The frenzied mob surged against everything.
Like a flood, they swept through.
The law enforcement officers were instantly engulfed by the torrent, screaming in terror.
The official was dumbfounded, witnessing the legal department's enforcement unit being torn apart by the rioters.
Law enforcers and soldiers in uniform were butchered by the rioters using various weapons.
The rioters' weapons were extremely crude, consisting of labor tools and makeshift spears cobbled together.
Some held spiked braziers, screaming slogans of the Blood God in a frenzy.
Some of the more robust and seemingly intelligent rioters held crude, spinning plasma energy charging devices.
These weapons were so primitive.
Logically, he should not have felt any fear.
But he was afraid nonetheless.
Because these rioters were all insane, utterly fearless, like zealots launching a holy war.
They followed a man covered in blood.
He charged through the interwoven gunfire with swift speed, like a wild wolf thrown into a flock of lambs.
The man plunged his dagger into a soldier's throat, the entire process smooth and flowing, filled with a strange, murderous beauty.
Like a butcher, carving up his prey.
The official's flabby body trembled all over.
He let out a shriek, then turned and ran towards the legal department's vehicle.
He had to get out of this hellhole immediately.
And return with a stronger force.
He would make these damned rioters pay.
He would show them how terrifying it was to defy the Emperor.
But before he had taken more than a few steps, a rocket trailing fire streaked past his corpulent body, directly hitting the enforcement vehicle.
A thunderous explosion followed.
Flames shot up into the sky, illuminating a large area.
The remaining soldiers and enforcers perished in the explosion.
The official watched them being thrown by the terrible blast, their deaths horrific.
Some were even blown to pieces, blood and minced meat scattered everywhere, like a slaughterhouse.
Such a terrifying scene made the official tremble even more violently; he stood frozen, unsure what to do.
He no longer had the arrogant demeanor he'd displayed earlier.
After a long while, like a wild dog with a broken spine, he knelt down, begging the rioters not to harm him.
"Pay the price," Nava said, stepping forward, his eyes burning with unquenchable rage.
He remembered his friend, a simple, honest man, who merely wanted the merchants to stop raising prices so excessively, and was declared a heretic, sentenced to be burned at the stake, and burned alive.
He remembered the two children, young and innocent, crying over their father's death, and finally, in their innocence, having their throats slit.
He remembered his female neighbor, who had once been full of hope for this world, and finally fell into depravity, only seeking a bite of food to survive.
She had lived so humbly.
Yet she still suffered harm from her own kind.
Such a rotten, foul, and desperate empire, why should it still exist?
Nava stepped towards the official.
His killing, his cruelty brought more blessings.
The aura of the warp on him grew stronger.
Bone spurs extended from beneath his skin, bloody and piercing his epidermis.
Nava was completely corrupted, transforming into a minion of Chaos.
His rage grew more intense, drowning out his remaining sanity.
He only wanted to destroy, only wanted to ruin everything he saw.
To vent the endless anger in his heart, to completely flatten everything, to let it burn, to drown in its own blood.
"Don't you like catching heretics very much?" Nava walked closer, his voice cruel.
The soldiers who tried to stop him were all killed, their bodies slumped on the ground, crimson blood flowing and pooling into shocking puddles.
With just a dagger, Nava easily reaped the lives of those soldiers, leaving them to die in fear and despair.
As he killed, the dagger merged with his arm.
Forming a more grotesque, fleshy blade.
Nava was very pleased with this; he would offer more blood to that entity, requesting more blessings.
"You traitor, the Emperor will forever despise you!" the official shrieked, his voice frantic.
Nava, twisted by the power of the warp, was like a monster that had stepped out of a nightmare.
His arm and the dagger merged, his body also melting, transforming into something more abominable.
Bone spurs grew from beneath his flesh, making him look even more hideous and terrifying.
The official was terrified, his voice trembling, devoid of his previous arrogance.
As Nava approached, he even involuntarily urinated.
His expensive clothes and uniform were instantly soaked.
"I don't care if the Corpse Emperor despises me, and I will not accept his mercy or salvation."
Nava's smile grew more cruel.
He stepped forward, the merged dagger extending and lengthening, dripping blood.
"You can't do this, do you know who my father is?" the official shouted.
Unfortunately, this trump card, which had worked many times before, failed this time.
Nava didn't care who the official's father was.
What did it matter who he was?
He no longer cared about the Corpse Emperor's salvation.
Those corrupt officials could no longer inflict their stupidity upon him.
Nava, covered in blood, walked over and lifted the corpulent official with just one hand.
"Blood of the base, please my god," Nava said, plunging the spike into the official's neck.
Like bleeding a pig.
Blood gushed out.
Nava also began to shriek maniacally.
The pleasure of revenge made him roar uncontrollably.
The human side of him also became fragmented.
He was once just an ordinary person who wanted to live a peaceful life.
Unfortunately, this world did not give him the chance to be a good person.
The Corpse Emperor's rule forced him to choose to rise up in rebellion.
Praise the Blood God, praise the Brass Brotherhood.
Otherwise, he would never have had the strength to complete his revenge.
At this moment, Nava dedicated his entire soul to that unknown terrifying entity.
Even eternal servitude was something he would not hesitate to accept, only to overthrow the Corpse Emperor's rule.
His distortion grew stronger.
More and more non-human organs appeared.
His eyes and mouth melted, then were reshaped into grotesque forms.
It was ugly and terrifying, but abnormally powerful.
With Nava's help, the Brass Brotherhood swarmed out, slaughtering the soldiers of the enforcement unit, seizing their weapons, and firing at them.
The riot spread.
Blood and chaos followed.
Resource shortages, the heavy hand of the legal department, and the indifference of the powerful to the lives and deaths of the lower classes, instead supporting the merchants who secretly manipulated prices.
Each time, the people's resentment accumulated.
Until now, this resentment was ignited by the Brass Brotherhood, erupting like a volcano.
Desperate people came from all directions, joining the ranks of the rioters.
They furiously attacked the enforcement units, destroying everything in their sight.
They were like madmen, venting their dissatisfaction and anger.
Wanting to turn everything into ash.
The Imperial troops reacted quickly, airships screaming with engine noise swept overhead.
Counter-insurgency troops in Imperial uniforms and advanced combat auxiliary gear leaped from high altitude, crushing the frenzied rioters with efficient slaughter.
Nava watched as the soldiers ruthlessly suppressed the very people they were supposed to protect, punishing all who rioted under the charge of betraying the Emperor.
He could see the anger on the soldiers' faces, they shouted various things, seemingly confused as to why the rioters fought so fearlessly.
Transformed into a monster, Nava charged forward; he wanted to vent the anger in his heart, to offer more sacrifices to that great entity.
He was fearless and no longer held back.
Only slaughter, only blood.
When the cries of the desperate are unheard, then turn to destruction.
Let everything burn.
Burn fiercely, steeped in endless blood.
As the power of the warp spread, more and more rioters were twisted, becoming abominable monsters.
They gathered together, attacking the Imperial troops, tearing their limbs apart.
Unfortunately, the riot instigated by the Brass Brotherhood was eventually suppressed.
Two Golden Guards wielding halberds descended from the sky, like ancient destroyers, sweeping away everything.
Nava knew of their existence.
They were the Emperor's personal guard hidden within the Imperial Palace, possessing the power and skill to crush anything.
Hundreds of rioters were easily swept away, instantly becoming dismembered and mutilated, a bloody scene that was chilling.
A heavy armored vehicle controlled by the rioters was pierced by a heavy halberd, then sliced in half.
Even the twisted monsters could not withstand a single blow, instantly cut down and torn into countless pieces.
"Golden people."
"They're here."
Some rioters shouted.
Their voices were full of despair.
They clearly realized what they were facing.
Nava wanted to charge forward, to prove his devotion to the Blood God.
Unfortunately, before he could get close, his body was blasted apart by the bolter rounds fired from the halberd, his remains falling from where he stood.
"Blood for the Blood God."
Nava let out his final roar.
Venting his dissatisfaction and anger.
The power of the Corpse Emperor's lackeys was so immense.
But he firmly believed that one day the Blood God would crush them.
On the city wall, captain-General Valano of the Custodes gazed at the magnificent outer walls of the Imperial Palace.
Countless buildings stood upon the soil of Terra.
Stretching endlessly, impossible to see the end.
Forge factories emitting black smoke.
Tall and majestic religious buildings.
Gothic spired buildings belonging to the great families and nobles.
Innumerable.
Among them, the most magnificent city was the Imperial Senate, the pinnacle of the entire city.
Its exterior was as black as ink, still bearing the marks of battle.
It was as old as the empire's history, standing like a towering mountain on Terra, symbolizing the empire's ten-thousand-year stable rule.
The magnificent Lion's Gate and the tall city walls stood firm, garrisoned by an army sufficient to crush any enemy attack.
The magnificent walls protecting the Imperial Palace stretched for hundreds of kilometers, and even if the entire Custodes were deployed, there would still be unmanned gaps.
Furthermore, it was impossible for all of the Custodes to perform patrol duties.
At most, only half of the Custodes would be on guard duty.
The Custodes were not just about protecting the Emperor; sometimes they also needed to guard secrets.
For example, dangerous individuals imprisoned in the dungeons and various items contaminated by the evil power of the warp.
For this reason, the empire also had a vast force of mortal soldiers to compensate for the limited numbers of the Custodes.
Valano surveyed the Senate, glancing at the walls filled with mortal regiments.
Then he looked towards the other side.
Fires were burning there.
The shouts of rioters echoed among the buildings.
The forces responsible for suppression flew overhead in airships, rushing towards the areas where the fires appeared.
Valano was not concerned about this; these rebellions were none of his concern, at least not at their current scale, which did not warrant his intervention.
He was a guardian of the Throne, the Emperor's personal guard, not the savior of the empire.
The Custodes had no intention of playing such a role.
He served only the Emperor's will.
A few Custodes had gone over.
Their mission was to prevent the rebellion from spreading, to avoid threatening the security system of the Imperial Palace.
The Custodes would not do much more about this; they had their own duties, which was to protect the most precious thing on the Throne World.
Their most important duty was to guard that great figure who had sacrificed everything for humanity, endured countless hardships, and was still suffering to this day.
Many people believed that the Golden Throne was just a chair made of gold.
Like the kind of chair a king in a barbaric world would use.
They didn't understand why the Custodes had to pay such a high price to guard it.
Valano did not offer an explanation for this.
Those mortals imagined the Golden Throne as a seat of power placed in a luxurious palace, surrounded by the wealth of the entire galaxy.
In their imagination, perhaps there were also ministers walking on gem-studded floors, whispering about state affairs.
Such ideas were so wrong and absurd.
Varlan didn't even have any confidence that he could change this absurd notion.
The Golden Throne guarded by the Custodes was not a single entity.
Nor was it merely a golden chair in a room.
Its structure was like tree roots, extending throughout the entire Inner Palace.
It spread downwards into the forbidden sub-levels and crawled upwards to the highest peaks.
Its energy coils were the size of a city.
Mountains were reshaped to accommodate its foundations.
The tech-priests who worked tirelessly to maintain its operation had also made numerous modifications and adjustments over the past ten thousand years.
The planet itself had been completely altered by the Throne's existence, bored into, leveled, and rebuilt.
The Golden Throne was built by the Emperor during the Great Crusade, and its technology was so complex that none of the tech-priests could understand it.
It delved deep into the bedrock, like an organ of the planet itself, pulsating like an artery.
The mechanical structure of the Throne occupied a larger area than the Outer Palace.
It was the Emperor's life's work, and a magnificent gift he had prepared for humanity, which ultimately died in the womb.
During the Horus Heresy, Magnus' folly destroyed everything, causing the Emperor to ultimately abandon the Webway Project and shut down most of its equipment.
Only the core structure in the Inner Palace was retained to maintain the seal on the Webway entrance.
In the secret space beneath the Emperor's Throne Room, the roaring machinery still operated, ceaseless for ten thousand years, assisting the Emperor in maintaining the Webway gate and preventing daemonic intrusion.
Varlan found it difficult to describe those sacred machines, possessing countless mysteries that the world simply could not comprehend, built only by the Emperor.
Those silent machines represented the salvation humanity had been just one step away from achieving, only to lose it because of a rebellious son.
For this, Varlan detested the Space Marines, viewing them as potential traitors.
The Inner Palace of the Imperial Palace was also strictly off-limits to Space Marines.
Varlan also disliked the primarchs; after all, it was Horus, a lord Primarch, who caused the Emperor to be seated on the Golden Throne, enduring a fate worse than death to this day.
He didn't want to support Guilliman, but he also understood that the actions of the High Lords had deviated from the Emperor's vision.
"Now, they dare to act against a loyal primarch for power; in the future, will they also act against the Emperor for power? Greed has made them lose themselves, and the desire for power has festered in their hearts."
Tieron's words echoed in Varlan's mind.
Tieron hoped the Custodes would side with the primarch, not the High Lords.
This matter slightly surprised Varlan.
He had asked Tieron why he would do such a thing.
"I serve the Emperor, aiming to protect humanity's survival in the dark galaxy, my lord. I cannot disregard this for personal gain."
Tieron gave him an answer beyond imagination.
It was hard to imagine that such a person existed within the corrupt bureaucracy of Terra.
Heavy footsteps sounded.
Varlan turned to look, and a Tribune warrior in golden armour walked out of the darkness.
Over the golden armour, a black robe representing penance was draped.
"My lord," the warrior said, presenting a data-slate streaming with various data and text.
"Valerian, what's the situation?" Varlan asked, examining the information on the data-slate.
If anyone thought the Custodes' activities were limited to the Imperial Palace, they were gravely mistaken.
They secretly controlled Terra and monitored the solar system.
For ten thousand years, they had constantly nipped crises in the bud, preventing them from developing and growing, and endangering the Emperor's safety.
"The situation is very bad. I have tracked the chaotic mark of the Blood God," Valerian said with a grave expression. "This riot is just the tip of a larger conspiracy iceberg. Our enemies are lurking within, forming an undercurrent, deceiving those foolish and blind people."
"What is the reaction of the High Lords to this?"
Varlan shifted his gaze from his Shield-captain to the city of Terra, which resembled a prison.
The magnificent giant walls and towers, without exception, were no different from prisons, ancient and immense.
Countless crimes and horrors were concealed by these giant walls and towers.
"They have expressed anger and condemnation regarding this, and hope the captain-General can attend the next meeting to discuss how to combat the endless rebellions."
"Those rioters are ignorant and foolish; they believe Chaos offers salvation, but they do not know that Chaos' promises are always false, offering no escape from suffering and no shortcut to power. When they choose to bargain with Chaos, everything they have will be taken away."
Varlan said in a low voice, "The High Lords are tiresome; their actions are slow and inefficient, and we all suffer from their weaknesses. Valerian, go, continue to monitor Terra. I have a bad feeling."
"Understood, my lord," Valerian said, then turned and walked away.
Varlan turned back to look at the buildings illuminated by the firelight, and a message from the Imperial Daily popped up on the data-slate in his hand.
"Our armies are prepared to meet the Imperium's greatest traitor; this greedy renegade will be utterly defeated in the Beta-Garmon star system."
The Beta-Garmon star system.
Chapter Masters of the various successor chapters of the Imperial Fists gathered on the flagship of the Imperial Fists Chapter Master, Vladimir, the *Storm of Spears*.
They arrived quickly; they never hesitated when summoned by the parent Chapter.
When Vladimir entered the strategy hall, they were already gathered around the council table.
But as he walked in, all the Chapter Masters stood up to show him respect.
Two servitors adjusted the tactical data for them, inputting it into the holographic projector.
The holographic projector was installed in the center of a large censer hanging from the ceiling.
As the equipment slowly illuminated, lines of light as distinct as static electricity flickered in the center of the hall, gradually taking shape.
A series of data and a large number of images were displayed within.
Images of Guilliman fighting orks and necrons on Chaladon, images of the Expeditionary Fleet's parade, and so on, were all played.
There was also information about some of the reformed areas.
Those worlds had developed very well.
Pollution was contained, and green appeared on the planet's surface.
People's happiness levels began to rise, and taxes and personnel quality also improved.
Guilliman's reforms were proven effective.
He brought people the life they had longed for.
Young people there were more willing to join the primarch's expeditionary force to defend the hard-won life.
The many Chapter Masters scrutinized these images, glancing at each other, and looked at Vladimir with confused eyes.
"I have summoned you here to confirm one thing: where we shall stand," Vladimir said in a low voice, looking around at everyone. "This is an unjust war; we must determine whether we should violate our primarch's oath and point our blades at his brother."
"For you to make the most correct choice, I have specifically collected some information about Ultramar and the Indomitus Crusade. From the currently known information, the Indomitus Crusade is the most massive crusade organized within the Imperium of Man in the past thousand years. The primarch has built this vast army using only a few sectors and integrated resources at an extremely fast speed."
"In a sense, if the primarch were to control the entire Imperium, the scale of the Indomitus Crusade would expand by more than a hundredfold. At that time, the Indomitus Crusade would be the most massive crusade in the history of the Imperium of Man, perhaps only the Great Crusade, when the many primarchs still roamed the stars and the Emperor had not yet fallen into slumber, could surpass the Indomitus Crusade led by the primarch."
Vladimir stood at the head and spoke to the Chapter Masters of the successor chapters.
Hearing his words, everyone showed a hint of shock and surprise.
They hadn't expected Vladimir to say this.
"Are you going to defy the orders from Terra and side with Guilliman?" a Chapter Master asked.
"Our primarch swore after the Horus Heresy that he would never again raise arms against his brothers," Vladimir said. "Do not forget the blood of Dorn in your veins. Are you going to break this oath?"
"But Terra has declared him a traitor," said the Chapter Master of the White Templars Chapter.
"That is the problem. Should we trust the bureaucrats of Terra!" Vladimir said bluntly. "We suffer from their slowness and inefficiency, becoming political pawns on their table."
"These are terrible words of betrayal against the Imperium."
Another Chapter Master's face showed solemnity, and he looked at Vladimir, his tone somewhat uncertain.
"No, gentlemen, this is a test for us. To choose the High Lords, or to choose the Lord Commander of the Imperium, Guilliman. This is not betraying the Imperium; the Lord Commander is still loyal to the Imperium. He merely wants to save humanity with a strong hand," Vladimir said in a low voice, looking at everyone.
"He wants to seize the Emperor's authority and sit on the throne of power in the Imperium."
A Chapter Master spoke up in rebuttal, "Terra has already made its judgment."
"That is slander. He himself is the Lord Commander of the Imperium appointed by the Emperor. Even if he didn't reform or launch the crusade, he could still reclaim his authority," Vladimir said. "The Emperor has been in slumber for ten thousand years, and the primarchs have long since disappeared. Who can deny the authority of a Lord Commander of the Imperium?"
"What do you want to do?" the Chapter Master of the White Templars Chapter asked.
"Do what we should do. Do not forget the War of the Beast. Terra was nearly destroyed by those bureaucrats, and the Imperial Fists were annihilated due to the High Lords' folly. If not for the hero Koorland activating the High Wall Protocol, Terra would have probably fallen long ago.
And how did they treat this saviour? Their first thought was to accuse him, not to reward his merits. The High Lords of Terra accused Koorland of rebuilding the Chapter, fearing Koorland would strip them of their power using the High Wall Protocol."
Vladimir looked around at everyone, recounting the past.
The War of the Beast was an unforgettable humiliation for every son of Dorn.
The first parent Chapter of the Imperial Fists was destroyed in that war.
Terra was one step away from falling into the hands of the orks.
This was a shame for humanity.
"Swear by the blood of Dorn, gentlemen, will you break your primarch's oath and raise arms against his brother?" Vladimir asked.
The many Chapter Masters exchanged glances; none dared to say they would break their primarch's oath.
"Are we to betray the High Lords?" a Chapter Master said.
"No, we are merely abstaining from this operation, not betraying," Vladimir said. "In the struggle between Terra and the primarch, we will remain neutral. We cannot let our brothers die for the political capital of bureaucrats."
This statement was barely acceptable to these Chapter Masters.
If they were to directly betray the High Lords, they would have some hesitation.
For ten thousand years, the High Lords had claimed to issue decrees on behalf of the Emperor.
In a sense, betraying the High Lords of Terra was equivalent to betraying Terra and the Emperor.
If they remained neutral, they would not have to bear this spiritual burden.
Under Vladimir's persuasion, the many Chapter Masters accepted the orders from the parent Chapter in silence.
They would remain neutral in this campaign.
Only when they confirmed who was more trustworthy would they declare their stance.
Macragge's Glory.
Guilliman took a deep breath, then another.
He did this to calm himself.
Such a large-scale movement of troops by Terra naturally could not be hidden from Guilliman.
Even on Terra, which was controlled by the High Lords, there were many radicals who agreed with his ideas.
They warned the Expeditionary Fleet through various channels and reported information about Beta-Garmon.
Guilliman had a clear understanding of the troop deployment in the Beta-Garmon star system.
Many generals secretly contacted the Expeditionary Fleet, claiming they would announce their surrender when the primarch arrived.
This was done to preserve humanity's strength, not to consume it in meaningless civil war.
Guilliman had guessed that the Terran nobility would certainly not just surrender.
But he had not expected these individuals to be so insane.
The sheer size of the assembled forces was enough to shock the galaxy.
Once a civil war erupts, it will surely make the Chaos Gods and numerous traitors laugh amidst the ruins and ashes.
A sound of footsteps came from the doorway.
Saint Celestine, clad in golden armor with a pair of pure white wings on her back, stepped inside.
"Lord Regent," Celestine bowed.
Even though Celestine was a Saint, she still had to bow to Guilliman.
After all, Guilliman represented the will of the Emperor.
The recognition of the Emperor's Sword and the vast Emperor's Blessing on Guilliman were by no means false.
Celestine could feel this.
In the eyes of ordinary people, Guilliman was just a Primarch, stronger and larger than a space marine.
But in Celestine's eyes, Guilliman was already a sun mixed with blue and golden light.
So dazzling, so intense, so sacred.
Anyone who looked directly at his essence would feel immense pain.
Even though Guilliman had repeatedly refused people's attempts to deify him in public.
But Celestine knew that the Primarch was bound to walk a path similar to his father's; it was inevitable.
Their essence was the same.
Although the current Guilliman was not yet powerful enough, his potential was boundless.
One day, this lord Primarch would also have his own Saints.
"You've arrived," Guilliman smiled and sat back down, "Take a seat."
After leaving the Beta-Garmon System, Guilliman passed through several other systems, reorganizing their bureaucratic structures and abolishing some unreasonable feudal and aristocratic systems.
Subsequently, Celestine, having completed her assigned task, rendezvoused with Guilliman's fleet.
Considering the upcoming journey wouldn't be too long, Guilliman didn't assign Celestine a new mission but instead asked her to accompany him to Terra.
The influence of a Saint is no less than that of a Primarch.
With Celestine's help, he could easily gain the support of the faithful.
"I don't know why you summoned me, my lord," Celestine said.
Guilliman handed Celestine a data-slate. "The Terran nobility has chosen the worst possible path. For their own power, they have gone to extremes."
Celestine took it and examined it; the information displayed on it made her expression change slightly.
The Terran nobility had assembled an unprecedented legion in the Beta-Garmon system.
They were attempting to prevent the Primarch from presenting himself before the Emperor, to prevent the Primarch from reaching Terra and becoming the new Lord of Terra, seizing control of the entire Imperium.
"They think I will compromise. Unfortunately, I will not. Mercy and ruthlessness are both necessary qualities for a qualified ruler."
Guilliman raised his hand, and a holographic image appeared between him and Celestine.
"Many parts of the Imperium are suffering. I will never allow the Imperium to descend into the abyss, much less allow it to splinter. Even if it means bearing infamy, I will spare no effort to prevent all of this. I will attempt several rounds of peaceful communication with the Imperial forces in the Beta-Garmon system to see if this matter can be resolved through peaceful means. If not, I will resort to force and flatten the entire system's defenders. I will burn every regiment that dares to resist and show every world the consequence of resisting a Primarch."
Guilliman stated his decision in a calm tone.
He issued orders to various Crusade fleets, dispatching enough Nemesis Titans and brand new Imperial warships.
Simultaneously, tens of thousands of primaris space marines and hundreds of millions of Astra Militarum regiments were also mobilized.
They would emerge from the warp in the void far from the Beta-Garmon system, leaving ample time for negotiations.
Those who defected would be integrated into his Crusade fleet.
As for those stubborn forces who refused his friendly proposal...
Guilliman would declare them Anathema Extremis. He would unleash the firepower originally intended for dealing with xenos upon them.
The wicked are guilty, and those who aid and abet evil are equally guilty.
Guilliman would show no mercy.
Celestine felt a tremor in her heart, but she was not a mere mascot; she was chosen by the Emperor.
Whether in wisdom or military strategy, she was exceptionally capable.
"My lord, you summoned me, surely not just to explain your tactical arrangements?"
"You are very clever," Guilliman praised. "Of course, I didn't summon you just for this. War is the last resort, especially against our own kind; it should not be used lightly unless absolutely necessary. I summoned you because I need your help to dismantle this civil war crisis as much as possible. The Ecclesiarchy's foundation of rule lies in faith in the Emperor, and you are the recognized voice of the Emperor."
"I need you to do one thing: deny the legitimacy of the Terran Ecclesiarchy and declare to everyone that they have betrayed the Emperor's guidance. The New Ecclesiarchy is the legitimate one, the religion sanctioned by the Emperor. By doing this, we will avoid war with those faithful who have been misled by the Ecclesiarchy, reducing unnecessary casualties." 1
Hearing Guilliman's words, Celestine was stunned for a moment.
"Is that really acceptable? Their faith in the Emperor is not a fault."
Guilliman leaned his upper body over the table, his voice low and angry.
"Must I list the various crimes the Ecclesiarchy has committed on numerous planets? The Emperor's original intention was to protect humanity and guide it onto a rational path, but the Ecclesiarchy has twisted this idea. Celestine, are you fighting for the Emperor's dream, or are you walking the world for a little selfish satisfaction within yourself?"
"You think humanity needs to believe in the Emperor, and as long as it's under the name of faith, it's not wrong. I know very well that the Emperor does not need such faith—not faith gained by trampling on what He protects, not faith gained by deceiving what He protects, and certainly not faith gained by intimidating what He protects."
"This is the greatest betrayal of His ideals, the greatest humiliation to Him, Celestine, do you understand? We must correct this error. If you regard Him as a god, then why are you unwilling to listen to His teachings? If you are unwilling to listen to His teachings, why do you call yourself His follower?"
"You pledge allegiance to someone, claim to love him, and say you would do anything for him, yet you never obey the orders he issues. Is that truly loyalty?"
Guilliman's voice struck Celestine's heart like a hammer.
"Shouldn't those two things be different?" Celestine said uncertainly.
"Different? My brother Lorgar, he once claimed the Emperor was his true god, yet he never obeyed the Emperor's commands. The Emperor detested faith, so he loudly proclaimed faith. When the Emperor, enraged, burned his 'toys', he lost his faith and turned into the embrace of the Chaos Gods. Is that sort of thing considered faith? It's merely seeking a spiritual haven for a cowardly soul. Such faith is shameful, spat upon by the Emperor."
"We must fight for the Emperor's ideals. Not every follower who claims to believe in the Emperor is a true follower; they are merely enemies cloaked in the guise of faith."
With his powerful rhetoric, Guilliman finally persuaded the Living Saint, Celestine.
"I can assist with your plan, my lord, but you must give me your word that as long as those faithful lay down their weapons, you will grant them clemency."
Celestine stated her condition.
To this, Guilliman nodded in agreement.
He had no interest in carrying out a massive slaughter.
He only enjoyed slaughtering bothersome bureaucrats and uncooperative Ecclesiarchy leaders.
Being able to leverage Celestine's status as a Saint would undoubtedly deliver a severe blow to the Ecclesiarchy's forces, splitting them completely.
What right did the Ecclesiarchy, having lost its foundation of faith and been repudiated by the Emperor's voice, have to exist?
Having reached a consensus, Guilliman ended the meeting.
He escorted Celestine to the door.
Soon, another individual was received by Guilliman.
That was Fabricator-General Kren of Forge World Steel Ball.
This individual, comparable to a heavy tank, had been providing maintenance, logistics, and various Servitor legions for Guilliman's fleet.
Guilliman's purpose in summoning him was simple.
He needed Kren to dismantle the factions on Mars, using various knowledge and promises to divide the different Martian powers.
There were many different schools of thought within Mars.
They fought fiercely among themselves over STCs, technical knowledge, and various doctrines.
This was a breakthrough point. As long as he could gain the support of a portion of the Martian powers, he could dismantle the influence of the Mechanicus.
"Based on current data calculations, I cannot achieve this. My duty is Fabricator-General; I am not skilled in diplomacy," a hint of difficulty appeared on Kren's mechanical face.
Assisting Guilliman in building warships and various weapons had also put him on Mars' kill list.
If he went to persuade those tech-priests, wouldn't he be walking into the lion's den!
Those guys would love to dismantle him and throw his data core into a data cage to make him suffer endlessly.
Those fanatics on Mars would not let go of anyone who violated the Treaty of Olympus or the dogma of the Omnissiah.
"You can," Guilliman handed Kren a paper with complex formulas written on it. "This is mechanical data regarding the creation of miniature black holes. With the right materials, miniature black holes can be created."
Mechanical eyes scanned the paper several times, and a rare trace of greed and selfishness welled up in Kren's heart.
Mechanical knowledge for creating miniature black holes.
This was enough to drive him mad.
It wasn't that the Mechanicus lacked the ability to create black holes, but much of the technical knowledge had been lost, and the cost of creating one was immense.
Moreover, related STCs were hard to find.
And now, such a piece of knowledge was laid before him.
Creating miniature black holes - such technology was miraculous.
"Kren, do not forget, once I compromise or give up resistance, numerous members of the Mechanicus, including yourself, will inevitably face a terrible purge. At that time, you will have nothing, not even your data core and backups will be directly erased."
Guilliman sat in his seat, smiling as he spoke.
"If you can successfully resolve this crisis and complete the task I have assigned you, I promise that upon reaching Terra, I will grant you more mechanical knowledge."
Guilliman rolled up the paper and placed it in Kren's mechanical hand. "And this is just the down payment."
Kren's rational logic wanted to firmly refuse; persuading those people on Mars was too dangerous.
But the Primarch was offering too much.
Cutting-edge technology like miniature black holes was just the down payment, the reward paid in advance. Regardless of success or failure, he had received it.
If he succeeded, how much cutting-edge technical knowledge would there be?
Enough to take him a step further on the path of following the Omnissiah.
He couldn't bring himself to say the words "I don't want to go."
The rational logic module constantly reminded him that this mission was extremely dangerous, that a slight misstep could lead to death.
But Kren's greed suppressed the rational logic module, rejecting the most rational refusal plan.
"I will surely complete your task, my lord."
Kren ignored the incessant alarms within his cranial cavity and stated his resolve.