War Mobilization

Countless communications signals spread through the Macragge system. Rogue Traders, the Adeptus Mechanicus, planetary governors—they all desperately wanted to know what had happened on Mustafar, and whether it was connected to the war order issued by the primarch.

To their surprise, their intelligence networks knew nothing about it. The connections they had accumulated over long years were utterly useless.

The governors of several other planets had even sent formal inquiries to Guilliman. Some probed indirectly, while others asked outright, seeking to clarify the situation.

Guilliman was the ruler of Macragge, but his governance over his realm was not an absolute dictatorship. A great many nobles still held considerable influence.

Distance inevitably diluted authority. No person or nation could avoid that.

All these inquiries were rejected by Guilliman's bureaucratic apparatus. In fact, even Guilliman himself could only receive reports compiled by Hill, with no access to the specific details.

The primarch suddenly felt that the surprise Lox had promised might turn into a fright. It had not been long at all, yet Mustafar had already undergone such strange changes.

"Forget it. Even if he turns Mustafar into a forge world, it won't be a problem. Let him do as he pleases. The sky isn't falling. The trouble Lorgar has brought me is the real crisis."

Guilliman set down the data-slate in his hand. Alarms from across the Five Hundred Worlds had been compiled and organized by data adepts before being delivered to him, and every piece of information pointed toward an even greater war on the horizon.

The Word Bearers were not the only enemy. Reports from intelligence agencies across the region indicated that the XII Legion, the World Eaters, had also arrived in the Five Hundred Worlds.

The World Eaters, formerly the War Hounds Legion, had once been an elite force. But after the return of their gene-father Angron, the Legion had become infamous for its madness.

The World Eaters revered conquering their enemies within thirty-one Terran hours—one Nucerian day—whether it was a city or an entire planet. Their methods were exceptionally brutal and bloody.

Guilliman's brother was one of the few primarchs who had not conquered his own homeworld. During his rebellion, the slavers had implanted him with a vicious technological creation known as the Butcher's Nails, making him extraordinarily irritable and savage.

Furthermore, according to battle reports transmitted before several frontier worlds were destroyed, the Word Bearers appeared to possess several new warships even more powerful than Gloriana-class Battleships.

Guilliman treated this crucial intelligence with the utmost caution. He drew and marked the screen with a data stylus, while the furrows between his brows deepened.

A colossal warship with a heavy, pointed prow appeared on the data-slate. Even as an extremely blurred silhouette, it was at least thirty kilometers long.

Three pairs of enormous armored structures, spread open like serrated teeth, extended from either side of its hull, making it resemble a gigantic trident.

Countless twin-linked laser cannons and macro-cannons glinted coldly. Turrets covered every sharp-edged metal platform, while the black maws of torpedo tubes along the ship's spine and belly radiated the chill of death.

This was an unprecedentedly massive warship. Even Guilliman's flagship seemed diminutive beside it.

When had they built such a new warship?

A vessel this enormous could only be constructed in the shipyards of Mars or Jupiter. The entire Imperium had not learned even rough intelligence of it until it arrived in the Five Hundred Worlds. How long had they been plotting in secret?

Guilliman's thoughts rapidly branched out as he considered the hidden implications. The more he pondered them, the more uneasy he became.

This was not a question he could examine too closely. Guilliman could not even be certain whether the Adeptus Mechanicus on Mars was still loyal.

To build a warship like this, could Mars truly claim it knew nothing?

That would be treating everyone's intelligence as something to grind into the dirt.

One head of humanity's double-headed eagle was Mars. The Adeptus Mechanicus had been persuaded by the Emperor to become an ally of the Imperium in the early days of the Great Crusade. They possessed immense autonomy and political power, and no one knew how loyal they truly were.

If Mars also defected, many human worlds would not even have enough weapons to resist the rebels.

Guilliman pressed a hand to his forehead. His temples throbbed painfully, so he simply set the matter aside for the moment.

"How is the augmentation of reserve recruits progressing on each planet? Gage, I hope I can hear at least some good news today," the primarch asked.

Marius Gage, standing nearby, immediately began his report:

"My lord, fifty planets, including Macragge, are conducting recruit selection. Eighty percent of the candidates met the required standards in previous selections but were not outstanding enough. They have already passed evaluation and need only complete gene-augmentation surgery to become Astartes."

"Our people are eager to enlist. By becoming Ultramarines and defending the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, our battlefield losses will soon be replenished."

Marius Gage spoke proudly.

Among all the Legions, only the Ultramarines selected Astartes candidates without reservation from every planet under their rule.

The Five Hundred Worlds did not consist of merely five hundred inhabited planets. It was a broad term for a sphere of powerful planetary powers with influence and productive capacity, and this allowed the XIII Legion to expand its forces at a staggering rate.

"Thanks to the stability and compatibility of our gene-seed, the candidates' augmentation success rate exceeds ninety-five percent. Several of our forge worlds are producing compatible organs at full capacity. I believe these young people will soon become glorious Ultramarines."

"What of the recovery of gene-seed from the heroes who died at Calth?" Guilliman continued.

According to Legion statistics, more than seventy thousand Astartes had died directly at Calth. Due to the chaos of the battlefield and their initially disadvantaged position, many Ultramarines had not even left bodies behind, much less recoverable gene-seed.

Yet given the enormous base number, a considerable amount of gene-seed had still been recovered.

"Only around thirty-six thousand gene-seed were recovered, my lord. We are severely short of Apothecaries, which has prevented the augmentation process from reaching the expected pace."

Gene-seed recovery was an extremely delicate task. It was generally handled by Chapter Apothecaries, who recovered the gene-seed of their battle-brothers. The gene-seed would then be stored in gene-seed vaults for later use.

Guilliman immediately ordered, "Explain the situation to the priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Assemble some Tech-Priests specializing in the biological fields to assist with gene-seed production and implantation."

"What is the state of our warship supplies? Our fleet has suffered unprecedented losses, while the Word Bearers possess entirely new warships we have never seen before. That is a massive gap. What is the Mechanicus's position?"

Gage immediately slowed his speech as he replied.

"My lord, the Mechanicus has stated that it has activated every production line. The shipyards and forge worlds on Konor, Macragge, Amatara, and other worlds are working at full capacity to repair the warships withdrawn from Calth, but as for the time required..."

"Other than lightly damaged vessels, all other warships will need at least three to six months of repairs. The Macragge's Honour will require one month of inspection and maintenance."

Though Guilliman had long known the efficiency of the Mechanicus, he still felt a wave of frustration tighten in his chest.

Time. What they lacked most now was time.

Repairing warships alone required so much time, let alone constructing new ones. That would consume years by the Terran calendar. By the time new warships were completed, the enemy would likely have reached Macragge.

It was foreseeable that, for a considerable period, the Ultramarines could only rely on the Macragge's Honour and the other defensive fleets in battle. Guilliman had to gather the warships scattered throughout the Five Hundred Worlds under unified command and prevent the enemy from defeating them one by one.

The enemy, meanwhile, possessed the Word Bearers' Gloriana-class Battleship, the Truth's Law; the World Eaters' Gloriana-class Battleship, the Conqueror; and an unknown number of trident-shaped warships more powerful than Gloriana-class Battleships.

For a moment, even the primarch's mighty heart could not help tightening in waves.

Judging purely from the numbers on paper, such a disparity in military strength was nearly impossible to overcome.

But the Ultramarines did not need to fight an all-out naval engagement. The star fortresses spread across the Five Hundred Worlds, and the planets armed to the teeth with Weapon Arrays and Orbital Platforms, were also obstacles the enemy would have to overcome.

"No matter what, every invader must be buried in the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar. In the Emperor's name, I will drag the traitors before the Emperor to stand judgment!"