Tides of Faith

Guilliman's resounding declaration, piercing through the void, was like the first thunderclap thrown into a heart parched for millennia, followed by an overwhelming and unstoppable rain.

Those were not just words; they were a promise, a path, and stars clearly visible after tearing through the clouds of despair.

Throughout the entire territory of Ultramar, no, throughout the entire Imperium where the signal can reach and where this oath is heard.

Countless hearts, steeped in suffering for far too long, were ignited at this moment.

It is not blind religious fanaticism, but a deeper and more tenacious belief.

His belief in the future he described, a future of "laughter in the material world."

His conviction in his willingness to openly acknowledge his ambition while simultaneously binding it to the Destiny of millions.

His belief in his power to confront and crush the temptations of demons with the body of a mortal god.

This is trust, this is entrustment, this is the full force of life that bursts forth when a dying person grasps the lifeline.

This immense, immeasurable, pure, and fervent collective will, through its spiritual resonance, directly pierced the Veil of the Realspace.

In the eternally turbulent "Sea of Souls" in the Warp, an unprecedented golden storm has been unleashed!

That wasn't the tainted crimson, eerie blue, sickly green, or lewd purple of Chaos evil energy, but rather a brilliant gold that represented humanity's most essential hopes, resilience, and collective identity!

This gold does not originate from the realm of some Chaos Gods; it stems from the resonance of the minds of billions of beings in the Material Universe. It is the manifestation of "will" and the tide of "belief."

It is magnificent and bright, carrying a kind of nascent recklessness and unquestionable determination.

Against Warp backdrop dominated by Chaos colors, a large area was forcibly torn apart and illuminated!

This fervent tide of pure faith, at its very core, inevitably converges on its focal point— Robert Guilliman.

This was not something he actively absorbed, but rather an inevitable consequence of being the object of his beliefs.

A boundless, star-like power of faith surged into his Psionic Energy essence.

It was mixed, refined, and sublimated with the foundation of Vitruum within him, the resources accumulated from devouring Chaos Daemons, and the Primarch's Primarch and immense Psionic Energy.

Originally, Guilliman's Psionic Energy power had already reached the pinnacle of mortal abilities, even surpassing most so-called "strongmen".

However, if judged by the standards of those terrifying beings in the Warp...

Perhaps it is still slightly inferior to some senior Greater Daemon (such as K'Banda and Skarbrand) in terms of sheer "quantity".

However, at this moment, under the torrent of the purest beliefs of billions of people, that invisible yet resilient barrier was smashed down!

"Boom--!!!"

A deafening roar, as if the cosmic membrane had ruptured, could only be perceived on a Psionic Energy level.

Guilliman's Psionic Energy nature underwent a qualitative change.

His total Psionic Energy surged wildly, with its stability and cohesion increasing exponentially. His control over Warp energy and his authority over reality distortion were elevated to a whole new level.

The iconic blue-gold Psionic Energy glow was now not only even more dazzling, but also carried an indescribable sense of "weight" and "authority".

If measured by the standards of the Warp, Guilliman's Psionic Energy rank has now firmly entered the level of Greater Daemon.

To become a colossal being capable of stirring up storms in the Sea of Souls and striking fear into the hearts of ordinary demons.

But this is far from the end.

The power of faith continues to surge, illuminating his path forward.

Ahead lies an even more imposing and essential threshold: the Divinity status of Lesser God in the Warp.

If he is willing, he can follow the driving force of this faith and clearly accept and define his own "concept" in the Warp (such as "Reviver", "Guardian", "Incarnation of Hope").

He will then be able to condense his Divinity and take that step to become a true divine being.

Guilliman did not rush to take that step.

He was fully aware of all of this.

Within the Warp, the vast golden tide of faith swirled and coalesced around him.

Ultimately, guided by his will, a towering, earth-shattering humanoid projection, purely composed of blue-gold spiritual light, was formed.

The projected face was identical to his, but the flames burning in his eyes were no longer simple Psionic Energy fire, but rather a radiant light of will like a condensed galaxy.

It stands on the surging golden sea of faith, like a lighthouse, like an anchor.

The projection slowly raised its head, its "gaze" piercing through the layers of bizarre and fantastical dimensions of Warp.

They ignored the gazes cast upon them by the four divine realms—greedy, wary, or angry.

Finally, it landed steadily deep within the Warp, in that most ancient, most profound, and most painful realm.

Above that pitch-black sun, radiating endless desolation, majesty, and sorrow.

That was the terrifying manifestation of the Master of Mankind, the Emperor, in the Warp.

The brief silence felt like the first formal "gaze" between two ancient entities.

Then, Guilliman's projection, or rather, the will that Guilliman conveys through projection.

With mixed feelings.

There was scrutiny, inquiry, and an indescribable sense of "reporting," calmly "sending" a message, like a stone thrown into a deep pool:

"Old Deng, how are you?"

On the surface of the pitch-black sun, the ceaseless flames of agony seemed to pause for a moment.

Then, a thought, equally direct in its effect on the essence of Psionic Energy —apathetic, withered, yet seemingly containing the weight of eternity—emerged.

Like an echo from the bottom of an abyss, it slowly spread out:

"Not bad."

There was no praise, no reprimand, only three words.

But these three words, emanating from this Black Sun that represents the collective suffering and obsession of humanity, are enough to shake the hearts of anyone who knows the inside story.

This is perhaps the most straightforward and "peaceful" response Emperor has ever given to any entity other than his own Adeptus Custodes and specific agents (such as saints) in millennia.

Holy Terra, the forbidden realm deep within the royal palace.

The Golden Throne Hall.

Trajann, Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes, was performing his routine and most sacred duty, just as he had done for countless days and nights over the past ten thousand years.

Inspect the condition of the Golden Throne and personally polish this ultimate creation that sustains the life of the Emperor and the Astronomican of humanity.

Since the Eye of Terror tore the Milky Way apart and the Great Rift unfolded, Terra's stable connection with the outside world has become intermittent.

The Emperor's majestic Astronomican, which guided human fleets across the stars, became unstable and was often completely obscured by Warp Storm.

Terra, the heart of the Imperium of Man, is in fact isolated and besieged to some extent.

Trajann could clearly sense that the evil power of Chaos was gathering and probing in the void surrounding Terra.

Those abhorrent beings may be brewing an ultimate offensive against the palace and the throne itself.

Every time the Sisters of Silence or the Sisters of Battle patrolling the outskirts of the palace reported back an encounter, the tension in the heart of this immortal guardian tightened a little more.

"I swear by my blood and soul that until my life is completely consumed, no Chaos debris will ever defile the Throne Sanctuary."

Every day, he would repeat this vow in his heart, facing the figure on the throne.