Primarch

Having found the missing primarch, even Hill could not suppress his excitement. In an utterly exhilarated voice, he relayed the best news of the day over the communications channel.

"The primarch is alive. We found Roboute Guilliman!"

Every surviving battle-brother was overcome with emotion. These superhuman warriors, who had undergone complete genetic alteration and had their emotions drastically weakened, felt the presence of their gene-father once more.

It was a connection born of blood and genes. They sensed the primarch's presence, and every warrior's morale surged, their combat ability even erupting far beyond its usual limits.

Every primarch created by the Emperor was an exceptional commander. So long as they stood on the battlefield, all warriors would be inspired by their presence and fight to the death.

Guilliman shielded his sons behind him and charged toward the Word Bearers at a speed that defied all reason. Without using a weapon, relying only on his fists, the primarch smashed the fully armed Astartes' head completely into his chest.

Ceramite alloy was like clay before the primarch's strength. Those hands plunged into the enemy's body and crushed both hearts. The Word Bearer, casually kneaded in his grip, burst forth with a great spray of blood that drifted through the void, reflecting the slaughter unfolding around it.

The primarch raised the mangled corpse in his hand and used it to block several bolt shells fired at him.

Bolt shells could hurt him. Though they would struggle to inflict fatal wounds, he had no desire to take that risk.

He found a point to push off from and descended before another enemy like a bolt of lightning. His enormous fist punched through the heavy breastplate, and amid the other man's agonized struggles, he seized his reinforced spine.

Utterly brutal, utterly savage—stripped of reason, the primarch was like a god of slaughter. Holding the spine and head aloft, he roared with tremendous force, then hurled the spinal column and pierced another Word Bearer's head.

Hill picked up a bolter from the drifting corpse of a Word Bearer and fired continuously, clearing enemies for the primarch. He blasted an enemy attempting a sneak attack into fragments.

Guilliman grew fiercer with every battle. He slaughtered these loathsome enemies, simple straight punches enough to blow off the veterans' heads and tear their limbs apart completely.

Hill had never seen his gene-father fight with such ferocity. In his memories, Guilliman had always been composed, rational, and calm, a man who held every situation in the palm of his hand.

But this kind of primarch... was somehow even more exhilarating! In his sons' eyes, Guilliman's brutality and savagery became strength and fearlessness.

The remaining members of the kill teams gradually gathered around him. Another squad even arrived after receiving the news, and under the primarch's command, they successfully encircled and annihilated the enemy aboard the cruiser.

Hill confirmed his position and sent a communication request to the bridge. Airlock 88 opened under the Cogitator System's control, and the Ultramarines immediately returned to the flagship's interior.

Nineteen of the forty kill teams had lost contact. After completing their counter-boarding mission, the warriors came through the various airlocks to stand before their primarch.

"I have returned," Guilliman said, surrounded by a sea of cobalt blue. "They did not kill me."

The Ultramarines were immersed in the joy of their primarch's return, which eased much of the heavy atmosphere. They watched their gene-father's face. He was smiling, delivering an inspiring speech.

"In this moment of crisis, you, my proud sons, have withstood the test. You carved a bloody path through the enemy, and your deeds will be remembered by the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar. But—"

Guilliman stared at his Chapter Master's sole remaining arm. Gage was his most trusted and valued son, and he seemed more resolute and fearless than ever.

"But this day is not yet over. The fighting continues in space and on the ground. The reason you and I can speak here now is because more warriors are fighting in blood and fire. Whether mortal or Astartes, they are all launching fearless counterattacks against the Word Bearers."

"We will fight to the end. We will stop the enemy on Calth's surface, wage fleet battles in the void of the Veridian system, and make orbital drops to reclaim the Weapon Arrays that belong to us."

"The Word Bearers cannot bring us down. They have abandoned their faith and become slaves to the things beyond sight. In the Emperor's name, and in the name of the dead of Calth, we will punish every traitor."

The primarch's armor was covered in blood and frost. His remarkably handsome face was stained with the dust of war, and his dazzling short golden hair was in utter disarray, yet his speech stirred every heart.

He radiated an influence like the sun itself, compelling every listener to believe from the depths of their hearts. They believed the primarch would lead them to victory. They would end the Word Bearers' rampage and hang every rebel from the pillars of judgment.

"Father, your will is our mission. I am ready to launch the counterattack."

Marius Gage struck the Imperial Aquila on his breastplate with his remaining fist. The booming impacts embodied the Chapter Master's resolve.

"Resolve alone cannot win us victory, Gage. We need weapons capable of dealing with those daemons. Conventional weapons cannot effectively target them, so—"

Guilliman's voice rang out as he continued, "I will temporarily set aside the Edict of Nikaea. We need the strength of the Librarius. Only psychic power can more effectively counter psychic enemies."

At the earlier Council of Nikaea, the Librarius faction represented by Magnus the Red had lost the struggle. The Emperor personally decreed that all Astartes Legions were forbidden from using psychic power, save for Navigators and Astropaths.

Yet in this desperate hour, the Emperor's edict had to be rewritten.

Faced with the primarch's declaration, all the warriors expressed their support through silence. This even included the surviving Iron Hands and Nykona of the Raven Guard.

"We must restore the Librarius establishment. We need to rebuild the Librarius forces and use the power of the Warp to counter the Warp," Guilliman added. "Of course, it is already too late for that. Before we begin the orbital assault, I must pass on my intent to you. If I should fall in battle, you must carry out this order."

A disturbance ran through the crowd. The Ultramarines would spare no cost to protect their primarch.

"I suspect the Council of Nikaea was premeditated," Guilliman paused, then continued. "That council deprived us of our greatest weapon against the Warp. It is too much of a coincidence. It feels more like a carefully planned conspiracy."

"We must thank those warriors who overcame every hardship to warn us: Wayland of the Iron Hands, and Nykona of the Raven Guard. I must offer you my highest respect."

Guilliman did not overlook the warriors standing in the corner, those with scarcely any presence at all. He greeted them warmly and courteously.

"Corax and Ferrus, my dearest brothers—I feel their misfortune at Isstvan as though it were my own."

Among all the primarchs, Guilliman believed that if the Ultramarines fought alongside any one of the Imperial Fists, the Space Wolves, the Blood Angels, or the Iron Hands, they could win every victory. No matter the foe, no matter how desperate the situation, they could fight their way back from the brink.

Ferrus had been the strongest and most unshakable among them, but now he was dead, slain by Fulgrim, primarch of the Emperor's Children.

Guilliman had no time to mourn. What he needed to do most was drag every traitor before the Emperor's throne and make them repent and atone for their mad acts of blasphemy!