The void burned.
The Secret Crusade Fleet's tens of thousands of Large Warships were surrounded by endless malice.
Twisted monsters spawned by Primordial Destruction surged like waves, battering the Imperium's lines and trying to capsize and drown warship after warship.
"How vicious can they get?"
Guilliman looked up at the destruction wrought by Chaos and the twisted shadows swimming through it. His face grew more haggard.
This might have been the most perilous war in the Warp's history. Nearly every elite force in this world had been deployed. Even The Emperor and the Chaos Gods had joined the fight.
Ever since the vast fleet entered the dark Abyss, twisted monsters had been everywhere.
They could emerge from anywhere: gaps in ships, rifts in the void, even people's thoughts. No defensive shield or force field could stop those abominations of destruction.
The warriors of the Galaxy and the Warp could only hold the monsters back with guns and blades, standing firm year after year against the world's malice while continuing their advance.
In this region of extreme Chaos, time had no meaning. The laws of physics kept changing, and even warships twisted into grotesque shapes.
Guilliman could no longer remember how long he had been there. A hundred years? Two hundred? Longer?
The one thing he knew was that he had to carry out The Emperor's orders: maintain the fleet's formation and keep advancing, inch by inch, toward the ultimate darkness.
Fortunately, the fleet's warriors were elite enough to endure such a prolonged struggle.
Had they been ordinary troops, they might long since have aged or suffered complete mental collapse, dooming the entire fleet.
"Roboute, how much longer must we hold on?" Yvraine came over to ask.
Her Eldar-style armor was covered in scars. Some gouges looked nothing like the marks