We Have All Come
Guilliman.
Thirteen Primarch.
The Gene-Father the Ultramarines gene.
The first loyal Primarch to return after the Great Rift opened.
Malakim felt a wave of dizziness.
This can't be true.
The Primarch has been dormant for ten thousand years.
Sanguinius is dead, Dorn is missing, the Lion King sleeps, the Khan has vanished, and all the loyal Primarch have departed, leaving only their offspring to struggle in the darkness.
But now, Malum Kaido says Guilliman is back.
And right here, in this forgotten world, at this moment when the Lamenters is about to perish.
"He... he really..."
Malakim finally spoke, his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping.
"He's back,"
Malum Kaido nodded. "And he sent us to help you."
Not just you, but all loyal warriors, all humanity that stands firm in the darkness."
He turned to the battlefield.
The battle is basically over.
The last Nurgle Cultist was surrounded and killed by three Ultramarines, who tore him to pieces with the firepower of their Bolter.
Green blood was spilled on the ground, but immediately, logistics personnel from the Ultramarines, dressed in special protective suits, stepped forward and sprayed purifying agents.
The slime and rotting matter on the ground hissed and evaporated under the action of chemical agents.
The 1,500 Chaos Warriors appeared so fragile before the 15 Ultramarines led by Malum.
If Malum wanted, he could easily take down this bunch of trash by himself without undergoing any new Primaris modifications.
"Clean up the battlefield,"
Malum Kaido ordered via communicator, "Count the survivors, collect Gene-seed, and prepare for medical evacuation."
He looked at Malakim again.
"How many men are left in your Chapter, brothers?"
Malakim closed his eyes.
He dared not think about it.
He opened the Chapter's internal communication channel, which had been silent for a long time.
"This is Malakim,"
He said hoarsely, "All units, report status."
Silence.
Then, a faint voice rang out. "The Fourth Company... no, the Fourth Company no longer exists."
This is Sergeant Hector, and... three people.
We're holding the line on the southern ruins.
Another voice. "Technical Attendant Alpha Team, six survivors."
We're in an underground bunker, and the civilians are with us.
Another one. "Chapter Master? You're still alive?"
I am Tiberius scout, and I am on the eastern ridge.
I can see... the Emperor above, I can see blue armor.
Are they real?
"Have our comrades really come to help us?"
One after another, the voices rang out.
Weak, injured, but still alive.
Malakim listened to these sounds, tears welled up in his eyes again.
But this time it wasn't tears of despair, but something else—an emotion he had almost forgotten.
hope.
He turned to Malum Kaido and straightened himself up with all his might.
He lost an arm, a heart, and half his blood, but he forced himself to act like Chapter Master.
"The Lamenters,"
He said the voice gradually stabilized, "There are approximately eighty remaining combatants."
There are also several technical attendants and assistants.
Civilians... I'm not sure, at least two hundred."
Malum Kaido nodded.
His expression remained unchanged, but Malakim could see a flicker of respect in his eyes—not for the numbers, but for the will to persevere in such dire circumstances.
"The hospital ship is landing?"
Malum Kaido said, "Your wounded will receive the best treatment."
The Gene-seed will be properly preserved.
The fallen soldiers will receive the honor they deserve.
He paused for a moment, then made a move that shocked Malakim: he raised his right hand, clenched his fist against his chest, and gave a standard Space Marines salute.
"I represent the Ultramarines Chapter, the Ultramar, and Primarch Robert Guilliman,"
He said every word was clear and powerful, "A salute to the Lamenters."
Your perseverance in dire straits, your loyalty amidst betrayal, your sacrifice in despair will not be forgotten.
Malakim wanted to return the greeting, but he had no right arm and couldn't raise his left arm either.
He could only nod, but tears kept streaming down his face, dripping onto his shattered breastplate.
"I..."
He tried to speak, but a sob interrupted him, "We were just... doing our duty."
"Duty,"
Malum Kaido repeated the word, as if savoring its weight, "Yes."
But true glory lies in upholding one's duty when everyone else has given up.
To your courage and glory, brothers!
A hospital ship slowly descended from the sky.
Its paint scheme is white and blue, with a red cross and the Ultramarines emblem on the side.
As the landing gear touched down, the wind whipped up fragments of Malakim's cloak.
The hatch on the side of the ship opened, and medical personnel in white protective suits ran out.
They carried the stretcher and medical equipment, their movements professional and swift.
A medical officer—whose physique suggested he was a Space Marines, despite wearing a medical coat—approached Malakim Malum Kaido.
He took off his helmet, revealing a young but serious face.
He had an implant on his forehead, a mark of Apothecary.
"Veteran Malum Kaido,"
The medical officer nodded to Malum Kaido, then turned to Malakim, "My lord, you need immediate treatment."
You have lost a heart, suffered significant blood loss, and multiple organ damage.
Malakim wanted to refuse, suggesting that the other wounded should be treated first, but Malum Kaido spoke first.
"Follow the medical officer's orders, brother."
He said in an unquestionable tone, "You are the Chapter Master; your survival is crucial to the future of the Lamenters."
The medical officer has already brought out the scanner.
The instrument swept across Malakim's body, emitting a beeping warning sound.
"Two hearts, one has stopped completely, and the other is only 30% efficient."
Left lung perforation, liver rupture, kidney failure.
Immediate surgery is necessary.
Malakim looked towards the battlefield.
He saw the Ultramarines ' medical team bustling about, picking up the wounded from among the Lamenters and carefully placing them on stretchers.
He saw that they were also collecting Gene-seed from the dead, each tube being respectfully placed in a refrigerated container.
He saw the civilians—the very people they had protected for so long—being guided onto the transport ship.
The children were crying, the adults were praying, and everyone looked at the giants in blue armor with eyes full of awe and gratitude.
"Go,"
Malum Kaido said, placing his hand gently on Malakim's shoulder—the uninjured side—"We'll handle everything here."
This is our promise.
Malakim finally allowed himself to relax.
In that instant, all the pain, all the exhaustion, all the trauma surged up at once.
His vision went black, and he fell forward.
Malum Kaido caught him and carefully placed him on the suspended stretcher that the medical officer had brought.
"Save him!"
Malum Kaido told the medical officer, "At all costs."
"In the name of the Emperor and Guilliman."
The medical officer nodded, then gestured to his assistants to push the stretcher toward the hospital ship.
Before losing consciousness, the last thing Malakim saw was a blue sky, a real sky, without plague clouds or blasphemous symbols.
Beneath that sky, rows of warriors in blue armor stood on the purified land, like indestructible fortresses.
He recalled Malum Kaido's words.
"The entire Ultramarines Chapter has arrived."
"Including our Primarch."
"Robert Guilliman."
Then darkness engulfed him, but this time, the darkness was no longer cold, no longer lonely.
In the darkness, a voice Whisper, filled with endless tenderness and longing:
Children, you have not been forgotten.
You have not been abandoned.
The Imperium, though broken, though corrupt, though filled with darkness,
But there is still light.
Loyalty still exists.
There is still hope.
Because my brother has returned.
Because I won't cry forever.
Because even in the deepest night,
The stars will still rise.
Malakim slept soundly into a dreamless sleep, and for the first time in seven hundred years, there was no expression of pain on his face.
Only peace.
Only liberation.
Only, finally, is there hope.