Burning Olympia

If you were to ask which Primarch is the most unpopular in the Empire, Guilliman would certainly be on the list.

Even though they recognized their own problems, Guilliman's unintentional pride whenever he interacted with his brothers still made all the Primarchs feel that this bastard was mocking them.

Everyone knows that your Ultramarines have a large and powerful army, that the Ultramar 500 Worlds is incredibly rich, and that you have a mother waiting for you to come home for dinner. But why do you, you bastard, always have to say something like, "Are you mocking us for not having mothers?"

All the mockery stemmed from jealousy. Even if they were unwilling to admit it, most Primarchs were jealous of Guilliman, this blond-haired boy who had grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth.

Compared to Guilliman's upbringing, the other Primarchs seem to be on a completely different level; Zhuang Sen was still a savage in Caliban.

Guilliman had already inherited a large fortune from his adoptive father King Konnor.

If you analyze it carefully, you'll find that it's no wonder Guilliman is labeled as Ambition!

Since the galaxy is not a flat plane, but a giant sandwich, each legion will find a sector to lead its fleet to launch attacks in different directions. Only the Ultramarines never move, but slowly advance from their home base and manage their own small territory.

Even if the Ultramarines's ranged efficiency is second to none, this behavior still seems to harbor malicious intentions.

In contrast, Mordred, like Atlas, also enjoys managing his own Pocket Imperium. His expedition progress is the worst among the 20 legions, practically zero.

But no one said much, after all, he was a grain transport officer, and their duties were different. Even the most unruly Space Marines wouldn't do something as immoral as smashing the pot and cursing the cook after finishing their meal.

Furthermore, Mordred was notorious for his extravagant spending; every legion had received benefits from Atlas. Even Marshal of the Adeptus Custodes Valdor of the Imperial Guard had a secret relationship with Mordred, and Mordred had served Warmaster for 30 years. What could be done? They could only curse Guilliman.

The saying "It's not scarcity that's worrisome, but inequality" applies to any era. Even though the Ultramarines later began to interact with other legions, the stereotypes had already been formed.

Besides, why are you Smurfs giving us benefits? Are you trying to corrupt us? You're really Ambition.

Logically speaking, they were all brothers who shared the same trenches, so it's unlikely that half the empire consisted of Guilliman's little black men. But who told them to be so incompetent! They were clear-headed about small things, but incompetent in big things, and they were always late for every collaboration, almost as if it were intentional.

But Guilliman had something to say too, "Who knew we'd run into the Orks force the moment we stepped out of our house? Two star sectors' worth of Orks were at our doorstep! We lost at least ten moons in the Battle Moon alone! What am I supposed to do?"

Other legions only encountered scattered Orks, but we Ultramarines faced the Orks army head-on. Green Tide swept in from two entire star sectors. You call me Ambition? Have you no shame?

In just a month and a half, the Ultramarines lost nearly 80,000 Space Marines, and countless Auxilia were lost. Countless ships were destroyed, and they also encountered Warp storm.

The Orks weren't having an easy time either. They were even more confused than the Ultramarines. Why couldn't they kill all the blue Canned One in front of them? Kill one and two more would appear, kill two and another would pop up. Who were the Orks anyway?

"Reporting to Father, the reserve force will arrive in three Terra hours. The newly mobilized 50,000 combat brothers are all fully equipped and are undergoing flank relocation."

The second batch of combat ships has already undergone adaptation modifications, and another 30 main battleships are undergoing final testing. They are expected to be commissioned into the Legion within a Terra week.

"Alright!" Guilliman, sitting on the Steel Throne of the Glory of Macragge, rubbed his temples, took the super-concentrated Fel Energy coffee handed to him by X, and gulped it down.

A dense array of data cables pressed against his scalp, enabling Guilliman's superior information processing capabilities to schedule each fleet, even down to the extreme precision of adjusting the direction of ground troops' guns to the right by as little as 5 degrees.

If Mordred were there, he would be amazed by Guilliman's appearance at this moment, which is exactly the same as the Boss in his memory, the only difference being that he does not use the 11-draw kill.

And that is indeed the case. In a Xenos world that Guilliman had conquered before the Ultramarines, he discovered a very powerful neural connection technology.

Aside from the less-than-ideal design, it's especially suitable for an RTS player like him who excels at micro-management. Between his hair and efficiency, Guilliman decisively chose efficiency, and now, having sacrificed his hair, he's terrifyingly strong.

Relying on the terrifying mobilization capabilities of the Ultramar 500 Worlds, the Ultramarines have a large number of reserve soldiers who are only one final modification surgery away from completion.

Even if the legion is completely wiped out, Guilliman can still muster nearly 200,000 reserve hidden troops in a very short time if he wants to.

As for whether a second batch of reserves will be formed after this reserve force is exhausted, nobody knows.

Seeing the situation rapidly improving, Guilliman, who had been engaged in intense mental work for over a month, felt it was time to take a break.

"It's time to end the battle. Let the reserves take over the remaining forces. Don't get entangled with these Xenos any longer. Issue the Exterminatus immediately. We don't need the fallen world anymore."

This damned Warp storm, of all times it had to happen, now of all times, making Astropathic Communication unusable.

For some reason, I keep feeling like something is whispering in my ear, making me restless. Magnus isn't replying to my messages either.

What bad luck.

Eikos, one of the Four Heroes, was filled with unease. He thought to himself, "He definitely won't reply. Maybe even His Highness Magnus has blocked you, Father. We're a full 45 days late."

According to Numerology, your good brother, His Highness Magnus, may have already been brought out.

"Father, I still think you should think about how to explain this. Or maybe I should stab you in the back; that would at least make it more convincing."

Guilliman, feeling a pang of filial piety, thought he should perhaps take a cue from Mordred and wear pants with a belt, otherwise he wouldn't have a handy tool when he wanted to whip someone.

Three days later, with the reserve team taking over the battlefield, the Ultramarines went full speed ahead, heading towards Olympia, which they were supposed to reach two months earlier.

But upon seeing the entire galaxy completely overrun by Orks, Guilliman, exhausted from days of work and obsessed with Fel Energy coffee, collapsed to the ground.

"Little Ma, Little Ma! Thirteenth Brother, I'm so sorry! How could you leave like this? How can I face Father?"

No, I'll make these Xenos pay with their lives! Issue Exterminatus and burn the entire galaxy to the ground!

After confirming that there were no survivors in the entire galaxy, Virus Bomb were dropped on the 14 planets surrounding Olympia, which were eventually burned to the ground in a massive fire.

Having done all this, Guilliman decided to continue the westward expedition. Due to the noisy interstellar interference everywhere, the Ultramarines had to find the nearest Divine Seal Station to make contact with the main force.

But not long after the Ultramarines left, trouble arose again at Mandeville Point. After two months of rapid progress, the Iron Warriors finally arrived at their home.

Seeing Olympia engulfed in flames, Perturabo stood frozen, repeatedly confirming he hadn't gone to the wrong place, before letting out a sharp, explosive roar:

"No>