2.5 Million

He did not have the opportunity to fight alongside his adoptive father as an adult.

He could only stand before this tombstone, repeatedly remembering the man who had taken him in, raised him, and taught him responsibility and kindness.

But what about Tarasha?

Guilliman lowered his head and looked at the tombstone on his right.

He didn't know how she died.

He wasn't even sure if her body was actually inside.

That year, he was just a young man who had just embarked on his journey.

Then he received the news: Tarasha Euten had passed away.

The reason? Nobody can say for sure.

Some say it was an illness, some say it was an accident, and some say it was due to excessive grief—after all, Konor had only been dead for a short time.

But Guilliman always felt something was off.

His adoptive mother was not someone who would be defeated by grief.

She is stronger than anyone else.

She can endure pain better than anyone else.

She understands love better than anyone else.

Guilliman had thought countless times about digging up the tomb to see if her remains were inside.

But he dared not.

That is blasphemy.

That would be the greatest disrespect to his mother.

So he could only stand here, gazing at the tombstone, at the name engraved on it, at that mystery that could never be solved.

The wind blew by.

Petals fall.

Guilliman reached out and gently stroked the cold stone monument.

"Mother..."

His voice was very low, so low that only he could hear it:

I really miss you.

In the sea of flowers, only the sound of the wind could be heard.

Only the rustling sound of falling petals could be heard.

Only that—eternal love.

In the distance, the setting sun is slowly sinking.

Golden light spilled onto the sea of flowers, onto the tombstone, and onto that lonely figure.

That figure stood there for a long time.

So long that the sun had completely set, so long that the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, so long that—he finally turned around and walked back the way he had come.

But what he didn't know was --

In that void, deep within that Warp, a golden figure awaits.

We await his return.

A battle between brothers awaits.

Guilliman sat in the throne room of Macragge, gazing at the mountain of parchment before him, and sighed deeply.

In that sigh, there was weariness, helplessness, and a hint of—

A rare moment of relaxation.

Yes, relax.

Because at least for now, he doesn't have to deal with those life-threatening military emergencies.

Since the Silent King announced his intention to "negotiate," the heart of the entire Imperium — Terra —has been on high alert.

Countless fleets were mobilized from every corner of the Milky Way, countless soldiers were urgently recalled from various war zones, and countless defensive fortifications were reinforced day and night.

Fearing that the madman who had defeated the C'tan 65 million years ago might unleash his ultimate move at point-blank range and give Terra an instant burst, they decided to confront him directly.

Guilliman found the thought of that scene thrilling.

But he can't gamble.

So he mobilized troops.

A large number of troops were mobilized.

He left 1.5 million Ultramarines in Macragge.

One million Ultramarines were dispatched to Terra.

besides--

Cough cough.

He secretly hid another 500,000 in various corners of the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar.

He didn't tell anyone about this.

The Emperor was unaware.

Malcador didn't know.

His brothers were even less aware of it.

But there's nothing I can do!

The Four Chaos Gods are watching with Eye of Terror eyes, Abaddon is still crouching in the Eye of Terror, the Tyranids send fleets over for "tours" every now and then, and now the Necron Empire wants to negotiate—

He wouldn't feel at ease unless he kept some cards up his sleeve.

A few days ago, he accidentally let it slip during a conversation with Malcador.

Malcador's face turned green immediately.

"Didn't you say it was only two million?!"

His voice, coming through the communicator, made Guilliman's ears hurt:

"How did you manage to secretly hoard another 500,000?!"

Guilliman could only manage a forced laugh.

"That... unexpected, an accident..."

Malcador's expression was priceless.

Behind him, one could vaguely see the Emperor's gaunt face, and his brow seemed to twitch slightly.

Guilliman quickly hung up the call.

Thinking about it now, I still feel a little scared.

But there's nothing we can do.

What's a little blame if it's for the future of humanity?

He picked up a piece of parchment and continued reviewing it.

Outside the window, sunlight streamed into the city of Macragge.

That is the most prosperous planet in the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, the most dazzling pearl of human civilization on the eastern side of the Milky Way.

Countless buildings shimmered with golden light under the sun, countless spaceships crisscrossed the city's skies, countless...

Humans are living and working in peace and contentment here.

Guilliman looked out the window, a slight smile playing on his lips.

That was his life's work.

That was his pride.

That was the home he built himself.

Ten thousand years ago, he established the Second Imperium here.

Ten thousand years later, he rebuilt the Ultramarines ' home here.

Today, Ultramar has completely changed.

Five hundred worlds, each of which has undergone genetic purification.

What is gene purification?

It means eliminating all unstable genes, genes that are prone to mutation, and genes that may harbor Chaos contamination.

What remains is the purest Old Terra bloodline—humanity's most primal, purest, and most powerful genes.

And his Gene-seed is known for its stability.

The Ultramarines ' Gene-seed are among the most stable of all Primarch.

The implantation success rate is extremely high, postoperative side effects are minimal, and subsequent maintenance is extremely simple.

In addition, there were the repair chambers he developed—

As long as you don't die on the spot, you can lie down and soak in it, and you'll come out lively and energetic.

Surgical mortality rate?

What is that?

It does not exist.

Guilliman's Gene-seed posed absolutely no risk of rejection to the Old Terra human bloodline.

If you truly reject it--

Congratulations!

You have successfully found a traitor to Chaos.

Killing him on the spot was the best outcome for him.

Therefore, with such a combination of measures, replenishing the ranks of the Ultramarines is no longer a problem.

No, it should be said--

That's no longer a problem.

Other legions, after occupying a planet, had to test, modify, and observe it one by one.

The mortality rate was ridiculously high; if three out of ten volunteers survived, it was considered a stroke of good luck.

Meanwhile, on Guilliman's side—

As long as you are of the right age and physically fit to be a soldier, you will immediately undergo a complete elite transformation surgery.

Fifteen minutes.

It only takes fifteen minutes.

An ordinary Macragge youth can be transformed into a fully armed Ultramarines.

The speed at which they mass-produce units is terrifying, almost on par with the Tyranids.

No, they're even more terrifying Tyranids.

It takes at least a month or two for the Tyranids to hatch a new creature.

On his end, fifteen minutes.