"What should we do now?"
A subordinate looked at Grey and asked.
Grey pondered for a moment before raising her head. "Burn the cultists here. Leave a force and relevant personnel responsible for suppressing the reforms. Then, we set sail for the Rock."
Regardless of the cultists' plans for the Thirteen Primarchs, Grey felt she had the obligation and responsibility to prevent those things from happening.
Crush the enemy's conspiracy in its infancy.
The Thirteen Primarchs are the hope of humanity, and also its future.
If he were to suffer misfortune, it would undoubtedly deal an unimaginable blow to the cause of humanity's rise.
Currently, various star sectors and numerous worlds are responding to the Primarch.
With continuous victories, the Primarch's approval rating is also getting higher and higher.
Sweeping away the orks and the necrons, Guilliman has displayed an invincible winning stance.
Coupled with the images of a grand military parade not long ago spreading throughout the galaxy.
Guilliman's supporters have gradually begun to outweigh his opponents.
Some nobles, even though they knew that the Primarch's various reform measures would cause them to lose a large amount of wealth and their original noble status, still fanatically followed Guilliman.
They would even cross the storm-ridden warp to pilgrimage to the fleet where the Primarch was located or to Macragge.
If Guilliman were to die, the turmoil it would bring to humanity would be absolutely unimaginable.
It could even split the reformists and conservatives, causing them to ignite a massive civil war at such a critical moment for the Imperium, a war that could lead to humanity's extinction.
The fleet led by Grey quickly departed from Hell's Gate Station 5.
To prevent the cult from making a comeback, she left some troops and officials there.
These people will fulfill their duties, reform Hell's Gate 5, and reincorporate it into Guilliman's Imperial system.
Macragge's Glory was still navigating the warp with difficulty.
An unprecedented warp storm was obstructing Guilliman's advance.
Guilliman stood by a porthole in his strategy meeting room.
When conducting warp travel, all portholes needed to have their shutters lowered to prevent the malevolent warp from poisoning those with insufficient willpower.
But the shutter in front of Guilliman was not lowered.
He stood by the porthole, staring directly into the warp.
It was a very strange feeling, as if looking through life and death.
The warp gathered all mystery and the impossible.
All non-natural forces that humans could imagine originated from here.
Magic, immortal arts, and so on, recorded in ancient books, all originated from this mysterious, incomprehensible space.
In ancient times, the warp was also referred to as the celestial realm, the abode of the gods.
Unrealistic things in mythology like the Gods, Mount Olympus, Paradise, Dream, and Hell are said to be in this space between illusion and reality.
Staring directly into the warp brought a special feeling to Guilliman's heart.
His soul and consciousness existed simultaneously in two worlds.
Guilliman knew very well that the Primarchs were created from a mixture of materials from two worlds.
An ordinary person who glances at the warp will involuntarily experience distortion and change, descending into madness and corruption.
But Guilliman would not.
He inherently belonged to the warp.
The Emperor merely shaped him using forbidden knowledge and mysterious power.
Sanguinius, the Lion, including the arch-traitor Horus, were all the same.
Everyone who looked directly into the warp saw different things.
Some would see an endless grassland, lush and full of life, with countless people standing on the ground waving at him.
Others would see a vast ocean, surging and raging, incredibly violent, as if to swallow everything.
Others would see terrifying monsters, extremely huge, as if they could swallow the starry sky and destroy everything.
These are all part of the warp; it gathers people's dreams, every fleeting thought, every instantaneous emotion that is revealed.
"My lord, you shouldn't do this," a slightly weak voice came, and without waiting for Guilliman's response, he reached out and pressed the shutter switch, closing the porthole in front of Guilliman.
Guilliman turned around and saw Roshan, dressed in a robe.
His face showed fatigue.
Astropaths wield extraordinary power; they are the psykers humanity once fantasized about.
Logically speaking, they should be stronger and wiser.
Unfortunately, the warp is no longer calm, and any creature that borrows power from it must pay a heavy price.
Astropaths are no exception; the warp storms are pressuring them.
Forcing them to pay a heavy price, becoming increasingly weak.
"How is the situation, Roshan?" Guilliman did not mind Roshan's presumptuous action but walked back to his seat and inquired about the astropathic contact information.
Staring directly into the warp is a terrifying thing.
Anyone who attempts to do so is a fool.
A normal person would go mad within seconds and die a painful death in an inconceivable way.
Even psykers need to be extremely careful when peering into the warp for hidden knowledge or borrowing power. Otherwise, they will meet a tragic fate.
"The warp storm is becoming more intense, my lord. But other fleets have not encountered such severe storms; a mysterious entity is trying to obstruct our journey to the Rock," Roshan said. "Based on the current travel speed, it will take at least a month to cross this long distance."
"It seems they are anxious," Guilliman's expression was solemn, then he smiled. "The enemy is executing a conspiracy, and our delay is exactly what they need."
"Then what should we do?" Roshan asked.
"We can't do anything," Guilliman said. "We can only wait, but this also gives me a reminder: we must gain control of the warp. The feeling of being controlled makes me very uncomfortable."
Roshan was silent for a moment; it seemed he couldn't help with such a matter.
"Once we reach realspace, send messages to all units, instructing them to proceed according to the original plan," Guilliman said. "Do not act rashly to avoid falling into the enemy's trap."
"Understood, my lord," Roshan said.
The Rock.
Boreas vented his anger on a heavily muscled servitor.
Upon activating combat mode, the servitor instantly went into a frenzy.
Its massive scythe swung, producing a crisp whooshing sound.
Powerful leg muscles, enhanced by hydraulics, allowed it to perform various inconceivable evasion and jumping movements.
They were absolute killing machines.
Only war-crazed individuals like Space Marines would use these things for training.
Stripped of his power armor, Boreas fought back and forth with the servitor using his superb combat skills.
He was Deathwing, one of the most elite groups within the Dark Angels Chapter.
Soon, he overwhelmed the servitor, his short sword hacking at its neck, killing it with a single blow.
"Had enough of venting?"
A voice came from outside the training cage.
Boreas turned to look and saw a Dark Angels warrior completely encased in armor.
"I wasn't venting," Boreas said. "I was just training."
"The Grand Master doesn't trust you. To be loyal to the Imperium, he would even put the Dark Angels in danger, trying to cut off the Lion's bloodline, all for the sake of his name of loyalty."
The Dark Angels warrior said, "The Thirteen Primarch has resurrected, yet the Lion is still missing. How unfair is this? Now, the Thirteen Primarch is even trying to erase the power of their other brothers, clearing obstacles for themselves to ascend the throne."
Boreas frowned slightly. What blasphemous words these were, how could they be spoken here?
"Take off your helmet, brother," Boreas shouted. "How dare you utter such blasphemous words?"
"It's the truth, Boreas," the Dark Angels warrior said. "Why was it Guilliman who resurrected and not the Lion? If this is the Emperor's radiance, then the Emperor has betrayed us. If the Emperor has not betrayed us, there is only one explanation: everything is within Guilliman's calculations."
"To ascend the throne, he meticulously planned everything. After the Horus Heresy ended, the Legions and the entire Imperium desperately needed peace, and the Emperor's survival prevented him from taking the throne.
A rash rebellion might not have truly succeeded either. Therefore, he slept for ten thousand years, waiting until today, when all the time was ripe, to resurrect and prepare to pave the way and seize the highest power in the Imperium."
"Who are you?" Boreas shouted, rushing to the data control panel, entering the password, wanting to see who the Dark Angel under the faceplate was.
"I am the keeper of secrets, Boreas. One of the safeguards the Lion left behind long ago, a guardian to prevent his bloodline from being swallowed in the dark galaxy," the Dark Angels warrior said. "I will continue to watch you, Boreas. When you are ready, you will take on the heavy responsibility of saving the Lion King's bloodline."
With that, the warrior quickly disappeared into the darkness.
By the time Boreas came out of the training cage, the other party was long gone.
Even after reviewing nearby video surveillance, he couldn't find a single clue.
It seemed a mysterious force was active within the Rock.
Boreas' expression changed several times, causing him to clench his fists.
Would Guilliman really use the dark truth of the Lion as an excuse to purge the Dark Angels, paving the way for his own seizure of the highest power?
Boreas looked at the empty corridor, his face growing increasingly grim.
If it was truly as that daemon had said, what should he do??
Azrael had become so blindly loyal that he was willing to sacrifice the bloodline of the Lion for the sake of Imperial loyalty.
"I will absolutely not allow such a thing to happen." Boreas swore inwardly. He would never allow others to sacrifice the Primarch's bloodline for the sake of smoothly seizing power in the Imperium. That was a betrayal, a terrifying and complete betrayal.
He would never allow it, and he would never compromise.
For the Lion, for the Dark Angels, he would spare nothing.
There are many kinds of betrayal in this world.
One is overt betrayal, openly declaring secession from the Imperium and demanding independence.
Another is hidden betrayal, using despicable means for the sake of power to force some Legions to die for political ends.
Regardless of which kind, for Boreas, anything that concerned the survival of the Dark Angels Chapter was an unacceptable betrayal.
He could be loyal to the Thirteen Primarchs, campaign across the galaxy for the Imperial Regent, and fight for humanity until his last drop of blood.
But he would never agree to the squalid act of the Thirteen Primarchs wanting to eliminate the Dark Angels Chapter to consolidate their own power.
If Guilliman insisted on doing so, then he would fight Guilliman to the very end.
This was not betrayal, but the defense of his own honor, the defense of the Lion's honor.
Boreas remained in place, deep in thought for a long time.
After a moment, he glanced again at the empty, silent corridor, where only the hum of machinery could be heard.
Then he turned and left, heading towards his personal armory.
Every Dark Angels warrior had their own armory, storing their weapons and armor.
There were also servitors and Chapter serfs to serve them.
Boreas walked into the armory with a solemn expression and ordered the servitors waiting there to equip him with his armor, preparing for any sudden eventualities.
He would fight to defend the honor of the Lion, to defend the survival of the Dark Angels Chapter.
As the fabric of realspace continued to distort, it was soon torn apart.
A massive rift appeared in the dark, cold void, erupting with dazzling, malevolent light.
A magnificent fleet surged out of the warp rift.
Descending into the dark, cold void.
The number of ships was vast, enough to easily turn a star system into a dead zone.
This was an army that symbolized the might of humanity.
Once conflict erupted, it would inevitably sweep away and destroy all enemies.
Calgar's fleet was a little faster than others had anticipated.
Originally, he would have needed more time to reach the star system where the Rock was located.
But for some unknown reason, the raging storms in the warp had stirred up an ætheric current.
This ætheric current was very favorable for the navigation of the fleet he led.
A journey that would have originally taken half a month was completed in just three days.
"Jump complete." The captain of the Macragge's Glory shouted from his elevated seat, which had railings and was surrounded by numerous holographic screens. "Entered realspace."
On the main deck of the forward platform below him, numerous bridge personnel connected to their stations conversed with each other, sharing and updating realspace data at the fastest speed permitted by their respective mechanical components.
The cogitator-servitors, confined to their stations, trembled slightly, their faces contorted, mouths wide open, as if their entire bodies were in agony from the immense computational load.
The nutrient tanks containing the heads of Prescient-servitors flickered rapidly. Vast amounts of data were fed into their cerebral cortexes via neural cables, processed, and then outputted, forming a perfect closed loop.
Numerous personnel rushed back and forth, busily working on their tasks to ensure the fleet's smooth navigation.
"We are locked on." A combat officer shouted. "Six star fortresses and weapon platforms have locked onto us, and two interceptor fleets are turning."
Calgar stood on the bridge, his tall and imposing physique like a colossal god of war.
His gaze scrutinized the data displayed before him, assessing the Rock.
"Send out the standard Imperial challenge, state our identity," Calgar said. "Request permission to board."
"Understood, lord," said the communications officer.
Before long, the voice of Azrael, Grand Master of the Dark Angels, came through.
"It's been a long time, Calgar," Azrael said.
"It has indeed been a long time. Since we last fought the tyranids together, we haven't been able to meet again. The galaxy is so vast, once we part, it's decades, even centuries." Calgar smiled.
The Ultramarines had fought alongside the Dark Angels numerous times, and many warriors from both sides shared deep friendships.
"Is there something you need here?" Azrael asked.
"I have come to find the Primarch," Calgar said. "According to the last communication, the Primarch stated he would personally come to the Rock. I have some strategic questions, so I came here seeking his guidance."
"There might be an issue with the warp; the Primarch has not yet arrived," Azrael said.
"Perhaps he was delayed," Calgar said. "May I board the Rock and wait for the Primarch's arrival with you?"
"There might be a slight inconvenience. If you don't mind, I would like to board your ship and conduct a security assessment. The Rock has undergone several attacks, so I must be cautious," Azrael said with a smile, proposing the condition.
"That is naturally acceptable," Calgar said.
The Rock.
"Calgar?" Chief Librarian Ezekiel looked at Azrael, who had just ended the communication, his brow furrowed slightly. "Why is he here too?"
"He said he came to find the Regent, but the Imperial Regent hasn't arrived yet, which makes me uneasy," Azrael said. "I suspect the warp is deliberately delaying the Primarch's fleet, creating a time difference. If there truly is a warp factor involved, I fear they are brewing a terrible conspiracy."
"So what should we do next?" Ezekiel asked. "If someone is behind all of this, how should we respond?"
"Let's take it one step at a time," Azrael said. "Undercurrents are surging, schemes are intertwined. Only by remaining constant can we adapt to all changes."
"At this point, that's the only way," Ezekiel sighed.
Macragge's Glory Embarkation Main Deck.
Accompanied by a balanced pressure, a Stormraven gunship slowly landed on the main deck using repulsor field technology.
The ramp was locked, and deployed dampeners restricted the gunship's movement.
Azrael strode out of the aircraft bay.
Following closely behind was a neatly arrayed squad of Dark Angels.
They were his honor guard, sixteen Space Marines wearing black power armor with white trim.
The new technology from Macragge had not yet reached here.
They were older pattern Space Marines, not yet having undergone Primaris upgrade.
The Dark Angels surrounding Azrael were all elite veterans, the insignia on their left shoulders earned only after numerous bloody battles.
Calgar glanced at them; their bolters were already loaded.
Very much in line with the Dark Angels' style; they were always so cautious.
Always vigilant, scanning for surrounding dangers, no matter when or where.
"You are slightly different." While Calgar was observing his subordinates, Azrael was also observing Calgar's subordinates.
He keenly noticed that Calgar's subordinates were taller and stronger.
A more terrifying power was hidden beneath their physiques.
Especially Calgar, he seemed to possess extraordinary power.
Every movement gave off a sense of immense threat.
Facing him was like facing a colossal beast from the primordial wildlands; just his gaze was immensely oppressive. "We have all undergone the Primaris upgrade," Calgar said. "The Dark Angels companies that went to Macragge have also been upgraded. Haven't they returned yet?"
"No, there are so many battles in the galaxy; they are constantly on the move," Azrael said. "It's hard to get a moment of peace."
"Humanity is indeed facing unprecedented disaster. Many things have changed, Cadia has fallen, and a more terrible dark age has arrived. Fortunately, we have not lost all hope," Calgar said. "The Indomitus Crusade has been launched, and an unprecedented reform is beginning, which will surely stabilize the situation in the Imperium soon."
"With a Primarch leading, there is indeed great hope," Azrael said.
"Crisis contains opportunity. The Imperial Regent is our only hope, and our hope for entering a new era." Calgar's tone was relaxed, but his gaze was observing Azrael's face, trying to discern from his expression which side he was on regarding the Primarch's awakening??
The struggle between the conservatives and the reformers will become increasingly fierce.
In an irreconcilable situation, both sides will inevitably descend into a state of war, each accusing the other of being traitors to the Imperium.
"That is indeed true. With a Primarch as leader, the Imperium will surely emerge from its difficulties soon," Azrael said.
Calgar observed the other party's expression and demeanor for a few moments; there was no change whatsoever.
He also remained expressionless.
Azrael had led the Dark Angels for many years, and his reputation in the Imperium was no less than that of himself and Dante.
For such a figure, it was truly unlikely to extract their stance with such simple words.
Next, Calgar invited the other party to inspect the Macragge's Glory.
After the inspection was complete, he would board the Rock and await the Primarch's arrival.
During this time, he could also assess whether the Rock had any tendencies unfavorable to the Primarch.
If so, he would have to warn the Primarch or preemptively eliminate them.
Azrael also did not stand on ceremony and immediately ordered the Dark Angels who had accompanied him to inspect the condition of the Macragge's Glory, ensuring that no enemies were mixed in, attempting to infiltrate the Rock.
During this time, the enemies coveting Luther, the greatest traitor of the Dark Angels, were increasing. If they were not cautious enough, something major would definitely happen.
Two Dark Angels walked through the dark, deep corridor to inspect the warship's core power plant.
Their gaze was highly vigilant, without the slightest relaxation.
"We have no issues." Cyberos and a few other warriors walked in from outside the core power plant and spoke to the two inspecting Dark Angels.
"This is a routine inspection; we must eliminate all dangers," a Dark Angel said.
"Is that so? Then you are indeed very cautious. It's just a pity that sometimes, caution is also a mistake."
Cyberos said casually.
He looked at the other warriors, a smile on his face beneath his helmet.
He walked up to the Dark Angel inspecting the core power plant and whispered, "You cannot stop Luther's escape. The destruction of the Dark Angels is already fated."
Hearing this, the Dark Angel, who had been looking down, suddenly raised his head and looked at Cyberos.
A faint electromagnetic sound echoed within his helmet.
"I am Alpharius." The Dark Angels warrior realized something and tried to draw his bolter to subdue the other party.
"What are you doing?" Cyberos raised his voice and lunged forward.
The loud noise made all the other warriors look over.
They all saw the Dark Angels warrior raising his bolter and aiming it at Cyberos.
"Traitor!" the Dark Angel shouted, and pulled the trigger of his bolter.
But Cyberos was extremely fast, ducking to evade the fired bolt, and the activated chainsword in his hand plunged into the other party's chest.
This scene stunned all the other warriors.
The speed of the conflict between the two sides was so fast, it happened within just two or three breaths.
Seeing his comrade attacked, the surviving Dark Angels warrior opened his vox-caster, charged towards a nearby metal console with his weapon drawn, and roared, "Brothers, we have been betrayed! Decima has been killed by them! They want to eliminate the Dark Angels!"
Then, he opened fire on those Ultramarines.