Terra, beneath the Imperial Palace, deep within the Webway.
After a brief respite, the rhythm of battle often gave way to even fiercer assaults.
Beneath the blessed radiance of the God-Emperor and through everyone's combined efforts, the foul tide of Abyssal Corruption was firmly held outside the hastily constructed defensive line.
The viscous darkness was driven back again and again, leaving puddles of black residue upon the Webway that rapidly evaporated, only to continually gather anew.
Behind the line, the troops rotated efficiently.
This had been Kieran's demand. It was not merely for rest, but an iron law that every rational being had to obey—after prolonged exposure to the whispers and visual onslaught of Abyssal Corruption, even the most steadfast Adeptus Custodes would gradually see the bulwark of their souls eroded.
Every warrior rotated off the line bore indelible exhaustion in their eyes, along with a trace of frenzied madness forcibly held down. They needed to return to the rear and slowly recover their mental resistance.
At that moment, a particularly conspicuous group entered the Webway front.
At their head stood Roboute Guilliman, clad in the Armor of Fate and holding the Emperor's Sword.
Guilliman's face was filled with gravity and an indescribable shock.
This was the first time he had truly stepped into the Emperor's deepest secret.
The magnificent yet utterly shattered Webway before him, along with the terrifying pressure from the other side that could annihilate an entire species, made him deeply understand the terrible price the Imperium of Man had paid for this unfinished dream—the eternal torment of his father was among its heaviest costs.
His gaze swept across the battlefield and was quickly drawn to a special presence.
At the forefront of the Binding Legion, wreathed in psychic flames, a towering headless figure stood out sharply.