Primitive Fear (I, 7k)

Cato Sicarius fell into a sudden silence, not for any other reason than the bloody massacre that had suddenly appeared before his eyes. ♗🍩 😂😺

He saw two corpses lying on the wall outside his cabin door, near the porthole. Judging from their uniforms, both were crew members. Blood was flowing backward from their seven orifices, but other than that, they had no other external injuries, and even their uniforms were clean and tidy.

Sicarius still, staring at their swollen and lifeless eyes for a long while before looking away and turning his gaze to the other corpses.

Four people lay closest to him: two men and two women. Their bodies showed no external injuries, but their expressions were quite ferocious. Judging from their uniforms, they were likely maintenance workers responsible for inspecting the various decks.

One of the women was holding a hammer. The towel that should have been tied to her belt was somehow wrapped around the handle of the hammer and then tied around her wrist, making a makeshift handcuff.

This could prevent weapons from slipping from one's hands during combat; it was a rather simple yet extremely useful fighting strategy. Sicarius memorized this detail, and amidst the thick stench of blood, he stepped out of the room.

By this time, the creature was already dead. Its azure eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, its mouth was stuffed with flesh and blood, and its body was covered in knife wounds.

Sicarius sat trembling on the ground, gulping down air, bleeding, but without shedding a tear.

"Furthermore, after the incident, during the voyage, I summoned everyone involved. I reviewed each of them in the council chamber, and they were all found to be without fault. I witnessed this firsthand."

Roboute Guilliman sensed it, calmly treading the corridor strewn with bones, and returned to his office.

Chaos? Daemon?

The young scout took a deep breath and stepped into the corridor.

"Fearless," he said.

But he never expected that after finishing his meditation, the moment he stepped out the door, he would stumble upon such a heinous murder.

Sicarius's rage intensified. He gripped the knife with both hands and ripped open the giant's belly, which was much larger than his own. Steaming entrails gushed out of his abdomen, and blood spurted out.

He looked down at his feet, where there was a pool of still-steaming minced meat.

So, what kind of monster is this thing, this thing that dares to wreak havoc on the Macragge's Honour? Is it Daemon? Or some kind of Xenos? Or perhaps their old adversary, the Tyranids?

"Bang!"

He had reached the end of the corridor. All the victims' bodies remained intact, except for the eight bodies that were eleven steps to the right after he left his room; they were mangled.

He saw a tall, gigantic figure squatting amidst a pile of corpses, feasting voraciously. The man's back was turned to him, and he was completely naked. The muscles on his back were exceptionally strong, each one arranged with a transcendent beauty.

Seemingly hearing the door close, he turned his head quickly, his hands covered in blood and clutching the pieces of flesh. Beneath the short, golden hair, Sicarius saw a face that made his heart stop.

The Macragge's Honour was like a dead ship, with only Kato Sicarius alive on board.

The gate closed, and the scout trembled and fell to the ground.

"I'm using hindsight to torture you," the Lord of the Crows said calmly. "And that's exactly what you need, isn't it, Roboute?"

He smelled the scent of human blood, but suddenly heard the voice of Kolus Corax in his ear.

Roboute Guilliman closed his eyes, gazing at his brother in his imagination, awaiting his next words.

Those marks were bite marks, left by some creature far larger than a human. Judging from the marks, its teeth were very smooth and its bite force was very strong.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Cato Sicarius gripped the fighting knife at his waist with a serious expression.

In other words, the killer did not use Power Weapon or a chainsaw. Normally, even a normal and strong adult male who trains in swordsmanship for many years cannot cut an enemy in two with every strike.

"What you see is not me; they are nothing at all, but merely another conspiracy concocted by Chaos. It attempts to confuse you by taking my form, to instill fear in you, and to turn me into a monster."

He was nearly driven mad by it; he had never been so angry, nor did he even know he could be so insane. Until now, until he witnessed this monster, bearing the appearance of his Primarch, committing such depraved and blasphemous acts.

He lunged forward with a howl, plunging his fighting knife into the creature's chest. It did not resist; it simply lay on the ground, chewing on its own limbs, seemingly oblivious to the wound in its chest.

That face.

His mind can now only hold one thought, or rather, one image.

"Things involving Erebus have never been simple. He even had the ability to send people to your ship to spread this religion, yet you only ordered the arrest and execution of the followers and brought these so-called popes in for questioning?"

Of course, there's also the most important point.

Someone is banging on the door incessantly, so hard that the door is groaning.

Sicarius should have reacted at this moment, but he was too shocked. In that instant, he forgot why he had come here, forgot his previous anger and worry, and even forgot that he was still alive.

The gate emitted a low, short notification sound, the red light on the door frame turned green, and the two tightly closed steel doors slowly opened under the operation of the machinery. What followed, however, sent Sicarius's heart sinking to its lowest point.

They had no Legacy honors, which suited Sicarius. He didn't want to inherit the armor of his predecessors and heroes; he only wanted to earn his own glory honestly with his own hands.

The doors waited a few seconds, and seeing no one enter, they began to close. At the last second, Sicarius cautiously peeked out and glanced down the corridor, a glance that left him momentarily stunned.

He gripped the fighting knife in reverse, leaned against the side of the corridor with the porthole, cautiously stepped over the corpse, and began to walk slowly.

"Yes, I'm in pain."

After walking eleven steps to the right, he found eight more corpses, whose deaths were far more gruesome than the others.

Sicarius looked at the dismembered limbs scattered on the ground and calmly observed the details.

Sicarius knew that the dead could not speak, but the corpses could. He quickly concluded from his observations that the edges of the body parts were very smooth, which meant that they had been severed in one blow, and he found no trace of a disintegrating force field.

It once stayed in this hall, which was used to provide the public with a place to listen to the daily Ultramar news briefing, and then it killed everyone.

"Very good," Roboute Guilliman said. He didn't say another word. He turned around, carrying the Sincere Short Sword, and walked toward the exit of the hall, the furnace in his chest boiling and roaring, cooking up the pain.

He took his helmet from his belt, put it on, and entered the communication channel inside Macragge's Honour.

No matter the training or the difficulty, Sicarius always strived to do his best—including the challenges he faced in his reconnaissance career, which he overcame, and his hard work paid off.

Such a terrifying scene

Where are his brothers? Where are the Ultramarines? Even if they just happen to be absent from their usual duties on the decks today, what about the Ultramar Auxilia? Where have those brave guards gone?

Corax shook his head.

He felt he was going crazy—or he already was.

--

Roboute Guilliman felt he was going crazy—or he already was.

Adding the armor-awarding ceremony to the mix, he had already subtly connected the two events, viewing obtaining a set of Power Armour of his own as the first step towards gaining honor.

The deaths, seemingly from nowhere, silently touched the crew and workers. They might have just finished their night shift and were rushing back to their dormitories to rest, or they might have just gotten up and were planning to have a hearty meal in the canteen.

Now, they were just a pile of wet corpses lying under the light. Unlike the eight mangled bodies, everyone in this corridor remained as they were in life. Blood ominously gushed from their seven orifices, taking their lives.

"Yes, I know you obtained their identification reports, which detail when they boarded the ship and their brief biographies, down to the smallest detail. Every major event was meticulously recorded by your officials. But have you ever considered that the most reliable and the most unreliable thing in this world is actually the human heart?"

"You overlooked something," Corax, draped in a long black robe, said mercilessly.

"So, you should now understand what you should be doing. Once again, you are enveloped in regret, and isn't this feeling of helplessness exactly the same as when you witnessed Calth bleeding, Macragge destroyed, Terra shattered, and your father died?"

This time, it played its role again.

The Emperor, Terra, and the Throne above!

That person, that person—how could he possibly be?!

Sicarius's mind was in complete disarray when something suddenly slammed open the door. Twisted marks appeared on the synthetic metal, which was harder than Ceramite, and then more.

"The Chapter Master has sent word—" The Victrix Guard known as Odaros paused before uttering the second half of his sentence: "—More than half of our engines have failed."

He stood in a large hall, beneath his feet lay broken bones, stained with blood, which, in the light, turned a pinkish hue reminiscent of flower petals. And of course, there were other things: internal organs, limbs, teeth, and half a body.

Countless human remains are piled up here, a nauseating sight, and the traces left on them are enough to drive anyone mad.

There is no difference; these two events do not have a specific order and are most likely to occur simultaneously.

Half a minute ago, this pile of minced meat belonged to a monster with his youthful face. This monster used his face to devour his people alive, turning them into scattered skeletons.

Roboute Guilliman killed it, but it was no use; the people it had eaten were gone forever. More importantly, there was more than one such creature.

"What is it, Odaros?" Roboute Guilliman asked in a calm tone.

Roboute Guilliman lunged at Sicarius, grabbing his left hand in less than half a second and pulling him up from the ground with such force that Sicarius could faintly hear the sound of his bones shifting.

Roboute Guilliman closed his eyes, took a deep breath, slowed his thoughts, and began to search his memories for more information that could help him find the truth.

He swiftly entered a long string of keys with one hand, and the door quickly passed verification. Mechanical gears and similar devices began to hum within the walls, but Sicarius remained pressed against the edge of the wall, showing no intention of stepping into the world beyond the door.

The scout roared and swung his fighting knife, which precisely sliced through the creature's right hand, severing it at the wrist. The force applied to Sicarius vanished, and he fell to the ground, immediately rolling to his feet.

There were six people on the list, all of whom died in an interrogation room on the Macragge's Honour, murdered by Roboute Guilliman himself. They died without answering his questions.

Sicarius gripped his knife and walked to the end of the corridor. This time, under the gaze of the corpse, he did not use iris or voiceprint verification to unlock the door, but instead opted for manual input.

Roboute Guilliman's memory began to rewind, all the way back to eighty-two hours earlier.

→

Sicarius frowned at his conjecture.

"Now, I'm speaking to the Ultramarines."

"What if they truly believe in you wholeheartedly and, unknowingly, are being Deceit into thinking that what they are doing will help you?"

He looked at Roboute Guilliman again, and this time, amidst his shock, fear, and barely perceptible yet genuine anger, he keenly noticed something different.

"But I am no less than human. I am the Emperor's loyal thirteenth son, and I have sworn to be a faithful servant of mankind, a vow that nothing can break. I am your shield, your sword, and I will stand before you forever, until my death."

Roboute Guilliman nodded slightly, indicating that he understood, and only then did Odaros continue speaking.

Moreover, just the day before yesterday, Roboute Guilliman announced to all personnel via the ship's public address system that the Macragge's Honour was heading towards Calth. Sicarius keenly sensed the scent of the honor he craved and was thrilled by it.

He stopped and sheathed his sword. His armor reeked of blood, a stark contrast to the antique ambiance of the office. It remained unchanged from ten thousand years ago, with statues of the Emperor and King Conno still atop the bookshelves, one with closed eyes, the other with open.

Roboute Guilliman gazed at them, making his final decision.

"You're stuck in a mindset where you think Chaos will continue to operate in its old ways ten thousand years from now. But I ask you, Roboute, what if those people hadn't come into contact with Chaos at all?"

"Then, Roboute, your eyes have deceived you."

She said nothing, yet it was as if she had said everything.

He still felt some fear in his heart, but he wouldn't voice it. However, by the Emperor's grace, he was truly terrified of it. He was even afraid to face the thing directly and wished he could turn around and run away immediately.

He was supposed to receive his upgraded MK7 Power Armour today; the Tech-Priest on Macragge's Honour had already shown it off earlier that day.

Roboute Guilliman looked at her, then slowly opened his eyes in the real world and saw two fully armed hawk-faced warriors.

So, just two hours later, Roboute Guilliman issued an order. Under this order, many messages were sent to his office, eventually forming a list.

"Yes."

He spent two minutes quietly walking back and re-verified his iris and voiceprint. The door opened, and the familiar corpse returned to his sight; his single dormitory room door remained tightly shut.

He glanced back at his room door, a hint of worry in his heart.

There were still four decks and twenty-one corridors to his destination. In the past, this wouldn't have been a problem; Sicarius could have reached it in just a few minutes. But now...

He gritted his teeth.

Roboute Guilliman replied in a low voice, "I don't believe they could have infiltrated this far under my nose. My eyes can now see even the slightest trace of Chaos Contamination; I've never failed in ten thousand years."

The cries of the common people echoed in his ears, and some people looked at him differently. They were the lucky ones who had survived the monster attack, but something in their hearts had changed.

He knew that if he didn't take action, sooner or later this would turn into hatred.

In recent years, the number of Ultramarines has been increasing, so some uninhabited rooms have been requisitioned by the Chapter to be used temporarily by combat comrades who have no place to live, and they will be recalled when the base is expanded in the future.

He saw the thing kneeling on the ground, holding its severed right hand, and stuffing it haphazardly into its mouth, completely disregarding the fact that those horrible fingernails would turn its own mouth into a bloody mess as well.

His face showed pain, but also a curiosity that came from discovering something new. He opened his mouth wide and began to crunch on his own flesh, and the pain and curiosity quickly transformed into greed.

He wanted to eat me.

Now, he wished he were with his brothers instead of being alone, confused, unable to hear the alarms or the call to assemble, and seeing no one alive.

The thing looked down at its right wrist, and without hesitation, shoved its hand into its mouth and began chewing incessantly.

Roboute Guilliman remained silent and did not answer.

This thought made him slowly stop in his tracks. Just a second after that thought was born, a brand new idea was born in Sicarius's mind.

"Grown ups."

The door twisted, revealing a hole, from which a hand reached out, tearing half of the door off and throwing it behind. Sicarius instinctively looked up and saw that face again.

Heedless of the danger, Sicarius drew his sword and began to swing it incessantly. He continued until his hands were stiff, his fingers trembled, and his clothes were completely soaked in blood.

He had only served for three years, but he had already risen from a reconnaissance soldier to a full-fledged Astartes thanks to his outstanding abilities. This was undoubtedly related to the rigorous training he underwent in his hometown of Talassar, and of course, it was also related to his personality.

Cato Sicarius suddenly felt an urge to vomit. Then, anger.

Therefore, the murderer must be either extremely strong or not an ordinary person, and must be armed with a weapon.

Astartes?

"The Chapter Master also discovered that we had lost contact with many decks. Someone had activated the emergency measures you designed, isolating the decks. We can no longer directly probe their interiors. Company Commander Sol Inviktus has already set off; he intends to restore our control over them."

His Razor -sharp, dagger-like fingernails pierced deeply into Sicarius's flesh. In the pain, the scout's thinking began to return rapidly.

Roboute Guilliman is the Emperor's loyal thirteenth son, the Primarch of the Ultramarines, and the Gene-Father of Cato Sicarius. He would never kill or devour those he swore to protect.

Sicarius resolutely raised his head, looked at the creature, and saw something completely contrary to his fear.

Therefore, he entered meditation early last night, just so he could get to the company's camp ahead of time today and participate in the armor-awarding ceremony as soon as possible.

That was three and a half days ago. He had a conversation with the suddenly returned Karyl Lohars through the astral array in his study. During this conversation, his trusted instructor mentioned some of his discoveries on the Calth.

Sicarius was one of the lucky ones—he himself still considers himself very lucky.

"Yes," the Lord of Macragge said hoarsely.

So far, Sicarius has not seen a single soldier, nor heard a single gunshot; everything is eerily quiet, even the usual continuous broadcasts of battle reports have ceased.

His figure began to dissipate until it became nothingness, and then another person emerged from Roboute Guilliman's memory, an old woman wrapped in a warm wool blanket.

Before, there was only one Roboute Guilliman; now, things are different. Now, according to numerous eyewitness reports, many beings bearing his face are roaming the Macragge's Honour, committing atrocities he could never have imagined.

How can you detect malice in someone who trusts you completely, even if that malice doesn't actually exist?

By drawing inspiration from the MK4 Ultimate Power Armour variant "Judge," the improved Aquila variant possesses enhanced defensive capabilities without becoming cumbersome. Moreover, these are newly manufactured batches.

Or perhaps they ate it all.

He drew his knife, gripping his only weapon, and walked to the end of the corridor. There wasn't a trace of blood on the tightly closed door. Sicarius approached it and began verifying his iris and voiceprint.

They were the Victrix Guard, a position that has remained since the Legion era but is now vastly different from what it used to be, yet they still served as Roboute Guilliman's personal guard.

Roboute Guilliman.

He has been with this knife for six years. It was with him before he enlisted in the army, when it was just a large knife to him. It is a bloodthirsty weapon, sharp and reliable, with a simple design that allows for smooth killing.

But he didn't. Perhaps it was because of that slogan—"Fearless."

But why? Why did this happen?

To find the answer, we must use one of Roboute Guilliman's principles, which states that everything can be traced back to its source by following clues. This has been proven many times over the past ten thousand years.

The noble descendant of Talassar tensed his young face and abruptly turned to look in the direction he had come from. There, the automatic doors stood tightly shut, waiting to be opened.

His Primarch appearance was weathered, with a full head of white hair, while this person was excessively young, with a full head of blond hair that even appeared sparse, like a newborn baby whose hair had just begun to grow.

And his expression— Roboute Guilliman would never have such an evil look, nor would he have possessed such a terrible desire.

The answer is not any of these options; the answer is a name that should be excluded, a glorious name, a name trusted and revered as a hero.

Roboute Guilliman's face.

"But you can't suffer," Corax said. "Regret is useless, suffering is useless, remember my words. The powerless will only ever blame themselves. To turn things around, you need to do more than that."

Twelve hours later, Roboute Guilliman broadcast to the entire ship that they would be heading for Calth, and now...

Are you in pain?

Does this mean that the murderer went in the exact opposite direction from him?

Everything he was experiencing was changing; regret and pain merged together, followed by self-loathing and mad rage. In the pulsating furnace, they became one, something new, something that had never existed in the world before.

Correction: Roboute Guilliman's blood-stained face, trembling lips, exposed teeth, with bits of flesh yet to be swallowed stuck between them. Young, innocent, naive, yet harboring a profound malice that Sicarius could not comprehend.

It was like a greedy thought, or a longing, another idea arose in Sicarius, leaping like an instinct, striking like lightning.

Her hair was gray, her face was wrinkled, and her once straight back was now bent. She looked at Roboute Guilliman with no trace of kindness, only a stern expression.

He didn't see a single living person; instead, he saw even more blood and more corpses.

His heart was pounding, and adrenaline was being released at an unprecedented rate.

"You can see the pollution of Chaos because it carries malice, and has always been so. While not all beings in the Empyrean harbor malice towards humanity, Chaos certainly does."

"This is Roboute Guilliman, and I'm speaking directly to the entire crew."

The solemn raven, of course, did not actually exist there; it was merely an illusion, a Shadow created by Roboute Guilliman using his mental abilities to aid him.

He didn't even observe; he simply gripped his fighting knife, held his breath, and listened intently to the sounds coming from the other end.

He heard a soft chewing sound, just as he had hoped.

"I authorize the use of lethal firepower."

He finished speaking, calmly removed his helmet, and at that moment, a star array of light shone beneath his feet.