22. Burned Out (I)

Roboute Guilliman frowned slowly and seriously.

"Did he say that?" Primarch, with his extraordinary composure, suppressed certain emotions and asked the person on the other end of the communication channel. "Are you sure, Second Company?"

"I'm sure," Miro's voice came from the other end. "I've already ordered all the brothers in the Second Company to be restrained, Primarch. We haven't been acting the way we're supposed to."

"You once said that Instructor Karyl is trustworthy. I don't know exactly how much trust is placed in him, but I believe he would never speak without reason. Therefore, I took his advice and reported this matter to you immediately."

Roboute Guilliman rubbed his temples, genuinely relieved by Miro's somewhat stubborn nature.

He held a communication device that didn't fit his size very carefully, and gestured to the communications officer on the bridge, signaling him to leave temporarily.

After doing this, Roboute Guilliman braced himself against a cold iron table on the bridge of the Macragge's Honour. His gaze swept over the insignia, cables, ivory-inlaid levers and buttons, and finally, he looked up at the vacuum outside the porthole, as if he had a premonition.

"The Primarch?" the Second Company asked from the other end of the line. "What are your instructions?"

Roboute Guilliman did not answer.

A blinding flash of light shone on Roboute Guilliman's face. He straightened up and stared silently at the swirling, increasingly intense Radiance.

He heard the commotion on the bridge, and Roboute Guilliman calmly raised his left hand, making a gesture that silenced the noise. He stood there for three minutes before speaking to the Second Company commander on the other end of the communications channel.

"Evacuate," he said calmly. "Get away from that plain. No one is allowed to approach it until I give the order. The same goes for air power. Change the routes of supply airships, impose martial law, and keep all residents in the cities closest to that plain at home."

"Understood, Primarch."

The communication was disconnected, Roboute Guilliman gently placed the communication device on the table. Twelve minutes earlier, a plane crash had occurred on Nuceria, severely damaging the Ultramarines' communication system.

This is why Roboute Guilliman was using such an awkward device to communicate with his Second Company commander—if it weren't for the continuous efforts of the communications officer in charge of this channel, he might not be able to communicate with the ground at all.

"Primarch." Marius Gage stepped forward. "It's confirmed, it's a—"

His voice was interrupted by a blinding flash of light, Radiance so intense it could blind an ordinary person, and a massive ship appeared not far from the dark vacuum.

The ship was enormous, with the Imperial Aquila and iron-gray armor shining peacefully on its stern, while the insignia of the War Hounds rested quietly on the side.

But the first half is quite different. Savage and cruel bloody decorations are clearly visible in the first half, with huge grappling hooks, almost the size of small escort ships, waiting hungry at both ends of the hull, and a bloody symbol flickering obscurely on the figurehead in the first half.

Roboute Guilliman turned his head sharply, his gaze so resolute that it left Gage speechless.

"--On my command, all crew members immediately evacuate the deck and return to their cabins to await orders. Close all portholes. Marius, notify the First Company, Third Company, Fourth Company, and Fifth Company to prepare for boarding. Captain, inform the artillery positions that they are authorized to use lethal force."

"But, the Primarch— "

"I can't explain this to you right now, Gage," Roboute Guilliman said to his First Chapter Master with unprecedented grimness. "Where is my brother?"

"Still waiting in your study."

"Very well, I'll go find him. You wait here, I'll be right back."

"Yes, Primarch."

Roboute Guilliman hurried away, Gage stared at his retreating figure, beginning to recall the expression on his Primarch's face as he spoke each word—he quickly realized that beneath Roboute Guilliman's somber solemnity, another emotion was brewing.

Another emotion that Marius Gage was unwilling to acknowledge.

Are you afraid, Primarch? He stared incredulously at the departing figure, asking himself this question.

--

The shimmering light was enveloped in a hazy mist, twinkling like stars. The mist was thick and viscous, like the blood of some kind of creature.

Karyl stared at it all expressionlessly. For some reason, he didn't feel unfamiliar with this scene, as if he had experienced it countless times long ago.

The Chaos ocean carried him toward the location of the fragment. At the same time, he began to ponder.

He didn't know where he was, but he could vaguely guess. What separated the Warp from the material world was a stable the Veil shielded him from the hungry stares of the monsters behind him and also protected the humans from being directly observed.

These things were able to happen in the material world because that bloodthirsty false god poured in too much power and paid an unimaginable price— Karyl didn't know how He did it, but he had to take advantage of it.

Countless monsters exist within the Warp, but the Warp itself is the greatest monster.

It had accepted him long ago, and even after he left and became a traitor in the eyes of the monsters, it welcomed his brief return, for it had no feelings or intellect; it was simply a being, possessing only certain instincts, nothing more.

This instinct allowed the forces of darkness to whisper in Karyl's ear. It called to the power buried beneath Karyl Lohars's skin, craving him to unleash his full authority.

Let him sit on the throne of God.

It sounds wonderful, doesn't it? But the reality is that every second he breathes here, Karyl Lohars' body is bleeding and losing something irreparable.

But the will that controls this body doesn't care.

Continue. He gave the command. The darkness obeyed, and burning flames roared from the other the Veil, carrying the pale giant to the other side he could not have reached before.

Behind the Veil, a being clad in ferocious armor, seated upon Brass Throne, unleashed a terrifying roar. The Chaos world trembled violently, stars perished, and the blood flowed away in a long, bloody river.

He could not accept this, but he had no choice but to accept it. Meanwhile, another being who had been watching over him retorted with undisguised mockery of his plight.

A strong squeezing sensation came from all over his body. Karyl groaned and felt several bones in his body break during this "leap".

He adjusted his posture in mid-air and finally landed smoothly. When he looked up, he saw an Astartes wearing blue and white armor staring at him seriously, holding a Chainaxe in his hand.

"Who are you?!" he demanded sharply, his hand gripping the axe trembling not at all, even as he faced a giant far larger than himself. "State your name!"

Karyl did not speak, but slowly clasped his hands together in an Aquila Salute.

Astartes paused abruptly, and although he still didn't put down his axe, his tone softened considerably when he spoke again, "Who are you?"

"Karyl Lohars, from the Eighth Legion."

Astartes paused for a moment, then raised his arm again. "My cousins couldn't possibly be that tall."

Karyl still did not answer him.

His vision was still affected by darkness, which had taken his eyes away from the simplicity of mortals and led them to a terrifying other side. He stared at the Astartes before him and saw all his past, even a blood-red collar around his neck.

A symbol of a slave.

Karyl sighed softly, his anger flashing for a moment before a chilling light flashed in the next instant, Astartes roared alertly.

"Psyker?!"

He immediately tried to fight back, but the enemy had vanished, and he could find no trace of the giant. Karyl disappeared into thin air, leaped out from behind him in a way that Astartes could not comprehend, ripped off his helmet, and lifted him up.

"Don't move," Karyl whispered.

He reached out his right hand and gripped Astartes' neck. The chilling heat flashed by, and Astartes' eyes widened. The chaos in his mind vanished in that instant, and he finally remembered everything.

Karyl released his grip, letting Astartes land, and he himself felt a terrible exhaustion; the consequences of purging the false god's power were more severe than he had imagined.

To exercise divine authority in human form.

If it were merely about invoking the dead to seek Vengeance, that would be one thing, but what he's doing now is truly walking in the realm of the gods.

"Who... who are you?" Astartes looked at him with suspicion. "What did you do to me?"

"I've cleared the fog for you. Like I said, I'm from the Eighth Legion. You may not believe me, Kharn of the Eighth Company, the War Hounds, but," Karyl began slowly, "I'm just here to offer assistance."

"My cousins are just as pale as you, but their eyes aren't as thoroughly black as yours," Kharn frowned. "And they're nowhere near as tall as you."

Karyl calmly shook his head. "I never said I was Astartes."

"You're not from Astartes, so what makes you think you can join—" Kharn stopped mid-sentence, looking at Karyl with suspicion and remaining silent for a long time.

Karyl sighed, knowing he had misunderstood. "I am not the Primarch of the Eighth Legion, Kharn of the War Hounds. As for now, I need you to recall one thing."

"What is it? What do you want to do?" Kharn asked nervously.

"Think about your ship," Karyl said calmly. "It's called the Firm Resolve, isn't it?"

Yes, but how did you know?

"Think about it, Kharn." Karyl slowly exhaled a breath of cold, silent air, and the next instant he vomited a mouthful of blood.

The backlash is already showing.

"You--"

"--Stay calm." Karyl straightened up and extended a right hand to him. "Think about your ship."

Kharn looked up, gazing at the pale giant, unsure what to say. He still had many questions to answer, yet in those calm, dark eyes that were staring at him, Kharn saw his own reflection.

He could clearly see the War Hounds insignia located on his right shoulder.

Then he reached out, grasped the cold hand, and began to do as instructed.

--

Two seconds before that Radiance was about to burst forth, Angron was reading. Although this process was often accompanied by the pain inflicted upon him by the Butcher's Nails, he thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of acquiring knowledge.

He was reading a novel from the Macragge, which detailed how an ordinary soldier, discharged due to disability, witnessed the collapse of his country within just two years, and how this soldier eventually took his own life.

Angron especially loved the part where the soldier, insulted because of his disability, gets drunk in a bar, is thrown out, and lies in a cold alley fighting an imaginary enemy; he memorized that part perfectly.

He stared intently at the cold, dark alleyway, a surge of intense anger rising within him. He sat up, leaned against the alleyway entrance, and began to curse his right leg.

"You son of a bitch, you useless cripple! You've got me stuck in this godforsaken place! What kind of awful place is this! I'm a soldier, I retired to protect them, and they call me a murderer, even the kids on the street look down on me!"

He looked at the alleyway again; the excessive alcohol had impaired his vision, making him feel as if someone was watching him in the darkness—he stared wide-eyed, and after a few cold minutes, he saw some Shadow.

"There are indeed people there! His enemies! People from the Duchy of Orvado, they're marching here in crisp uniforms, guns slung over their shoulders! How did they get here? Where are the guards? Where are the city guards? Why didn't they warn us?! Have they betrayed us? No, no!"

He struggled to his feet, stood unsteadily in the cold wind, raised his cane, and began to shout angrily into the darkness.

And now.

Angron stood by the porthole, the book closed and placed on Roboute Guilliman's coffee table. The gladiator gazed at the massive warship silently waiting in the vacuum, a complex feeling rising within him that he couldn't quite explain.

Then, someone pushed open the door and came in. Angron turned around and saw Roboute Guilliman with a serious expression.

"You need to come with me, brother," he said curtly. "Something's happened. Did you see that ship?"

I saw it.

"That's your legion's flagship, the Firm Resolve." Roboute Guilliman's brow furrowed deeply. "At least the latter half."

"."

Angron nodded without saying a word.

Update complete. I'd like to recommend a book, another promising Warhammer 40k novel, <Warhammer 40,000: Shattered Steel Soul>. The writing is excellent, and it's by Pryde & Schwarz. Go check it out!