Making It Reality!
A fervent and resolute smile spread across Calgar's face beneath the visor.
He is the Chapter Master, and at this moment, the only warrior who simultaneously possesses two Primarch forged by the Primarch himself. He is duty-bound to shoulder this honor and responsibility.
"Father has issued the decree!" Calgar's voice resounded throughout the army via the commander's channel. "Then let this decree become a reality!"
So let's show our courage and glory, brothers!
For Ultramar! For the Emperor!
"I, Cato Sicarius, am here!"
The chief swordsman's proud and confident voice rang out immediately afterward.
The longsword in his hand, also forged by Guilliman and now flowing with golden-blue flames, pointed directly at the demon-ravaged land below:
"My father's will shall be realized by my sword!"
Follow me—purify everything!
Just as the boiling roar of war was about to erupt, another command, steady yet coldly efficient, rang out on a specific channel.
Huron Blackheart —now a commander reborn with a mission, he was not as passionate as his other brothers.
His gaze, hidden behind his visor, swept over the "Tower of Eternal Loyalty" below, still shrouded in an energy shield, and a cold smile played on his lips.
"The first through eighth recruit companies, a total of eight thousand men." His voice was clear and unquestionable. "Your mission is to eliminate all demons and threats within a five-kilometer radius of the High Lords's Sanctuary and ensure the area's 'safety'."
Remember, it's 'all'.
He paused, then added meaningfully, "As for inside the tower... my personal guard (former members of the Astral Claws) will be responsible for 'close-range protection'."
Without my direct order, no one is allowed to approach the core area of the tower, nor is any 'unidentified' entity permitted to leave.
Do you understand?
A unified, suppressed excitement filled the channel with confirmation voices.
Huron nodded in satisfaction.
He looked down at his power claw, "Citybreaker," which had not yet received his father's new weapon, a flicker of expectation in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a deeper coldness.
He looked up at his father, who was bathed in light in the sky, then glanced down at the tower below that symbolized the last bastion of the old Imperium order, and sneered silently.
His father gave him the army, gave him missions, and also... the prelude to the end of an era.
The real cleanup is about to begin.
Above, the blue tide of death, under the will and blessing of the Primarch, had been transformed into countless shooting stars.
With boundless rage and a sacred mission, it descended upon the land of Terra, upon all the filth of Chaos!
Huron Blackheart stood before the massive gate adorned with the emblems of the Imperial Aquila and the High Lords.
His personal guard stood silently behind him, their blue-gold Power Armour gleaming coldly in the dim light of the corridor.
The air was filled with the unique scent of incense, aged parchment, and the decay of power that was characteristic of the tower's interior, a stark contrast to the smoke and bloodshed of Terra outside.
He raised his armored hand and gently knocked on the door.
A flurry of rustling sounds came from behind the heavy solid wood door, followed by a servant's shrill, wary voice:
"Who is it? State your identity!"
Huron's voice came through the helmet's loudspeaker, so calm it was completely unwavering. "We are the warriors of the Holy Sons of Guilliman."
"By order of the Primarch and the Lord Regent, I have come to relieve you of your defensive duties and ensure the absolute safety of all High Lords."
There was silence for a few seconds inside the door, followed by the sound of chains slipping and a heavy latch being removed.
The massive gate slowly opened inward, releasing a flood of bright, even blinding, light.
Several High Lords stood in the center of the hall, surrounded by their advisors, servants, and a small number of private guards.
The leader was still Duke Mengsk, who was in charge of shipping. He had a protruding belly and his face still showed traces of the previous shock and anger, but now he tried his best to put on an expression of authority and satisfaction.
His gaze swept over the blue-armored giants in the corridor outside the door, who were taller and wore heavier, more sophisticated armor than ordinary Space Marines.
They lingered on Huron for a moment, clearly impressed by his unusually large and imposing physique.
"Hmm..." Duke Mengsk snorted and nodded. "Not bad."
"Well... Guilliman does know some basic etiquette, and he knows to arrange for a decent force to take over."
He deliberately omitted honorifics, his tone as if he were evaluating a capable subordinate.
He stepped forward, extended his well-maintained hand adorned with a jeweled ring, and gently tapped Huron's chest plate with his scepter, producing a soft "clanging" sound.
"Listen, Blue Can," the Duke said, raising his chin with a condescending tone, "Your duty is clear: to protect us!"
As long as we are safe and in good spirits, once the situation stabilizes, I wouldn't mind putting in a good word for you regarding your equipment allocation within the Departmento Munitorum.
Perhaps, they can get approval for a few more production lines, or a few more new ships.
Do you understand?
Beneath the helmet, Huron's lips curled into a chilling smile.
But when he spoke, his voice remained steady and gentle:
"Thank you for your generosity."
Please rest assured, with me and my warriors here, we guarantee that no demon will harm you in the slightest!
"Hmph, your words are actually quite pleasant to hear." Duke Mengsk was quite pleased with this "submissiveness," and a slight smile appeared on his face.
He was used to flattery and the awe of others, and at this moment he took Huron's restraint as a matter of course and submission.
He paused, seemingly feeling the need to further solidify his authority, or perhaps simply to enjoy the thrill of taming the "blue can."
He straightened his back and said in a commanding tone:
"Then kneel before me, warrior."
Offer your oath of loyalty.
"Let me see the respect that you Ultramarines have for the rightful rulers of the Imperium."
The air seemed to freeze for a moment.
Huron remained silent, his helmet turning slightly, the cold light from the visor sweeping across the Duke's face, which was filled with an expression of utter self-righteousness.