Chapter 459: Cawl's Resurrection Plan! Death and Rebirth! The Dispute!
Archmagos Cawl and Yvraine's surgical plan was this: first, they would interrupt the stasis field sustaining Guilliman's life and transfer it into the Armor of Fate.
Next, Yvraine would drive a dagger infused with the power of the Death God into Guilliman's throat, ending his half-living state completely and allowing him to truly die.
Immediately after, Yvraine would guide Guilliman's soul back into his body using the power of the Aeldari Death God. Meanwhile, the Armor of Fate would restore his flesh to perfection, achieving the miracle of death and resurrection.
The entire process was death first, then life.
Yet such a mad scheme was something no patient's kin would ever accept.
After all, who could bear responsibility if it failed?
Guilliman was the faith and backbone of the Ultramarines. For ten thousand years, countless warriors of the Chapter had come to the stasis chamber to pay homage.
Though Guilliman lingered in a half-dead state, as long as he still lived, the soul of the Chapter had not dispersed. That single breath of life was enough to help them stand against the ravages of the Chaos legions.
To the Ultramarines, Guilliman's importance was beyond question.
If Archmagos Cawl revealed even the slightest intent to kill Guilliman, Calgar would immediately draw his chainsword and strike down these lunatics, shattering the carefully prepared plan Cawl and Yvraine had devised.
Cawl had considered trying to persuade Calgar, but Macragge had no time left to spare.
Every second they delayed debating the surgical plan, the Chaos army outside might suddenly breach the defenses and reduce the fortress to ash.
At that moment, doubt and shock rippled swiftly through the gathered crowd.
"You claim you made a pact with the Primarch ten thousand years ago? What proof do you have?" Calgar frowned deeply, questioning Cawl.
It was not that he disbelieved an Archmagos could live for ten millennia, but such a distant agreement had no witnesses.
This supposed pact was known only to the slumbering Guilliman and Cawl himself—no third party could testify.
"If you demand evidence, then I can only show you this machine. The Armor of Fate, which I spent ten thousand years painstakingly creating, is the only proof."
Cawl sighed. If he truly had some other evidence, he would hardly need to waste words with Calgar.
"What use is this machine? And what are you planning to do with it?" Calgar could tell that it was likely meant for Guilliman to wear.
But he did not understand—what good would it do for a comatose Guilliman to don such armor? Could it really bring him back from death?
Until he fully understood their intentions, Calgar would not allow Cawl's group anywhere near the stasis field.
"I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you. To fulfill my promise, this matter must remain highly confidential. The fewer who know, the better."
Cawl shook his head. With the lackeys of the Ruinous Powers rampaging across the galaxy, who could say there wasn't a traitor lurking even among the Ultramarines?
If word of Guilliman's resurrection leaked, the Dark Gods would surely do everything in their power to obstruct it.
More importantly, once such a plan became public, it would inevitably split the Chapter—some would support risking everything to restore their Primarch, while others would reject it out of caution.
For all these reasons, Cawl had to remain utterly tight-lipped.
"You must tell me the truth. Otherwise, I will never allow you to bring this unknown contraption near the Primarch!"
Calgar's tone suddenly rose, his eyes sharp as he glared at Cawl and his companions, trying to force compliance.
Just then, a massive explosion boomed not far from the inner hall, the thunderous shockwave shaking the vast chamber for several seconds.
The Chaos assault had already reached this place. For Calgar, already vexed and anxious, this was the final spark of fury.
Cawl tried to speak further, but Calgar refused to give him the chance.
Face dark as stone, Calgar harshly ordered his Astartes to detain everyone present. Once they had purged the Chaos filth outside, he would interrogate these suspicious figures at leisure.
In the next moment, over a dozen Ultramarines raised their boltguns, commanding Cawl and his group to move.
"Wait."
Suddenly Calgar halted them. Cawl thought he had relented, that perhaps he would allow them to attempt the procedure—but Calgar's next words chilled him to the core.
"Execute the two dangerous xenos. Better to be rid of them now than risk them causing trouble at our backs."
His piercing gaze fixed on Yvraine and the crimson-armored warrior beside her.
Though Yvraine was indeed beautiful, to Calgar, no matter how fair, a xenos was still a xenos—and all xenos deserved only death.
At those words, the crimson warrior at Yvraine's side instantly drew his Howling Blade, standing against the surrounding Astartes.
This was Larrien Star speaker, once an Avenger Exarch of the Shrine of the Silent Blades, and Yvraine's teacher. As an Aeldari of the Craftworlds, Larrien possessed swordsmanship of unmatched brilliance.
If battle broke out, these mere dozen Astartes could never hold back his blade.
As the standoff escalated, Saint Celestine sought to defuse the situation. With solemn expression, she addressed Calgar:
"Honored Chapter Master, we have come here guided by the Emperor's will. The God-Emperor Himself has sanctioned Archmagos Cawl and Yvraine. I beg you—"
Before she could finish, Calgar cut her off with a harsh bark, shattering her words: "Until your identity is verified, you have no right to speak on their behalf!"
Among the Imperium, a Living Saint held exalted status, regarded as the Emperor's vessel and messenger.
Ordinarily, Celestine's words would carry weight. For the Emperor's sake if nothing else, Calgar should have granted her respect.
But Calgar had never witnessed her receiving the Emperor's blessing, nor even heard of such a figure.
The Horus Heresy ten millennia ago had wrecked the Imperium's governance and communications. Information now spread slowly, and regions ruled themselves in isolation.
Thus, Calgar's suspicion of Celestine's identity was natural.
He already suspected that Cawl, that oil-soaked lunatic, was up to madness again. Now two xenos stood at his side with unclear intentions. Who wouldn't first move to secure them?
Confronted with his distrust, Celestine was momentarily struck dumb.
She had no way to prove herself—unless the God-Emperor chose to bestow His light at that very moment.
"Calgar."
Suddenly, Chief Librarian Tigurius stepped forward. "Do you remember the prophecy I told you? I saw many visions of the future. The coming of the Chaos horde was but one of them."
"There was also a flickering hope descending upon Macragge. Perhaps, in this very moment, your choice will decide whether that hope lives or dies."
Calgar turned to him in puzzlement. "You mean to say these people are Macragge's hope? Them?"
Tigurius nodded.
Calgar fell silent at once.
He could doubt Celestine's identity, but not Tigurius's visions.
If not for Tigurius foreseeing the Chaos invasion, the Ultramarines would never have prepared their defenses in time. Macragge might already have fallen.
Without Tigurius's prophecy, they could never have endured to this hour.
But still—Cawl and his companions were far too suspicious. Should he trust Tigurius?
Calgar sank into deep thought. Men of his rank often possessed keen intuition, yet today his instincts seemed strangely dulled.
BOOOOM—!!
Outside, the deafening roar of artillery rained down without cease, the engines of aircraft thundering overhead, fraying nerves and stoking agitation.
Only hours before, this great hall had been a tranquil refuge. Now, in so short a time, the battlefront had already reached its gates.!
At such a critical moment, it was clear that without new strength to aid them, they wouldn't be able to hold on much longer.
"Calgar, I am willing to stake my honor and my life to vouch for them."
Tigurius could see that Calgar's resolve was wavering, so he decided to press harder, helping to push through Belisarius Cawl's plan.
"If anything unforeseen does occur, I will be the first to strike them down myself, and then take my own life before you and the Primarch in atonement."
Hearing Tigurius willing to give up his own life just to support Cawl and the others forced Calgar to reconsider his decision.
He glanced at the Armor of Fate by Cawl's side. Perhaps this creation really could help Guilliman awaken. Even if only for a fleeting moment, it would still inspire immeasurable morale among the Ultramarines.
After much thought, Calgar gestured for his men to halt the arrest.
"I can take you to see the great Primarch. But the moment you stand before him, you must reveal the truth in full."
Calgar's gaze burned into Cawl. This was his bottom line.
If, when standing before Guilliman, Cawl still intended to play tricks and shroud himself in mystery, then Calgar would rather sacrifice his own life than allow these people to desecrate the Primarch.
Cawl hesitated. Before the plan succeeded, he absolutely could not reveal it. And if he exposed it in front of Guilliman, what difference was there?
He and Yvraine exchanged a look. There was no other way—they could only take it step by step. Anything was better than standing here waiting for civil bloodshed.
"…Very well. I agree."
Cawl gave his solemn word to Calgar: "When I stand before the great Primarch, I will reveal the truth of our pact. I will withhold nothing."
Do what must be done, and leave the rest to fate.
If they could not revive Guilliman this time, then they would simply have to find another way in the future.
At that, Tigurius finally let out a quiet breath.
He had feared that Cawl would refuse to yield, dragging out the argument with Calgar. The defenses of Hera Fortress were already on the brink. If the prophecy's hope was real, then it had to be Cawl and his companions.
But without Calgar's consent, even if hope descended on Macragge, it would be meaningless.
Seeing that Cawl had agreed, Calgar gave a curt nod.
It wasn't that he trusted them fully—not even with Tigurius' guarantee. It was simply that the desperate situation left him no other choice but to gamble.
For the Ultramarines, to die defending Macragge was the highest honor.
But if Hera Fortress fell and the Chaos warbands seized the Primarch, then the sin would be beyond forgiveness.
Calgar sighed inwardly. He could only hope Tigurius' prophecy would prove true—otherwise, Hera Fortress was doomed.
"Come with me. Quickly."
Calgar turned toward the inner sanctum, barking orders over his shoulder: "Agemann, I leave Hera Fortress in your hands. No matter what, hold until I return!"
Cawl's group needed to be watched carefully, and Calgar trusted no one but himself.
Captain Agemann nodded solemnly, accepting the sudden responsibility. "Yes. I will hold Hera Fortress to the last man!"
With that, Calgar strode away at pace. Time was running out—every second mattered.
The stasis field that preserved Guilliman's body lay deep within the fortress' sacred shrine. For ten millennia, Guilliman had slumbered there, receiving the reverence of countless generations of Ultramarines.
To them, Guilliman had become the very emblem of their Legion's soul. Many had stood before him to swear oaths of loyalty and eternal service.
The shrine was their holiest sanctum, a place untouchable, inviolate. Yet now, for the first time, a band of weary travelers was being led inside.
Inquisitor Katarina glanced around, taking in the shrine's opulence, so different from the stark walls of the fortress outside.
Statues and tomes commemorating Guilliman's deeds filled the hall. Reliefs carved into the walls depicted every triumph and sacrifice the Primarch had given for the Ultramarines.
While Katarina's group studied their surroundings with curiosity, Calgar kept his eyes fixed on Cawl, never letting him out of sight. Behind him trailed Tigurius, the Honor Guard, and even the Grey Knights—an assembly of warriors powerful enough to shatter or rule an entire star sector.
But Calgar could not relax. Not here. This was sacred ground. If Cawl made even the slightest suspicious move, Calgar would strike him down on the spot.
Yvraine, however, found herself entranced by the magnificent reliefs and frescoes. They narrated Guilliman's storied past, each carving imbued with solemn weight.
The grandeur reminded her of her own people's artistry, and through these works, she slowly came to understand Guilliman's legacy.
Cawl, by contrast, had no time for admiration. He was silently counting down in his mind—until at last he saw the figure he had come for.
There sat Roboute Guilliman, unmoving upon his throne. He was encased in the stasis field, clad still in the battle-damaged power armor from his duel with Fulgrim ten thousand years past.
At his right hand rested the Emperor's Sword, runes glimmering faintly along its length. It was plain Guilliman had been desperate when he entered his slumber, locking himself in with sword in hand, armor still rent and broken.
Yet to the Ultramarines, that very image spoke louder than any tale. In this battered form, Guilliman bore eternal witness to the pain of the Heresy.
Calgar stopped at the foot of the throne's steps and turned to face them.
"Now, according to our agreement, you must reveal the truth of your purpose—fully, with nothing concealed."
He fixed his sharp gaze on Cawl. "Know this: if I sense even a trace of deceit, you will not get a second chance."
At last, Yvraine awoke from her reverie. The hardest part had arrived.
How could they possibly convince Calgar to allow them to kill Guilliman first—only to bring him back?
Even voicing the thought could see them executed on the spot.
For a long moment, silence weighed heavy—until Cawl finally stepped forward.
"What I am about to say may be difficult to accept," he began, his voice deliberate and heavy. "But I ask you to hear me out in full before passing judgment."
After this warning, he continued slowly:
"Ten thousand years ago, I made a pact with the great Primarch Guilliman—to develop the Primaris Space Marines and to forge the Armor of Fate…"
The essence of Guilliman's pact with Cawl had been summed up in a single word: endure.
So long as they could hold on, buying time until technology matured, Guilliman could be restored and reborn to continue the war against Chaos.
But before that could be realized, Cawl was tasked with refining the gene-seed of the Adeptus Astartes, creating new Primaris warriors that combined the strengths of multiple Primarchs to fight the ruinous powers.
"Now, ten thousand years have passed. I have completed the Armor of Fate—armor that can heal the Primarch's grievous wounds. I have come to fulfill my vow and awaken the long-slumbering Primarch of the Ultramarines!"
Cawl's words rang out like a hammer blow. He raised his head, meeting Calgar's gaze without fear. He had spoken his purpose—though not the entire truth.
But even this partial revelation struck like thunder.
The Ultramarines were left stunned, their minds reeling, their thoughts overwhelmed.
Their gene-father… could awaken and return to lead them once more?
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