Mach 22
The final test results left Guilliman feeling quite satisfied.
Calgar's current physical capabilities allow him to easily fly in outer space, and the vacuum environment will not affect his combat effectiveness in the slightest.
Ordinary Trum aliens can go two weeks without breathing, a trait that Calgar inherited very well.
The flight speed is approximately Mach 22.
In this respect, Guilliman was very disappointed.
It seems that directly injecting Smart Atoms cannot transform his offspring into a bloodline similar to that of Vect's mother.
However, this flight speed is already sufficient for interstellar warfare.
In terms of speed, it is about 30 times faster than a normal civilian flight in Old Terra.
A normal civilian plane takes two hours to fly from Capital to Shanghu, but the current Ultramarines only takes 4 minutes.
This is already an extremely astonishing speed. With just the gravitational acceleration, the Ultramarines could smash the Chaos Warrior into a bloody mist like pushing bubbles.
Unfortunately, Guilliman's original dream of traveling across the stars with his 250,000 offspring to become a cosmic savior will not be realized anytime soon.
However, after thinking it through, Guilliman was not disappointed. Now, his offspring were roughly equivalent to infants among the Vitruum people.
There's plenty of room for improvement. Give them a few thousand more years, and sooner or later they'll all be transformed into pure-blooded Vitruum!
In front of the most sacred hall of honor in Macragge, the square, as vast as a plain, was now so solemn that one could hear the faint sound of the wind rustling through the flagpoles.
Countless eyes—mechanical, human, and even alien—are focused on one point.
Belisarius Cawl, the Archmagos of the Adeptus Mechanicus, possesses a complex body that combines millennia of wisdom with steel.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone, with an unprecedented solemnity, he slowly bent his knees and knelt down before the azure figure in the center of the platform.
His synthesized voice no longer had the usual electrical noise, but was clear, loud, and filled with a kind of almost devout excitement:
"Great Lord of Macragge, Son of Hope, Lord Robert Guilliman! Your servant has fulfilled your command!"
He raised his head, his mechanical eyes sweeping across the vast array of buildings standing solemnly in the plaza, an endless expanse resembling a golden steel jungle. His voice suddenly rose, piercing the sky:
"Beneath this sacred square, your 150,000 loyal descendants."
"The warriors of the Ultramarines Legion and their sub-corpses have all undergone the sacred genetic remodeling, inheriting the new powers and bloodlines bestowed upon them by Your Majesty!"
"The sky will become their battlefield! Their will and fists will reach everywhere!"
He turned to the silent blue ocean and shouted:
"They are your sharpest sword and your strongest shield!"
And you are their eternal father, their great leader! You will lead them to conquer the stars and rebuild order!
"May all glory and courage belong to you, Robert Guilliman!"
"For Macragge! For Guilliman!!!"
Like a powder keg that has been ignited.
The 150,000 newly recruited Space Marines standing silently below, like a massive life form with a shared will, all knelt down on one knee in unison!
The clanging of metal armor against metal created a deafening roar that shook the earth!
They bowed their once proud heads deeply towards the figure on the high platform, and with every last breath they could muster, unleashed a roar that ripped through the heavens:
"For Father!! For Guilliman!!!"
The sound waves, like a real tsunami, soared into the sky, shattering the clouds that perpetually lingered above Macragge.
Sunlight poured unhindered onto this golden forest of steel, reflecting a dazzling brilliance that was almost blinding.
On the viewing platform, the distinguished guests invited to witness this historic moment were all filled with a turbulent mix of emotions.
Supreme Grand Master Kastin Alpha of the Grey Knights.
This legendary figure, who leads the Imperium's most secretive and powerful Psionic Energy warrior organization, is known for his icy composure and steely will.
But at this moment, his body, hidden beneath the magnificent Power Armour, was slightly tense.
He could "sense" it, not with his eyes, but with his highly acute Psionic Energy.
The 150,000 torches of life on the square burned so brightly at that moment.
The strength of the union between the soul and the body, and the purity and intensity of the bio-energy field.
He has already surpassed those Grey Knights recruits under his command who were selected from thousands and subjected to inhuman training!
What chilled him even more was that those warriors did not rely on Psionic Energy, but purely on the strength of their bodies, naturally exuding a sense of oppression.
He glanced at his colleague beside him, the Black Templars's Chapter Master, High Marshal Amalrich.
Amalrich, the supreme commander of the Black Templars Expeditionary Force, is known for his endless war fervor and absolute, unwavering loyalty to the Emperor.
His tall frame was encased in jet-black armor, and the huge red cross on his shoulder armor seemed to be stained with the blood of a thousand years of conquest.
At this moment, his rugged and majestic face, and his eyes that were usually burning with the flames of battle, clearly reflected a trace of shock and an uncontrollable envy.
He could see that the upgraded Ultramarines had an average height of an astonishing 2.5 to 2.6 meters.
Once they put on the Power Armour, they're like small mobile fortresses, generally approaching 2.7 meters tall!
This is not merely an increase in physical size, but a transformation in the very essence of life!
What truly stirred his heart, a warrior who sought to crush all heretics with absolute power on the battlefield, was...
The legion before us is displaying a terrifying potential to soar through the skies without any mechanical assistance, relying solely on its will and new bloodline!
This is simply... a divine blessing!
The Black Templars are forever on expeditions, forever in battle. If only their warriors could also gain such power...
This thought made him unconsciously tighten his grip on the sword hilt.
The two representatives from the Imperium's top combat power group exchanged a brief but complex glance, both seeing the heavy astonishment in each other's eyes.
This revitalized Ultramarines Legion is reshaping the perception of the Adeptus Astartes at a dazzling pace.
The Living Saint Celestine, with pure wings of light unfurled behind him, floated in mid-air.
The golden sunlight of Macragge bathed her in a sacred glow.
Holding the Emperor's Sword, she gazed devoutly at the high platform, silently praying:
"Your Majesty... Your loyal and noble Son of God has assembled his new and powerful legion."
The glory of the Imperium will, once again, be sown across the dark galaxy through the hands of him and his loyal warriors...
Inquisitor Greyfax, a powerful figure known for his iron fist and absolute loyalty.
Leading her formidable Sisters of Battle corps, they also knelt down in unison, facing Guilliman's direction.
This is not submission, but the highest tribute to the future of the Imperium, to the hope and power shown by this returned Primarch.
Even in the viewing area not far away, Yvraine, the emissary of the Ynnead Army, stood quietly with her silent red-armored warrior Thousand Faces, and a group of uniquely charismatic Reaper Host warriors.
Their gazes were complex, carrying a scrutinizing quality, but also a rare hint of expectation.
This new hope for the Imperium of Man, this "ally" with whom they have no choice but to stand shoulder to shoulder, is demonstrating a cohesive and powerful force that even ancient races cannot ignore.
All was silent; all hopes had been fulfilled.
Where all eyes were focused, that figure moved.
Robert Guilliman stepped forward and walked to the edge of the platform.
He was clad in the Armor of Destiny, the azure armor gleaming with a deep luster in the sunlight.
A scarlet cloak fluttered behind her, while a snow-white scarf gently encircled her neck, connecting with the cloak.
Beneath his short, black hair, his eyes, as blue as the Macragge Ocean, burned with an unwavering flame.
He is the son of tomorrow, the light of hope that pierces the sky in the darkness!