When We Meet Again

The comm channel fell silent for a moment, then erupted with even more frenzied roars and gunfire.

No one retreated.

Barok put on his military cap and drew his treasured ceremonial chainsword, exquisitely decorated yet impeccably maintained. At this moment, it was a true weapon.

He shoved aside the adjutant and guards trying to stop him and strode down from the command tower.

"Commander! Your post!" the adjutant screamed.

Without looking back, Barok said with absolute resolve, "From this moment on, there is no commander!

There is only a veteran of Iron Faith III!

You may choose to disperse and fend for yourselves. The Imperium will not blame you!

Or you can..."

He suddenly turned, raising his chainsword high. Its blade emitted a low activation growl through the smoke.

"Follow this old bag of bones!

With our final charge, let us tell those heretics that Iron Faith III will never fall!

For the Emperor!!"

"For the Emperor!!!"

The surrounding soldiers, officers and rank-and-file alike, raised their weapons with bloodshot eyes and let out earth-shaking roars.

There were very few who shrank back. The overwhelming majority followed their governor.

Barok led from the front, charging out from the relative safety of cover and into the plaza of flying bullets and exploding flesh.

He had a clear target: a Chaos warrior casually firing his bolter at the Astra Militarum's barricades.

He charged, leaped, and swung the roaring chainsword down at the lenses of that grotesque helmet with all his strength!

That strike contained a lifetime of loyalty, fury, and determination.

The Chaos warrior seemed to notice the insignificant attack. With casual impatience, he merely turned his bolter toward Barok, not even bothering to turn fully around.

The dark muzzle instantly locked onto Barok, helpless in midair.

At least... touch him!

That was the only thought in Barok's mind. His eyes were wide, and he faced death without fear.

"For the Emperor!!!"

Just as the bolt was about to leave the barrel—

BANG!!!!

An incomparably heavy impact rang out, like a meteor striking the ground!

The Chaos warrior and his weapon were hit head-on as though by an invisible giant hammer.

He became a warped blur, flying sideways at astonishing speed and smashing through three thick reinforced-concrete walls in succession.

He vanished into the dust and smoke of the ruins, his fate unknown.

Barok's chainsword struck nothing. He landed awkwardly, staggered a few steps, then looked up in astonishment.

Not just him—the entire clamorous battlefield seemed to have had its pause button pressed.

Both sides froze briefly.

Because in that very instant, a blue whirlwind too fast for the naked eye had swept across most of the battlefield at an unimaginable speed!

Everywhere it passed, those arrogant Chaos Space Marines—

Whether firing, charging, or slaughtering, they were like bowling pins struck by a speeding train.

They screamed and tumbled in every manner imaginable, precisely "thrown" by an invisible force in the same direction.

Toward the open cargo bay of the Chaos assault craft at the edge of the plaza!

THUD!

THUD!

SPLAT!

CRACK!

The sounds of flesh striking metal, armor deforming, and bones breaking came one after another, yet were strangely controlled so as not to inflict instantly fatal wounds.

Within only a few breaths, not a single Chaos warrior capable of standing remained on the battlefield!

Barok and the surviving Astra Militarum soldiers stared dumbfounded into the cargo hold of that Chaos assault craft.

In an instant, it had been stuffed full of piled-up black tin cans, struggling and groaning.

"You did well, sergeant."

A calm, rich voice carrying supreme authority descended from above.

Everyone looked up toward the sound and saw a tall figure in magnificent azure armor, hovering silently in midair.

Sunlight pierced through the smoke, gilding him in gold.

His azure eyes were like the purest lakes, and they looked gently down at those below, focused on Barok.

Barok instantly realized that this person was anything but ordinary.

His size far surpassed that of an ordinary Astartes, as did his ability to hover in the air, and that armor alone inspired awe and submission with a single glance...

"Your lives are far more valuable than you imagine."

Guilliman continued, his voice carrying across the silent battlefield.

"They should not be so readily spent at the hands of such filth.

The surviving Chaos warriors are now in my custody.

Next, lead your people. Treat the wounded, rebuild your homes, and restore order.

Then wait with hope."

Almost instinctively, Barok dropped to one knee and looked up.

"My lord! Thank you for your aid!

May I ask... who are you?

Are you... an Ultramarine?"

He had seen Ultramarines' colors before; they truly were blue. But this one before him... was far too different.

"An Ultramarine?"

Guilliman seemed amused by the question. He tilted his head and gave a faintly teasing smile.

"Ah, that... I suppose I barely count as one."

"Barely... count?"

Barok and the soldiers around him were even more confused.

By his presence and power, how could he possibly only "barely count"?

Seeing the confusion and reverence on their faces, Guilliman stopped being coy. He declared in a resonant voice that echoed across the plaza.

"I am the lord of the Ultramarines, the King of Macragge, and the future ruler of Ultramar's Five Hundred Worlds."

"My name is Roboute Guilliman."

Roboute Guilliman?!

A Primarch?!

The name exploded in the souls of everyone who heard it like a thunderclap!

Barok's eyes flew wide open, his breath caught, and the soldiers around him gasped and cried out uncontrollably.

"My lord?!

No... Lord Guilliman!

You... you have awakened?!

Emperor above!"

Barok was incoherent, trembling all over with excitement.

A Primarch!

A living legend!

A demigod of the Imperium!

He had descended upon this desperate battlefield and saved them!

Guilliman responded to their reaction with an understanding smile.

He raised a hand and pointed at the Chaos assault craft floating nearby, filled with "cargo."

"Hold fast to your faith, sergeant.

Soon, my legion will arrive here and bring order and renewal.

When that time comes, we will meet again."

With that, he did not linger.

Just as he had on Gracia, he extended his left hand. An invisible force field once more enveloped the Chaos assault craft and effortlessly "lifted" it.

Under countless gazes filled with shock, fervor, and disbelief—

The Primarch Roboute Guilliman held a captured Chaos warship aloft in one hand as though carrying a trophy, his form becoming a radiant blue star.

He shot into the heavens and vanished beyond the skies of Iron Faith III.

Leaving behind only a battlefield in ruins, soldiers who had survived the catastrophe—

And a legend, branded into every heart like a miracle, of a blue giant and the arrival of hope.

Barok Stryker remained kneeling for a long while, gazing in the direction where the Primarch had vanished, tears streaming down his aged face.

"The Emperor protects us... the Primarch has returned... hope... hope has truly come..."