Sicarius, with the characteristic gait of a master swordsman, stepped into his liege's receiving room.
He was the captain of the Ultramarines Second Company, the Master of the Watch, the Champion of Macragge, a High Lord of Ultramar, and one of the foremost swordsmen in the Imperium of Man.
Sicarius' hand always rested instinctively on the hilt of his sword.
This was his ingrained combat awareness, constantly prepared for battle, even in the safest of places, his body remained tense.
"My lord," Sicarius said.
"Is there any new information?" Guilliman settled back into his chair.
"Saint Celestine has arrived in the Konor system ahead of schedule and has engaged the enemy there."
"How is the battle progressing? And what is the situation in the Konor system?" Guilliman asked.
"The battlefield is a stalemate. The enemy composition there is very complex; there are Word Bearers, Iron Warriors, and a portion of the Black Legion traitors, as well as traitor forces driven out by various Great Crusade fleets.
They have converged in the Konor system, with the Black Legion being one of the strongest factions among them. The main planet of the Konor system has not yet fallen; the Scythes of the Emperor Chapter and a portion of the Azure Knights Chapter are still striving against Chaos."
The Black Legion was founded by Abaddon, the Warmaster chosen by the Four Gods.
After Horus' death, the Sons of Horus fragmented into countless small warbands.
They couldn't even protect Horus' body or his flagship, which were seized by other warbands.
It wasn't until Abaddon's emergence that a turning point arrived.
He rallied the former Sons of Horus, along with a portion of traitors eager for revenge against the Imperium, and established the infamous Black Legion, constantly launching crusades against the Imperium.
Utilizing the Eye of Terror, the Black Legion was invincible; they were always on the offensive against the Imperium, which could only passively defend.
"It seems they haven't given up and want to leave a thorn in Ultramar to continuously bleed us," Guilliman said gravely. "But they have underestimated my resolve. Order the fleet to proceed at full speed. We will reinforce the Saint and the Konor system. After clearing out these traitors, the crusade can enter a new phase."
"As you wish, my lord, the fleet will proceed at full speed."
As time passed and the loyalists continuously drove out the traitors and Chaos forces,
The turbulent warp storms gradually showed signs of subsiding, allowing the loyalists to travel faster.
After three weeks of travel, Guilliman's fleet emerged from the warp outside the Konor system, at a safe point sufficiently far from the star's gravitational field.
Accompanied by the distortion of space, beams of light erupted from the void.
A massive number of warships appeared, accompanied by ethereal light.
The distorted light, like tentacles, clung to the reinforced hulls until the warships were sufficiently far away, then dissipated.
A robed servant hurried down the corridor illuminated by lumen-lamps.
His legs had been converted into mechanical ones, allowing him to cling tightly to the steel corridor, ignoring the fluctuating gravity and the vibrations of Macragge's Glory.
A servo-skull hovered behind him, its red electronic eye humming, scanning everywhere with red beams, wary of any warp daemons sneaking in while the guardians weren't paying attention.
One of the servant's hands was as withered as an eagle's talon, clutching a parchment with recently recorded data, intending to deliver it to the most important person on the ship.
He walked past other crew members and servants; no one paid attention to him, everyone had their own tasks.
Some were loading artillery, some were preparing equipment for the Space Marines, and others were carrying away those injured by the vibrations for concentrated treatment.
The instability of the warp always caused some damage during travel.
The servant arrived at the bridge control room of Macragge's Glory.
Members of the Honour Guard, clad in Terminator armour, stood outside, scrutinizing everyone attempting to enter.
Heavy bolters were fixed to the chests of their armour.
These massive warriors, in the servant's eyes, were demigods.
Whether it was the fully sealed blue power armour, the noble helmets emitting a faint light and integrating various Mechanicus technologies, or the humming power packs mounted on their backs, they filled the servant's eyes with almost religious reverence.
"This is the latest warp observation data, to be presented to the Lord Primarch," the servant respectfully showed the parchment in his hand, stating his purpose.
"Go in," a low voice came from the communication amplifier on the helmet of an Honour Guard member.
Accompanied by the sound of mechanical rotation, the heavy door slid open, and the servant walked inside.
The bridge ceiling was high, and the walls were decorated with marble sculptures.
Power officers, intelligence officers, and energy officers sat around the massive control console, connected to it via neural cables, sharing the bridge data, and behind each of them were cogitators assisting them in their work.
Rows of strategium shrines lined the walls, awaiting activation by battlefield analysts.
Captain Brehek sat in his position, surrounded by several holographic projections.
Each holographic projection displayed a large amount of battlefield data.
The battle in the Konor system was still ongoing.
The fighting between the two sides was becoming increasingly fierce.
Guilliman's fleet was approaching the battlefield, and Brehek had to find the optimal strategic entry point.
The servant ignored them and walked directly towards the Primarch, who was seated on a massive, inscribed throne.
"My lord," the servant said respectfully.
Guilliman took the data record from the servant's hand; it was thick, about three centimeters.
But the Primarch was fast; after a dozen seconds, Guilliman had finished reading it and handed it back to the servant, signaling him to archive it.
After reading the data, Guilliman looked towards Brehek's position.
"How is it, captain?"
"The enemy still has sixteen battleships, as well as a considerable number of cruiser strike craft. Saint Celestine is gaining the advantage; her victory is already a certainty. Our fleet will be responsible for interception, striving to keep all enemy ships in this star system, my lord."
Guilliman did not speak, tacitly approving Brehek's operational deployment.
Victory in the space battle was destined.
The traitor fleet, already on the verge of struggling, immediately faced collapse after Guilliman's fleet entered the battlefield.
Clusters of battleships joined the space battle alongside Macragge's Glory.
Blazing beams of light struck the sterns and flanks of the traitor fleet.
Countless torpedoes traced deadly paths through space.
Intense muzzle flashes lit up within the rebellious fleet.
Delayed-fuse nuclear warheads incinerated traitor vessels one by one.
Dazzling beams tore through the traitor warships like cutting through butter.
The traitor fleet, fighting in disarray, was utterly unable to resist the massive, coordinated assault of the loyalists, and one after another, they were reduced to nothing in explosions.
The remaining traitor ships attempted to flee, but the loyalist ships, which had already completed the encirclement, swarmed them like a pack of wolves, tearing them all to shreds.
Within an hour of Guilliman's arrival on the battlefield, the traitor fleet had been reduced to vast amounts of debris drifting in the cold universe, gradually cooling in the vacuum, their bodies quickly frozen into ice sculptures in space.
The war ended, and a vox-communication echoed through the bridge control room of Macragge's Glory.
"My lord, Celestine requests permission to board."