Guilliman examined the corpse before him.
The power of the Warp was overflowing from Terra, centered on it, into the surrounding star systems.
This was not good news.
If this spread, it would likely cause panic.
One must know that the Emperor was the only being among humanity who could contend with the Four Gods in terms of power and strategy.
If even the sacred homeland was polluted, what hope did humanity have left?
After pacing back and forth a few steps, Guilliman cleared his mind, looked at the polluted corpse again, and fell into deep thought.
With the Emperor presiding over Terra, even with the massive bomb that was the Webway entrance, it was still the place among humanity's many worlds least likely to worry about daemonic invasion.
Now it seemed clear that some Chaos entity had entered Terra.
By destroying Terra, a more terrifying Warp rift would be created.
In this way, the existence of the two Eyes of Terror and the Great Rift would completely tear the galaxy apart.
All worlds in the galaxy would be completely fragmented, and the civilized races would become playthings for the Chaos entities.
The Imperium, spanning the entire galaxy, couldn't stop the Warp; after being fragmented, the situation would likely be even worse.
From Warhammer 40,000 to Warhammer Fantasy, humanity's destined demise.
"How many people know about this?" Guilliman asked Rhoshan.
"Currently, only the astropaths under my command and a few Chapter Librarians know," Rhoshan said.
"Issue a gag order. No one is allowed to spread this matter, or I will personally find an Inquisitor and have them sent to the stake," Guilliman said sternly. "Regarding this matter, I will show absolutely no mercy."
"Understood, sir. I will ensure this is carried out," Rhoshan said.
"Very good. I authorize you to dispose of all the contaminated corpses. Leave no blasphemous remnants. At the same time, tell those people that this is merely some biological contamination, nothing serious."
Guilliman averted his gaze from the mutated corpse and ordered it to be incinerated.
After dealing with this matter that could potentially shake morale.
The matters that followed were nothing out of the ordinary.
Following the procedures of the Crusade Fleet, the officials loyal to Guilliman began, as usual, to screen the surviving nobles.
Selecting those who had the courage to resist Chaos traitors or who met Guilliman's requirements.
These individuals would be appointed to more important positions and would push for reforms according to Guilliman's orders.
As for the nobles who did not meet the requirements, there was naturally only one outcome.
That was to be stripped of all privileges and become commoners.
Because of this, their emotions were extremely agitated.
"My father shed blood for the Imperium, he was wounded for the Imperium, you cannot treat me like this."
"Do you know who my grandfather was?"
"I have connections on Terra."
Guilliman paid no attention to these chaotic scenes and wailing nobles.
His officials had long been accustomed to this.
No one would willingly give up power.
Doing so would undoubtedly be killing them.
The officials of the Crusade Fleet carried out a systematic replacement of personnel in the Beta-Garmon system as quickly as possible, ensuring that this system would become a loyal supporter of the Primarch.
Meanwhile, after synthesizing numerous data and information, Guilliman found a suitable representative fit to rule this system among the decadent local nobility of the Beta-Garmon system.
A man from a declining minor noble family, named Tioch.
His status was not high.
But Guilliman didn't care; he was the ruler of the Imperium.
In these days when the Emperor sat upon the Golden Throne and many Primarchs were missing.
He was the steersman of the Imperium's highest authority.
He could promote anyone he felt would be helpful to him.
Perhaps some might object to this, considering it unfair.
But Guilliman did not care about the opinions of the few; he only considered the interests of the majority.
This was a cruel universe; humanity had to be led by true elites and heroes.
It's worth noting that this concept of 'elite' was not what the powerful nobles considered elite.
What the powerful nobles considered elite were sycophants and incompetents, products of powerful family influence and vast wealth, skilled in political maneuvering.
To put it bluntly, those so-called elites were just as ordinary as the common masses, with nothing remarkable about them.
The reason they held high positions was due to the merits of their forefathers or some distorted system, not their own abilities.
Holding a high position did not necessarily mean one was an elite.
Guilliman did not prevent those powerful nobles from continuing to compete for higher positions.
Yet, the powerful nobles across many worlds still harbored deep resentment towards him.
If those powerful nobles were truly the minority elites among humanity, as they claimed, then why were they afraid of competition?
The fundamental reason was that they knew their own limitations very well; they were not the so-called elites.
Once placed on the same starting line as the common masses, they wouldn't even make a ripple.
Elites were a minority.
They would appear randomly in all social strata.
These people either possessed outstanding leadership, or powerful charisma, or research talent unimaginable to ordinary people, or self-discipline and diligence beyond the reach of ordinary people.
These were the characteristics of elites.
As long as they were given the right opportunity, they would quickly rise, create miracles, and lead their race towards glory.
The Imperium's bureaucracy and powerful nobles were like concrete, sealing off the paths of these elites, and then masquerading as elites to rule the Imperium.
On a dilapidated platform, bearing the scars of war, Guilliman received the minor noble he had chosen.
The other party was slightly overweight, and when he walked, he looked a bit comical, like a penguin.
He was wearing a slightly tight silk robe, embroidered with a somewhat faded golden double-headed eagle.
It was clear that this minor noble's life was quite difficult.
Meeting a top figure capable of changing his destiny, he couldn't even produce a suitable garment.
"S-Sir."
Tioch's face looked very red; he was so excited that he couldn't speak very fluently.
Guilliman didn't mind this; many people were like this the first time they met him.
Their overly excited state made them incoherent.
Some would even be struck dumb, losing the ability to think.
"No need for formalities." Guilliman stopped the other party from performing the complicated noble etiquette.
"Yes, Lord Regent," Tioch said respectfully. He was trying to calm himself down, striving to make a better impression on the Primarch.
"You know why I summoned you, don't you?" Guilliman looked up at the distant ruins, where workers and servitors were clearing corpses. The tech-priests would re-plan and rebuild this planet according to his orders.
The natural environment of agricultural worlds was generally better than that of industrial worlds.
This was an advantage.
People living on agricultural worlds generally did not rebel.
But Guilliman knew that agricultural production could also lead to desertification and impoverishment of a planet.
Excessive cultivation of crops would deplete the soil's nutrients, making the land barren and eventually leading to desertification.
Many planets in the Imperium that transformed from agricultural worlds to hive worlds had experienced such a fate.
They were originally pleasant in climate with fertile land, but due to excessive agricultural production, the ecology was destroyed, and they ultimately became desertified planets.
In the end, people had to live inside hive cities, relying on air purifiers to survive.
This also led to a reduction in people's lifespans.
The natural ecology was destroyed, unable to form a cycle, leading to an increasingly harsh living environment.
People's satisfaction with life decreased, and they could only rely on the faith of the Ecclesiarchy to brainwash themselves into believing that suffering was a punishment they must accept.
Such a situation must be improved. Only by making people feel that living in the Imperium is a form of happiness will they have the motivation to fight Chaos.
Competing with Chaos in terms of wretchedness is always a foolish act.
Guilliman made plans for this.
Wherever he went, he would order the tech-priests accompanying the fleet to build data models for that place.
Determining what position each planet should hold within the Imperial system and what role it should play based on local resources, ecology, manpower, and security level.
Finding ways to minimize related pollution and allow the many worlds inhabited by humanity to restore their natural ecology.
Many families engaged in industrial production in the Imperium were unwilling to bear the cost of treating the waste from their production processes.
They often chose simple and crude solutions, which was to discharge it into the planet's oceans or outside cities, and this behavior led to rampant pollution.
This was also why many industrial planets were essentially desertified and severely polluted.
In response, Guilliman's measure was to refuse the products of these rogue trader families from entering the market and to impose heavy fines on them.
Before launching the Indomitus Crusade, Guilliman had established a rogue trader organization loyal to him on Macragge.
This organization would take over the market share of the rogue trader families who did not follow his rules, ensuring the supply of industrial products.
This reform measure was implemented well, and many industrial planets that had become desertified due to pollution were relieved and improved.
Taxes and industrial production did not decrease as a result.
Instead, they significantly increased due to the emergence of new technologies.
The Beta-Garmon system would also undergo similar transformations to ensure its sustainable development and prevent desertification.
Tioch did not know the news that he was about to be promoted. He thought back on his actions during this time and felt he had done nothing wrong.
"I do not know the reason you summoned me," Tioch said cautiously.
"I intend to appoint you as the planetary governor of the Beta-Garmon system, responsible for managing this sector for me."
Guilliman did not beat around the bush.
Ordinary political struggles did not exist with him.
He did not need to consider anyone's feelings or play any balancing strategies.
Tioch was stunned for a moment, then his face showed delight, "Thank you, Lord Regent."
"You know what this position requires, don't you? More than half of the Beta-Garmon system's agricultural produce will be sent to Terra, and there are too many people on Terra who oppose me." Guilliman looked at Tioch, a hint of sadness in his tone, "Presumably, you have also seen how crazy they have been for power. And now, they even intend to prevent me from going to Terra, or even start a civil war, so I must prepare for this and prevent their greed from causing greater harm."
Tioch respectfully lowered his head. He knew that he had no right to interject on such topics.
He was promoted by the Lord Regent, so he could only stand on the Lord Regent's side.
"They have forgotten their duties and responsibilities, forgotten that the Imperium granted them power so they could lead humanity towards a better path. Everything I have seen since I awoke has broken my heart. The light of science and reason has vanished, and the xenos who were once driven out by humanity have become humanity's great enemies again."
Guilliman looked at Tioch, "We face an unprecedented crisis, Tioch. There are external and internal threats. Humanity stands on the edge of a precipice, yet those powerful nobles pay no heed, only wanting to cling tightly to the power they hold, and for this, they are willing to push the Imperium towards the abyss and destruction."
"I need every dreamer who is still willing to sacrifice their life for humanity. Only then can humanity be saved from this nightmare. Tell me, Tioch, are you willing to do that? To give everything for humanity, to fight until your last breath."
Tioch's head felt a little dizzy. He could feel the sincerity in the Primarch's words.
A strong sense of pride burned in his heart.
The Emperor's son, the Regent of the Imperium, a great Primarch, had acknowledged him.
Was there anything in this world more glorious than this?
"May I ask why you chose me? There are so many people who are clearly better than me," Tioch said, unable to hide his excitement, but he still tried his best to remain rational.
He admitted to himself that he was not the most outstanding person, otherwise he wouldn't have remained a minor noble for so long.
"That's a very good question." Guilliman smiled. "For a long time, I've been thinking about what kind of ruler is the best ruler, one who can lead humanity towards a better future. Ability is naturally an indispensable part of it, and beyond ability, there's another important factor: empathy."
"Empathy?" Tioch asked, puzzled.
"Yes, empathy," Guilliman said. "Being able to feel the pain of others is a very rare gift. I've looked at the things you've done; you are kinder and more patient towards those who seek your help. This is what prevented you from winning power struggles and has kept you impoverished until now."
Guilliman paced back and forth for a moment before continuing, "Empathy is a necessary quality for a ruler. Many rulers of the Imperium today have forgotten one thing: they are the protectors of their subjects, they should listen to their subjects' needs, and stand with them at critical moments to face terrible disasters together."
"When we ignore those small, insignificant voices, we push those in despair into darkness and the abyss, and rebellion arises. If a ruler is unwilling to advance and retreat with his subjects, what right does he have to demand their loyalty? Rule maintained by military force and tyranny will always fall quickly."
Upon hearing these words, Tioch could no longer hold back his tears.
At this moment, he secretly swore to dedicate the rest of his life to serving this lord.
Born of noble blood, wielding the highest power in the Imperium, yet without a trace of aristocratic arrogance.
He observed those who had suffered greatly and sought solutions for them.
Humanity would undoubtedly benefit from his return.
"I will surely fulfill your mission, Lord Regent," Tioch's voice was choked with emotion.
He wept for the noble and flawless soul of the Imperial Regent.
He wept for humanity gaining such a ruler.
He wept for his own persistent ideals being recognized.
"Don't let me down, Tioch. Remember your mission, remember what you fight for," Guilliman said with a smile.
"I will, my lord," Tioch said firmly. "I will fight for humanity until death, and I will steadfastly follow you, Lord Regent."
A strong sense of mission and conviction surged within him.
Without a doubt, even if it meant death, he would not hesitate in the slightest.
Guilliman signed the appointment papers for Tioch. From this day forward, this once-down-and-out minor noble would hold the most powerful position in the Beta-Garmon System.
As Tioch left with the appointment papers, a fire burned in his eyes.
He felt filled with infinite motivation.
He would resolutely follow the Primarch and defeat the parasites that were sucking the life out of the Imperium.
Guilliman watched him leave and crossed the matter off his to-do list.
The chaos in the Beta-Garmon System had been quelled, and the Mechanicus and numerous technical officials would be responsible for the reconstruction here.
Guilliman could not delay here for too long.
After personally appeasing the terrified survivors and rebuilding the Beta-Garmon System's planetary defense forces and command chain, Guilliman returned to the Macragge's Glory to prepare for departure.
The Chapter Master of the Hand of the Emperor Chapter was not here.
Guilliman's attempts at recruitment could naturally only be temporarily shelved. He simply arranged for members of the Hand of the Emperor Chapter's squad to undergo Primaris upgrades and provided them with more resources.
This was a gesture of goodwill.
Warriors are simple. Guilliman only asked that this Chapter not get involved in complex political struggles.
Upon returning to the Macragge's Glory, a large amount of work still awaited Guilliman.
This forced Guilliman to continue working diligently, handling all matters.
It wasn't until he had worked non-stop for seven or eight hours, confirming that there were no more urgent matters to attend to, that Guilliman realized he needed to clear his head.
He issued the final few instructions to the officials and generals loyal to him, then expressed his desire to rest for a while.
Everyone then exited the strategy chamber one by one, leaving the Primarch alone to rest.
Primarchs possess boundless energy.
Yet, facing the massive workload, Guilliman still felt weary.
After everyone had left, he stood up, preparing to take a walk in the glass corridor next to the strategy chamber to clear his mind.
To ensure he could always maintain a good mood, Guilliman had a garden with an independent ecosystem built for himself in the glass corridor next to his strategy chamber.
This was a small display of his supreme authority.
Of course, he wasn't doing it for simple enjoyment.
As a Primarch, he had to fight and deal with various political affairs.
He had very little time to relax, and considering his status and image, the means by which he could relax were even fewer.
Building a small garden allowed him to relax his mind in the shortest amount of time.
Inside the garden were plants from various planets.
They were all different and did not form a complete ecosystem.
They required constant care from servitors day and night to ensure their survival.
Guilliman strolled through it, admiring the alien flowers and relaxing his mind.
These flowers each had their own unique characteristics.
Some even had animal traits, able to move their roots to find better light.
Others could change color, camouflaging themselves in their natural environment.
It truly proved the saying that the world is vast and full of wonders.
Guilliman's strategy chamber was located on the topmost deck of the Macragge's Glory.
The glass corridor built around the strategy chamber was naturally also on the topmost deck.
Walking through the corridor, one could see the full view of the Macragge's Glory.
One could see the massive prow with its adamantium ram and the stubby wing-like structures covered in sensor arrays and augur arrays.
One could also see the bright white light of the standard plasma engines, as bright as the sun.
Strolling around the glass corridor, following his private garden.
Guilliman could also observe the chapels and massive sculptures on the Macragge's Glory flagship, as well as the armor plating covering the exterior.
Plasma cannon turrets and macro cannons were mounted every few hundred meters, immense and imposing, their dark muzzles like entrances to another dimension, giving a feeling of being swallowed whole.
Augurs, void shield generators, and Gellar Field generators were integrated into tall towers made of metal and concrete.
Such towers were placed at regular intervals, forming a complete array.
In the deep void further away, numerous ships of the expedition fleet were moored, slowly orbiting the planet, forming a massive scale.
Countless small shuttlecraft and supply ships, like bees in a hive, were shuttling back and forth between the giant warships and the planet's atmosphere.
All large warships maintained a certain distance from the planet.
Even with the best equipment, warships over a dozen kilometers long were not allowed to approach a planet too closely and needed to maintain a safe distance.
Otherwise, the planet's gravity would tear apart the Imperial warships due to uneven stress.
This problem was not due to the quality of the warships themselves, but because planetary gravity is uneven.
Individuals or landing craft were affected much less than warships.
The larger the warship, the greater the disturbance it experienced when facing planetary gravity.
There was a threshold involved.
Once a certain scale was reached, the standards for ships approaching a planet's gravity range needed to meet a specific requirement.
The larger the ship, the more stringent the standard.
In the gravitational mire of a planet, if a warship over ten kilometers long activated its thrusters, its hull would disintegrate because it could not withstand the immense thrust.
If it reached the scale of a Phalanx, even entering a star system required careful calculation of the influence of stellar gravity and celestial body gravity, otherwise it would be directly torn apart.
For this reason, Imperial warships generally did not directly enter a planet's strong gravitational influence range, and would at most remain in low orbit.
At this time, numerous warships were moored in the Beta-Garmon System's planetary orbit, using this rare opportunity to replenish their dwindling supplies of fresh fruit and various grains from the Beta-Garmon System.
The transport ships also had another task: to harvest a batch of newly ripened crops and deliver them to the expedition fleet.
According to Tioch, after the Warp storms raged, transport fleets from Terra would only arrive very infrequently.
Guilliman speculated that Terra was likely in the midst of a food crisis at this time.
Bringing these grains would help further consolidate the hearts of the people on Terra.
At that time, simply by assuring the citizens of the Imperium in the Sol System that he would guarantee the smooth flow of material supplies, he could likely win over a large number of people.
Guilliman watched the transport ships shuttling back and forth between the fleet and the planet for a while, then withdrew his gaze and looked at another part of the starry sky.
The wreckage of the Beta-Garmon System Defense Fleet and the Chaos traitor fleet hung in the void, blocking his view of the Beta-Garmon System's red sun.
Freezing clouds reflecting metallic light and shattered ship hulls still drifted in the void.
Mechanicus repair and salvage arks were recovering the wreckage that could still be used.
With precise calculations, the repair and salvage arks were positioned at the center point of the wreckage.
Small operational craft with industrial manipulator arms shuttled back and forth among the wreckage, dragging the debris towards the salvage ark.
The adamantium frames of Imperial warships were almost indestructible.
As long as they did not encounter excessively terrifying firepower or a reactor meltdown, they could be repeatedly repaired and reused.
Some Imperial ships had even been repaired over a hundred times.
Both the Imperium and Chaos would repair each other's ships and put them back into wartime service.
Chaos ships were generally older and superior models, and for merchants and the Mechanicus, those derelict Chaos ships were a rare fortune.
Those greedy individuals would use flamers to burn away the flesh on the ships, and then invite some psykers and Ecclesiarchy priests to purify the cursed vessels.
Regardless of their origin, a warship was something that merchants and adventurers desired. It would greatly increase their military strength, giving them more confidence to trade in the star sea and explore hidden ruins.
As for Chaos, many warbands did not have sufficient logistical support.
It could even be said that they had no supply lines at all.
Plundering Imperial ships had become their norm.
To replenish their fleet strength, they would even salvage lost Imperial ships from the Warp.
As long as they pledged allegiance to the Chaos powers, those corrupted ships would not only not harm them but would become their aid.
Guilliman didn't particularly like Chaos ships; they were too ugly.
Chaos ships, without exception, were all corrupted and would grow flesh, eyes, and other parts.
Therefore, his countermeasure was to throw them back into the forge, re-forge them, and eradicate the influence of Chaos.
Official recovery was not allowed, nor was civilian recovery.
If discovered, the privileges of those involved would be revoked, and the ships would be destroyed.
The Imperium currently did not need to be troubled by the issue of warships.
Under Cawl's direction, the reform of Imperial industry had achieved considerable results.
When necessary, warships could be produced like dumplings being dropped into a pot.
Guilliman currently had to control the production of new warships and gradually phase out older warships with poor performance, allowing them to flow into civilian hands for adventurous merchants and explorers.
This would encourage a wave of exploration among civilians, allowing humanity to continue advancing into other areas of the galaxy.
It would also reduce the number of substandard warships, preventing the Imperial treasury from collapsing.
The biggest problems facing the Imperium currently were not warships, but Warp corruption and the aristocracy.
Therefore, Guilliman naturally would not repair and reuse those Chaos ships.
He shifted his gaze from the Mechanicus' salvage and repair battlefield.
Guilliman looked into the depths of the starry sky, where a brilliant ribbon stretched across the entire galaxy.
That was the Great Rift, which split the galaxy in two and spanned the universe.
Guilliman scrutinized the ribbon; the light it emitted was repulsive.
Fortunately, the Beta-Garmon system is far enough from the Great Rift.
Its people here have not suffered too severely.
Planets near the Great Rift, those are the true nightmares.
People living on those planets dare not casually look up at the sky, lest they see something they don't want to see.
Ancient events described by the Dark Watchers surfaced in Guilliman's mind.
This is a tragedy that has lasted since the birth of the universe.
The necrons, the Old Ones, the eldar, including the Dark Watchers that he knows of, are merely members of this tragedy.
One race after another has been depleted in their struggle against this evil Chaos that devours the entire universe.
Many civilizations once gained the upper hand.
Unfortunately, the final outcome is often Chaos achieving victory.
The soulless ones mock and jeer over the ruins and ashes of those civilizations.
Those civilizations either chose to surrender or were completely destroyed.
No civilization has ever won in the end.
Humanity is currently just walking the same old path as those civilizations.
The first Stellar empire, possessing numerous black technologies and only a step away from ascension, declined because of this.
During the long night of darkness and chaos, the Emperor single-handedly took on the task of fighting Chaos, established the Second empire, and sacrificed himself for it.
For ten thousand years, countless heroes have fought in the darkness, roared in despair, and rushed towards death without hesitation, just to find a glimmer of hope.
"We are chasing a future without hope," Guilliman murmured.
To be honest, such words feel somewhat inappropriate coming from a Primarch who possesses a part of a transmigrator's soul and a cheat like a database.
But Guilliman still felt a trace of despair.
Only the ignorant and foolish would think that Chaos is vulnerable.
Over the long passage of time, everything will decay, but Chaos remains unchanged from beginning to end; this in itself is a manifestation of its terror.
The C'tan control the physical laws of reality; the technological creations they built possess incredible abilities, capable of traversing space-time and slightly reversing time.
Yet even so, their fate is still to be destroyed, to slaughter each other in internal strife, and finally be backstabbed by the slave races they once controlled, shattered into pieces.
The Old Ones mastered Webway technology, capable of creating life and terraforming planets.
In a sense, they were already equivalent to gods.
They even drove out the C'tan multiple times.
But the end was destruction in a desperate battle.
The Dark Watchers completed the path to ascension and gained near-immortal life.
But now, what has become of them?
What does power matter, what does immortality matter?
None are what they once were, merely clinging to existence.
Present-day humanity is also just one step away from failure.
Within the Imperium, superstition has overridden reason, and the general populace is utterly ignorant.
They groan and weep in pain.
The Imperium has entered an era without hope, only blind faith in the Emperor.
Billions of souls gather together, desperately pleading for salvation.
Guilliman examined the ribbon; he would not show weakness.
This was his challenge, and he would not shrink from it.
He already had two new plans.
One plan was direct confrontation.
One plan was strategic withdrawal.
He would find a way to go to other galaxies, other universes, to develop the Imperium's base.
Flexible withdrawal, leaving a way out.
Guilliman breathed a sigh of relief, trying to free himself from the troubling emotions.
This was not a short-term struggle; it was a long-term struggle.
He firmly believed that as long as he stabilized the foundation, he would have the last laugh.
Having calmed his mood, Guilliman prepared to return and continue working.
Just then, an electronic sound came.
A cherub with metal wings, shaped like a child, flew along the glass corridor.
It had a humming anti-gravity suspension unit, and its flapping metal wings could maintain direction by using airflow.
"Lord, Lord Guilliman."
The cherub's metal jaw constantly closed and opened, and the speaker's voice came out, as if it were speaking itself.
However, it wasn't; the cherub was just delivering a message from Guidos.
"What is it?" Guilliman looked at the cherub and asked.
"I apologize for disturbing your work, Lord Regent Belisarius Cawl has sent you a message," Guidos said.
"I understand. I will go down when I have time," Guilliman said.
"Yes, Lord," Guidos said.
Guidos cut off the communication.
The cherub's program and database were reset.
It looked up blankly, not knowing why it was here.
Soon, the correction program took effect.
It flapped its wings and flew towards the direction of the strategy room.
Guilliman watched the cherub fly away, not paying much attention; this was a secret communication between him and Guidos.
Every time they finished talking, there would be no backup.
Even their communication was independent of the warship.
After looking outside for a few more moments, Guilliman turned and walked back into his strategy room, sitting down in his seat again.
He spent a few minutes checking his database.
He found that there were no new urgent issues to deal with.
Just some documents that required his review and approval.
Guilliman felt that these documents could wait, and in the meantime, he could attend to something else.
He got up and walked out of the strategy room; the Honour Guard were faithfully carrying out their duties outside.
Sicarius paced back and forth like an ancient sentry.
He observed the men and women passing by the Primarch's strategy room with vigilant eyes.
Even if they didn't enter the strategy room, he remained highly alert.
No slackening was permitted.
Especially after the Alpha Legion attack last time, Sicarius had become even more sensitive.
No one knew how those madmen had infiltrated or when they would strike.
Remaining vigilant at all times was the best approach.
Guilliman walked out of the strategy room.
Sicarius immediately strode over, reaching his lord's side as quickly as possible.
"Lord."
Guilliman nodded at his greeting. "I need to go to the lower decks."
Before going to receive Cawl's message, Guilliman planned to visit the prison where the daemons were held.
He wanted to see if he could obtain some information from those daemons.
The Beta-Garmon system was affected by what was happening on Terra.
The overflowing Warp contamination made Guilliman feel very uneasy.
Please, don't let there be a problem with the Golden Throne.
He hadn't even prepared to flee; if the Golden Throne exploded, wouldn't he be finished?
Escorted by the Honour Guard and Sicarius, Guilliman walked to the entrance of the corridor leading to the exclusive elevator.
Two warriors in Terminator armor kept a close watch on their group.
Only when Guilliman's figure emerged from the darkness into the bright light did they relax their guard and breathe a sigh of relief.
Only those with permission from the Lord - Guilliman - could enter here.
Otherwise, even if Calgar came, the guards would have to expel him.
After identity verification, the indicator light turned green, and Guilliman stepped inside.
Sicarius and the others waited outside for Guilliman to emerge.
Using the exclusive elevator, he entered the dungeon area where the daemon prince Cherubael was imprisoned.
As he stepped out of the elevator, Guilliman felt the familiar, unique chill of the Warp.
Two banished priests, one with a book of the Emperor's prayers bound to his waist with a gilded cover and the other holding a war hammer, bowed to Guilliman.
Guilliman responded with a smile and a nod.
These individuals who had dedicated themselves and plunged into darkness, solely to pave the way for humanity's path to light, were heroes worthy of Guilliman's respect.
Walking past the solemn-faced, resolute-eyed guards, Guilliman strode towards Cherubael's cell.
The corridor was covered with various holy prayers, the chanting voices never ceasing day or night, and there were Emperor shrines polished to a gleam with holy oil.
These things were all to suppress Cherubael's daemonic essence.
Even though Cherubael had become incredibly docile during this time.
The guards dared not relax in the slightest.
Daemons were not foolish; they were cunning and despicable enough.
They would feign weakness and express submission.
Then, at the opportune moment, they would launch a sudden attack.
Many sorcerers and psykers were killed by the daemons they had summoned.
This was because they thought they could control those daemons.
daemons had ample time to wait for their enemies to reveal a weakness.
Any slackening could allow a daemon to turn the tables.
At the end of the corridor, Eisenhorn waited for Guilliman.
"Lord."
"How is its condition?" Guilliman asked.
"Everything is normal, it has remained silent," Eisenhorn said.
"Stay vigilant," Guilliman said. "Never show a relaxed side in front of these soulless ones."
"I understand," Eisenhorn said.
"Open the cell door."
The heavy door, cast from pure metal, slowly opened, revealing the scene inside.
Imprisoned in a cell of pure metal, bound by chains and spikes, the daemon host hung in the air.
Guilliman stepped inside, treading on the metal chamber covered with holy prayers.
When he reached the front of the daemon host, Guilliman realized that Cherubael was not asleep, but had its eyes open; it seemed to have anticipated Guilliman's arrival long ago.
"Esteemed lord Primarch, great Primarch, wise Lord Regent of the Imperium, holy Lord Guilliman, your loyal servant - Cherubael - feels heartfelt joy at your arrival. Have you come to obtain information? Those vile and shameless daemons have already gathered some information for you. May I report it to you now?"
Cherubael, who had been beaten by Guilliman multiple times, put on a fawning expression.
"Actually, I preferred your previous arrogant and disdainful appearance," Guilliman said leisurely.
"No, I have been conquered by the charisma of the great Lord Guilliman, and I am willing to become your servant. That appearance was the contempt I would show to some foolish and low-level mortals. For the great Lord Guilliman, I will maintain twelve parts respect."
Cherubael said with the appearance of a loyal servant.
In his heart, however, he wished he could tear Guilliman, this hypocritical villain, to shreds.
Last time, he had said the same thing.
The key was that he actually believed it and then got beaten up again.
This time, he's doing it again.
Even though I'm not human, you're truly a dog.
You're the Son of the Cursed Onemaker, can't you just be a decent person??
Guilliman looked at Cherubael's smiling face and felt it was awkward to strike.
As the ancient Terran Zhou Shuren said, you don't hit a daemon with a smiling face.
If he's licking your boots like this and you still hit him, it feels a bit against your conscience.
"What happened on Terra?" Guilliman looked at Cherubael and asked directly.
"Terra?" Cherubael was stunned for a moment, then quickly returned to normal. "Those daemons did not give me any news about Terra, Lord."
"Useless as always," Guilliman said.
"Lord Guilliman, you are absolutely right. Your loyal servant will convey your words," Cherubael said with a smile and a fawning expression.
The time before last, he wanted the movements of the Four Gods; last time, he wanted information about the Primarchs; this time, he's asking about Terra.
Different every time.
Why don't you just ask me to tell you all the secrets of the Warp?
Vile, shameless, insidious, and depraved Son of the Cursed One.
The day I gain freedom, I will make this little thief wish he were dead.