Primal Fear (IV: Church and Altar)

The Emperor's Cathedral is on the Macragge's Honour. «-(¯`v´¯)-« »-(¯`v´¯)-»

Or rather, the God-Emperor.

Roboute Guilliman can still vividly recall how reluctant he was that day; he didn't want to install a safety device on his ship out of necessity, since the device itself wasn't safe.

At that time, the power of faith had not yet been widely proven, and frankly, Roboute Guilliman's impression of gods and religion was surprisingly bad.

More than once, he would write sentences filled with resentment, vehemently denouncing them. He bound these words into a book, placed it in a corner of his desk, and waited for someone else to publish it someday.

In his view, these ancient poisons from humanity's past had harmed many of his brothers, forced his father to lose himself, and tormented his friend Karyl Lohars.

However, Marius Gage persuaded him, as always.

"We were all once in Terra, Primarch," Gage said.

His eyes were calm at that moment, radiating an indescribable coldness under the iron-gray sky, an impression Roboute Guilliman could never forget.

"We have all witnessed the wrath of the gods and the divine punishment they unleash. We have also seen many things that science and even psychic powers cannot explain. In fact, my lord, I do not believe that outright rejection of faith is a good thing for Ultramar. Is it wrong to make the most of resources? As the Lord of Iron said, the dark ages have arrived, and we need torches."

Because of his suggestion, Roboute Guilliman reluctantly agreed to the proposal of the visiting Ministorum Priest, allowing these smiling pious people to build a small chapel on the Macragge's Honour.

Then, four years after Gage's death, Roboute Guilliman fully embraced his idea of making the most of resources, the church was expanded, and the Ecclesiarchy religion was rapidly spread to every world within the territory of Ultramar.

People accepted the idea that the Emperor were gods very quickly, as if they had always thought so. Roboute Guilliman, on the other hand, put aside his writings on religious criticism and began to reform religion.

Yes, he accepted the Ecclesiarchy and their priests, even allowing them to preach within Ultramar, but that doesn't mean he had no opinions about anything—in fact, he had opinions about almost everything.

For example, there are chapters in the classics that portray him and his brothers as gods, and there are also chapters that make no mention of Karyl Lohars at all.

He even considered going to Terra to confront Malcador about the matter, but ultimately decided against it.

To be fair, his emotions were quite unstable during those years.

Now, things are different.

Roboute Guilliman looked at his own bright white eyes and gray hair reflected in the blade, and etched this aged appearance into his memory.

Then, he swung his sword.

With a single sword strike, he cleaved through the hard alloy and the rigid gears stuck within, completely splitting the intricately carved door, which had been unable to be opened due to the loss of power, in two.

His power did not diminish with the passage of time, nor did his skill. Aging was certainly a fact for the Primarch, but he was still Roboute Guilliman.

He was fearless.

The Victrix Guard stormed into the church from behind him, fully armed, and quickly and completely occupied the expanded church, like a sword cutting through the sea.

Roboute Guilliman was one of those blades, and he wasn't surprised at all by the bloody scene inside the church, as if the torn-together priests and parishioners had never existed. It was bright and clean, everything seemed normal.

The truth, of course, was quite different. The Victrix Guard Odaros could see the terrifying rage in Primarch's burning eyes, so he sheathed his sword and walked up to Roboute Guilliman.

"What do we need to do, Primarch?"

Roboute Guilliman did not answer immediately, but instead made a tactical gesture, which meant to observe and summarize.

He gripped his sword and strode into the pile of shredded flesh. Then, as if that wasn't enough, he squatted down and began to examine more closely the corpses, their eyes wide with terror.

Odaros's gaze followed his Primarch closely. At first, his attention was focused on Roboute Guilliman, but just two seconds later, he also noticed something was wrong.

All the corpses had lost part of their skulls, skin and bone, neatly disappearing. The wounds were either on the top of the head or on the side.

The wounds were generally small, but looking through the gap, Odaros discovered that part of the brains of all the dead had been missing.

His logical thinking ability quickly connected this series of details, ultimately leading to a conclusion.

Roboute Guilliman stood up and coldly revealed it.

"One of those things has evolved," he said coldly, his words making the Victrix Guard slightly uneasy.

"It's clear that the beast that committed the bloodshed here has transcended its primal instincts. According to Sarral's autopsy report, its craving for flesh is no longer as intense. In other words—"

He gave a smile that was hidden behind wrinkles, murderous intent, and a beard, yet it was still chilling to behold.

"--It's starting to be picky about food," Roboute Guilliman said softly.

He thought that his current appearance would probably surprise many people.

"But why does it only eat brains?" Odaros caught up with his Primarch, his brows furrowed behind his helmet.

"I don't know, Odaros. If we're talking about taste alone, the best part of the human body is obviously not the brain," Roboute Guilliman replied in a peculiar tone.

"So, let's think about it a bit further back: it only consumes the brain because it needs certain media stored in the human brain—memories, emotions, or ways of thinking. I don't know exactly what it needs, but I'm too lazy to analyze it anymore."

He resolutely swung his right hand down.

"Burning the bodies prevents us from burying them properly, but at least it avoids their remains remaining in such a desecrated state."

Seconds later, the Phosphex flame began to burn fiercely.

Roboute Guilliman stared at the dead until they were completely reduced to ashes before breaking his silence. He then issued several orders, such as deploying defenses in the area, bringing surviving civilians and crew members to safety, and establishing defensive measures.

It was all simple work, and the Victrix Guard would have done it even if he hadn't said anything. Their tactical skills were impeccable, and their pride as nobles of Ultramar would never allow them to watch mortals succumb to disaster.

Therefore, Odaros easily discerned the hidden true purpose from his Primarch's actions.

"How long do you need?" Victrix Guard asked.

"Five minutes," Roboute Guilliman said.

His words were true. As the last Victrix Guard walked out of the church and disappeared into the corridors, Roboute Guilliman stepped onto the blood-stained pulpit.

His father's statue stands beneath stained glass, surrounded by gold, his eyes closed, holding scales in his left hand and a sword in his right.

The Primarch stared at the man-made statue for over ten seconds, his thoughts unknown to anyone.

Then, he raised his hand and smashed the scales in the hands of the statue, which was the same height as him, with his fist. His strike was so precise that it completely destroyed the scales, causing the gold and silver object to fall to the ground, but without harming the statue's left hand in the slightest.

Logically, after the scales fell, the statue's left hand should have been empty, but this was not the case. Instead, a gleaming black fragment lay in the statue's palm.

Roboute Guilliman reached out and took it down, looking into the statue's eyes.

Now, the stone eyelids are no longer tightly closed; instead, they are a pair of eyes inlaid with gemstones. Under the light, they take on a pale, almost transparent blue hue, in which the Primarch can even see his own reflection.

He stood there, gazing into his own eyes through the eyes of the idol father, slowly clenching the fragment, and then uttering a hissing phrase.

It is neither High Gothic nor Low Gothic, nor is it any dialect within the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar; it originates from an even more ancient world called Nostramo.

This phrase means: I am calling out here.

The church began to tremble, then boil. Standing on the pulpit, Roboute Guilliman turned around. The ground was burning and transforming before his eyes, as if the stone bricks were being treated this way because of his power.

In no time, less than ten seconds later, the entire church floor underwent a complete transformation, turning from ancient stones inscribed with names into a charred aggregate.

Their surfaces were covered with numerous lines, each one straight and sharp, radiating a dark red light. Roboute Guilliman looked down at the fragment in his hand and gently tossed it away.

The fragment fell into the light in a perfect parabola. It did not have any combustion-supporting properties, but it made the light become incredibly intense in an instant, as if a dark red burning sun was rising slowly from beneath the church floor.

The air began to tremble, and a sensation far beyond what the Primarch could feel seeped into his Power Armour, piercing every meticulously designed armor plate, bypassing the reliable defense system, and giving Roboute Guilliman an extremely intense chill.

His eyes remained calm, as if he had known all along what was going to happen here.

He stood motionless, his hands resting on the pulpit, his back to the sacred statue, like a priest from the Ecclesiarchy.

Then, suddenly, something changed.

Even as the Primarch, Roboute Guilliman would find it difficult to describe this change in detail, but he no longer needed to concern himself with such matters.

Because darkness is creeping in.

The victims sang and whispered among themselves, reciting hissing poems, announcing the arrival of a deity in the language of both poets and murderers.

"I am not a god," Karyl Lohars said.

He stood there genuinely, dressed in a simple, travel-appropriate black robe, and seemed somewhat annoyed. His words had just been addressed to the darkness gathered at his feet, which Roboute Guilliman heard in agreement, before he continued reciting.

He suppressed a laugh and walked toward Karyl.

At first, he wanted to shake hands, then he wanted to hug. In the end, he abandoned both options and simply smiled. He hadn't smiled so genuinely in many years; so many things had weighed him down, robbing him of the ability to smile freely.

He is responsible for every person in the Five Hundred Worlds; however, the threat of swarms of insects, Daemon, and Xenos makes this incredibly difficult. Although many can help him, they are not him and cannot understand the overwhelming pressure he faces.

Things are probably different now.

Roboute Guilliman looked down at the familiar yet unfamiliar person in front of him and greeted him, "To be honest, I think you've lost weight."

Karyl smiled at his words.

"Nice joke, Roboute."

He patted the Primarch's forearm armor, then took a step back, bent down, and picked up a black fragment. He held it in his hand, and in the blink of an eye, it vanished completely, disappearing into his palm like a stone sinking into the sea.

Roboute Guilliman remained silent on the matter, but he could no longer remain silent about what happened next—he suddenly felt a surge of heat, which was not the heat of those dark red lights.

They are cold flames, incapable of producing a burning pain that would even cause a Primarch to feel.

Roboute Guilliman frowned deeply. He had intended to ask a question, but the intense heat only lasted for a moment before dissipating completely. Karyl, on the other hand, raised his hand to touch his cheek, a faint smile spreading across his face.

The Primarch noticed that pale veins were pulsating on the back of his raised right hand; they shouldn't be so active, at least not when the body's owner wasn't engaging in strenuous activity.

Roboute Guilliman stared at them until the blood vessels were completely filled with blood and swollen before he looked away.

"Now I have to ask, what happened?"

"I have blood now," Karyl said. "A heart, and blood vessels running throughout my body, and of course, body temperature."

Roboute Guilliman looked at him with an indescribable expression.

"Oh, no, Roboute. You and I both know what I was once. It was an alternative treatment procedure. I was the patient, I was the doctor, and I was still the material used to stitch up the wound—so let's get down to business."

He suppressed his smile and lowered his hands. Two gleaming daggers slid out of his wide sleeves and were held in his hands.

--

Cato Sicarius opened his eyes and heard someone crying.

"Don't move," Apothecary Sarral warned in a low voice. "Hold your breath."

The young scout did as instructed, and amidst the pain and the tingling sensation brought on by his self-healing abilities, he discovered that they were on a high platform.

The combat comrades of the Fourth Company gripped their weapons in silence, while his protector, holding a combat dagger, crouched behind the steel wall of the high platform, gazing down.

Sicarius barely managed to turn his eyes and look down. A few seconds later, he realized that it was a lecture hall filled with civilians.

They were weeping as they surrounded a tall giant, who wore a white robe, had a calm expression, and whose deep blue eyes shone beneath his golden hair.

"My people—" he began in a loud voice.

Sicarius heard his teeth chattering.