The Hope of My True City

"Maybe..."

Nurgle's voice grew slower and deeper, as if gazing at the drop of blood in his palm—a blood so "healthy" it both loathed and fascinated Him, so incongruous with the surrounding rotten, sweet environment.

"What I symbolize may be 'decay,' the inevitable fate of all things... but I also... admire, even 'love' those extremely vigorous and tenacious life forces."

"I sincerely hope he can withstand the gifts I'm about to bestow upon him."

"If he survives this ordeal, then one more Chaos Gods won't matter, because he deserves it."

His will flows with a mixture of pure malice and supreme patience:

"Just this one 'initiator'... is enough."

The god of decay will meticulously prepare a unique and generous gift for this 'chosen one'... capable of killing a 'god'."

"Thank you for your hard work, Father."

Guilliman turned to the Emperor's Psionic Energy phantom beside him, which was gradually thinning but still radiating a warm glow, and a sincere, respectful smile appeared on his face:

"You should go back and rest. I'll handle things here."

I will go to the throne room later and explain it to you in detail."

The Emperor's phantom nodded slightly, its golden, flame-like gaze falling with satisfaction on Guilliman.

Seeing his son not only win the battle, but also issue such a resounding declaration to the Four Gods on both strategic and psychological levels.

This composure and wisdom even made the Emperor, who had endured thousands of years of suffering, feel a long-lost sense of pride.

(The Emperor's inner thoughts: Not bad, very much like my old self! Even his insults have such class!)

"Stay alert, my son."

The Emperor's voice echoed directly in Guilliman's mind, gentle yet solemn, "After all, they are beings who have been entangled with me for tens of thousands of years, or even longer."

The source of its cunning, patience, and strength is unfathomable.

Even I was... deeply schemed against by them.

"To deal with the four of them," Guilliman nodded, his smile fading as he became more composed, "It's never too much to be vigilant."

I see."

"I believe in your wisdom, Robert."

The Emperor's phantom spoke last, and the light began to dissipate rapidly, like morning dew merging with sunlight:

"And I also believe in... the path you have chosen."

The golden light and shadow vanished completely into the air, leaving only a faint trace of Psionic Energy warmth.

Guilliman watched his father leave, feeling both the weight of responsibility on his shoulders and the warmth of being trusted.

As the Emperor's phantom disappeared, the last phantom on the battlefield vanished, and the final clamor of the battlefield gradually subsided.

Countless civilians and soldiers who witnessed the miracle, though filled with fervent passion for the expedition, also understood the Emperor's renewed "retirement."

They were not too disappointed, for the torch of hope had been passed on— the Emperor's son was here!

Another powerful guardian and leader of humanity stands here!

A series of heavy, rhythmic footsteps approached.

Trajann, Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes, dragged his weary but still upright body to Guilliman.

His Auramite armor was badly damaged and stained, but his eyes were unusually clear and calm.

"Grown ups,"

Trajann his right hand on his chest and gave Guilliman a standard Imperial Army, the kind given to Primarch and Lord Regent.

This is not merely a formality, but a formal declaration of attitude. "Please allow us a moment to compose ourselves."

You have proven your loyalty to the Imperium and your right to rule with undeniable strength and wisdom.

Next, we will clean and tidy up your 'royal capital' for you.

His words were concise, yet profound.

Terra is the Throne World of the Imperium, the "royal capital".

Guilliman was the Lord Regent.

Cleansing the capital was the duty of the Adeptus Custodes, and also their way of acknowledging and pledging allegiance to the new ruling core.

(Trajann's inner thoughts: Master of Mankind... can you finally... cast your gaze upon the mortal realm once more, and even briefly tread upon it?)

And what brought about all this change... His gaze fell on Guilliman... it was this 'Son of God'.

The Emperor Adeptus Custodes has been loyal to the Emperor for millennia, maintaining a critical and distant attitude towards any Primarch.

But even now, facing this "Child of Hope," the only one who can communicate normally with the Emperor, clearly has the Emperor's full support, and has led humanity to such a crucial victory, it is a different story.

Even the proudest of the Adeptus Custodes were willing to offer their loyalty and strength.

Because the Imperium needs someone to hold it up.

The person in front of me looks tall, strong, and reliable.

Trajann felt a long-lost sense of relief on his shoulders.

When the sky falls, finally there's a tall person who can truly hold it up.

Guilliman nodded to Trajann, saying nothing more; everything was understood without words.

He has more important things to do.

He raised his hand, and a powerful surge of Psionic Energy gently lifted up his three critically injured and dying offspring— Calgar, Cato Sicarius, and Malum Kaido —from the distant ruins.

Their injuries have been temporarily stabilized by the Psionic Energy he previously infused, but their shattered bodies, broken bones, damaged internal organs, and Gene-seed all require top-tier medical care.

"Immediately prepare the highest-specification multi-functional repair chamber! Gene-seed stabilizing fluid! Nerve reconnection surgical plan!"

Quick!"

Inside the cutting-edge biological laboratory of the Macragge's Honour, the voice of the Archmagos Cawl lost its usual mechanical calm, carrying an unusual anxiety and shock.

His complex mechanical prosthetic eye rapidly scanned the three Ultramarines who had been lifted in by Psionic Energy, the data stream frantically refreshing the visual interface.

"My God... Calgar... Sicarius... and Malum Kaido... how could their injuries be so severe?!"

Cawl's mechanical tentacles trembled unconsciously. "With their enhanced strength and teamwork, theoretically they should be able to..."

"Some 'unexpected' things happened."

Guilliman's voice came through the communicator, calm yet tinged with coldness, "The Chaos Gods... has personally intervened."

My children are powerful, but they are still growing and have not yet reached the point where they can directly confront that level of power.

"I see..." Cawl understood instantly, his mechanical voice filled with reverence and confidence. "But please rest assured, my lord."

They will surely become even stronger!

Because they are your offspring!

"A warrior who inherited your perfect genes and great will!"

He turned to the busy Tech-Priest and medical Servo-Skulls, his voice regaining its authority. "Perform full-sequence deep repair immediately!"

Activate all reserved Smart Atoms repair units!

At all costs, I want to see the three adults walk out of here unharmed!