"Feels like this guy is just as much of a threat as a Primarch…"
Nurgle stirred the plague within his cauldron, pondering deeply.
Yet he simply couldn't work out how the other side had done it.
In the end, Nurgle decided to warn his children to pay close attention to this nameless Astartes.
He raised the threat level of this guy to the same as Roboute Guilliman.
…
Meanwhile, inside the strategium of the Macragge's Honour,
Guilliman and Voldus were completely unaware of events outside.
They spent more than a dozen hours discussing matters regarding their pilgrimage to Terra, and who should take over the campaign to reclaim Ultramar.
From the best travel routes to the current power structure within the High Lords of Terra, the Primarch strove to be informed about every matter in detail.
Guilliman's greatest strength was that he never fought a battle unprepared.
In his eyes, whether facing the enemies of Chaos directly, or dealing with the Empire's deep-rooted, stubborn problems, every fight was a tough one.
And the latter was even more complex and difficult than the former.
When he founded the High Lords' system and issued the Codex Astartes, he never imagined these systems would remain unchanged for over a thousand years.
Institutions should evolve with human society.
Who could have foreseen that, after he fell into a coma from his wounds, they would treat his words as immutable gospel and enforce them for ten thousand years?
Emperor knows how many "patches" they'd slapped on in that time, twisting the whole system into something bloated, inefficient, and even downright horrifying.
Just thinking about it made Guilliman feel suffocated.
After that exhausting meeting, Guilliman and Voldus had just stepped out of the strategium when
A herald came running up, his face a mix of disbelief, joy, and deep reverence.
"Lord Regent! Grand Master! The plague... the 'Weeping Plague' has been eliminated!"
Guilliman's marble-carved face showed a rare moment of blankness.
His steady voice even wavered slightly.
"What did you say? Report clearly!"
"It was that nameless Astartes, my lord! He went to the quarantine camp, and with some… some strange machine and powder, not only cured all the patients, but also completely wiped out the plague-carrying mites!"
The herald excitedly handed over a dataslate, displaying emergency orders and seals from various officials.
"All camps have now confirmed: the outbreak is fully controlled, with no sign of recurrence! The cure for the Weeping Plague and the mite-killing disinfectant are being urgently bottled for shipment to other infected worlds."
Guilliman took the dataslate, eyes sweeping quickly over the reports, including a Mechanicus Magos' scrutiny confirming the plague had truly been eradicated.
A brief silence fell.
Inside Guilliman, a tidal wave of emotion surged.
What the actual hell?!
He, a Primarch, the Emperor's own son, had been running himself ragged for days, toyed with by the plague god Nurgle, forced to exhaustion by his own humanity's weaknesses.
But that mysterious warrior had solved it all… in a few hours??
Father, am I truly such a useless son?!
Standing beside him, Voldus's usually steadfast face also showed shock.
As Grand Master of the Grey Knights, he understood better than anyone the Weeping Plague's roots in Nurgle's powers, deep within the warp.
He'd already abandoned hope of a quick cure, focusing entirely on "damage control" and "escorting the Primarch to Terra."
Yet that eccentric, unknown Astartes had… casually solved the problem?
Voldus took a deep breath, forced himself to recover, and analyzed the situation calmly.
"However bizarre his methods, the results are undeniable. I must say, odd as his behavior is, his abilities have lifted a dire threat from us."
As he spoke, the Grand Master's tone grew solemn.
"My lord, the gods of Chaos will never allow you to reach the Emperor's presence unhindered."
"Our journey will be fraught with countless hardships and venomous trials. If… If we can enlist his help, our odds of success will greatly increase."
Guilliman shook off his brief self-doubt, his eyes regaining their sharp and resolute light.
The Primarch nodded slowly; Voldus's analysis matched his own thoughts.
No matter how unorthodox Datch's methods, his astonishing efficiency and ability to solve "impossible problems" were exactly what they needed on this perilous pilgrimage.
"You're right, Voldus." The Primarch's voice returned to its usual calm decisiveness. "We need his strength. Find him at once. We must speak to him face to face."
…
However, reality quickly poured cold water on the Primarch and Grand Master.
The nameless Astartes simply ignored their summons.
No matter how many messengers or high-ranking officers Guilliman sent, the other party ignored them all, even traveling with the supply fleet to other worlds to personally deliver the plague cure—leaving the esteemed Primarch and Grand Master hanging.
This blatant disregard left both men, so accustomed to command, feeling a sharp sting of frustration.
They had to admit: their intimidating status and authority were useless in front of the nameless Astartes.
Just as they decided he would not be joining the pilgrimage, Datch suddenly returned to the Macragge's Honour.
Of course, this wasn't due to the Primarch's summons—rather, Datch had noticed a gold exclamation mark pop up over Guilliman's dot on his minimap.
Unlike traditional games, virtual reality games have independent timelines for maximum immersion.
Miss a main quest during a certain window, and it's gone forever—the story changes.
So, for Datch, timely questing was very important.
Datch bounced up to Guilliman, cheerfully asking,
"Lord Regent, is there any quest you need me to do?"
Seeing this bouncing, air-punching guy in front of him, Guilliman was lost for words.
He'd sent over a dozen people to summon the guy, all ignored.
Now, here he was, all eager, asking for quests.
This guy's logic was just too weird—utterly uncontrollable—harder to predict than a Chaos daemon.
"We are about to set out for Holy Terra," Guilliman intoned gravely, his all-seeing eyes locked on Datch.
"But the gods of Chaos will never let us arrive safely. This pilgrimage will be filled with thorns and traps—at every step, we may face trials beyond mortal imagination."
He paused, his tone more solemn than ever.
"Will you travel with us, and help us complete this perilous journey?"
Guilliman gave up trying to control the other party.
He realized this nameless Astartes hadn't come to follow any one person's orders—
But to help humanity fight against the universe's despair, on a grander scale.
True salvation cannot be begged from another.
You must stand and fight for survival, prove your resolve with action—that is the only way others will help you.
There is no Messiah. Only when humanity shows unyielding will, fighting on in desperation, does the light of hope truly appear.
…
Bonus chapter at 300 PS