Tyranids, their cold collective will, finally seemed to realize the true threat.
Their previously frenzied attacks showed a very subtle... hesitation?
The holy Gene-Primarch had arrived on the battlefield.
The scales of victory and defeat in this shipboard bloodbath began to quietly tip.
Guilliman's miraculous sword strike, instantly slaying the massive Executioner, not only galvanized the human warriors but also stimulated the Hive Mind's cold collective will.
It immediately identified this new, immensely powerful and threatening individual as the true core and supreme commander of this human fleet!
Instantly, the two remaining Executioners in the passage, and the Trygon that had just swept away two Victrix Guard warriors with its tail and was currently entangled with the Victrix Guard Captain, all let out furious roars almost simultaneously!
Their cold compound eyes locked onto Guilliman, completely abandoning their current opponents, and like three out-of-control heavy tanks, they charged towards the Primarch from three different directions with a crazed, all-crushing momentum!
The ground trembled under their heavy footsteps, and a stench of 腥 wind pressure assaulted them! The sheer force was enough to make even the bravest warrior despair!
"Protect the Lord!" the Victrix Guard Captain roared in shock and anger, attempting to intercept the Trygon charging at Guilliman, but was forced back once more by its thick tail.
The other Victrix Guard warriors and Honour Guard also desperately tried to step forward and block, but their speed was far from matching these giant beasts intent on tearing the Primarch apart!
However, facing the pincer attack of these three terrifying creatures, capable of destroying an entire company of troops, Roboute Guilliman's handsome and majestic face remained completely unperturbed.
His gaze was as calm as a deep pool, as if what was charging towards him were not primordial beasts eager to devour, but three insignificant insects.
His right hand once again grasped the hilt of the Emperor's Sword.
This time, everyone saw his movement—but only saw his movement of drawing the sword.
Clang!
The moment the Emperor's Sword was drawn, time seemed to plunge into a sticky quagmire.
Guilliman's figure became blurred again, not because of excessive speed, but as if, at that moment, he simultaneously existed in three different positions!
Three dazzling sword lights, seemingly composed of pure light and flame, erupted like supernovae, igniting at the same instant!
One descended from above, imbued with the majesty to split rivers and sever seas; one slashed horizontally, carrying the resolve to cut through space and time; and the last, like a reverse-surging storm of flames, swept upwards from below, engulfing everything!
The light flashed and vanished!
Guilliman's figure solidified again, still standing in place, as if he had never moved.
The Emperor's Sword pointed diagonally at the ground, golden holy flames quietly flowed along the blade, unstained by any impurity.
And those three charging behemoths—
Rumble...!!!
Their bodies seemed to have been sliced through by invisible millions of sharp blades, and under the force of inertia, they continued to charge a few more steps, then collapsed with a crash like stacked building blocks!
They shattered into thousands of chunks of flesh of varying sizes, with incredibly smooth cuts!
Green blood and internal organs splattered like a waterfall, instantly staining a large area with a nauseating color!
No struggle, no roar, in that lightning-fast second, three powerful elite Tyranid behemoths were utterly annihilated!
This scene, beyond the limits of mortal comprehension, once again plunged the battlefield into a brief silence.
Only the last Executioner, charging from the side, was spared because it was slightly slower and thus not engulfed by the destructive sword light.
But it was also stunned by the instantaneous death of its companions and the terrifying aftershock of the sword strike, its movements visibly hesitating!
It was this momentary hesitation!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Chapter Master Calgar's precise three-round Bolter burst slammed into its knee joints and facial compound eyes!
Although it didn't inflict a fatal wound, it made it let out a painful shriek, and its charging momentum abruptly halted!
"For the Primarch!"
How could the Victrix Guard Captain and the surrounding warriors miss this opportunity!
They pounced like an enraged pride of lions!
Power Swords, Power Axes, and Chainswords rained down like a storm on the Executioner's wounded areas and carapace crevices!
The Victrix Guard Captain even leaped high, his master-crafted Power Sword, like a hot knife through butter, precisely plunged deep into the Executioner's brain through the eye wound blasted open by the Bolter!
The Executioner's shriek abruptly ceased, its massive body swayed, then crashed heavily to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
From the moment the three behemoths launched their charge to their complete reduction to scattered fragments, the entire process took no more than ten short seconds!
Primarch Guilliman didn't even move his feet!
This god-like power, as if a deity had descended, completely ignited the last vestiges of passion and madness in the hearts of all human warriors!
Those exhausted and scarred mortal soldiers, who had been relying solely on will and discipline to hold on, now witnessed the Gene-Primarch—the legendary figure, the Emperor's own son, the guardian of Ultramar—standing truly before them, displaying such incredible power.
All their fear, fatigue, and despair were instantly replaced by a more fervent, almost religiously fanatical emotion!
"The Primarch! It's Primarch Guilliman!"
"For Lord Guilliman!!!"
They let out blood-curdling cries, their eyes burning with a 瘋狂 flame, forgetting even pain, forgetting death!
They wielded their overheating or even ammunition-depleted Lasguns, or even raised their combat knives and Chainswords for close combat, surging like a tide past the Astartes defensive line, madly pouncing on the insect swarm, which was slightly disoriented due to the death of their leader!
They smashed with rifle butts! Hacked with knives! Chopped with axes! Even bit with their teeth! Rammed with their bodies!
Every face bore an almost frenzied devotion and battle intent! As if the Primarch's very presence granted them infinite strength and courage!
This sudden, frenzied counter-charge initiated by mortals actually pushed back the insect swarm for a time!
Although mortal soldiers were constantly torn apart by Tyranid claws or melted by acid, those behind them immediately and unhesitatingly filled the gaps, continuing their furious assault!
Their sacrifices were not meaningless; they greatly alleviated the pressure on the Astartes and bought precious time to reorganize the defensive line.
Guilliman looked at these mortal subjects, fanatical and reckless with their lives for him, and a complex glimmer flashed in his deep eyes, but that light was quickly replaced by absolute rationality and decisiveness.
He knew this was an opportunity to turn the tide of the battle.
"Marius, stabilize the line, and gradually clear out the remaining enemies within the ship," Guilliman's voice was still calm, but carried an unquestionable authority, "Their morale is broken."
"Yes, Primarch!" the Chapter Master slammed his chest and immediately began to direct his troops.
Meanwhile, deep within the Leviathan Norn-Queen ship.
2nd Company First Lieutenant Titus heard the excited reports coming through the comms channel about the Primarch's arrival on the battlefield and his instantaneous turning of the tide, and his last shred of worry vanished.
"The Primarch has taken control of the situation! It's our turn! Speed up! Install the last batch of bombs!" Titus's voice was filled with exhilaration.
The warriors' morale soared, and their attacks became even more fierce and relentless.
They withstood the increasingly frenzied, almost death-throes-like counterattack of the swarm, finally installing the last, and most powerful, melta bombs near several critical bio-energy nodes and suspected neural centers of the Norn-Queen ship.
"All units! Mission complete! Rally at the extraction point!" Titus ordered.
The warriors fought their way back, retreating towards the breach in the bulkhead they had made upon entry.
There, three transport craft, sent to rendezvous, were already hovering, braving the swarm's attacks, their heavy weapons continuously firing to suppress the pursuers.
After confirming that all squad members had boarded, Titus was the last to jump onto the transport craft.
"Go!"
The transport craft's engines roared, quickly disengaging from the Norn-Queen ship and flying towards safe airspace.
Standing at the hatch, Titus took one last look at the massive, grotesque Norn-Queen ship, now riddled with countless deadly bombs.
He unhesitatingly pressed the button on the remote detonator.
There was no immediate explosion.
After a brief silence—
Boom!!!!!!!!!!!!
First, an incredibly dazzling incandescent light erupted from within the Norn-Queen ship! As if countless miniature suns had exploded simultaneously within its body!
Following that was the earth-shattering, void-ripping sound of a massive explosion!
The Norn-Queen ship's colossal body, like a watermelon violently smashed, suddenly expanded and split open from within!
Countless enormous fragments of metal and biological structures, mixed with burning organic tissue, were violently hurled in all directions!
The shockwave from the explosion even caused distant, engaged smaller warships to shake violently!
This central command ship of the Leviathan Hive Fleet rapidly transformed into an immense, continuously expanding fireball and debris amidst a continuous series of internal explosions!
Almost simultaneously, on the flank of the battlefield.
The strike cruisers of the 9th Company and 10th Company, which had quietly detached from the main fleet and performed a flanking maneuver according to the Primarch's secret orders, along with supporting Imperial Navy capital ships, like giant steel pincers already opened, finally revealed their sharp fangs!
"For Macragge! For the Emperor! Fire!" The commands of 9th Company Captain Talos and 10th Company Captain Olfa rang out simultaneously over fleet communications!
The already primed Lance arrays, Macro-cannon batteries, and torpedo tubes instantly unleashed devastating firepower!
Their targets were precisely the Leviathan bio-fleets, which were in temporary disarray due to the Norn-Queen ship's explosion and whose flanks were completely exposed!
Countless brilliant beams of light and dense barrages of shells, like the scythe of death, cut through the dark void, slamming fiercely into the densest areas of the Tyranid fleet!
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
The explosions erupted one after another, ceaselessly!
The Tyranid bio-ships, having lost unified command and coordination, were utterly unable to mount effective defenses or evasive maneuvers, and were instantly subjected to devastating attacks!
One after another, massive bio-ships were riddled with holes by the fierce bombardment, tearing apart, exploding, and turning into floating space debris and burning wreckage!
The cold Hive Mind of Leviathan finally realized the extremely unfavorable situation!
Its massive fleet was being attacked from two sides, its central Norn-Queen was destroyed, its command was in chaos, and the human fleet was fighting with increasing ferocity!
The instinct for survival temporarily overcame the desire to consume.
It issued one final command.
All remaining Leviathan bio-ships, ignoring human attacks, began to frantically and indiscriminately unleash all their spore sacs and remaining space organisms onto the infected planet below and the surrounding human fleet, attempting a final struggle and delay.
At the same time, the entire Hive Fleet began to laboriously turn, attempting to disengage from the battlefield and flee in disarray towards the Warp jump points on the outskirts of the star system!
They wanted to escape!
The scales of victory in the heavens finally tipped completely in favor of humanity!
The victory in the skies above did not allow the Ultramarines a moment's respite. While clearing the remaining enemies within the Macragge's Honour and conducting emergency repairs, the massive fleet, without hesitation, immediately adjusted its course, unleashing all its fury and remaining powerful firepower upon the Tyranid swarms still rampaging on the surface of Fortress IV, providing crucial orbital support to their brothers fighting fiercely on the ground.
Lances of light, like divine judgment, precisely vaporized large Tyranid bioform clusters; macro cannon shells, like meteor showers, turned the densest areas of the swarm into scorched earth; while melta torpedoes focused on eliminating the giant spore-spewing hatchery nests.
However, orbital bombardment could not entirely replace ground combat, especially when friendly and enemy forces were intertwined, and there were still surviving civilians to protect. The final cleansing still required loyal warriors to measure with their feet and complete with Bolters.
Therefore, while under covering fire, the true reinforcements—warriors of the Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Companies—descended in dense waves of drop pods, like a second blue meteor shower, ejecting from their respective strike cruisers, trailing scorching exhaust, and accurately impacting the most central and intense areas of the ground battlefield—directly in front of the positions where the remnants of the Third and Eighth Companies were fighting a bloody battle!
On the surface, the battlefield was a purgatory.
Captain Hek Hansen felt his sword-wielding arm was long numb, each lift feeling as heavy as a thousand pounds. His Zhan blue Power Armor was covered in deep claw marks, acid corrosion stains, and dried green and red bloodstains. The power field of his Power Sword had become unstable from overuse, emitting a sizzling, abnormal sound, but he still mechanically and stubbornly wielded it, slicing one Ripper after another in half.
Around him were the last few dozen warriors of the Third Company still standing, all wounded, all exhausted, yet still forming a precarious circular defense line, desperately protecting the many more immobile wounded in the center. The sound of Bolter fire grew sparse and intermittent; ammunition was almost depleted.
On the other side, the Eighth Company's situation was even more tragic. Captain Sibilus of the Eighth Company had been severely wounded and unconscious hours earlier, desperately rescued from the front line by his Captain's Guard and urgently sent to the rear, his fate uncertain. The remaining Eighth Company warriors, led by several Sergeants, fought back-to-back with the remnants of the Third Company, jointly enduring the seemingly endless onslaught of the Tyranid swarm. Their positions were constantly compressed, every step back meaning a comrade had fallen.
Dorian's massive Saturn-pattern Terminator body, once shining with glorious light, now lay motionless in a shallow pit not far from the defense line. Beside him was the corpse of an Executioner whose head had been half-smashed by his Power Fist in his last burst of strength. The laurel wreath was still on his head, but it was caked with dirt and blood. No one knew if this hot-headed warrior, who had just achieved supreme glory, was alive or dead.
Draculas, the veteran who had returned from Deathwatch, had a white Terminator helmet covered in cracks, and his left leg's servo system was severely damaged, making every movement incredibly difficult and painful. But he still held his ground like a rock at a critical breach, silently and efficiently harvesting any xenos attempting to break through with his remaining, functional storm Bolter and Power Fist. Beneath his feet, a thick layer of Tyranid remains had already accumulated.
And most heartbreaking was Gaius.
The always calm and collected Sergeant now lay in a pool of blood not far from Lieutenant Golden's feet, his breathing weak, his face ashen. In his right chest, a broken, glowing bio-luminescent Lictor claw blade was embedded! That vile xenos, in its dying counterattack, had savagely plunged its main claw into Gaius's chest. Although Gaius had desperately severed it, the broken claw remained inside, and terrifying toxins and trauma were rapidly consuming his life.
Lieutenant Golden himself was at his limit; his injured arm was simply braced, forcing him to operate his Bolter pistol with one hand, greatly reducing his efficiency. He and the three Ironclad Terminator warriors who had first arrived as reinforcements formed the core pillars of the last defense line. But the situation of those three Ironclad warriors was equally dire; two of them had severely damaged Terminator Armor, with black smoke rising from their joints, making them barely able to stand, only managing to brace themselves with storm shields, using their bodies as a bulwark.
The defense line could collapse completely at any moment. Every warrior was overdrawing their last ounce of life and willpower. A tangible sense of despair permeated the air.
Just at this last moment—
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Countless drop pods, like the hammers of gods, slammed into the rear and flanks of the Tyranid swarm! Hatches exploded, and amidst the smoke, countless new, gleaming armored, well-armed blue figures surged forth like an angry tsunami!
"For Macragge! For Primarch Guilliman!" The booming war cry of Captain Orestes of the Fourth Company echoed across the battlefield!
"Purge the xenos! Leave none alive!" Captain Harvis Bel's roar followed closely!
"Third Company! Eighth Company! Hold on! We're here!" Captain Hector of the Sixth Company's voice was filled with determination!
The arrival of fresh forces instantly changed the tide of the battle!
The Tyranid swarm, which had been furiously attacking moments before, was caught off guard and suffered devastating blows to its flanks and rear! Dense Bolter fire, scorching plasma beams, and roaring heavy flamers, like the scythe of death, reaped Tyranid beasts in swathes!
The exhausted and almost despairing warriors of the Third and Eighth Companies could hardly believe their eyes at the sudden arrival of reinforcements! Immediately, a surge of immense joy and relief, like an electric current, coursed through their bodies, and a flicker of strength seemed to well up from their long-depleted reserves!
"Reinforcements! It's reinforcements!"
"Brothers! Charge! Our brothers are here!"
They let out hoarse but hopeful shouts, and their previously precarious defense line instantly stabilized, even launching a faint counterattack!
The next four hours were an extremely brutal and prolonged mopping-up operation. Despite losing unified command and subsequent reinforcements, the remaining Tyranid bioforms still stubbornly resisted with sheer numbers and instinct; every ruin, every tunnel could hide a deadly threat.
But the scales of victory had irrevocably tipped. Under the powerful assault of the fresh forces and the cooperation of the remaining veterans, the Tyranid swarm was gradually segmented, encircled, and annihilated. The roar of Bolters and the snarl of chainswords eventually overshadowed the hissing of the swarm, becoming the dominant sound of the battlefield.
When the last Lictor attempting to charge was impaled against a wall by Captain Hector of the Sixth Company's power spear, the entire battlefield finally gradually fell silent. Only burning ruins, lingering smoke, and mountains of corpses remained, silently testifying to the ferocity of the battle.
Medical transports and rescue personnel immediately rushed forward, prioritizing the severely wounded.
Dorian was carefully extricated from his Saturn-pattern Terminator Armor; he had multiple fractures and internal bleeding, but incredibly, his powerful vital signs stubbornly persisted, and he even unconsciously mumbled "laurel..."
Draculas, when being helped onto a stretcher, still tried to maintain a sitting posture until the Apothecary forcibly injected him with a sedative.
Gaius's situation was the most critical. The broken Lictor claw was carefully removed, but the toxins had already corroded multiple organs, and his life force was like a candle in the wind, extremely faint. Lieutenant Golden, disregarding his own injuries, stayed by his stretcher, his face terribly grim.
All severely wounded were rushed to the medical decks of the Cleansing Blade and the Macragge's Honour in orbit, where the Chapter's best Apothecaries and most advanced medical equipment were located.
Inside the Macragge's Honour, after initial clearing, traces of battle were still visible, but order had largely been restored. Ground crew and Tech-Servitors were busy clearing Tyranid corpses and battle debris from the corridors, and repairing damaged facilities.
Just then, a slender, tall figure, wearing a grease-stained Senior Tech-Sergeant uniform, rushed into the bridge area like a whirlwind, disregarding the guards' attempts to stop her, and made straight for Chapter Master Marius Calgar, who was discussing follow-up matters with Guilliman and Captain Cassius.
It was Ailas.
Her distinctive short hair was somewhat disheveled, her delicate and beautiful Dark Eldar face was already streaked with tears, and her emerald green eyes were filled with undisguised fear, urgency, and despair. Her ever-present tool bag clinked as she ran.
Under the slightly startled gazes of Chapter Master Calgar, Primarch Guilliman, and Captain Cassius, this usually fearless Dark Eldar girl, completely losing all composure, threw herself at the Chapter Master's power-armored leg and burst into heart-wrenching sobs, trembling all over.
"Chapter Master! Please! Please!" She lifted her tear-filled face, her voice choked, barely able to form complete sentences, "Let me go to the Cleansing Blade! Please! I must go! Luna... Gaius... Dorian... they... they are all there! Lieutenant Golden is also injured! I... I can feel Gaius's life fading! Please! Let me go! I can help! I can fix anything! I can save them! If anything truly happens to them... I... I won't be able to live either! Waaahhhhh..."
She cried without any pretense, tears and snot smearing all over the Chapter Master's gleaming leg armor, her words somewhat jumbled by her weeping, but the genuine and almost overflowing worry and despair emanating from her were incredibly real and intense.
The Captains and Victrix Guard on the bridge watched this scene with some astonishment. A regular Tech-Sergeant, crying and clinging to the Chapter Master's leg? This sight was simply unheard of.
Chapter Master Calgar's face showed a hint of helplessness, but more so, a gentle understanding. He knew this little one "adopted" by the Chapter, and understood the deep, cross-species bond she shared with the members of the First Squad.
He sighed softly, trying to pat Ailas's shoulder reassuringly, but found it difficult with his Power Armor gauntlet. He looked up at Primarch Guilliman, preparing to explain.
"My Lord Primarch, this is Ailas, a... hmm... exceptionally skilled Senior Tech-Sergeant." Calgar's tone was somewhat cautious, "She has a close relationship with the members of the Third Company's First Squad, and is particularly concerned about the conditions of Sergeant Karl and Tech-Sergeant Luna. She..."
Guilliman's gaze, deep as the star-sea, had already fallen upon Ailas. His superhuman perception clearly sensed the violently fluctuating yet exceptionally pure emotional waves in this Dark Eldar girl's soul—it was not a disguise, not a conspiracy, but the most genuine, extreme fear and sorrow arising from the potential loss of those close to her. This was almost unbelievable in a Dark Eldar, a species that fed on intrigue and suffering.
He also noticed the rank insignia on her uniform and the bulging backpack, clearly filled with practical tools rather than weapons of slaughter. A xenos truly dedicated to technology and repair? That was rare indeed.
"No need for explanations, Marius." Guilliman spoke slowly, his voice calm yet carrying a comforting power, "I sense her concern and... loyalty."
He lowered his head, looking at Ailas, who was still clinging tightly to the Chapter Master's leg and crying herself almost unconscious, and said gently, "Tech-Sergeant Ailas, your request is granted. I will order a high-speed transport to take you to the Cleansing Blade immediately. Do your best to assist the Apothecaries and save the lives of those brave warriors."
Ailas's crying abruptly stopped. She suddenly looked up, staring incredulously at the towering Primarch, her emerald eyes filled with shock and... a hint of flattered gratitude. She seemed not to have expected the Primarch to so easily grant her such an audacious request.
She released her grip on the Chapter Master, stood up somewhat awkwardly, hastily wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve, and then gave Guilliman a deep, somewhat clumsy Imperial salute.
"Th-thank you! Great Primarch! I... I will not disappoint you!" Her voice was still choked with sobs, yet filled with resolute determination.
Without another word, she turned and followed an officer who had come to lead the way, running swiftly towards the hangar. Her eagerness was such that a single second's delay would seemingly cause her lifelong regret.
Guilliman watched her slender, hurried figure disappear at the end of the corridor, his gaze deep and thoughtful. A Dark Eldar who wept for human warriors, even daring to offend a Chapter Master to save lives... This universe, it seemed, always managed to present unexpected glimmers of light in its darkest moments.
He withdrew his gaze, returning it to the star map.
The ground battle had temporarily concluded, but the shadow of war was far from gone. The Leviathan had retreated but was not completely annihilated. There were still many matters for him to ponder and decide.
On the medical deck of the Cleansing Blade, the atmosphere of busy repression was almost solidified. Apothecaries and Tech-Servitors moved among numerous gravely wounded, the air thick with the pungent smell of disinfectant, blood, and burnt flesh. Groans, the beeping of medical instruments, and the faint clinking of surgical tools intertwined, speaking of war's cruel price.
Luna's horrific abdominal wound was undergoing emergency surgery, her vital signs extremely unstable; Dorian had been admitted to the severe casualty intensive care unit, his powerful self-healing ability locked in a tug-of-war with his serious injuries, entering this place yet again, unsurprisingly; Draculas was temporarily asleep under the effect of sedatives, as Apothecaries assessed the possibility of repairing his damaged limbs... And Gaius, whose condition was the most critical, after receiving initial stabilization from the Cleansing Blade's medical officer, was urgently transported with highest priority by a specially dispatched high-speed transport shuttle to the Macragge's Honour. There, the Chapter's top medical facilities awaited, along with a legendary figure—Apothecary Vorlak.
Apothecary Vorlak, whose experience and medical skills were a treasure throughout the Ultramarines Chapter. He personally met Gaius's stretcher at the medical bay entrance. Seeing the shocking wound on Gaius's right chest, the lingering, eerie green glow, and the almost imperceptible vital signs on the monitor, Vorlak's eyes beneath his grizzled brows instantly became incredibly sharp.
"Immediately to Purification Operating Room One! Prepare potent anti-toxin serum and bio-field stabilizers! Notify the Librarian, psychic purification assistance may be needed!" Vorlak's voice was steady and swift, carrying an undeniable authority. He personally pushed the stretcher cart, striding quickly towards the special operating room, equipped with the most advanced equipment, capable of even isolating Warp interference.
He knew that the Sergeant faced not merely physical trauma.
And in the deepest reaches of Gaius's consciousness, a battle far more perilous than any external surgery was unfolding.
The near-death state of his external body, and the erosion of his life force by Lictor toxins, were like a breach in a dam, causing the deeply buried traces of corruption from the Lord of Change within his soul to erupt with unprecedented intensity!
His inner world was no longer the tranquility of yesteryear or a training ground, but had transformed into a chaotic realm of bizarre and constantly shifting distortions. Countless twisted illusions swirled around him: he saw his deceased comrade, Elisa Cole, beckoning to him, her face gradually becoming grotesque; he saw Dorian, Luna, and Golden fallen in pools of blood, accusing him of his incompetence; he saw Macragge burning in flames, Primarch Guilliman sighing mournfully... "Yield... Gaius..." Tzeentch's seductive and cunning whispers, like countless tiny venomous snakes, slithered into the cracks of his mind, "Look what your loyalty has brought? Only pain and destruction... Embrace change, embrace true power... You can save them... You can gain everything..."
These whispers were not without basis. As Tzeentch's whispers hinted, the lurking Mark of Change should have, at this opportune moment—when Gaius witnessed his comrades fall, was gravely wounded and near death, and his will was at its weakest—completely devoured his soul, completing the final transformation. It would twist a loyal Ultramarines Sergeant into a Daemon Prince serving the Lord of Change.
Compared to humans, the cold and pure Hive Mind perhaps disgusted Tzeentch more. A Daemon Prince, personally shaped by it and possessing immense potential, descending upon the battlefield at this moment would undoubtedly be more efficient in clearing those unpleasant Tyranid creatures. This might also be part of Tzeentch's calculations—killing two birds with one stone.
However, Tzeentch—whether its avatar or its whispers—severely underestimated Gaius's will, forged through countless trials and even garnering the personal attention and testing of the Primarch!
Even on the brink of death, with his consciousness blurring, Gaius's core will remained unshaken, like a lighthouse in a storm! His faith in the Emperor, his loyalty to the Primarch, his responsibility to his comrades, and his steadfast adherence to the Ultramarines' honor formed an unshakeable psychic bulwark!
"For... the Emperor..." In the deepest part of his being, he silently roared with all his will, resisting the pervasive corrosion, "I... will never yield!"
His resistance was so tenacious that the lurking corrupting power was long unable to complete the final possession.
As if enraged by this stubborn resistance, the chaotic landscape of Gaius's inner world suddenly underwent a drastic change! All whispers and illusions receded like a tide, replaced by a suffocating, boundless pressure!
Space warped, colors exploded and separated. A colossal book, composed of countless shimmering runes and shifting images—the Book of Fate—appeared out of thin air, its pages turning madly without wind, each seeming to contain infinite mysteries and lies.
A vast, grotesque figure, exuding an aura of endless cunning and wisdom, materialized within the storm of turning pages. It possessed two distinctly different heads, one constantly uttering seductive whispers, the other emitting mocking cackles. Its emaciated body was adorned with various bizarre trinkets symbolizing fate and constantly opening and closing eyes.
The Lord of Change, the Fateweaver, Tzeentch's most favored Greater Daemon—Kairos Fateweaver! A projection of him had directly descended into Gaius's mindscape!
"Stubborn stone! Pitiful mortal!" Both heads boomed simultaneously, their voices a bizarre chorus of countless mixed tones, "Your fate is already sealed! Why struggle in vain!"
The colossal Book of Fate turned faster and faster, emitting a dazzling, eerie light. Gaius felt his consciousness being forcibly pulled, as if to be torn apart and merged into the book, becoming a single thread among countless woven destinies. His self-perception began to blur, and his past memories became chaotic.
Even more terrifying, he felt the power of the Mark of Change within him being frantically drawn and extracted by this book! Blue light, symbolizing the magic of change, erupted from every pore of his psychic body! This light coalesced and shaped around him, forcibly trying to clad him in an ornate and bizarre Daemon Armor, covered in runes and eye-like decorations, exuding the potent aura of the Lord of Change!
His form was being forcibly altered, twisting towards the terrifying Daemon Prince form!
"Behold! This is your true form! Gaius, oh no, you should now be called, Daemon Prince, Gaius Fateweaver!" Both of Karlos's heads let out excited shrieks, filled with twisted anticipation, "You will finally embrace my Lord! You will finally betray your false Imperium, and finally become my Lord's Prince! You will finally..."
His words were filled with absolute confidence, as if merely stating a predetermined fact about to be completed. The light of the Book of Fate was on the verge of completely engulfing Gaius's consciousness.
However, just at this moment of ultimate despair—
A golden-blue light, indescribably brilliant and majestic, like the first ray of dawn tearing through a dark universe, suddenly pierced into this mindscape polluted by Tzeentch's power!
This light was pure, blazing, carrying a supreme power that suppressed all evil and purified all defilement!
Within the light, a towering figure, shrouded in sacred radiance, was vaguely visible! The Emperor's Sword in his hand, burning with pure flame, merely swung forward—
A golden sword-light, seemingly capable of severing fate and shattering all laws, swept across!
CRACK!!!
The furiously turning Book of Fate, like shattered glass, emitted a crisp cracking sound! The turning of its pages abruptly ceased, the eerie light surrounding it instantly dimmed considerably, and even a few illusory pages were severed!
"Ugh!" Both of Karlos's heads simultaneously let out pained and furious groans, and his massive body trembled violently. The damaged Book of Fate transformed into a stream of light, flying back into his hand.
His two heads—one representing the past, the other prophesying the future—temporarily converged in shock and anger, both "looking" towards the source of the sudden golden-blue light.
"It's you... the meddling... presence..." Karlos's voice was filled with incredible regret and deep resentment. He seemed to recognize the essence of this power, or rather, the will it represented—the one he and his master most loathed and feared, "Again and again... interfering with the great... weaving of fate..."
The golden-blue light did not pursue, but merely stood like the most solid bulwark, guarding Gaius's fading consciousness, isolating him from the encroaching power of the Mark of Change and the Daemon Armor. The light was warm and steadfast, constantly repairing and strengthening Gaius's collapsing will.
Karlos stared intently at the light, then at Gaius, whose eyes were gradually regaining clarity under its protection. He knew that this forced transformation had failed. In the deepest corner of this human Sergeant's soul, there was a guardian that he currently could not forcibly breach.
"Fate... is not immutable... Gaius..." Karlos's two heads finally hissed with reluctance, his figure began to blur, and along with the damaged Book of Fate, he slowly dissipated in the twisted mindscape, "We... will meet again... when you are once more... in despair..."
"You, and your utterly false father... can you save him every time? Roboute Guilliman? Heh heh heh hahahaha..." In the endless darkness, six colossal eyes, exuding supreme evil, opened, staring fixedly at the sword-wielding figure.
Then, Tzeentch's whispers and pressure receded like a tide.
Gaius's inner world did not immediately return to peace, but the fatal crisis of erosion had been averted. The golden-blue light gently enveloped his remaining consciousness, like a mother protecting her child, helping him to coalesce his almost shattered self.
In the outside world, in the operating room of the Macragge's Honour, on the instrument monitoring Gaius's vital signs, the heart rate curve, which had almost become a straight line, suddenly jumped, and then began to fluctuate again with a rhythm that, though weak, was unusually firm.
Apothecary Vorlak, who was intensely performing life-saving measures, suddenly looked up, observing the changes on the instrument, a flicker of surprise and incomprehension in his eyes, but his hands did not pause for a moment.
"Vital signs recovering! Continue anti-toxin serum injection! Increase bio-field output!"
No one knew what kind of thrilling soul battle had occurred within Gaius, but they saw signs of life returning.
The void of the Cadia Gate sector gradually returned to its usual silence, leaving behind countless wrecks of warships and creatures, like cold tombstones, silently narrating the cost of the brutal battle that had just transpired. After completing the initial purification of the planet Fortress IV and confirming that the main Hive Fleet Leviathan had fled in disarray, the immense Ultramarines fleet began to gather and adjust its course.
The roar of engines once again became the main melody, but this time, it was not heading towards a new battlefield, but pointing towards that sacred place in the hearts of all Ultramarines, that azure starfield that had birthed countless heroes—the core of Ultramar, the Macragge system.
For every Astartes in blue armor, Macragge was not just a homeworld, but a concretization of faith, a source of glory, and a symbol of their identity as 'Sons of Guilliman.' There stood the magnificent Fortress Hera, archives recording ten millennia of glorious history, the most advanced Forge Worlds and medical facilities, and most importantly... the call of home.
Especially for those warriors who had just endured bloody battles, were physically and mentally exhausted, and covered in scars, returning to Macragge meant the best medical care, the most comprehensive supplies, and a precious period of rest. More importantly, it was the place where they had undergone transformation and training as new recruits, completing their most significant metamorphosis. Returning to this familiar place carried a symbolic meaning of cleansing dust and rebirth.
As the news spread, an irrepressible excitement and anticipation permeated all the warships. Even the wounded lying in the medical pods, upon hearing the news, seemed to relax their furrowed brows slightly.
On the medical deck of the Cleansing Blade, the atmosphere was considerably more relaxed than before.
Luna had awakened. The severe injury to her abdomen had been successfully repaired after precise surgery. Although still weak, she could now walk slowly with the aid of a mechanical support brace. Her cold face had lost some of its usual sharpness, replaced by a paleness from surviving a disaster, but her eyes remained calm. She sat by her bed, looking at the warship repair report on her data-slate.
In the adjacent bed, Dorian's booming voice, even when intentionally lowered, still sounded full of vigor. He too had awakened. This fellow's recovery ability was abnormal; although his internal injuries had not healed, he was already impatiently trying to get out of bed to move around. After a stern warning from the Apothecary, he had no choice but to move obediently with the power brace. The Laurel of Victory on his head was polished to a shine, gleaming even under the medical bay lights.
At this moment, he was boasting to Ailas, who sat by his bed meticulously changing the dressing on his arm wound—even though she was his only audience.
...Hey, little one, you didn't see it then! Primarch Roboute Guilliman just looked at me like that, with eyes full of approval! Then he personally! I mean personally! Placed this shiny big thing on my head! Goodness, I almost fainted from excitement! Dorian waved his uninjured arm, spitting as he spoke.
Ailas carefully tended to the bone-deep wound on his arm, pouting, but still couldn't help but ask curiously, And then? And then? Did you really take down more than a dozen Executioners by yourself?
Is that even a question?! Dorian's eyes widened, his voice involuntarily rising by an octave. If it weren't for those damn bugs ambushing me, I could have taken down another dozen! Ask Luna! She saw it!
Luna didn't even lift her head, her cool voice chiming in, I only saw you get knocked flying by an Executioner, embedded in the wall, and then you didn't move.
Dorian's old face instantly flushed crimson, and he argued, neck stiff, That... that was tactical evasion! Yes! Evasion! When I crawled out, didn't I just punch its head in?!
Ailas finally couldn't help but let out a giggle, but her hands didn't stop. She skillfully bandaged the wound, then picked up tools to begin inspecting the damage to his Terminator Armor's shoulder plate, her small face full of concentration. She had practically moved her bedding into the medical bay, constantly staying by Luna and Dorian's side, meticulously caring for them, as if this was the only way to slightly alleviate her lingering fear.
Meanwhile, in another dedicated sterile operating room, a precise surgery lasting nearly thirty hours had just concluded. Draculas' severely damaged leg had finally been saved. The chief surgeon was a seasoned, white-haired Apothecary. When he walked out of the operating room, his steps were somewhat unsteady, and he almost needed an assistant to stand firm, clearly having expended immense mental effort. But looking at Draculas' stable vital signs on the monitor and the signals of gradually recovering blood circulation in his leg, the Apothecary's eyes were filled with relief. This veteran, returned from the Deathwatch, was worth everything he had given.
The one who remained most concerning was still Gaius. He still lay in a special medical room on the Macragge's Honour, in a deep coma. Apothecary Vorlak was personally responsible for his treatment. Monitoring data showed that his vital signs were stable, and physical trauma and toxins were slowly but steadily recovering, yet his consciousness had not yet awakened.
Regarding the truth of his coma, a startling piece of news had quietly spread among the Chapter's high command—Primarch Roboute Guilliman seemed to have, in some incredible way, intervened in a soul-battle occurring within Sergeant Karl's inner world, against the Lord of Change and his Greater Daemon Karlos, and successfully repelled that terrifying creation of the Ruinous Powers, even... having a brief gaze with Tzeentch himself.
This news left all the informed Captains and senior officers utterly shocked and heavy-hearted. They knew full well what this meant—Sergeant Karl bore a burden far beyond what ordinary people could imagine, and Primarch Roboute Guilliman's attention to him far exceeded the norm. This was both supreme glory and an immensely heavy burden.
To soothe his sons, who had just endured a great war and suffered heavy casualties, the great Primarch Roboute Guilliman shed his majestic Power Armor and donned a lighter, yet still dignified, Archon's attire. Accompanied by the Victrix Guard Captain, he walked through the corridors of the Macragge's Honour, which had been largely restored to its original state, personally visiting the medical and living quarters to check on his warriors.
Without the barrier of armor, Guilliman's tall and upright figure and handsome, majestic face appeared even more real. His gaze swept over the wounded lying in their beds, bandaged but still trying to salute him. In his deep, star-sea blue eyes, a profound sorrow was irrepressibly revealed. These brave sons had shed too much blood for the Imperium and humanity.
He walked to the bedside of a warrior who had lost an arm and suffered multiple burns across his body. The warrior visibly tensed when he saw the Primarch approach, appearing even more flustered than when facing a tide of Tyranids.
Guilliman gently extended his hand and lightly pressed down on the warrior's shoulder, who was attempting to struggle to his feet. No need for formalities, my warrior. Rest well. His voice was deep and powerful, carrying a strange, calming effect on the heart.
He meticulously inquired about the warrior's injuries and his assigned company, even accurately stating his name and several of his combat achievements. Your sacrifice and valor will never be forgotten by the Chapter. The names of all fallen heroes will be inscribed in the Hall of Honor at Fortress Hera, to be with Macragge, and with the history of the Imperium, the Primarch solemnly promised.
The warrior was moved to tears, all his tension transforming into supreme honor and excitement. He could only clench his remaining hand into a fist and strike his chest, producing a muffled thud, expressing his inexpressible emotions.
Guilliman walked through different wards one by one, engaging in brief conversations with many of the wounded. He always managed to say encouraging words, or mention the warriors' achievements, or inquire about the situation in a particular province of their home world, Macragge. This meticulous care and powerful memory deeply moved every warrior who met him, greatly boosting their morale.
Later, as Guilliman passed through a larger lounge area, he heard a rather noisy sound. He followed the sound and saw Declan Catonia, wearing medical support braces and with that shining Laurel of Victory on his head, surrounded by a group of what were clearly 10th Company recruits, boasting with great fervor.
...And then Primarch Roboute Guilliman just 'clanked' and put the Laurel of Victory on me! At that moment, I felt full of power! Forget Executioners, even if a Hive Tyrant came, I'd smash its head in! Dorian waved his fist, mimicking his actions at the time, drawing exclamations from the recruits.
Those bugs, when they saw my Laurel of Victory, were scared silly! A dozen Executioners charged? Hmph! I punched them one by one, knocked them all down! If only there wasn't so little space to move...
The recruits, looking at the Laurel of Victory on his head, which had been personally bestowed by the Primarch and could not be faked, and listening to his exaggerated yet infectious storytelling, their eyes were filled with admiration and longing. No one questioned how much embellishment was in his words.
Guilliman watched this scene from a distance, observing Dorian's spirited, boastful yet vibrant demeanor, and couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth curl upwards, revealing a hint of a pleased smile. It was a joyous thing in itself that this impetuous yet loyal and brave son had recovered from such severe injuries and maintained such high morale. He did not go forward to disturb them, but simply watched for a while before turning and quietly leaving, returning to the Macragge's Honour.
His steps ultimately led him down the more heavily guarded corridor towards the special medical room.
There lay a warrior equally brave, yet burdened by a completely different fate. A son who required more of his attention, whose future might even concern the safety of the Chapter and indeed the Imperium—Gaius.
The Victrix Guard Captain silently followed, and their figures disappeared at the end of the corridor.
The special medical bay was located in the deepest part of the Macragge's Honour's medical deck, its environment far more tranquil and solemn than ordinary wards.
Thick soundproof doors and energy barriers completely isolated it from the outside world's clamor, and the air circulation system incorporated trace amounts of calming incense, which helped stabilize the soul and suppress Warp fluctuations.
This was a place specifically designed to handle the most complex and dangerous injuries, usually overseen personally by Apothecary Vorlak.
Guilliman and the Victrix Guard Captain passed through the final identity verification gate, and the scene inside came into view.
In the center of the room, Gaius lay peacefully on a medical bed constructed of adamantium and pure crystal, countless slender sensor wires and nutrient tubes connected to his body and the surrounding precision instruments.
A soft bio-field glow enveloped him, maintaining his stable vital signs.
Apothecary Vorlak stood before a complex monitoring instrument, carefully examining the continuously scrolling data stream.
Hearing footsteps, he turned around and, seeing the Primarch's presence, immediately saluted respectfully.
"My Lord Primarch."
"How is he, Vorlak?" Guilliman's gaze fell upon Gaius's pale but peaceful face, his voice steady, betraying little emotion.
Vorlak's expression was grave and cautious: "His physical recovery has exceeded expectations; the Lictor's toxins have been neutralized, and damaged organs are regenerating efficiently under the influence of the bio-field and gene-seed.
Theoretically, he should have awakened by now.
But..."
The old Apothecary paused, pointing to several complex readings on the monitor representing brainwave activity and psychic potential: "His conscious activity is extremely weak and unusually calm, as if he has fallen into some kind of... deep self-sealing or repair state.
We have tried various neural stimulation and psychic awakening methods, but with little effect.
His soul... seems to have endured a war of attrition far beyond our imagination, and is instinctively hibernating to recover its strength."
Vorlak did not mention the soul battle rumored among the higher echelons, but his wording undoubtedly pointed in that direction.
Guilliman nodded slightly, walking slowly to the medical bed and looking down at Gaius.
His superhuman perception could faintly touch the residual, subtle, yet incredibly resilient imprint of the Emperor's divine light deep within Gaius's soul, as well as the treacherous shadow of Tzeentch, forcibly suppressed by that holy light but still lurking like an undercurrent.
"No need for excessive intervention, Vorlak," Guilliman said slowly.
"Provide the best sustenance and support; the rest, leave to his will and time.
His soul needs this slumber."
"Understood, My Lord Primarch," Vorlak responded respectfully.
Guilliman stood silently by the bed for a moment, his all-seeing eyes filled with myriad thoughts.
Gaius's resilience was beyond his expectation; to be able to maintain his resolve under the direct pressure of Karlos and Tzeentch himself was a miracle in itself.
But this also meant that Tzeentch's "interest" in him would certainly not disappear.
This young Sergeant was destined to walk a very dangerous tightrope in the future.
"Increase the guard and monitoring levels here," Guilliman instructed the Victrix Guard Captain.
"No one is to visit without my and Vorlak's personal permission."
"Yes!" the Victrix Guard Captain responded in a deep voice.
After a final glance at the sleeping Gaius, Guilliman turned and left the special medical bay.
He knew that for Gaius, this current slumber might be the best protection.
Meanwhile, in other areas of the warship, the news of returning to Macragge acted like the best stimulant, dispelling the gloom after the great battle.
On the 10th Company's training deck, new recruits who had just finished a round of basic combat training were resting in small groups.
Most of them still carried the naivety of youth, but their eyes were already filled with a yearning for the future and the tenacity forged by the recent baptism of war.
Several new recruits sat together, their conversation naturally revolving around the "legendary figures" they had just seen.
"...Brother Catonia is truly formidable! He can punch an Executioner to pieces even in such heavy Terminator Armor!" A young recruit excitedly gestured, as if he had witnessed it firsthand.
"He's a hero personally awarded the laurel wreath of honor by the Primarch! I heard he was the fiercest assault trooper in the 7th Company before!" another recruit echoed, his eyes full of admiration.
"And Sergeant Gaius, even though he's unconscious, Apothecary Vorlak himself is personally caring for him! He must be an incredible hero too!"
"When can we be like them, wear full Power Armor, and fight alongside My Lord Primarch...?" the youngest-looking recruit murmured, his tone full of longing.
Their instructor, a stern-faced 10th Company Sergeant, listened to their discussion without interruption, a faint, almost imperceptible curve playing at the corner of his mouth.
These new recruits needed idols, needed goals, and those guys from the Third Company's First Squad, despite having troublemakers like Dorian, were indeed excellent role models—both for their valor and their loyalty to the Chapter.
In the officers' lounge, however, the atmosphere was relatively somber.
Chapter Master Marius Calgar, Captain Cassius, Captain Hek Hansen (whose arm was in a sling), and representatives from several other companies sat together, briefly summarizing each company's losses and subsequent replenishment plans.
The immense casualty figures weighed heavily on every commander's heart.
Behind every number was a loyal son, a warrior who had endured countless trials.
"Troop replenishment must be put on the agenda immediately," Chapter Master Calgar's voice was slightly hoarse.
"Upon returning to Macragge, prioritize selecting excellent new recruits from the 10th Company, and simultaneously activate the gene-seed screening program to restore all companies to full strength as soon as possible."
"Equipment losses are also immense, especially Terminator Armor and heavy weaponry," Hek Hansen added, his brow furrowed.
"Urgent coordination with Mars and the forge worlds of Ultramar is needed."
"The recovery of the fallen's bodies and the extraction of gene-seed are largely complete," Cassius's voice was as calm as ever, though his eyes also held sadness.
"Their names and deeds must be recorded in the Chapter's archives as soon as possible."
The discussion proceeded in a pragmatic and somber atmosphere.
The price of victory was immense, and the reconstruction efforts were myriad.
Inevitable, the conversation briefly touched upon that special existence—Gaius.
"...Regarding Sergeant Gaius," Calgar looked at Hek Hansen and Cassius, "My Lord Primarch has special instructions.
Until he awakens, his condition is to be classified as top secret.
His future... needs to be handled with extreme caution."
Hek Hansen sighed heavily and nodded.
Gaius's loyalty was beyond doubt, but what he carried was a potential, huge variable for the entire Chapter.
As his Captain, Hek Hansen felt the responsibility on his shoulders grow heavier.
Cassius's gaze was profound: "His will endured the test; that in itself is a strength.
Perhaps... he could become key to our understanding, and even countering, that evil force."
As the First Captain, he thought on a deeper level.
After a brief silence, the meeting returned to the mundane post-war affairs.
But Gaius's name, like a stone dropped into water, had stirred ripples within the highest echelons of the Ultramarines' hearts.
The fleet sailed steadily through the void, drawing closer to the familiar azure starfield.
On the Cleansing Blade, Ailas finally received permission from the Apothecary to push Luna's hover-chair to the observation deck for some fresh air.
Dorian, like a shadow, huffed and puffed behind them, wearing his cumbersome auxiliary brace.
Through the vast observation window, the beautiful blue-and-white planet—Macragge—could already be seen in the distance.
It was like a jewel set on black velvet, emitting a tranquil and captivating glow, with three moons orbiting it like dancers in an eternal waltz.
"We're home..." Luna said softly, a flicker of imperceptible tenderness in her cold eyes.
"Hey! We're finally back! I miss the roasted meat and beer here!" Dorian smacked his lips, already planning his "recovery program" for when they returned.
Ailas, meanwhile, stood on tiptoe, peering out the window, her emerald eyes wide with curiosity.
Was this the home of the giants?
It looked... beautiful, very solid, completely different from the twisted, dark, scream-filled place that was Commorragh.
"My Lady Luna, what is Macragge... like?" she couldn't help but ask.
Luna gazed at the distant planet and slowly said: "A place of order, resilience, and glory."
Her description was as concise as ever, yet contained deep emotion.
Dorian eagerly interjected: "And the biggest barracks! The best weapon workshops! The most exciting gladiatorial arenas! Oh, and also..." He was cut off by a look from Luna before he could finish, as if what followed was not suitable for a little girl to hear.
Ailas nodded, half understanding, but looking at the beautiful planet and then at the injured yet vibrant blue giants beside her, she felt a vague longing for the concept of "home" for the first time.
Perhaps this place really was different from anywhere she had been before.
The fleet began to slowly enter Macragge's orbit, heading towards the spaceport at Fortress Hera.
A great battle had ended, and a period of rest began.
But for many, the challenges and the future were just beginning to unfold.
The sleeping Gaius, the boastful Dorian, the steady Luna, the resilient Draculas, the worried Golden, the curious Ailas, and all the surviving and fallen warriors—their destinies would continue to be written under this starry sky.
And Roboute Guilliman, seated on the bridge, gazed at the familiar planet before him, his eyes profound, contemplating the future of the Chapter, the fate of the Imperium, and also that still-sleeping son, the variable he brought, and... hope.