Victory

The burning Emperor's Sword descended in a crushing strike. The Daemon instinctively raised its weapon to parry, but the blade was severed instantly, and an arm wreathed in blood-red flames was hacked clean off.

Even if they were once human, those who ascended to Daemonhood through the favor of the Chaos Gods gained unimaginable boons, possessing terrifying strength and physiques far beyond the reach of mortals.

Guilliman did not know how many human worlds this creature had slaughtered over the past ten thousand years, or how many skulls it had offered to Khorne the Blood God to earn such favor and ascend from a human to a Greater Daemon of the Warp.

No matter how numerous the Astra Militarum composed of ordinary men might be, they could hardly defeat a traitor who had ascended to Daemonhood.

Even the Space Marines, hailed as the Angels of the Emperor, required the assistance of psykers from the Librarius to slay a single Daemon.

Among the many branches of the Imperial military, only the Grey Knights, who were specifically tasked with combating Daemons, could engage them without suffering horrific casualty ratios.

The terror of a Greater Daemon is unimaginable; a powerful Daemon of Tzeentch could even influence an entire star system, extinguishing its very sun.

If a Daemon of this caliber appeared on any planet, it was essentially grounds for an Exterminatus.

Exterminatus is the Imperial Navy's method of providing physical salvation to unsalvageable worlds using Cyclonic Torpedoes, lances, and other weaponry, bombarding the surface until not a single blade of grass remains.

One can thus imagine the lethality and horror of a Greater Daemon of the Warp.

Even a Saint imbued with the power of the Emperor must remain on high alert, or they risk meeting their end.

Yet, before Guilliman, this Greater Daemon of the Warp was so feeble that it was hardly worth a glance.

With a single strike, he had severed the creature's arm and used the holy power of the Emperor's Sword to inflict a grievous wound.

No matter how the Daemon roared, it could not undo the fact that its weapon and arm had been cleaved off by a single blow.

The Daemon's tawny eyes were filled with disbelief; to be so severely wounded in one strike made it doubt its own existence.

Was this guy in front of it really someone who had just awakened after sleeping for ten thousand years?

Even if a Primarch was terrifying, surely they couldn't be this terrifying, right?

It was an old relic who had experienced the Great Crusade ten thousand years ago, later defecting from the Empire alongside its Gene-Father, Angron, to serve the Chaos Gods. After the failure of the Siege of Terra led by Horus, it had fled to the Eye of Terror with the other warbands.

Even in the ten thousand years since, it had never encountered an ascended Primarch, nor had it fought against a Primarch loyal to the Empire.

But its memory could not be wrong.

The Primarchs of ten thousand years ago did not possess the power to cripple a Greater Daemon of the Warp in a single strike.

Celestine, Amalrich, and the others were also shocked by Guilliman's performance.

Even though they had prepared themselves mentally—after all, he was the Emperor's own son, and it was normal for him to possess great power—this scene was simply too terrifying!

Crippling a Greater Daemon of the Warp in one blow.

In truth, Guilliman's strength was not merely that of a Primarch; it was bolstered by the power of human faith collected for him by the Dominion Template.

The more living beings that trusted and worshipped him, the greater the power he could command.

He was akin to a legendary deity; the more faith he received, the more explosive his combat prowess became.

After Guilliman stepped onto the battlefield, the Imperial soldiers who learned of his return screamed with excitement.

His name spread among the terrified civilians, each of whom viewed him as the salvation sent by the Emperor.

Even though Macragge had largely fallen into the hands of Chaos forces, there were still millions of soldiers and billions of Imperial citizens remaining.

The support these people provided him was immense, making the confrontation with a Greater Daemon incredibly easy.

"To think that a Greater Daemon of Khorne, who claims to be bloodthirsty and berserk, is actually the weakest of the four gods. Tsk, tsk. I imagine your master isn't much better. I strongly suggest you take lessons from the followers of Slaanesh; those sissies have moves with far more lethality than yours."

Guilliman mocked the creature, causing the Daemon—its arm already severed—to roar in absolute, blinding fury.

Slaanesh was the Chaos God of excess, and also the entity most despised by Khorne the Blood God.

Guilliman's words were equivalent to suggesting that a blood-soaked warrior abandon his training to wear a magical girl outfit, claiming it would be more effective.

It was truly a strike to both body and soul, infuriating the Daemon to the point where it wanted to devour him alive.

Unfortunately, with its weapon shattered, even as a Greater Daemon of the Warp, it could not withstand the assault of a Primarch, and it was forced into a retreat by Guilliman's relentless strikes.

Several Chaos Warriors attempted to launch an attack to rescue the Greater Daemon, but Guilliman swept them aside. The Emperor's Sword sliced through their bodies, cleaving them and their armor—which had grown flesh and eyes after ten thousand years in the Eye of Terror—clean in two.

"Why so quiet? You lot from the Warp are usually quite talkative, aren't you? Feeble ants."

Guilliman stepped closer to the Greater Daemon he had crippled, his tone laced with ridicule.

The Emperor's Sword in his hand flared with golden flames, brilliant and radiating a holy aura.

Watching the Primarch slowly approach, the Daemon was filled with rage, yet it could only roar in impotence.

It was no match for Guilliman; the Primarch was merely humiliating it, which was why he hadn't delivered a killing blow yet.

Guilliman had even called it an ant—a term it had always used for humans. Every time it entered the material universe, it would disdainfully say this to the human soldiers who tried to drive it away.

Now, to have those words thrown back in its face—one can only imagine the depth of the humiliation.

"You will pay the price. The Gods are watching you, Roboute Guilliman. What do you think you can achieve? Your return is merely a game to amuse the Gods, you will change noth—"

Before the Greater Daemon could finish, Guilliman swung the Emperor's Sword, decapitating it.

The massive head rolled across the ground several times, finally coming to a stop beside a wrecked hover-bike.

Villains always talked too much; even on the verge of death, they still insisted on spouting threats.

Guilliman bent down, picked up the Daemon head of Kabadar, and held it aloft.

Seeing the Greater Daemon of the Warp struck down, countless Astra Militarum, Macragge Guard, and Space Marines erupted into cheers.

Even Celestine, Amalrich, and the others wore expressions of exhilaration.

The Greater Daemon of the Warp was an enemy they could scarcely hope to contend with.

Yet, the resurrected Primarch had severed its head in mere strokes, claiming it as a trophy.

This scene of invincibility, the slaying of a Warp Daemon, convinced every warrior that Guilliman was a gift from the Emperor, returned to their side to save an Imperium and humanity teetering on the edge of the abyss.

With the Greater Daemon slain by the resurrected Primarch, the morale of the Chaos forces collapsed instantly, leaving them incapable of any meaningful resistance.

The counter-attacking forces of the Imperium of Man, their morale bolstered by the return of Guilliman, roared slogans and oaths as they charged the enemy.

Not a single human traitor or Chaos Daemon would leave their home alive; every invader would be made to pay the price.

The battle in the low orbit of Macragge was also influenced by the events on the ground; the Imperial fleet, learning of the Primarch's return and the rout of the Chaos forces on the surface, saw their morale soar, while reinforcements from other Chapters arrived at that very moment.

Accompanied by flashes of intense light, magnificent warships leapt from the void of Warp lanes into realspace, immediately launching an assault on the Chaos fleet.

The Chaos fleet was beaten into a steady retreat, and realizing their mission had failed, they had no choice but to withdraw; however, the Imperial fleet clung to them relentlessly, swearing to annihilate them all.

In the end, only a few lucky Chaos ships managed to escape the gravitational influence of the star system, tearing through the veil of reality to flee into the Warp.

The fires of war subsided, but Macragge had suffered unprecedented losses.

In the space above, wreckage burned everywhere, and cold corpses drifted amidst the debris.

Rescue and cleanup operations began immediately.

The destruction on the surface was equally severe; Macragge City had been reduced to ruins, with countless dead and wounded.

Yet, compared to these heavy losses, the people still felt that everything was worth it.

They had welcomed back a biological son of the Emperor; the dark universe was no longer devoid of hope.

Filled with excitement, Space Marines, Astra Militarum, Planetary Defense Force, and countless civilians surged in from all directions.

They shouted the name of Guilliman and sang hymns praising the Emperor to express the agitation in their hearts.

The war had been at an absolute disadvantage, but with the resurrection of Guilliman, they had easily crushed the invading Daemons and traitors.

Everyone cheered the name of Guilliman.

Ten thousand years of dark struggle had finally brought them the guidance of a great soul.

Guilliman was that great soul, whether to the planetary dignitaries in their finery or the ragged civilians.

Survivors traveled from all corners of the planet and from other worlds within the Macragge sector.

When Guilliman, clad in his blue power armor, walked off the battlefield, he was met with a deafening roar of cheers that crashed over him like a tsunami.

The eyes of all who looked upon Guilliman were filled with excitement; some women holding their children could not help but weep, lifting their little ones high in the hope that they might catch a glimpse of this mythical savior.

Calgar directed the Ultramarines to use their own bodies to form a cordon for their Gene-Father, lest he be mobbed and overwhelmed by the fanatical crowds.

"Everyone is cheering; they hope that you, as the Emperor's own son, can deliver them from this eternal war."

Saint Celestine stood beside Guilliman.

As a devotee of the Emperor, she possessed the standing to stand alongside a Primarch.

"That is precisely why I have awakened," Guilliman replied calmly.