On Macragge's Honour's drop deck.
A hundred Space Marines waited amid the hum of machinery for the order to deploy.
The battle to purge the Plague Fleet was still ongoing.
From time to time, brilliant beams streaked across the cold, silent void, dazzling in their splendor.
On the battlefield, some plague ships split apart amid flames, their silent disintegration a deeply shocking sight.
With its flagship destroyed, the Plague Fleet's combat strength had plummeted, and it was being slaughtered by the Imperial fleet.
The other warships continued hunting down plague vessels attempting to resist or flee, adding another bold stroke to their glorious record.
Macragge's Honour, however, had abandoned this excellent chance to claim glory.
Compared to empty glory, Guilliman cared more about what was happening on the surface.
Those Plague Warriors were certainly plotting some terrible, evil ritual again.
There could be no harm in stopping them as quickly as possible.
These hundred Space Marines came from two different Chapters, forming a unique spearhead force.
Guilliman was attempting to have different Chapters fight together, breaking away from the old model in which Chapters acted independently as lone wolves.
He intended to adopt an entirely new system. During guerrilla operations, these Chapters could fight separately, but when assembled, they could wage large-scale, organized warfare like they had during the Great Crusade.
That way, in certain major campaigns, he could deploy tens of thousands of perfectly coordinated Space Marines at once to crush all enemies in their path. On specific battlefields, he could also allow the Chapters to fight independently and improve efficiency.
Of the hundred Space Marines, fifty came from the Ultramarines Chapter. They wore the Ultramarines' distinctive deep-blue armor, and every Ultramarines veteran in the front rank even wore Terminator Armor.
The other fifty came from the Dawn Star Chapter, a successor Chapter of the Ultramarines. Their armor was painted gray with blue accents.
This Chapter was not as wealthy as the Ultramarines. Only two or three veterans wore Terminator Armor, while the rest wore standard-pattern armor.
Hundreds of technical specialists and Servitors hurried back and forth across the deck, making preparations for the Space Marines' landing operation.
The Space Marines in Terminator Armor conducted self-checks with the assistance of Tech-priests, ensuring their armor was in good condition so their terrifying combat power would not be greatly diminished by poor maintenance.
The Space Marines in standard Power Armor, meanwhile, equipped themselves with tall assault shields with the help of Combat Servitors.
Standard Power Armor lacked the sheer thickness of Terminator Armor. In the coming air assault, the cumbersome assault shields would improve their survivability in close combat.
With a rumbling roar, cargo lifts brought the munitions stored on the lower decks up to the drop deck.
Chapter Serfs in crisp uniforms distributed the ammunition to every warrior with the aid of mechanical laborers.
At the same time, all the Space Marines carried out one final pre-battle inspection of their own armor and weapons, as well as those of their comrades.
The Chapter Chaplain strode through the ranks, listening to the warriors' oaths and affixing oath parchment to their armor with wax.
With a hiss, he pressed sacred, heated iron seals into the wax.
Thanks to years of training, every member, whether warrior or serf, worked with flawless efficiency.
"Macragge's Honour has entered planetary orbit. The drop operation will begin in ten minutes."
The announcement was swallowed by the noise and clamor of the ongoing preparations, but it was not repeated.
The Space Marines' hearing had been enhanced, and they had all heard the order clearly.
Then a deafening horn sounded across the deck.
All the Space Marines and serfs stopped what they were doing, stood at attention, and saluted, their burning gazes fixed on the archway.
Under their expectant gazes, a magnificent giant clad in azure Armor of Fate strode forward to the blare of horns, followed closely by the Honor Guard.
The newcomer was the Imperial Regent, Lord of Ultramar, the great Gene-Father of the Ultramarines, the Emperor's Thirteenth Son—Guilliman.
Guilliman wore the Hand of Dominion on his left hand, while the silent Emperor's Sword hung at his waist.
The power and will radiating from every movement made mortals hold their breath.
"Are you ready?" Guilliman looked over the gathered Space Marines, his voice deep.
"My lord, everything is ready." The First Captain of the Dawn Star Chapter answered loudly.
"Awaiting your command at any time, my lord," said Sicarius, Second Captain of the Ultramarines Chapter.
The other Space Marines stood perfectly straight, their gazes upon Guilliman filled with reverence and worship.
Admiration shone across their faces like light. They were ready to die for this great figure at any moment.
"Good." Guilliman looked steadily at every Space Marine. "It is time to show those traitors the consequences of betraying the Imperium and humanity. The Imperium shall prevail."
"Victory!"
"Victory!"
The Space Marines roared, their resounding voices drowning out every other sound.
Some of the Space Marines, including Sicarius, were loaded into Drop Pods and hurled toward Sara Planet by launch mechanisms like scattered celestial maidens, becoming falling fire as they descended upon the surface.
This was the Space Marines' most commonly used method of deployment. It was fast, and upon landing, they could use the violent impact of their high-altitude descent to strike the enemy with an opening barrage.
Guilliman and the remaining warriors boarded Thunderhawk transports for the landing operation.
The Primarch and the Terminators were too large for Drop Pods, so they could only be transported by heavy air vehicles.
Sara Planet was already shrouded in sickly green plague gas. The launched Drop Pods plunged into the rolling toxic clouds like artillery shells.
"Forty seconds! Prepare for battle!" Sicarius shouted as the Drop Pod rapidly cut into Sara Planet's atmosphere.
The high-speed descent produced an incomparably fierce rush of air, shrill enough that even the Drop Pod's thick hull could not completely block out the piercing sound.
The other warriors did not respond. They remained silent, keeping themselves in the best possible state of readiness.
As the atmosphere grew denser, the rocket thrusters beneath the Drop Pod activated, releasing powerful flames to accelerate its descent.
The rapidly falling pod shook violently, its interior gradually heating up as immense friction turned into noise and searing heat.
The entire drop process would take no more than five minutes, including the Drop Pod's travel time through space.
Once it entered the target planet's atmosphere, its thrusters would activate and accelerate its descent, bringing it from high altitude to the ground within dozens of seconds.
Dropping from ten thousand meters in mere seconds would undoubtedly be suicidal for any other force. Their bodies simply could not endure it.
But for Space Marines, it posed no serious problem.
This method of deployment also demonstrated the strength of the Space Marines.
Sicarius tried to control his emotions. There was only noise around him. He could not see the enemy he was about to face, nor could he see the comrades sharing the Drop Pod with him.
Until the Drop Pod fully touched down, there was nothing he could do.
Compared to this sky-piercing entrance, he preferred the Stormbird's surgically precise deployments and swift assaults.
Guilliman had a perfectly valid reason for choosing Drop Pods to deploy his troops.
Dropping the Space Marines, hailed as the Angels of the Emperor, without warning into the enemy's rear positions could inflict a more devastating psychological shock and overwhelm them through sheer momentum.
With a thunderous crash, the Drop Pod's doors blasted outward, and the restraint harnesses binding the Space Marines sprang open at the same time.
They had landed with precision in a traitor artillery position.
Before the Cultists, their faces and bodies covered in various blasphemous symbols, could understand what had happened, they were already thrown into the air by the massive shockwave from the Drop Pod's landing. Some Cultists standing too close were blown apart outright, their flesh and blood scattered everywhere.
"For Guilliman!" Sicarius activated his Power Sword, raised his Bolter, and let out a battle cry.
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