On the bridge of the Glory of Macragge, the atmosphere was electric with tension.
"I hope they haven't walked into a buzzsaw," Grand Marshal Amalrich muttered. He watched with grim concern as the "Saints"—the players—resurrected in the ship's cathedral, grabbed their gear, and vanished into the teleportarium. Belisarius Cawl, Saint Celestine, and Grand Master Voldus huddled around the main console, waiting for Arale's next update.
"Magnus is moving in for the kill," Arale reported. "The Master and the Primarch are pinned down."
The bridge crew held their collective breath.
"The Legion of the Damned and the Saints have arrived," Arale continued. "They're buying the Primarch enough time to break for the exit."
A wave of relief washed over the room, but it was short-lived.
"The Weaver of Fate—Kairos—is on the field. He's tearing through our lines. It's a bloodbath."
The report was a rollercoaster. Arale kept feeding them play-by-play updates as the team sprinted for the Luna gate.
"They're making a break for the moon," Voldus said, standing up. "Titan has emergency channels. I'll signal the fleet to scramble and let the Sol System defense grid know the VIP is coming in hot."
"I'm with you," Celestine added. The two heroes rushed off the bridge to coordinate the homecoming.
The surface of Luna was a gray, silent hell.
The Webway exit spit them out into a deep crater littered with the husks of ancient tanks and derelict ships. Visibility was zero, the dim starlight blocked by the towering crater walls. Then, the valley floor ignited. Arcane fire and bolter rounds lit up the dark as the Thousand Sons marched out of the gate in lockstep, their Rubric Marines unleashing a wall of fire.
Guilliman didn't hesitate. "Move! Get to the high ground!"
It was a ballsy move. Climbing the crater walls meant leaving their backs exposed, but Luna's low gravity gave them the boost they needed. They scrambled up the slopes and reached the rim just as the traitors began their own ascent.
"Now! Let them have it!" Guilliman roared.
The Imperial forces opened up from the ridge. The height advantage turned the crater floor into a shooting gallery. Explosions rocked the slopes, tossing traitors and daemons like ragdolls. Hilandri and her Harlequins blurred through the chaos, their monofilament wires slicing through sorcerers and their flying discs alike.
"You really think a hill is going to save you, brother?" Magnus's voice boomed. He chanted a ritual older than humanity, and a shimmering warp-shield enveloped the Thousand Sons. Suddenly, the traitors were bulletproof. They ignored the incoming fire and began a steady, terrifying march up the crater wall.
Kairos slammed the Imperial lines with psychic meteors, forcing Guilliman to pull his men back behind the wreckage of a lunar freighter.
"Magnus!" Guilliman roared, charging back into the fray. He carved through a pack of screamers, his eyes fixed on the Crimson King.
"This time, you don't have the numbers," Magnus sneered, diving from the sky. His bladed staff carried the weight of a falling star, imbued with the foul energy of the Warp. The Emperor's Sword caught the blow, but the kinetic impact sent both Primarchs tumbling into the dust. They vanished into a cloud of lunar soil, locked in a brutal, close-quarters brawl where every punch was meant to kill.
Daniel tried to move to support him, but the two-headed vulture, Kairos, blocked his path. "Don't spoil the reunion," the daemon croaked.
"Nice bird," Daniel muttered, gripping his scepter and drawing his blade.
"Poor fool," Kairos hissed. "The Corpse-Emperor feeds you lies and pain. My master offers the secrets of the universe. The Temple of Truth is open to you."
"Is that the same pitch you gave the one-eyed Ogryn?" Daniel asked.
In the distance, Magnus—currently trying to choke Guilliman—heard the jab and felt his blood boil.
Seriously? he thought. I'm half a mile away and he's still talking trash? Magnus's momentary distraction was all Guilliman needed. The Primarch landed a haymaker that shattered Magnus's nose—again.
"GUILLIMAN!" Magnus roared, blasting his brother back with an arcane wave before taking to the sky. The two Primarchs clashed again in mid-air, a storm of gold and red fire.
Meanwhile, Daniel and Kairos were locked in a high-speed duel that blurred across the lunar landscape. They traded blows from the ground to the stars, psychic ripples vaporizing metal and turning lunar rock into glass. Daniel burned through Faith Points, channeling the Emperor's power to match the Greater Daemon's sorcery.
Daniel found an opening and buried his blade in Kairos's shoulder. The daemon's blood turned to crystal the second it hit the vacuum. Kairos screamed, firing a beam of raw malice from his beak that sent Daniel flying, but the Saint was back on his feet in seconds.
Nearby, Guilliman was hurting. His armor's life support was redlining, and the lunar cold was seeping through the cracks.
"Come out and face me, you overgrown baby!" Guilliman shouted into the dust clouds.
"Overgrown baby?" Magnus's voice went cold. He manifested out of the haze, growing in size until he towered over the battlefield like a Titan. "You are an insect, Roboute."
"And you're a coward who blames everyone else for his own mistakes," Guilliman snapped. He'd spent too much time around Daniel; the sarcasm was becoming second nature.
"You've picked up some bad habits," Magnus growled, raising his staff.
"I see a corrupted slave who's too scared to admit he messed up," Guilliman retorted.
Magnus snapped. He unleashed a torrent of warp-fire that slammed into Guilliman, pinning him to the ground. The Armor of Fate groaned under the pressure. Just as Magnus was about to deliver the finishing blow, a bolt of lightning struck him.
"Hey, One-Eye! Over here!"
Yuji, a player who had somehow survived the trek, charged Magnus. The Primarch froze. He smelled his own gene-seed on the warrior, but this Thousand Son was pure—untainted by the flesh-change.
"Father, is this another joke?" Magnus whispered. "You knew how to fix us this whole time and you never said anything?"
Guilliman seized the moment, emptying the Hand of Dominion into Magnus's chest. Yuji followed up, driving his scepter into the Primarch's side. Magnus roared in pain and grief. "You're my blood! You should be on my side!"
"I'm on the Emperor's side, you one-eyed hack," Yuji yelled.
Magnus obliterated Yuji with a flick of his wrist. "Funny, a traitor calling me a traitor," he hissed, turning back to Guilliman.
Across the field, Daniel was in trouble. Kairos had him bound in psychic chains and lunged forward, piercing Daniel's chest with his staff. Golden blood hit the dust and ignited. Daniel slumped to his knees.
"FOR THE GUIDE!" the nearby players screamed, throwing themselves at Kairos to buy time. The daemon tore through them like paper, but then a group of "Null" players—the Pariahs led by Brother Seed—stepped in. Their presence acted like a psychic black hole, snuffed out Kairos's spells. Forced into a physical fight, the daemon began swatting them aside, but the distraction worked.
Daniel surged up, driving the Holy Judgment Blade deep into Kairos's gut.
Then, the sky split open.
Hundreds of drop pods streaked down like falling stars. The Grey Knights had arrived. "Saint Daniel?" the lead Knight asked, stunned to see him, but there was no time for talk. They formed a silver wall and charged.
Behind them, the Imperial Guard marched out of teleporter rifts, a tsunami of high-explosive fire sweeping the crater. Imperial Fists in bright yellow armor stepped out of their pods, flanked by tanks and Thunderhawks.
"Plan's done," Kairos croaked, realizing the window had closed.
The daemons began a fighting retreat toward the Webway gate, but they were too late. Hilandri and her Harlequins finished their incantation, detonating the gate's runic anchors. The explosion was deafening. Magnus and Kairos were blasted back into the tunnels as the portal collapsed, sealing them in the Webway.
The battle was over. The lunar surface fell silent, save for the cheers of the surviving soldiers.
Hilandri approached Guilliman and Daniel. "You're home. Our part is done."
"Thank you," Guilliman said, his voice sincere for the first time. "I won't forget this." The Harlequins vanished into the shadows of the crater.
Soon, the big hitters from Terra arrived: Trajann Valoris of the Custodes, the High Admiral of the Navy, and the Chancellor of the Estate. They had raced from the Palace to pay homage to the returned son.
While the technicians worked on repairing Guilliman's armor for his grand entry into Terra, Daniel took a moment to check in with Arale.
"It's time," Daniel whispered. "Release update 4.0. Let's get the next wave of players into the fight."