Ambush Battle

The cold starlight of realspace had not yet fully come into focus beyond the portholes when Destruction's barrage descended like a rehearsal! Countless filthy laser beams, warped solid shells, and psychic torrents laced with Warp energy lunged from every direction like venomous fangs at the expeditionary fleet that had just emerged from the Warp!

"All ships! Return fire at maximum strength according to the original plan!" Guilliman's roar was a stabilizing pillar amid the thunder of explosions.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The prepared Imperial warships endured the first wave of saturating fire with their Void Shields, which let out piercing shrieks on the verge of breaking, even as the flames of vengeance erupted!

Macrocannons thundered, lance batteries tore through the Void, and their shots struck the exposed Chaos warships with precision.

Violent explosions blossomed in the Void, instantly throwing the Chaos fleet's ambush formation into disarray!

One raider broke apart under concentrated fire, twisted metal fragments mingling with severed daemon limbs as they scattered through space; another desecrated cruiser, its bridge struck directly by a macro shell, rolled out of control like a colossal beast with its neck snapped.

The anticipated catastrophe of losing more than half the fleet in an instant did not occur!

Though several escort ships and transports were still turned into burning wreckage by the unexpected crossfire, the main battle line remained intact, its counterattack fierce and orderly!

That was entirely thanks to Obi-Wan's terrifyingly precise foresight and Guilliman's decisive order to "ram through"!

Guilliman's gaze swept over the raging battle beyond the portholes before settling on Obi-Wan beside him, whose face still held a trace of pallor.

The gratitude in his eyes was deep and weighty.

By his own strength, this envoy from another land had forcibly torn open a path to survival for this fleet that carried the Imperium's hopes, even in the depths of despair!

However, Chaos's killing blow did not end there!

Just as the fleet threw its full strength into answering the frontal ambush, countless dazzling, filthy psychic runes suddenly flared in the Void! A vast Scarlet Maelstrom formed from pure Chaos abruptly took shape beneath the expeditionary fleet like the gaping maw of a daemon! An immense, irresistible pull instantly seized the huge Imperial vessels!

Macragge's Honour shuddered violently, its engines letting out overloaded wails. Like leaves swept into a flood, the entire fleet was forcibly dragged, spun, and pulled down toward the Maelstrom radiating ominous red light, leading into the depths of the Warp!

"Hold steady! Maintain formation! All engines, reverse thrust! Saturate the psychic nodes with fire!" Guilliman's voice remained calm, but cold fury burned in the depths of his eyes.

He recognized the aura of that power—Magnus! His brother!

The fleet struggled within the raging psychic vortex. Ships collided with one another, and shields flickered erratically.

Countless Red Corsairs assault craft, painted scarlet and brass and decorated with blasphemous runes, poured from the shadows of the vortex like a school of bloodthirsty sharks, descending upon the out-of-control Imperial ships! Boarding actions! Bloody close-quarters battles erupted aboard every vessel caught in their grip!

Guilliman violently drew the Emperor's Sword, its golden flames illuminating his cold faceplate.

His towering form shot toward the battle barge closest to the flagship, which was suffering a vicious boarding assault, like a streak of blue lightning.

Wherever the Emperor's Sword passed, Red Corsair bodies were torn apart and vaporized like paper.

Like a god of war descending upon the battlefield, Guilliman unleashed a golden storm of Destruction through narrow corridors and vast hangars.

His strength, speed, and precision had all reached their peak. Every sweep of his blade brought vaporized blasphemous flesh and the shriek of Chaos energy.

The Red Corsairs' mad charges were like waves crashing against a reef before him, shattered to pieces.

Just as Guilliman cut down the last Red Corsair champion to charge onto the bridge, the twisted corpse did not immediately die.

Filthy spiritual light gathered over its shattered breastplate, and a demonic voice filled with endless malice and mockery, as though woven from countless whispers, emerged from it and poured clearly into Guilliman's ears:

"Hehehe... Roboute Guilliman... great Lord Regent... the sight of you fighting here drenched in blood... is truly 'moving'..." The voice twisted with the teasing amusement of fate being toyed with. "But do you know... while you left Ultramar and rushed toward that unreachable dream of Terra... your cherished kingdom..."

The demonic voice deliberately drew out its words like a serpent flicking its tongue:

"...has long since been reignited by war! More fiercely than ever! More desperately! Your Ultramarines... your people... are howling and dying upon the lands you personally 'reclaimed'! And you... are powerless! You can do nothing! You abandoned them! Just as you abandoned the Emperor! Abandoned humanity!"

"Shut up, daemon!" Guilliman roared, bringing down the Emperor's Sword with brutal force and reducing the corpse completely to Ashes! Yet the malicious demonic voice, like maggots clinging to bone, had already burrowed deep into his mind and planted a venomous seed.

Visions of Ultramar falling, the Imperium collapsing in seas of fire, the Emperor's burning remains upon the Throne... countless desperate images began churning uncontrollably in the depths of his consciousness.

The demonic voice vanished, but the whispers of the Warp Maelstrom itself began gnawing at Guilliman's nerves like billions of venomous insects.

Daemonic temptation, guilt over sacrifice, despair for the future... all of it battered his will of steel without cease.

He remained silent, using nearly inhuman willpower to forcibly suppress his churning emotions, preserving a calm exterior as he continued directing the fleet's struggle for survival in this blood-red hell.

To find a way out, Guilliman led the fleet like a wounded beast, repeatedly attacking planetary outposts within the Maelstrom that had been corrupted by Chaos.

Every raid came with dreadful sacrifices, yet yielded pitifully little intelligence.

When the fleet's course pointed toward a crimson planet exuding thick bloodlust and ominous psychic fluctuations, cold intent to destroy burned in Guilliman's eyes as he prepared to issue the attack order.

"Lord Regent, please wait." Obi-Wan's calm voice rang out.

He closed his eyes and focused for a moment. Ripples of the Force spread around him. When he opened his eyes again, his expression was grave. "That planet... is a trap. It is alive. Once the fleet approaches, it will devour us."

Guilliman took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his urge to destroy, and gave Obi-Wan a long look. "Understood. Fleet, alter course and bypass it!"

The Warp distorted time.

The fleet did not know how long it had traveled through this scarlet purgatory. Perhaps weeks. Perhaps months.

The indicator lights in the supply holds had long since shifted from yellow to a glaring red.

Food rations had been cut to the limit, ammunition reserves were perilously low, and even engine maintenance parts were beginning to run out.

Clouds of despair hung over every ship.

If they could not find an exit soon, total annihilation was only a matter of time.

Guilliman's condition had fallen to its lowest point as well.

He still sat upon the command throne, issuing orders in the same steady voice.

But everyone who approached him could feel the suppressed strain and exhaustion radiating from beneath that blue-and-gold armor, like a volcano about to erupt.

His eye sockets were sunken, his eyes bloodshot. It was not merely physical exhaustion, but wounds left by his soul being continuously eroded and ravaged by countless whispers.

The fingers gripping the armrests trembled faintly from excessive force, his knuckles white.

With the last thread of his will, he was sustaining the fleet's crumbling morale while resisting the visions and whispers surging through his mind—things that would have driven any ordinary person mad in an instant.

Obi-Wan had been observing in silence.

He could clearly "see" Guilliman's resilient soul-light being wrapped and eroded by countless filthy, malicious Warp tendrils, its radiance dimming bit by bit.

This pillar of the Imperium of Man was slowly being dragged toward the brink of collapse.

And if Guilliman fell, this fleet—and perhaps the Imperium of Man's last hope—would collapse in an instant.

They could wait no longer.

Obi-Wan drew a deep breath, determination flashing in his eyes.

Ignoring the doubtful and wary looks cast by the surrounding officers, he stepped forward and stopped at the front side of Guilliman's command throne.

He slowly raised both hands, palms facing one another before his chest, and closed his eyes.

An unprecedented force, tranquil yet vast, began gathering around Obi-Wan.

There were none of the violent fluctuations of psychic power, none of the filthy aura of the Warp. Only an energy as pure, ordered, and full of life as the birth of the universe itself flowed forth—the manifestation of the Force!

Centered on Obi-Wan, an invisible energy field swiftly spread outward like ripples on water, forming an unseen shield that precisely enveloped Guilliman's tormented body!

"What is he doing?!"

"Psychic power? No! What kind of energy is this?!"

"Protect the Lord Regent!" the guards shouted sharply, Bolters instantly raised at Obi-Wan! Several officers instinctively reached for their weapons as well!

The atmosphere in the command chamber instantly tightened to the breaking point! Surprise flashed in Celestine and Evelyn's eyes as well.

Yet at that very moment of drawn swords and bared blades—

Guilliman's body jerked violently upon the throne!

His bloodshot eyes, filled with pain and struggle, suddenly widened!

The maddened visions surging within them vanished in an instant like thick fog scattered by sunlight!

The demonic whispers that had gnawed at his nerves without cease, like maggots clinging to bone, abruptly stopped as though someone had pressed mute!

A long-lost clarity and tranquility, enough to make him tremble, poured into the depths of his parched and burning soul like an icy spring!

"Ah..." Guilliman let out a long sigh that was almost one of release. His tense body slowly relaxed. The heavy exhaustion still lingered in his sunken eyes, but the shadows of madness and chaos had receded.

He raised his head and looked with complicated eyes at Obi-Wan before him, whose face had instantly turned paper-white, fine cold sweat beading on his brow as his body even swayed slightly.

He understood.

This Master had built a mental Bulwark for him, one that cut off the Warp's corruption!

"Master Kenobi..." Guilliman's voice was hoarse, yet filled with sincere gratitude and concern.

Obi-Wan barely steadied himself. He gave Guilliman an extremely weary but still gentle smile and lightly shook his head, indicating that he was all right.

Yet his complexion and slightly trembling fingers made it clear that what he had just done had placed an enormous burden on him.

"This corruption... far exceeds my estimate..." Obi-Wan's voice was weak, but it still carried clearly to Guilliman's ears. "The Force... has isolated it for the moment. If we cannot leave this Maelstrom quickly..."

He did not continue, but the gravity in his eyes said everything.

Guilliman nodded in silence.

He felt the hard-won peace within his mind, while also sensing beyond the shield the malicious Warp power crashing ceaselessly against the Bulwark like towering waves.

This was a race against time.

Before the shield shattered and he was dragged once more into the Abyss of madness, he had to lead the fleet out of the Maelstrom! Otherwise, all would be lost.