Crown of Vanity

The victory in the Ultramar Sector and the arrival of Hilling Empire supplies were like timely rain after a long drought, injecting a rare glimmer of hope into this battered star region.

Guilliman's staff keenly caught this faint yet precious surge in morale, and a detailed proposal was presented to the Regent's desk.

"A triumphal parade, my lord." An official stood before Guilliman, his tone steady and forceful. "Let all of Ultramar, every force that came to our aid, and... the entire crumbling Imperium know this: you, Robert Guilliman, the Emperor's thirteenth son, have returned! This will be a ray of light piercing the gloom of this dark age, enough to kindle hope in countless warriors' hearts and show those worlds struggling in despair why they must endure!"

Guilliman sat in his broad chair, his fingers lightly tapping the tabletop.

He was not a man fond of pomp and splendor, but the official had struck at the heart of the matter.

The Imperium needed more than supplies. It needed a spiritual pillar, a visible and tangible symbol of hope.

His resurrection was itself a miracle. If it could serve as an opportunity to raise the morale of an Imperium on the brink of collapse and unite those forces that remained loyal yet fought separately, its value would be immeasurable.

At the same time, it would allow the brother Chapters that had answered his call and traveled from afar to witness the Primarch's return and Ultramar's victory with their own eyes.

"Agreed." Guilliman finally nodded, his gaze deep. "This is also a window for the troops to receive necessary rest. Make the preparations. It must be grand, and it must display the Imperium's resilience and resolve for renewal."

He paused, then turned to Obi-Wan Kenobi, who stood quietly at one side. "Master Kenobi, would you be interested in taking part in this parade as an envoy of the Hilling Empire? It would be an opportunity for you to gain a more direct understanding of the spirit of the Imperium's people. Perhaps... you may also see its positive side."

There was a trace of barely perceptible expectation in Guilliman's voice. He hoped this envoy would see that the Imperium was not made of darkness and struggle alone.

A gentle smile rested on Obi-Wan's face as he placed one hand over his chest and gave a slight bow. "It would be an honor, Lord Regent. To witness the unity and hope a civilization can display under immense pressure is precisely what I wish to see."

The grand parade was held in the capital of Macragge's primary world.

That day, the sky had been specially adjusted to a clear azure blue, and golden sunlight poured over the magnificent streets.

Crowds packed both sides of the streets as far as the eye could see.

The people, whose homes had been shattered by Chaos, still bore traces of exhaustion and fear on their faces. Yet even stronger was an almost fanatical anticipation and excitement.

They waved crude homemade Imperial Aquila flags and shouted Guilliman's name. Their voices rose and fell like a tsunami, deafening in their force.

"Guilliman! Guilliman! Savior!"

"For the Regent! For the Emperor!"

Guilliman wore the blue-and-gold Armor of Fate and sat upon an open command platform forged from Adamantium, adorned with Imperial eagle emblems and Ultramarines heraldry.

The platform moved forward smoothly under the power of antigravity engines.

Calgar led the most elite Ultramarines Honor Guard around him, their blue-and-gold armor gleaming beneath the sun like divine weapons.

Space Marines from every supporting Chapter followed behind in imposing formations, their power armor painted in different colors. Their heavy steps made the earth tremble.

Above, squadrons of Thunderhawk Gunships swept low across the sky, their engines' thunder intertwining with the crowd's cheers.

Obi-Wan had been arranged on a slightly elevated viewing platform behind and to one side of Guilliman.

He still wore those simple ancient robes. They seemed utterly out of place amid the surrounding splendor and clamor, yet they gave him an aloof and tranquil air of his own.

He calmly watched the boiling sea of people below, feeling the surging power of faith and hope that had almost become tangible. A thoughtful light lay deep in his eyes.

The parade reached the magnificent Triumph Square, where the celebration would reach its climax.

At the center of the square stood a temporary speaking platform, covered in Imperial symbols and wreaths of victory.

When Guilliman stepped onto the platform, the cheers surged to their peak, as though they would overturn the very sky!

At that moment, an elaborately dressed official, accompanied by two splendidly attired attendants, solemnly carried an exquisitely beautiful laurel crown toward Guilliman.

The crown was forged from an unknown silver metal with a soft luster. Countless tiny gemstones were set into its intricate, sacred patterns, and at its center rested a huge deep-blue jewel that seemed to contain starlight.

"Great Regent! Savior of Macragge and Ultramar!" The official's voice spread through the square via amplifiers, trembling with excitement. "Allow your humble servant, on behalf of all subjects who bask in your glory, to present this 'Star of Hope' crown to you! It symbolizes your supreme achievements and the path of the Imperium's renewal under your guidance!"

The crowd erupted into even more frenzied cheers. Countless eyes focused on the magnificent crown, then on Guilliman, who was about to wear it.

However, at the very instant the old official raised the crown high, about to place it upon Guilliman's head—

Obi-Wan's gentle smile froze abruptly on the viewing platform.

His lake-calm blue eyes instantly turned sharp! An extremely subtle, twisted ripple, filled with the scent of fallen temptation and spiritual corruption, seeped from deep within the crown—particularly from that deep-blue gemstone—like the finest poisoned needle!

The ripple was so weak that physical instruments could scarcely detect it, and it had cleverly evaded most psychic senses. Yet it could not escape the Force's absolute insight into the essence of life and the balance of energy!

Obi-Wan's brows drew tightly together.

He understood at once—this was a carefully designed trap! A vicious ritual aimed at Guilliman's mind, meant to exploit this moment when all eyes were upon him! He wanted to cry out and stop it immediately, but the situation before him... was too precarious! Any sudden interference from a foreign envoy could be misunderstood, incite unrest, or even give the enemy an opening!

In that fleeting instant!

Guilliman slightly lowered his head and accepted this "honor."

The moment the cold edge of the crown touched his forehead, an indescribable vanity, sweet and cloying like honey, surged into his mind!

Everything before his eyes seemed plated in dazzling gold! He saw himself seated high upon the Golden Throne, with countless people prostrate at his feet. Great deeds even the Emperor had never accomplished were achieved in his hands, and the entire galaxy bowed beneath his will... An unprecedented sense of satisfaction, of standing above all things, nearly devoured his reason!

Guilliman! A clear, steady voice, resonant as a great bell, sounded not through his ears but directly within the depths of his soul! In an instant, it pierced the fog of sweet temptation, carrying unquestionable calm and strength!

Stay awake! That crown is poison! It is eroding your will!

It was Obi-Wan! Guilliman instantly regained his clarity!

The Primarch's powerful will was like a lion awakened by ice water, instantly suppressing the churning vanity and visions.

He felt it! The nauseating aura of Chaos emanating from deep within the crown! This was a trap!

Alarm bells rang wildly in Guilliman's heart, but not the slightest abnormality showed on his face.

Under the gaze of billions, he allowed the magnificent crown to be placed upon his head. He even gave the frenzied crowd a slight nod, triggering another tidal wave of cheers.

No one saw that his eyes beneath the helmet had turned cold as frost.

Without drawing attention, he issued an order through an encrypted communication channel to the Imperium's most secret psychic hunters concealed in the shadows. "Grey Knights squad, lock onto the official who presented the crown and secretly secure him at once. After the ceremony, I will personally 'thank' him for this 'generous gift.'"

At the same time, his gaze passed over the seething crowd and landed precisely upon the robed figure on the viewing platform. He gave a slight nod, profound gratitude in his eyes.

Obi-Wan gently nodded in return. Everything needed had been said without words.

The grand parade came to an end with Guilliman's powerful, inspiring speech.

The crowd gradually dispersed with satisfaction and hope, though a trace of frenzy seemed to linger in the air.

Yet deep within Macragge's Honour, inside a special isolation cell forged from Adamantium and engraved with countless anti-psychic runes, the atmosphere was freezing.

The official who had appeared so humble in the square was now tightly bound in the center of the chamber by several energy shackles crackling with cyan-blue arcs.

His head hung low, and his body trembled faintly, as though he were enduring immense pain.

Guilliman's towering figure stood outside the cell, with Calgar and several Grey Knights guarding his side.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had also been invited to observe. He stood farther away, watching the cage with a calm gaze.

"Remove your disguise, heretic." Guilliman's voice was like ice as it echoed through the cramped space.

"Heh... hehehe..." From beneath the bowed head came a twisted, hoarse laugh like sandpaper scraping, utterly unlike the aged voice heard in the square.

The "old official's" body began to convulse and swell violently! His skin melted and peeled away like a cheap wax figure, exposing a purplish-red body beneath, writhing beneath sticky pus and twisted tumors!

A powerful stench of decay, tinged with a cloying sweetness, instantly spread through the room!

"What a... delicious celebration... Lord Guilliman..." the creature hissed in an inhuman voice, its three compound eyes greedily fixed upon Guilliman. "Your glory... is truly intoxicating..."

Rage flared in everyone's eyes. Under their layers of surveillance, a daemon had actually reached the Primarch and offered him a gift representing corruption. It was a disgrace.

At that moment, an ordinary-looking amulet on the creature's chest, set with cheap gemstones, suddenly lit up with an eerie pinkish-purple glow!

An elegant, magnetic voice, yet filled with endless malice and mockery, emerged clearly from it like a lover's whisper:

"Ah... my dear brother..." The voice carried a sickening intimacy. "It has been... far too long. Seeing you enjoy the worship of mortals so thoroughly, wearing that 'glory' tailored especially for you, I am truly... deeply gratified."

Guilliman's gaze instantly became incomparably cold. His fists clenched, and the joints of the Armor of Fate gave a faint metallic scrape.

"Fulgrim." His voice suppressed towering fury.

"Don't be so cold, Robert." Fulgrim's voice remained flippant, as though he were discussing the weather. "I merely... sent a little darling to deliver a small 'gift of congratulations,' celebrating your 'resurrection' and... 'great victory.' Hehehe..."

The laughter was filled with naked ridicule. "Look at you—so imposing, so beloved... just like that one from before! Is that not so?"

He paused, and his voice suddenly turned cold and seductive. "Do you like the crown? It suits you well. That supreme glory, that ultimate power... if you are willing, it can belong to you forever, and perhaps... even more. Why struggle so bitterly beneath that rotting corpse, bearing this Imperium doomed to sink? Join us, Robert... embrace pleasure, embrace true power and freedom..."

"Silence, traitor!" Guilliman cut him off sharply, his voice crashing like thunder. "Your fall and betrayal are the Imperium's eternal shame! Put away your revolting tricks!"

"Oh? Angry?" Fulgrim's voice held amusement. "How... dull. But it does not matter. We will soon... meet again, dear brother. Not in some resplendent square, but in a... quieter place, one more suitable for 'reminiscing.' For example..."

There was a hint of suggestive malice in his voice. "...some silent 'little grove'? I will be there... waiting for you. Bring all your hope and struggle... and come see me, Robert. I promise it will be a... reunion you will never forget."

As his words ended, Guilliman's Emperor's Sword pierced the amulet, vaporizing both it and the daemon in an instant.

Silence filled the cell. Only the faint hum of the energy shackles and the sizzling of the puddle of pus remained.

Guilliman stood where he was like a frozen statue. Only his clenched fists and the cold flames burning in his eyes revealed the raging turmoil within.

"Examine everything carefully." Guilliman's voice was terrifyingly low, as though it came from the deepest abyss. He turned, his gaze sweeping over Calgar, the Grey Knights, and finally settling on Obi-Wan's calm face.

"Lord Obi-Wan, thank you for your warning earlier," Guilliman said solemnly. "It seems the voyage to Terra will not be peaceful."

Obi-Wan gave a slight nod. In the depths of those eyes that perceived all things was reflected Guilliman's burning anger and unwavering will.

He replied softly, "May the Force... be with you, Lord Regent."