By the time reinforcements reached the Temple of Correction, the fighting was over. Every single Ultramarine who rushed into that vaulted space dropped to their knees in worshipful awe at the sight of their Primarch reborn. The sight was unimaginably glorious to the Ultramarines.
Calm now, Roboute Guilliman took charge of his warriors.
"Rise, sons of Macragge," Guilliman commanded. "Save your emotions for after the battlefield. Report: What is the current disposition of our forces within the Fortress of Hera?"
The Captain, with a trembling voice, managed a salute.
"My Lord... the heretics have breached the outer walls. We hold the inner sanctum, but we are hard-pressed on all fronts."
"Strategic data, then," Guilliman replied, his mind already creating a thousand counter-moves. "War still rages outside this shrine, and I will not have our home defiled further."
He asked no questions, save those of a purely strategic nature. He did not talk about the circumstances of his rebirth, his long absence from the galaxy, or the Celestinians with whom he found himself surrounded, and no one dared to discuss those matters with him. They were all just too happy to have their gene-father back.
The Primarch would undoubtedly seek answers later, but right now, there were other things to take care of, like the war still raging throughout the realm of Ultramar.
.
News of the Primarch's return spread like wildfire through the Fortress of Hera. It was announced through every vox speaker, shouted from every rampart, and broadcast from the vocal emitters through Ultramar. Guilliman ensured it because he understood that his return and physical presence would encourage his armies, raise their morale, and frighten or weaken his enemies.
As the news spread, Ultramarines and the Ultramar Defence Auxilia found newfound strength, while the Chaos forces faltered. The sheer presence and glory of a living Primarch eclipsed their courage and mindless charges.
Guilliman walked straight to the fortress's strategium and approached First Captain Agemman. Lord Calgar stood at his gene-sire's side, in peak physical health, but with severely damaged power armour. The Honour Guards flanked him, as he was still the official Lord of Ultramar.
"1st Captain Agemman," Guilliman started, his gaze sweeping over the hololithic displays of the fortress. "I humbly request to assume command of the defence of Ultramar."
Agemman stepped back, stunned, but it was Calgar who acted. The Chapter Master knelt.
"My Lord Primarch," Calgar said as he offered his power-armoured gauntlets upward. "I offer you my unending fealty. Macragge is yours as it has always been. The Ultramarines are yours, now, and in perpetuity."
"Accepted, Marneus Calgar," Guilliman said solemnly. "Now, let us begin."
Like a master of logistics and strategy, Guilliman spread his hands on the strategium table. Orders began to flow, proving his tactical genius and his unmatched mental prowess.
"Captain, shift the fire-sectors of the 4th Company three degrees east of this battle zone. Interlace fire-webs with the orbital interceptor grid. Clear the skies of the traitor crows."
Each of his orders and directives was followed right away, the Ultramarines all too fired up about their situation. And it showed. Under Guilliman's direction, booming overlapping firestorms cleared the airspace above them.
With the threat from the skies neutralised, he then marshalled his defenders like chess pieces. Feints, false retreats, and sudden, overwhelming counterattacks tore through the Black Legionnaires and Iron Warriors, without them being able to do anything about it.
He predicted every one of their moves before they had even thought to act or react to his moves, thinking dozens of steps ahead on the 3-Dimensional, planetary battlefield.
What was surprising and impressive, though, was the presence of Gerhard Valkyrie, a mortal, who was present during the strategic meetings and offered substantial and valuable insight and suggestions. He was able to recognise the strengths and weaknesses of enemy daemon engines and vehicles, such as telling them where to target the Chaos Titan to take him down and where he was weakest.
Naturally, it was far less than what Guilliman was doing, but it still was noteworthy to the Primarch.
By the time the Primarch and his forces marched out to lead the fight in person, the Chaos forces were reeling in disarray. The attack led by Guilliman and supported by Gerhard and his insane weapons, into the heart of their lines, was like a final Bolter round placed between the eyes of a wounded animal.
Black Legionnaires, Iron Warriors, Alpha Legion and Night Lords were pushed back from the Fortress's walls. Traitor Titans were demolished as Gerhard had told them.
Just three hours after his resurrection, the purge was complete. Guilliman stood upon the ramparts and voxed the entire fortress:
"The stronghold of Hera is secure. Macragge stands."
...
Finally, a point had arrived when people could catch their breath somewhat and take a step back to think things over and rebuild.
While servitors and serf work gangs laboured trying to fix up the fortress's worn-out and destroyed defences, Guilliman called a special group of people to join him in the Chapter Master's room for a very important discussion.
This space, where they came together, had always been the domain and throne room of Marneus Calgar. Now it would become the living and work room of the Primarch himself.
At last, the man out of time could ask the questions which had been at the forefront of his mind. His idea was good. He gathered different representatives of various factions. The brilliant Primarch possessed the overpowered skill of 'common sense'.
He knew that if he asked Marneus Calgar about the history, he would only get an accurate accounting of Calgar's life, and even then, it wouldn't be as objective as he wanted.
No one was truly objective, Guilliman knew, which was why he wanted to hear different voices and paint the picture himself.
He listened to the Chapter Master, Marneus Calgar, the Sister of Battle and Living Saint, Celestine, the Archmagos Belisarius Cawl, whom he knew from the past, and even to the Ynnari, the Eldari, who were relatively old by most human standards.
The Sisters of Silence had quite a lot to say, none of which was very calm or kind. He was assaulted by the truth of their situation of having been ignored and forgotten mostly by the Imperium. Guilliman looked at the harsh Thoughtmark about the Lords of Terra and their inabilities.
Lastly, he wanted to listen to Lencillus, whom he thought was a Custodian, but who refused to explain much. Lencillus referred to Gerhard for any information Guilliman could want, which the Primarch accepted at that point.
The questions and answers went on for hours, and it was at the end of it that it was decided to formally 'crown' and make the Primarch as Lord of Ultramar and master of the Ultramarines once more.
Calgar, Tigurius, Agemman, and the top Ultramarine leadership were there for the big moment, along with representatives from every company in the Chapter.
The Celestinians were also present, with the Saint herself giving her blessings to the Primarch. Guilliman had a problem with the Saint, Gerhard could tell. He grew up in an Imperium where the Emperor repeatedly stated that he was not a god and would have killed anyone stating otherwise.
And yet, what he saw right now, and what he remembered were two different things. He would have to ask his father personally and get to the bottom of this. From what he could gather, the Ecchlesiarchy had gained significant influence and power in the Imperium, and Celestine wielded authority that Guilliman couldn't refuse after witnessing it firsthand.
Cawl was also there, and so were the Grey Knights and the Black Templars.
Even the Ynnari were hanging around in the background, quietly watching the ceremony with their unreadable expressions. They made sure that they were far enough away from the four Sisters of Silence, who stood next to Gerhard and Lencillus.
Gerhard hated what he had to go through. He remembered watching a few moments of the marriage between Lady Diana and Prince Charles. And he couldn't even keep watching it for more than two minutes.
Here, things like ceremonies were even worse. Everything was exaggerated, and the scale was thousands of times greater than on Earth. So what should have taken hours at most took almost multiple days just to have everyone in the proper position.
Thankfully, Guilliman was as uncomfortable as Gerhard was, so it didn't take as long as it could have—no tanks or Titans to parade and the like.
As the ceremony finally concluded, Guilliman rose and addressed the assembly.
"There is much to be done," the Primarch declared, his eyes burning with a weary, old fire. "I have slept through an age of darkness. I require answers."
There was indeed still much to be done, and countless more questions to which the Primarch required answers. A strategy had to be formulated, and he had to handle the various factions already present.
In short, Guilliman had to do politics.
.
.
The Warp acts as a mirror of reality, reflecting significant events and intense emotions. And right now, those were dark reflections. The resurrection of Roboute Guilliman sent ripples of agitation and turmoil through the Immaterium, drawing the attention of the Dark Gods of Chaos. Fulgrim, the Daemon Primarch of the Emperor's Children and now belonging to Slaanesh, poutily rose from his pink banquet of endless souls as daemon imps whispered the news of Guilliman's return into his ears. He stood up, bothered that he had to leave and vowed to the depraved pink bitch that he would ensure that his former brother would be put down for good this time.
Meanwhile, the Daemons of Tzeentch observed how fate shifted with Guilliman's awakening. No one, not even the Ruler of Change himself, had foreseen this, and he had a strong suspicion that the reason for this change had to be the peculiar and far too interesting new plaything he had his eyes on. Those of his faction were prepared to corrupt Guilliman in various subtle ways.
In Papa Nurgle's Garden, Great Unclean Ones, his Greater Daemons, revelled at the prospect of a Primarch untouched by Nurgle, and were already concocting a sickness worthy of a demigod as they contemplated a meeting between Daemon Primarch Mortarion and his brother Guilliman.
Across the galaxy, the Mendox Cataclysm concluded as Khorne's champions burned eighty-eight Imperial worlds. Their furious deity raged as he learned of Guilliman's return, causing Warp storms to break out across reality. Unlike other Dark Gods who sought to mislead Guilliman, Khorne's followers turned on each other, eager for the chance to hunt the resurrected Primarch.
Other dark lords recognised Guilliman's revival and began mobilising forces. Abaddon the Despoiler formed a loose alliance of Chaos Space Marine warbands to strike the Primarch down, but his initial attempt failed. It was one of Abaddon's greatest delusions, like his father before him, that he could control Chaos and use it as he pleased. But it was literally called Chaos; it didn't work in an orderly fashion as he wanted.
In his fury, Abaddon summoned the Greater Daemon of Tzeentch, Kairos Fateweaver, to gather fresh forces against Guilliman. This was lucky, as the forces of change had already planned this anyway.
The traitor Primarchs: Magnus the Red and Mortarion reacted differently to their brother's awakening. Mortarion unleashed plagues upon Imperial worlds in cold fury, vowing to corrupt Guilliman when the time came that they would meet.
In contrast, Magnus, the Daemon Primarch of Tzeentch, rejoiced, seeing billions of paths of fate where previously confusion had reigned, and issued orders to rally his sons, the Thousand Sons Chaos Mari,nes for retribution.
As the power of the Warp gathered, traitor warbands flooded toward Ultramar, howling with bloodlust, rage and mad delight and seeking to strike the returned loyal Primarch Guilliman down.
The galaxy was already ravaged by Warp storms, heightening the impending conflict.
Guilliman was, for now, unaware of the daemonic madness that his return had provoked and the storms that were unleashed and would be unleashed.
This was a mercy, because the Lord of Ultramar already had multiple crushing weights to deal with. Endless questions of how the Imperium he had helped build had turned to shit of this magnitude, the shock of basically dying and then waking up the next second, 10 thousand years later and the immense presence of Chaos and a new religion about his father of all people...
Everything Guilliman knew was gone, replaced by the madness and horror of a future he had fought so desperately to prevent.