Iron Faith III

His gaze turned to the stars, already fixed on the next planet ravaged by Chaos.

Drawing back his thoughts, Guilliman turned to look at Kai, who had been following closely behind him, his eyes filled with awe, confusion, and a trace of dependence.

The sternness on his face instantly melted away, replaced by that gentle, approachable smile. He crouched down and looked at Kai.

"Child, you have a choice now."

Guilliman's voice was soft, carrying respect.

"Would you like to return to Macragge with me now and begin a new path, or... remain for the time being in this homeland that raised you?

Of course, your mother will receive the best care, no matter what you choose."

He offered him a choice, his tone sincere.

But deep down, the primarch's calculations were clicking away.

Stay behind?

At most, he would enjoy a few more days of "ordinary" pastoral life.

Once his legion formally set out and the tide of Ultramar's reconquest swept through this place—

This boy, who had shone with the light of double blessings before a primarch and displayed astonishing courage, would surely be "discovered" and "recommended" to Macragge at the first opportunity.

The process might differ, but the destination had long been decided.

Still, appearances had to be maintained.

Guilliman understood this well.

His "adoptive father," the Emperor, had always been quite skilled at this sort of ceremonial "choice" on certain occasions.

Though there was often no real choice in the outcome, the process alone was enough to win people's hearts.

He needed to learn the bearing of an "enlightened ruler."

Kai barely hesitated.

He looked back at his unconscious mother's peaceful profile, then at the blue giant before him, as if he had stepped out of myth.

Finally, his gaze swept across his devastated home and the still-smoking ruins of the distant village.

His father's death, his mother's brush with death, the villagers' suffering, the terror of Chaos...

And the sensation of the lightsaber he had briefly held in his hand.

The blazing heat within him that he still did not fully understand, and the vast, starry hope brought by the man before him.

He took a step back and dropped to one knee. He had wanted to make this gesture before but had been stopped; now, he did it with absolute resolve.

He raised his head. His dirty little face held a solemnity beyond his years, and his childish voice struggled to deliver the most solemn oath it could.

"My lord! I do not wish to stay!

What this land needs is strength that can truly protect it, not a child who can only cry!

I am willing to become your blade!

Please let me follow you. Please let me... become a true warrior!

Fight for the Emperor!

Fight for innocent people like my father and mother, like the people of the village!"

The approval in Guilliman's eyes deepened.

He reached out. This time, he did not stop Kai from kneeling, but gently placed a hand on his shoulder, as though conducting an ancient investiture.

"Good!"

Guilliman's voice was firm and decisive.

"I, Roboute Guilliman, in the name of the King of Macragge and Lord of Ultramar, accept your oath.

From this moment on, your Destiny will be bound tightly to the future of the Imperium of Man.

Rise, my little warrior. The first step is to come home with me."

Kai rose excitedly, his chest heaving.

Guilliman then walked toward Kai's mother, who had been placed nearby and was just slowly regaining consciousness.

When the woman awoke, the first thing she saw was her completely unharmed son and the mountain-like blue giant beside him. For a moment, she was stunned.

Guilliman explained the situation in simple, calm terms and laid out his arrangements.

"Madam, your son has displayed extraordinary courage and potential.

I hope to take him to Macragge, where he can embark upon a path that will allow him to truly protect himself and others.

At the same time, I hope you will come with us."

Seeing the confusion and faint unease in her eyes, Guilliman gently added, "Please rest assured, Macragge is not made up of military camps alone.

There are well-developed cities and communities there, as well as places suited for you to live and work.

Moreover, the Ultramarines'... methods of training have changed somewhat from the past.

We do not require warriors to completely sever their emotional ties with their families.

On Macragge, you may continue to accompany Kai as he grows and witness his changes. It will be a new, safe life."

His words were full of sincerity, but also carried unquestionable authority and assurance.

Kai's mother looked at the desire and determination burning in her son's eyes, then felt the reassuring, trustworthy majesty emanating from Guilliman.

She was only a farmer's wife and did not understand grand principles, but she knew who had saved her and her son, and who had brought them hope.

Struggling, she rose to her feet. Though weak, she did her best to straighten her back.

She gave Guilliman a standard Aquila salute belonging to an Imperium civilian, her voice trembling but clear.

"Everything... shall be according to your will, my lord.

Thank you for your mercy and protection.

Kai and I... are willing to follow you."

Guilliman smiled and nodded. "Then let us depart."

He gestured for Kai to help his mother board the Chaos assault craft.

Though its interior was filthy, Guilliman used psychic power to temporarily cleanse a relatively clean area for mother and son to settle in.

Then he walked to the front of the assault craft.

Before the astonished eyes of Kai and his mother, Guilliman extended his left hand, palm facing down, and held it above the craft's warped prow.

An invisible yet vast field of power spread outward from his palm.

Like an enormous, invisible hand of force, it gently yet steadily enveloped the entire assault craft, dozens of meters long!

Then, amid the faint groan of metal and the hum of gravity being counteracted—

Guilliman simply held the heavy Chaos warship aloft with one hand, lifting it slowly from the ground as though it were a somewhat larger model!

Dust and fragments rattled down from around the hull.

"Hold on tight."

Guilliman turned back and smiled at the dumbfounded mother and son inside the craft, his tone as casual as if he were reminding them to fasten their seatbelts.

The next second, he bent his knees slightly, then—

Boom!

A shockwave exploded from the spot once more!

But this time, it was a far greater impact caused by taking off while carrying a warship!

Holding the assault craft aloft in one hand, Guilliman became a brilliant streak of blue light and shot into the sky.

He easily broke through Gracia's atmosphere, leaving the ravaged planet behind as he flew toward the vast sea of stars.

His target—the next battlefield that needed to be "cleansed" and "gathered."

The scene shifted.

This was a forge world satellite city-state named Iron Faith III, renowned for producing high-quality Astra Militarum soldiers and certain light weapons.

At this moment, however, this once orderly city had become a bloody meat grinder.

The city's central square and surrounding streets had become a battlefield.

More than ten thousand local Astra Militarum soldiers, relying on hastily erected barricades and the ruins of collapsed buildings—

Were mounting a desperate resistance against over a hundred Chaos Space Marines driven into a frenzy.

The dense beams of lasguns, the thunder of autocannons, and the explosions of grenades echoed through the sky.

But against the Chaos warriors' heavy ceramite armor, superhuman speed and strength, and precise, lethal bolter fire—

The Astra Militarum's defensive line was rapidly collapsing like butter cut by a hot knife.

Every minute and every second, brave soldiers fell. Severed limbs and fragments of organs mingled with the rubble.

The planetary governor and supreme commander, Barok Stryker—

An old veteran with graying hair but an unbending spine—stood on the shattered uppermost floor of what had once been the city council tower and was now the frontline command post.

Through the observation window, he watched the battle below deteriorate with alarming speed. There was no fear on his face, only profound sorrow and grim resolve.

He knew defeat was certain.

This Black Legion raiding force was clearly not something they could confront head-on.

Run?

Perhaps he could survive.

But he was the governor of Iron Faith. His soldiers were fighting to the death, his city was burning, and his duty was here.

He straightened his bloodstained, damaged uniform, removed his military cap, and solemnly gave an Aquila salute toward the distant horizon beyond the window.

His voice was hoarse but clear. Through the internal communications network, it reached every company commander and every soldier still fighting.

"Brave soldiers! Sons and daughters of Iron Faith!

There is no path of retreat left for us, nor is there any need to retreat!

Here, we shall shed our last drop of blood for the Emperor's glory!

May our souls cross the sea of stars and return to the Golden Throne!

The Emperor bears witness!"