Burning of Five Hundred Worlds (II)

"War is painful, but cleaning up the battlefield is even more painful. Everything has two sides; you can't enjoy the thrill of Vengeance while ignoring the casualties of war."

Roboute Guilliman put down his pen, rubbed his temples, and a few stray hairs slid down his forehead, causing a slight itch.

He hadn't paid attention to his appearance for a long time; his short white hair, neglected, had grown long and, along with his stubble, became proof of his tireless work day and night.

If a lady far away in Macragge were to witness this, she would most likely be furious and tell him that as a ruler, he should set an example. She would probably also say that maintaining an image is not part of the job, but it is just as important as the job itself.

Roboute Guilliman chuckled, leaned back in his chair, and gazed out the porthole of his study.

The stars twinkled outside the window, and the fragments of the warship and the aftershocks of the explosion continued. If a warship is not destroyed immediately—meaning completely shattered—its death can take a considerable amount of time.

According to Roboute Guilliman's observations during this period, if an ordinary destroyer is hit in the engine, it can watch such an explosion for up to two hours before it completely disintegrates.

He hasn't yet made similar observations and records about the larger ships, which is partly because the Word Bearers haven't left much manpower on the edge of the Five Hundred Worlds.

Thinking about these things, the smile on his Primarch gradually faded. He stood up and turned off the timer on his desk before it went off. Wearing his armor, he began pacing around the study.

The wooden floorboards were bearing an undue weight, creaking and making Guilliman consider replacing them all with metal. Lost in thought, he slowly walked to the study door, glancing back at the other porthole.

There, a distorted sun slowly rotates, no longer appearing as a fireball, but as a chaotic sphere of congealed, malevolent light. It brings countless devastating effects to this galaxy.

Roboute Guilliman closed his eyes, turned his head, pushed open the door, and began to walk. The Victrix Guard followed closely behind him, their steps perfectly synchronized, their footsteps overlapping perfectly.

Using the repaired elevator, Roboute Guilliman quickly reached the conference room. As he expected, it was already bustling with activity. Many officers who had arrived earlier were chatting amongst themselves in the tiered seating. Even after his arrival, they didn't stop, at most giving him a glance.

However, such conversations should actually be called arguments. They usually happen between the Ultramarines themselves, where they argue fiercely over a number in a battle report, trying to convince each other with their own theoretical models, and sometimes even throwing punches at each other.

The Night Lords, however, are different, but that's not a good thing. There's another atmosphere within them, far more dangerous than mere arguments. No one knows where it comes from, but Roboute Guilliman calls it "the silent smile."

Just like the literal meaning, if they disagree with one of your opinions or plans, they won't say anything for the time being; they'll just give you a very unpleasant smile, then stare at you without saying a word, or simply shake their head.

They will only point out a potential flaw or shortcoming when you can no longer tolerate it and speak up yourself.

It's hard to say which of these two ways of persuading someone in a conversation is better, but which is more annoying is probably a question we don't even need to choose.

Roboute Guilliman strode to his conference table and began retrieving the plans, tactical supplements, and various battle reports and ship status reports that had been presented to him.

Behind him was an enormous star map, showing the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar. The specific conditions of most areas were temporarily marked as unknown, but most of the worlds they had already passed through were painted red, or simply covered with a heavy layer of black.

The heavy tapestries and banners woven by the Ultramarines themselves swayed gently on the four walls of this tiered conference room. Notably, a banner belonging to the Midnight Blade was also among them, maintaining a certain distance from the Ultramarines' banners and enjoying its own small area.

In conclusion, I believe that the Warp is eroding the universe we know, this world.

"The laws of physics we have learned are crumbling, and so is the way we perceive the world. Therefore, we must change our understanding of war, and our understanding of the universe, in order to remain rational amidst the bloodshed committed by the Word Bearers, and embark on a long and arduous journey, our legs stained with blood, to seek revenge."

--Ionid Hill, Company Commander of the 135th Company.

Roboute Guilliman quietly extracted this battle report from his notes, intending to discuss it separately at today's meeting.

Although Ionid Hill was promoted and took office on short notice, he did not disappoint. In fact, he did a very good job, and his learning ability was highly valued by the Lord of Macragge.

Among the Ultramarines, there are many with a keen sense of war, but those like Hill, who can almost be described as evolving in war, are ultimately few and far between.

With a sigh, he turned to the next battle report, but at that moment he heard two footsteps.

"Company Commander Van Cleef," Roboute Guilliman greeted without looking up, adding a small joke, "Which officer did you bring to the meeting today? Was it still that Lieutenant Mollez?"

"No, it's our company's combat champion, Xianni from Terra," Van Cleef replied calmly. "He has a tactical plan he wants to share with you."

Roboute Guilliman finally looked up, his expression somewhat intriguing. He glanced with considerable interest at Xianni, who was standing behind Van Cleef, helmet tucked under his arm. The latter's calm expression, however, made Roboute Guilliman want to burst out laughing.

"Alright." He nodded gently, not calling Van Cleef out. "Please speak, Xianni from Terra."

"Thank you for giving me this opportunity, sir. I believe—" Xianni cleared his throat—that we need to change our past understanding of war; it's outdated, an old-fashioned way of thinking."

Roboute Guilliman raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

Over the next ten minutes, Roboute Guilliman heard a very detailed tactical plan report from Xianni, starting with pre-battle preparations and then outlining some precautions for cleaning up the battlefield after the battle.

He spoke clearly and plainly, yet his speech was delivered at a pace as if reading from a prepared script, devoid of any emotion. He paused only briefly at a few points, his face showing a thoughtful expression. He spoke very quickly, but the faster he spoke, the more somber Van Cleef's expression became as he stood to the side.

Roboute Guilliman chuckled to himself, but after Xianni's presentation, he gave the report considerable praise.

"Your report is truly remarkable, Xianni," he said earnestly, looking at Xianni. "Every detail is meticulously crafted; you have clearly given it considerable thought."

"Ah," the unarmed combat champion's lips twitched slightly, and he nodded. "Thank you for your praise. Well then, I'll be taking my leave now, sir, company commander."

"Go," Van Cleef said slowly.

Roboute Guilliman watched him leave, and only after Xianni was seated did he chuckle, "You really went to great lengths, Van Cleef."

"I had no choice, sir," the company commander said expressionlessly. "My men are full of idiots who like to stay silent for days on end. Several points in that report were actually his own ideas. If I hadn't brought him here, he probably would have never said a word."

"Is it really that serious?" Roboute Guilliman couldn't help but ask.

Van Cleef answered the Lord of Macragge with a long sigh, and the company commander's face showed a deep sense of defeat.

Roboute Guilliman shook his head with empathy—there were similar officers in Ultramarines, very talented, but always inclined to remain silent.

"Also, there's something else I'd like to report to you," Van Cleef said again after a sigh.

"Speak, Van Cleef." Roboute Guilliman lowered his head and looked at the battle report again. Multitasking, or even four or eight things at once, was not difficult for him. Besides, Van Cleef was the one speaking now, so he didn't need to maintain any unnecessary formalities.

He'd known Van Cleef for many years, though the encounter wasn't exactly pleasant. But who cares?

Do you still remember the Aurelian's Sons?

Roboute Guilliman paused his hand on the Dataslate, looked up, and slowly nodded at Van Cleef.

He certainly remembered these loyalists, and he understood the immense pain and suffering hidden behind that loyalty. Angron told him everything, completely and without the slightest concealment.

While lamenting their fate, Roboute Guilliman also secretly made a vow.

I will kill the thief who stole your identity, Lorgar.

"Their numbers have dwindled to a point where they can no longer afford any more losses," Van Cleef suggested cautiously, choosing his words carefully.

"Since Calth, they haven't missed a single battle, which has left them with only one hundred men. I believe they should temporarily withdraw from the war to replenish their numbers and recuperate. After all, they may be the last remaining members of the Lorgar bloodline in this universe."

Van Cleef shook his head, paused for a moment, and added a word: "The real thing."

Roboute Guilliman looked at him seriously.

"Have you spoken with them?" Lord Macragge asked. "They're asking them to run away, to desert."

No at the moment.

"Please invite them to my private meeting room," Roboute Guilliman said. "I'd like to discuss this with them after the meeting."

Update complete. I'd also like to recommend another book.