I Intend to Establish the Second Emp...

Several days later, Macragge training grounds.

A blue figure fell from the sky like a meteor, slamming heavily into the ground and kicking up a ring of air.

Roboute Guilliman straightened up. His brand-new Fate Armor was covered in still-wet filthy blood belonging to Chaos traitors.

It gave off a pungent stench of rust mixed with ozone.

He had not even carried a weapon. Relying solely on those iron fists, he had wiped out an Iron Warriors patrol squad that had infiltrated one of Macragge's moons during his recent "patrol."

Chapter Master Calgar had long since stopped finding this unusual.

During these past few days of respite, his gene-father seemed not to know the meaning of fatigue.

He frequently took the initiative to strike, purging the remaining Chaos threats on Macragge and in its orbit with astonishing efficiency.

It was only after witnessing the primarch's godlike battles again and again.

That Calgar finally, completely understood what kind of power beyond mortal comprehension the word "primarch" represented.

No one was qualified to threaten him... no one could escape his pursuit... no one could overcome his iron fists...

Calgar's heart was filled with near-blind worship.

(Invincible! My primarch is invincible!)

He recalled how he had once scoffed at the Imperial Cult's claims that made the primarchs sound practically divine, believing that no matter how powerful they were, they were still limited by mortal strength.

They were, after all, "human." They needed rest, and they had limits.

But now... Calgar only wanted to say this to his past self: Those Imperial Cult bastards had been way too fucking restrained!

How was this a "human"?

This was plainly a true god walking among men!

Even "demigod" was insufficient to describe such magnificence!

"Primarch..." Calgar had just begun his report when Guilliman gently interrupted him.

"Call me Dad."

Guilliman wiped the blood from his face and revealed a hearty grin, creating a subtle contrast with the Baleful Intent radiating from him at that moment:

"Don't call me Primarch. It makes us father and son sound so distant."

Calgar was briefly at a loss for words, torn between laughter and tears.

His gene-father was powerful, benevolent, and full of human brilliance. He was practically the sun of Macragge.

It was just that this personality... did not match at all the Roboute Guilliman described in all the historical texts and legends, renowned for his dignity, reason, and meticulousness!

Why did he now seem so... free-spirited and cheerful?

"Um... Gene-Father..." Calgar carefully spoke again.

"Call me Dad." Guilliman was still gentle, but his tone brooked no argument.

"...All right, Dad."

Calgar readily complied and hurried to the point:

"According to the latest figures, we currently have roughly two hundred thousand Ultramarines assembled on Macragge and throughout the neighboring star systems.

The several Black Crusades have depleted our forces too severely. Many recruits were forced into battle before they had even completed their harsh training.

However, we have sent requests for aid to all Ultramarines successor chapters. Reinforcements should return soon."

"Hm, two hundred thousand..." Guilliman stroked his chin, a sharp glint flashing through his eyes. "Enough! Enough for me to quell the chaos across all of Ultramar!"

"But, Dad..." Calgar could not help reminding him, worry written all over his face. "You... didn't you strictly decree that the Adeptus Astartes must never restore the Legion structure?

This..."

"Can't restore it? If we don't restore the Legion system, the fucking Imperium will be gone before long!"

With his hands on his hips, Guilliman looked at his overly "honest" Chapter Master with an expression of utter exasperation.

"My son, why are you all so damn literal?

Something I said ten thousand years ago, and you can follow it word for word for ten thousand years?

Couldn't you pull a little 'outward compliance, inward defiance'? A little 'deceiving those above while hiding things below'?

Do you understand flexibility?"

"Father! You cannot say such things, Father!"

Calgar was frightened out of his wits. In one swift bound, he rushed forward, trying to hug Guilliman's thigh and stop him from voicing any more of these "treasonous" remarks.

Guilliman, looking thoroughly disgusted, lightly kicked him away and laughed as he cursed:

"Fuck, I was brilliant all my life. How did I end up fathering such rigid, rule-bound children?"

Seeming to recall something, he raised his voice several octaves:

"Back then, I was planning to establish the Second Emp—"

"Father!" / "Dad!" / "My Primarch!"

Before he could finish, Chief Librarian Tigurius, First Company Captain Agemman, Second Company Captain Sicarius, and the others reacted like cats whose tails had been stepped on.

They all lunged forward in utter panic. Some grabbed his shoulders, some hugged his legs, and one even leaped up in an attempt to cover the primarch's mouth.

"Father! Dad! We beg you! You truly cannot say that! You cannot say such things carelessly!"

After being kicked away, Calgar pounced back again, his voice even taking on a tearful edge.

Entangled by these excessively loyal sons of his, Guilliman had no choice but to use a subtle burst of force to shake them all away. He helplessly waved his hand.

"All right, all right, I won't say it. I won't say it!"

"Anyway, I reckon I'm the only one left in the line of succession to the Imperium now. There isn't any need to establish a Second Imperium."

He paused, an ambitious yet helpless smile appearing on his face, then dropped a bombshell:

"I'll just march on Terra and seize my old man's throne! Is that acceptable?"

"..."

The entire training ground seemed to be instantly enveloped in a field of silent psychic energy.

Calgar, the company captains, and the Chief Librarian all froze in place, their faces deathly pale as they trembled like leaves.

Seize... seize the God-Emperor's throne?!

Was their own primarch really this treasonous?!

Then... which one was actually the traitor primarch?!

Seeing that his sons looked as though their hearts were about to stop.

Guilliman snorted irritably. "All right, all right, look at how pathetic you are!"

"You're all acting like cowards! If I don't inherit the throne, who will? Are we supposed to let those vermin in the High Lords of Terra keep dragging the Imperium into the grave?

If I don't clean up this mess soon, the Imperium will rot all the way to its core!

Do you think I want to take on this thankless, exhausting job?" He wore the disgruntled expression of a man with no choice in the matter.

Before his sons could recover from the tremendous shock, Guilliman immediately issued a concrete order:

"Then convey my verbal decree: from this day forward, the Ultramarines will restore the Legion structure!

At the same time, issue a recruitment order across every mortal world in Ultramar!

Anyone who meets the requirements—loyalty, fortitude, exceptional physical constitution, and spotless character—regardless of age, may participate in Space Marine selection!

As long as they dare to come, we dare to perform the augmentation surgery!"