Guilliman nodded, confirming the reward.
This cheat wasn't too bad; it was barely usable.
Utilizing the dark matter technology in conjunction with the Primaris space marine technology held by the Archmagos Dominus, Belisarius Cawl.
He would be able to forge a new batch of warriors to counter the traitors and the forces of Chaos.
Facing the Chaos hordes with the Imperium's current Space Marines was like bringing a knife to a gunfight.
Many times, victory was achieved simply by overwhelming numbers.
The casualty ratio was horribly high, unbearable to witness.
Being able to forge such a powerful new army would greatly assist him in maintaining the Imperium of Man's territory.
Guilliman had no choice; either he helped the Imperium of Man defeat Chaos, or he would be captured by Chaos and made a slave.
Flee?
It was best not to dream.
The nearest galaxy was hundreds of thousands of light-years away from the Milky Way; how could he escape?
Without the Astronomican, without warp charts, without a different ftl how could he escape?
Even if the fleeing ship could reach the maximum speed limited in the universe, he couldn't escape.
Using light speed to fly from the Milky Way to other galaxies would take hundreds of thousands of years.
If the ship broke down midway, it would be a drift to death.
Escaping through the warp was even more dangerous.
The warp was the territory of the Chaos Gods; without the protection of the Emperor's Astronomican, the gellar field would collapse in just a few days.
Without the gellar field, the Chaos Gods could manipulate him however they pleased.
Another unrealistic aspect of escaping was that other places might not necessarily be safe.
In the Warhammer universe, there was another race, the Tyranids.
This race came from outside the galaxy, a terrifying race that consumed everything wherever it went, chased into the Milky Way by other powerful entities.
One could imagine what happened!
The world outside the Milky Way might be even worse than the galaxy itself.
It was likely that escaping would lead to even greater despair.
He could only win; otherwise, he could only die miserably.
There was no third option.
"Go out and clear them," Guilliman stepped out, his eyes filled with terrifying wrath, the flames of the Emperor's Sword growing brighter.
Calgar, Celestine, Amaritsch, and the other survivors regrouped and gathered beside Guilliman.
The rumble of artillery echoed outside the sanctuary; the Imperial defenders were still fighting, attempting to drive the Chaos invaders from their home.
In Macragge City, this magnificent hive city, battles were raging everywhere.
Factories, spaceports, everywhere was filled with the sounds of slaughter.
Space Marines from all over the Imperium, clad in different armor, were locked in combat with the forces of Chaos.
The Astra Militarum and the Macragge Guard were still firing, utilizing defenses built along the streets to shoot down those damned cultists and daemons.
Beams of laser fire cut through the acrid-smelling battlefield, searing the monsters and taking their lives.
But the monsters, cultists, and traitors were so numerous, their numbers vast and unimaginable.
They assaulted the lines of the Imperial loyalists in waves, forcing the defenders to retreat step by step.
"For the Chaos Gods, for ultimate glory, kill!" The cultists, covered in bone spurs and transformed into monstrous beings, brandished their weapons and roared, encouraging the believers to charge forward relentlessly, assaulting the defenders' lines.
A man with a hideous face and covered in tumors shrieked with unusual excitement, "For the gifts of the kind father, for the end of all things."
Other traitors also shouted various bizarre and blasphemous slogans.
The Imperial defenders were still stubbornly holding on, maintaining the collapsing front line; behind them was the last refuge in Macragge City, they had nowhere left to retreat.
The civilians huddled in the refuge, praying before the Emperor's statue.
"Save us."
"Don't let those evils harm us."
"Save us."
Listening to the sound of artillery and the increasingly close, frantic roars from the Chaos side, they became more and more terrified.
Once they fell into the hands of Chaos, even death would not be rest, but the beginning of another torment.
Thinking of this, they immediately trembled and were filled with fear.
The Astra Militarum commander responsible for defending the Macragge City refuge also fell into despair.
Facing the surging Chaos army, he could only squeeze the potential of every unit as much as possible, buying a little more time for the defense line.
Over a hundred regiments had been ground down by this war of attrition, countless Astra Militarum soldiers had died on this battlefield.
The only hope was that the Imperial fleet could regain control of the low orbit; only then could they win the war.
Bodies piled up like mountains on the battlefield, crimson blood flowed across the ground, and even the air carried that pungent smell.
The brutality of the war became increasingly despairing.
There was not a single chance of victory in sight.
Contact between the surface and space had been cut off; no one knew how the battle in space was going.
Had they won? Or had they routed?
Large green flies buzzed and circled over the battlefield.
Seeing fresh corpses lying on the ground, they swarmed forward, burrowing into the flesh to lay eggs, delivering the kindness of the kind father, those bizarre viruses and bacteria, into the bodies of the corpses, making them stand up again and become plague zombies.
The defenders' decline became more and more severe, while the enemy's offensive grew stronger; the power from the warp's Chaos Gods was spreading, and eerie whispers were tempting the soldiers who still wanted to resist, trying to drag them from the rotting corpse on the Golden Throne into the sweet garden.
"Are we finished?" Looking at the rapidly collapsing battlefield situation, despair arose in the commander's heart.
How could such a battle be won?
Continuing to fight was also a dead end.
They had no chance of turning the tide.
There was no high-altitude fire support, no tank concentration, no Titan Knights, and no reserve forces.
The Astra Militarum commander looked up at the sky; even air superiority had been completely taken by the enemy, what chance of victory could there be?
Pessimistic emotions spread among all the defenders, causing despair to appear on their faces.
Many tightly gripped the weapons in their hands, trying their best to calm their fearful bodies.
Several veterans made the Aquila gesture, offering their final prayers.
Watching the renewed assault of daemons and traitors sweeping over them, they silently prayed that their souls would return to the foot of the Throne, to be with their fallen comrades.
Suddenly, the eerie whispers disappeared.
Everyone felt an unnamed power surge within them, driving away their sickness, fatigue, and despair, making their bodies strong again.
The ecstatic expressions on the faces of the frenzied Chaos warriors, daemons, and cultists also vanished, replaced by terrifying fear.
Guilliman walked out of the sanctuary, like a war demigod filled with wrath stepping from a divine realm into reality; the Emperor's Sword burned fiercely, and wherever its light reached, the shadows of the warp continuously collapsed and fled.
"I have returned," Guilliman let out a battle cry and began to run, Celestine and the others followed closely behind him, charging together towards the army composed of daemons and traitors.
They were like a sharp spear, piercing directly into the enemy's formation; upon contact, they unleashed a terrible slaughter, shattered limbs flying everywhere.
"Counterattack! All units, listen up! Charge!" Seeing the Saint, the Lord Commander, and the Chapter Masters guarding a demigod who should only appear in myths, the battlefield commander realized that Archmagos Belisarius Cawl's plan had succeeded; a son of the Emperor had been resurrected.
Victory was beckoning to them; humanity would prosper forever, and the glory of the Imperium would be eternal.
He roared and bellowed, ordering the entire army to charge.
"For Humanity! For the Emperor!"
"For Humanity! For the Emperor!"
Hearing the command, the soldiers climbed out of the trenches, shouting their oaths, and charged towards the now-timid Chaos forces.
"For Humanity! For the Emperor!" A regular soldier shouted with all his might, the toxic fumes of battle pouring into his nose and mouth, making him cough violently, but he didn't hesitate for a moment, charging towards the nearest cultist with his weapon in hand, plunging the bayonet made with monomolecular technology into the enemy's body.
"Pay the price, traitor!" Another soldier climbing out of the trench fired his lasgun at the enemies he saw, venting the anger in his heart.
The situation in Macragge instantly reversed; the forces of Chaos continuously lost the ground they had occupied, routed by the counterattacking humans.
Roar!
With a roar, realizing the defeat of the Chaos army, a cultist used the lives of his followers to summon a greater daemon burning with fire.
The greater daemon was enormous, its body strong, covered in metallic bone spurs, looking extremely terrifying; its mere aura made many tremble.
The followers were instantly drained of their life force, then spontaneously combusted and turned to ash.
"Primarch?" The greater daemon entered real space from the warp through the sacrifice, and immediately smelled Guilliman's aura.
Its burning eyes locked onto the Primarch fighting on the battlefield.
The Primarch's skull would be the best gift for the Blood God; it revealed a ferocious smile, let out another roar that shook the entire world, and charged directly forward.