Warhammer: The Worst Start There Is (40k) - Chapter 7: Can’t Afford to Lose
Guilliman’s voice wasn’t loud, but it possessed a special kind of psychic powers that pierced through the crowd, making the cheering crowd even more excited.
Ragged, devout believers of the state religion fell to their knees, singing hymns praising the God Emperor of Mankind with fervor.
“He hasn’t forgotten humanity, and he has returned to help humanity escape this dark and terrifying world, to help them embrace a new, hopeful future.”
Some believers couldn’t help but cry. They took out electric whips and lashed themselves, willingly enduring more pain to express their devotion to the Emperor.
“Look at him, child. He is the radiance of humanity, our salvation,” a woman held her child, only a few months old, high, so that the child would remember the figure in the blue power armor.
“Long live the Emperor! Long live Guilliman!” Someone shouted, and others joined in.
“Long live the Emperor! Long live Guilliman!”
As time went on, everyone was chanting, soldiers and civilians alike.
After all, the one who graced them with his presence is the direct descendant of the Emperor, a Primarch who swore to save them—their hearts were filled with excitement.
Guilliman was also amazed. The human faith power on the Sovereign Template was rapidly increasing. He could feel an invisible force flowing into his body, making him even more powerful.
He even had the illusion that he could take on ten of those large Daemons he had just faced.
And this was just the support from the Maccragge star system. If he gained the support of all human beings in the Imperium, it would be an unimaginable scene.
Guilliman suddenly felt that fighting against the gods was quite promising.
He had to work hard, strive to defeat the Blood God, suppress the debauched worshipper of Slaanesh, and countain the world destroying plague of Nurgle.
The battle was over, and under the protection of the Ultramarines, Guilliman entered the inner city of Macragge.
Along the streets, there were people from all over.
The shattered starport, shrouded in black smoke, witnessed a continuous stream of aircraft landing, all coming for him.
When these people looked at Guilliman, their eyes were all red. A single glance from him could make them excited to the point of sobbing, shouting slogans like “Long live Guilliman.”
Guilliman looked at these people. They could be considered fanatics by now. It probably wouldn’t be difficult to make them willing to die for him.
The archmagos dominus of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Cawl, and the Chapter Master, Calgar, followed behind Guilliman.
Guilliman’s successful return symbolized a glimmer of hope for humanity in this dark and despairing universe.
This brought great relief to the archmagos dominus, for all the years he had spent gathering various technologies across the galaxy in the pursuit of Guilliman’s resurrection were not in vain.
All the sacrifices had finally borne fruit, and the galaxy was entering a new era.
Guilliman’s return, true to his mission, continued to fight for humanity, for the Emperor.
Even though the current Imperium had been torn apart by the great rift in the Warp, with countless worlds plunged into darkness, archmagos dominus Cawl knew that as long as Guilliman had returned, humanity still had hope of regrouping and facing Chaos once more.
Chapter Master Calgar wore an excited expression, and even the neural conduits on his head oozed excitement and joy.
The awakening of the Genefather made him and the other Ultramarines ecstatic.
Sebastian, Amarrichi, and others were also in the group, and their faces were equally filled with joy.
This was an unprecedented victory, not just because they had expelled the enemy but also because of Guilliman’s return.
Guilliman, surrounded by the crowd, made his way towards the inner city of Macragge. His gaze swept across the ancient city.
Behind the cheers of the people lay the ruins of Macragge. The victory came at a heavy cost.
Countless civilians had perished under the ravages of the Chaos forces, their bodies lying amidst the rubble, waiting to be collected.
The fearless defenders of the Imperium were also strewn across countless trenches, fallen in the heat of battle.
Broken artillery and tanks still burned fiercely, and sparks flew from shattered circuit boards, seemingly mourning the loss of lives.
Many buildings had collapsed under the artillery fire of the Chaos forces, and human artistic treasures had been reduced to ashes.
Macragge had won, but it was now a scene of devastation and scars.
The elation of their own revival temporarily suppressed their grief, but this sorrow would eventually be released.
The war between Chaos and the Imperium would continue, and Guilliman understood that countless lives would be lost in the fight for victory, for the survival and dignity of humanity.
(I just hope everything will have a good outcome. I don’t want to be taken by the Chaos Gods as a plaything) Guilliman thought, collecting his thoughts.
In the midst of the crowd, he walked past the cheering masses and returned to the damaged sanctuary.
Bodies and rubble, as well as shattered Daemon Engines and undying heavy war machines, had all been cleared and transported elsewhere.
Inside the sanctuary, many Chapter, archmagos dominus Cawl, and Saint Celestine, among others, paid their respects to Guilliman in turn. Afterward, through their accounts, Guilliman gained a clear understanding of the current state of the Imperium.
Even though he had prepared himself mentally, what Guilliman heard still made his heart pound.
Cadia had fallen, the Great Rift had torn through the entire galaxy, and countless Daemons had materialized, invading human worlds and causing indescribable horror and casualties.
Not a single world had remained untouched, all falling prey to the terrible Daemons, mutants, traitors, or invaders.
Without a doubt, the current Imperium had deviated far from the vision of the Emperor and the Primarchs, becoming the embodiment of their deepest resentment and disgust, entering the darkest and most despairing era.
The Imperium of old was a product of the Emperor and the Primarchs’ countless efforts, a golden age overflowing with hope and triumph.
People emerged from ignorance and embraced science and reason once more, and the Emperor’s expeditionary forces spread his radiance to every planet.
Those were beautiful and hopeful times.
After listening to Celestine, Calgar, and the others’ explanations of the current situation, Guilliman, citing the need for solitude, asked them all to leave.
Standing by the broken window and watching the people outside the sanctuary moving bodies, Guilliman sighed softly.
“Horus, you are truly unforgivable.”
The aftermath of Horus’ betrayal had lingered for ten thousand years.
Once the First Captain of Horus’ Sons, Abaddon, who had been the most loyal to Horus, had become the new Warmaster of the Chaos Gods during the time the Primarchs had departed, launching attack after attack on the Imperium.
Over the course of ten thousand years of torment and war, the Imperium, in its struggle for survival, gradually abandoned reason and the future, becoming a bloated, absurd, ignorant, and cruel bureaucratic entity.
There was no trace of reason and hope to be found, only fear, hatred, and ignorance sustaining this colossal zombie, gasping for its last breath!
The Primarch Guilliman was an outright idealist. Even among his brothers, no one had the same hope and vision for a bright future as he did.
Memories of the flesh had an impact on the soul as well.
Humanity had suffered too much over the course of ten thousand years, and their enemies crowded the small galaxy.
Traitors and Chaos Daemons plundered them without restraint, while some extragalactic races launched frenzied attacks on them.
Today’s humanity was far from what it was during the Great Crusade, and one could even say it was more tragic than the golden age.
“A completely new plan is needed,” Guilliman contemplated, realizing that defeating Chaos was not only for the sake of humanity but also for his own.
The attention of the Chaos Gods towards him was high. If he failed, his soul would undoubtedly fall into the hands of those beings. At that point, there would be no escape from their torment, and he would suffer for eternity.
He couldn’t afford to lose; if he did, the consequences would be truly dire.