Prejudice

Guilliman's fury over the Inquisition's foolishness had not yet fully subsided when an urgent military report, piercing Terra's false calm, drove into his nerves like an ice pick.

On the holographic star map in the command center, eight critical Warp nodes on the outskirts of the Solar System—vital links maintaining Terra's connection to the worlds of the Imperium—were displayed. Seven had now been stained an ominous crimson.

They bore the blasphemous mark of the Black Legion, the loathsome skull insignia of Abaddon, Warmaster of Chaos!

Only the eighth, Volus, still flickered stubbornly with the faint blue light of the Imperium.

But the surrounding star regions were hemmed in by scarlet arrows representing Black Legion fleets, like prey coiled around by venomous snakes. Its light wavered, ready to be snuffed out at any moment.

"Confirmed?" Guilliman's voice was terrifyingly low, as though he were suppressing an erupting volcano. He stared at the star map, his gaze sharp as a blade, as if he could pierce the Void and witness the carnage in Volus orbit.

"Confirmed beyond doubt, Lord Regent." The intelligence officer's mechanical voice carried unprecedented gravity. "The final encrypted distress signal from the Volus Governor's Palace was cut off seven hours ago. The orbital defense array's energy readings plummeted before the transmission ended, after which they were obscured by intense Warp interference. Analysis of fragmented data returned by surviving deep-space probes indicates that a Black Legion strike cruiser group has breached the outer defenses. Landing operations are underway."

Abaddon's intentions were obvious—completely seal off the Solar System and turn Holy Terra, the Emperor, and him, the recently returned Regent, into an isolated island cut off from the galaxy!

If Volus fell, the Solar System would become Chaos's cage. The Imperium's heart would hemorrhage until it suffered total necrosis! The main Chaos fleet could then drive straight in without obstruction!

"Top priority!" Guilliman spun around, the hilt of the Emperor's Sword humming in his clenched hand. "Captain-General Trajan!"

"Present, Regent!" The golden figure of the Adeptus Custodes commander appeared at Guilliman's side as though he had teleported.

"Dispatch your most elite Adeptus Custodes squad immediately. Send them aboard the fastest assault craft to reinforce Volus! Their mission is not to retake the planet, but to buy us time!" Guilliman's orders were final. "At the same time, order every Imperial Navy fleet awaiting deployment in Terra's orbit to assemble at once, apart from the forces required to remain behind! Destination: the Woles Galaxy! Prepare to break through the Chaos blockade by force and reclaim the node!"

"Understood!" Trajan offered no objection. He turned at once and issued the orders through his exclusive encrypted channel.

Yet just as Guilliman's orders were given, the command center's heavy alloy doors were violently thrust open, bringing with them a suffocating stench of bureaucracy.

Minister of the Interior Julius Voss entered, surrounded by a group of well-dressed senior officials with varied expressions.

Voss was somewhat plump, and his well-maintained face bore its usual arrogance and shrewd calculation, as though they had been carved into his bones.

Behind him came a representative of the Department of Justice, several conservative Senate members, and an Ecclesiarchy bishop whose eyes burned with fanaticism.

"Lord Regent!" Voss spoke in a deliberately steady tone. His gaze swept across the seven glaring red points on the map, and a flicker of barely concealed fear passed through his eyes before being buried beneath a deeper lust for power. "Such a major fleet deployment concerns Terra's security. Why were the Senate and Cabinet not informed in advance?"

Guilliman's gaze pierced Voss's face like icy steel needles. "Minister Voss, Abaddon's Black Legion has taken control of seven nodes, and Volus is in imminent danger! The Solar System is about to be completely sealed off! This is the highest level of military emergency! Every second of delay may doom Volus and destroy Terra's last route to the outside! The fleet must depart immediately!"

"Terra's safety is the foremost priority, Lord Regent!" Voss's voice abruptly rose, carrying an alarmist edge. "The main Chaos force has only just withdrawn, but who can guarantee this is not a diversion? Abaddon is full of tricks! If you send the main fleet away from Terra, what happens if the Chaos force returns, or... or if that xenos warship hanging over our heads suddenly makes a move! Who will protect the Emperor? Who will protect Holy Terra?! On behalf of the Cabinet and the Senate majority, I firmly oppose the main fleet leaving Terra's orbit! It must remain to defend the Throneworld!"

The Department of Justice representative immediately echoed him. "Imperial law clearly states that when the Emperor's safety faces a direct threat, all armed forces must prioritize the security of the Throne! Fleet deployments must be reviewed and approved by the highest governing body!"

The Ecclesiarchy bishop waved his staff, his voice fervent. "The Emperor's light protects Terra! The fleet is His shield! How can the Throne be placed in danger for some frontier world? This is blasphemy! Regent, you cannot act willfully!"

The conservative officials all nodded, forming an invisible wall of pressure.

They feared Chaos, but they feared losing control of this massive fleet even more.

Only with the fleet in their hands did they have the leverage to bargain with Guilliman, the powerful Regent who had returned.

The fall of Volus? In their eyes, it mattered far less than the balance of power on Terra.

The command center's atmosphere instantly froze. The Ultramarines guards beside Guilliman rested their hands on their Bolters as invisible pressure filled the room.

Just then, an aged but still powerful voice rang out. "Enough! Voss! Put away your political tricks!"

An old man with white hair and beard, dressed in the Senate's ancient robes, stepped out from the crowd. He was Marcus Aurelius, one of the few respected elders in the Senate who genuinely cared about the Imperium's survival.

Fury burned in his clouded eyes as he pointed at Voss. "Volus is Terra's lifeline! Once it is cut off, we will be trapped prey in a jar! The Black Legion can slowly starve us out and strangle us! You claim to be protecting Terra, yet you would personally squeeze shut Terra's throat! This is not protection. It is foolish suicide! It is treason!"

Aurelius turned to Guilliman and bowed deeply. "Lord Regent, there are still clear-minded people in the Senate! In my capacity as chairman of the Senate Emergency Authorization Committee, I support your judgment! The fleet must rush to Volus! There is no time to lose!"

Voss's expression immediately turned hideous. He had not expected Aurelius, that old stubborn fool, to emerge at such a critical moment and sabotage him.

His eyes darted as he weighed his options. He knew that, with the Senate divided, it was no longer possible to forcibly stop Guilliman.

He drew a deep breath and forced a hypocritical expression of compromise onto his face. "Since Senator Aurelius insists... Lord Regent, for the sake of Imperial unity, the Cabinet can approve your request to deploy."

Guilliman's eyes remained cold as he waited for the "but."

"But!" As expected, Voss abruptly changed tack. "The expeditionary fleet is too large. Sending all of it away would be far too risky! You, Lord Regent, may personally lead the Space Marine Legions and part of the rapid strike fleet to Volus! But the main Imperial Navy fleet must remain in Terra's orbit! This is the bottom line! They are our final barrier! Furthermore—"

He pointed once more at the marker for Apocalypse One, his tone hardening. "That xenos warship must leave Terra's space immediately! Its immense power and unknown intentions are an ongoing threat to the Emperor's authority! While the main fleet is away, it absolutely cannot remain here! This is a requirement of Imperial sovereignty and security!"

Leave the main fleet behind, strip Guilliman of control over Terra's strongest armed force, and drive away that powerful, uncontrollable xenos factor—Voss's calculations were both clever and vicious.

So long as Guilliman left with his forces, the conservatives remaining on Terra could use the fleet to consolidate their power and perhaps... make a move when "necessary."

The entire command center fell silent, every gaze focusing on Guilliman.

Senator Aurelius looked at him anxiously, while Voss and the others wore faint, hidden expressions of smug satisfaction.

Guilliman slowly raised his head. Beneath his helmet, his face was as cold as ancient ice.

He did not look at Voss, nor did he look at Aurelius. His gaze seemed to pierce the command center's ceiling and settle upon Apocalypse One in the Void, radiating holy light yet carrying the capriciousness of a queen.

Then he spoke.

His voice was not loud, yet it carried an absolute majesty capable of freezing souls and an iron will that could not be questioned, echoing clearly through the deathly silent command center:

"The fleet will depart immediately and reinforce Volus. As for you, Minister Voss, and the fools behind you who seek to play power games with Terra's survival..."

He stepped forward. The Primarch's pressure erupted like a tangible tsunami, bearing down on Voss and the others until they could barely breathe.

"When I return with victory from Volus..."

Guilliman's voice was like Death's judgment, cold and clear.

"I hope the position of Minister of the Interior will have been filled by someone with a brain, someone who understands what 'Imperial security' truly means."

He paused, sweeping his gaze over the pale officials behind Voss, then added word by word:

"If it has not been replaced by then..."

Guilliman's hand slowly settled upon the hilt of the Emperor's Sword. A low draconic hum seemed to answer his fury from within its scabbard.

"...then I do not mind seeing you off personally."

Silence!

Absolute silence!

Guilliman's words were like invisible warhammers smashing into the hearts of every conservative official!

That naked threat, that undisguised killing intent, that absolute authority belonging to a Primarch and Regent of the Imperium—it was laid bare in that moment!

He was not negotiating. He was not compromising. He was delivering an ultimatum!

The color drained from Voss's face. His lips trembled as he tried to speak, only to find that no sound would come.

The officials behind him were even more silent than cicadas in winter. Many unconsciously took half a step back, their eyes filled with incredulous terror.

"Execute the order!" Guilliman did not spare them another glance. He shouted into the communications channel as though driving off flies. "All fleets! Destination: Volus! Maximum speed! Move out!"

The piercing assembly alarm instantly rang across Terra's orbit!

The vast Imperial Navy fleet, like steel beasts roused from slumber, erupted with blinding engine flames. They turned, accelerated, and charged without hesitation into the Warp transit points, tearing through space toward Volus—the final node that would decide the Imperium's fate!

Guilliman turned, his blue-and-gold figure striding toward his flagship's boarding bay. Captain-General Trajan and the Ultramarines guard followed close behind, like an unstoppable torrent of steel.

As he passed Voss, who stood rooted to the spot with an ashen face, Guilliman did not slow in the slightest. He left behind only an icily cold profile and a lightly spoken sentence that weighed more than a thousand tons.

"Watch your mouth, Voss. Before I return, do not do anything foolish again. Otherwise, you will not live to see the day I act personally."

Voss shuddered from head to toe as he watched Guilliman vanish at the end of the corridor. A chill surged from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

He knew that the fortress of power he had painstakingly built was already crumbling before absolute strength and will. But he still had a trump card—one hidden for a long time, a card that could turn the tables at a critical moment.