Golden Age
That feeling of sudden relief from suffocating pressure.
The dizzying and blissful feeling of breathing in the air of "freedom" and "self" again is the most authentic portrayal of the lives of countless ordinary people in Ultramar at this moment.
They stepped from the purgatory of survival into a hopeful life as "human beings".
It was against this backdrop of a period of repression that life burst forth after ten thousand years, and hope spread like wildfire.
A young journalist named Elisandro Vallo from a family of civil servants in Macragge was filled with an irrepressible passion.
In his private notebook, he wrote the text that was later copied by countless people and hailed as "the first clarion call of the new era".
His brushstrokes initially trembled with excitement, then became firm and magnificent:
[The Golden Age Is Now – Field Notes from a Macragge Journalist]
... I once knelt before the family shrine, perusing the ancient parchment scrolls inscribed with secret languages and fragmented runes.
It vaguely mentions an era known as the "Golden Age," describing humanity as wandering among the stars like gods, where thoughts shape reality, disease and aging become legends, and the stars of art and philosophy never fade.
To me, it has always been a glimmer of light, a mirage suspended above the abyss of despair, a collective dream woven by our ancestors in the endless night to comfort our souls.
I cannot imagine, and I dare not even believe, that such an era ever truly flowed through the river of time.
Until his return.
Until Robert Guilliman, son of the God-Emperor, Lord Regent of Macragge and Ultramar.
Awakening from a thousand-year slumber, he transformed his will into a hurricane sweeping away decay and his wisdom into the dew that reshapes the earth.
I witnessed firsthand how a world cursed by radiation and toxic dust has revived, giving rise to towering, azure jade forests;
The murky, tear-like river has become clear again, reflecting the carefree smiles of the children;
The roar of the factory is no longer just for forging weapons of war, but also for producing tools for building homes and boats that carry dreams, all amidst joyful songs.
I saw the numbness, fear, and humble cowardice etched on the faces of the people by millennia of suffering melt away like ice and snow.
Instead, I saw an expression I had never witnessed anywhere else in the Imperium.
That is an unwavering belief that tomorrow will be better, and an affirmation of the value of one's own labor.
It is a steadfast and bright light that bursts forth from the depths of one's eyes after the dignity and hope of being born as a human being have been rekindled!
So, one late night, after returning from an inspection tour, I was alone, sorting through my observations.
As I gazed out of the window of Hera Fortress at the denser, warmer lights of countless homes than ever before, a profound, soul-stirring realization struck me like lightning:
The Golden Age may never have been a fixed, distant era in history books.
It is not some technological standard that must be achieved, nor is it an eternal utopian city, nor is it necessarily absolute peace and prosperity.
The Golden Age is a "state," a "vital sign" of a civilization's overall leap forward.
It is the Dreadnought expectation of life flourishing in a mother's eyes when she holds her newborn, rather than the deep fear of a genetic curse;
When farmers wipe away their sweat under the starry sky, their minds are no longer preoccupied with how to survive the next famine, but rather with which new crop to try next year that will bring an even greater harvest;
When a craftsman wields his hammer before the forge, what flashes through his mind is not only how the weapon will destroy the enemy, but also how this object will brighten life and bring convenience to every household in peaceful times;
When soldiers wipe their weapons in the morning light, what surges in their chests is no longer simple hatred and destructive impulses, but an ironclad vow to protect the hard-won peace and this vibrant hope behind them.
It is a race that, under the guiding star, climbs upward as a whole, with unwavering confidence and firm steps, displaying its vibrant vitality;
It is a state of being where every ordinary individual can clearly perceive the pulse of their own body resonating closely with the grand melody of the entire civilization's progress, thereby gaining an inalienable dignity, value, and profound happiness.
This state, which was briefly glimpsed in the myths of humanity's golden age, has transformed into the deepest nostalgia in the collective unconscious of every person who has suffered greatly, in their midnight dreams.
And now, under the vast starry sky of the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, guided by Lord Guilliman's constant and warm star-like guidance—
It is transforming from an ethereal concept into the air we breathe, the fertile soil beneath our feet, the bread in our hands, and into the clear voices and laughter of our children!
Therefore, I, Elisandro Vallo, swear by the honor of seven generations of Imperium servants who flow in my blood.
With all that I have seen with my eyes, heard with my ears, and felt with my soul as indelible witness, I hereby solemnly write and declare:
No matter how ancient texts depict the illusion of that bygone "Golden Age," no matter how future historians will judge today—
At this moment, in this place, in the beating heart of every citizen of Ultramar, in this grand epic we have collectively composed, entitled "Rebirth"—
The present moment is our Golden Age, unfolding with great enthusiasm!
May this era shine like an ever-burning star, and may its light forever illuminate the stars.
Until we dispel every corner of the Milky Way from its desolation, and let the flame of human civilization, in a newer and stronger form, once again ignite across the boundless deep space!
The contents of this notebook spread like wildfire. It contained no fancy official rhetoric, but with sincere emotion and profound insight, it accurately expressed the common sentiments that surged in the hearts of hundreds of millions of people in Ultramar but could not be spoken.
It was engraved on the cornerstone of the newly built square and set to music as a popular folk song, spreading throughout the fields, workshops, and the Star Harbor Wharf.
It has become the spiritual totem of this new era, heralding a "Golden Age" based on real struggles rather than distant myths.
When a copy of this notebook was finally presented to Guilliman's command throne through official channels, along with the latest production reports and armament lists.
The Primarch read in silence for a long time.
He made no comments, but simply placed it aside.
My gaze returned to the observation window.
There, the assembled fleet was bathed in starlight.
The bows of the ships all faced Terra, like countless sharp swords gleaming with blue-gold light, ready to be drawn from their sheaths.