The appearance of the Astral Express and the construction of stellar tracks brought impacts beyond imagination. If Guilliman's recovery from the stasis field was the spark that reignited humanity, then Sanguinius's resurrection was a beacon of hope in the grim future. In other words, this stellar orbit was built from nothing, ignored the Warp, and allowed instantaneous traversal of tens of thousands of lightyears...
This would transform humanity, now on the brink of extinction, into something utterly new. The impact was profound and soul-shaking—much more direct and destructive than even the return of two legendary figures.
Ten thousand years ago, the Emperor's Webway Project had been an attempt to free mankind from the limits of Warp travel. The Emperor planned to use the Golden Throne in the sanctum of the Imperial Palace on Terra to open and control the webway of Warp tunnels left behind by the Old Ones and Eldar.
The goal: to establish a system of faster-than-light travel absolutely safe for mankind, untouched by Chaos' corruption.
The ultimate aim had been to set humanity completely free from dependence on the Warp, fundamentally severing the route by which the gods of Chaos gained power and corrupted humanity's collective soul. If this succeeded, under the Emperor's guidance, mankind could evolve safely into a fully psychic race and reach a glory surpassing even the old Eldar empire—a true Human Imperium, bound together as a unified network and undivided by space or time.
But by targeting the very foundation of Chaos, the plan incurred the wrath of all four gods, who spared no effort to destroy it—ultimately resulting in the complete collapse of the Webway Project thanks to the Horus Heresy and Magnus's foolishness. Humanity and the Imperium would hencefall trudge toward ruin; no matter how prosperous the Imperium became, it could never escape the Warp, and would eventually descend into conflict, division, and slow decay.
Now, the nameless one brought the Imperium an even better solution than the Webway—a more direct, efficient, and unimaginable way. Rather than repairing the old tunnels, they forged brand new stellar orbits, not crossing dangerous Warp but instead utilizing the stable middle layer of reality. No psychic navigation was needed; once a target was set, one arrived instantly. Once the full network was established, mankind would be wholly freed from the Warp and gods—walking towards eternal glory.
…
As the stellar orbit appeared, the state of the entire Warp changed dramatically. The moment the stellar trails appeared, the four Chaos Gods tacitly reached the same silent understanding they'd shared when they first fought the Emperor ten thousand years ago.
Within the Brass Fortress, the Blood God's roar rang out—not for slaughter or conquest, but a mixture of shock and anger rarely seen, his fundamental interests threatened. The Khorne forces, who were assailing Slaanesh's Palace, received unprecedentedly clear orders: retreat, regroup, and prepare to advance on realspace.
In Tzeentch's Crystal Labyrinth, countless heads of the Changer ceased their whispers and calculations. Incalculable eyes watched a suddenly emerging, unpredictable thread of fate in the long river—a possibility brought by the stellar trail, deviating from every previous course.
Gigantic scorpion-like and shapechanging beasts, the size of cities, quietly withdrew from Nurgle's Garden. In his garden of mercy, the Plague Lord bitterly muttered, angrily striking the massive cauldron brewing his pestilences. Newly arrived plague demons at Khorne's gates twisted their putrid bodies in confusion, and, led by the will of their beloved Father, staggered back to plague-ravaged paradise.
Even within the Palace of Ecstasy, the Dark Prince Slaanesh was, for a brief instant, distracted from endless sensation. He ordered his mad knights and succubi to withdraw from the other gods' realms. For a time, the eternal, bloody struggles and intrigue among the gods were set aside—to gather strength, prepare assaults on realspace, and accelerate the drive to push the galaxy into the abyss.
If humanity built more faster-than-light tunnels, escaping dependency on the Warp, the Chaos Powers would be unable to comprehend human despair and suffering, and would gradually weaken—eventually overwhelmed and destroyed by mankind, perhaps even captured alive by the deluded minions of the accursed, to dance before the Golden Throne.
The mere thought was the deepest of humiliations—what dignity was left if mighty Chaos gods had to dance for others' amusement?
The gods' servants quickly learned of this news.
Deep within the Temples of Debauchery, in a hall filled with sweet fragrances and groans of pain and pleasure, the Phoenix Lord Fulgrim, fresh from defeating 666 types of succubi in a naked feast, lounged on his velvet throne. The whispers of daemon maidens reached his sharp ears—words of Guilliman, of Sanguinius, the Nameless One, and his miracles.
"Nameless One..." The perfect smile on Fulgrim's face slowly froze over. An insult from this foe—the kind he would never forget. "You're not even worth a single feather from Sanguinius."
The flames of humiliation scorched away the delight he'd just enjoyed. He rose abruptly, swearing a wicked oath to the Prince of Pleasure: he must drag his perfect brother Sanguinius and the dull-witted Guilliman to this domain, subject them to endless humiliation and ravishment, and make them confess who among them is truly perfect amid eternal corruption.
…
Somewhere in the Milky Way, a world shrouded in blood mist, Khorne's followers had just concluded a massacre lasting several tera-days. Hundreds of millions of lives, their blood and skulls, were offered up to the Blood God.
Behind it all was Angron, primarch of the World Eaters. Standing atop a mountain of skulls, he spread his wings and roared toward the sky, shaking the void itself.
News of the star track only stroked his rage. He couldn't wait to kill Sanguinius and cleanse the shame of losing at the gates of the Sanctum during the Siege of Terra.
Back then, Angron had challenged Sanguinius, only to lose his head to him after a fierce battle. To Angron, it was an inexpressible humiliation. He swore to cut off Sanguinius's head for the Blood God's offering.
…
Elsewhere, on a world forcibly reshaped by daemons, Perturabo, primarch of the Iron Warriors, stood before an engine flickering with demonic illusions. He dismissed the idea that his two brothers would return, but upon hearing that Guilliman now wielded new technology capable of overturning the balance of power in the galaxy, a jealous fire abruptly ignited in his stone-hard heart.
"Such exquisite, powerful creations—perfect order and efficiency—they should be mine!"
"How could indecisive, useless Guilliman have any right to such power?"
Long ago, Perturabo had conceived of a grand plan: using the galaxy-spanning Great Rift, transforming many worlds into Daemon Forge Planets, enslaving countless beings to produce enough war machines to lay the galaxy to waste. Soon the whole galaxy would submit to the Iron Lord—he would prove himself supreme.
That news quickly reached the Planet of Sorcerers.
The Crimson King Magnus's solitary eye burned with rage and ambition. Enraged aboard his wizard planet, he ordered his followers to intensify sacrifice rituals and hasten the rise of his own psychic empire. He would never forget the humiliation of the Lunar War, swearing to one day crush Guilliman and the Nameless, proclaiming his own dominion.
On the bridge of the Black Legion flagship, Vengeful Spirit, Abaddon the Despoiler learned the news and was consumed by incomparable fury. With his bare hands, he smashed the tactical control console before him—sparks flying, metal warping.
"Cadia was destroyed! The Great Rift opened! The Imperium should've collapsed!!"
He roared with a fury both incomprehensible and violent.
"Why is Guilliman still alive? And Sanguinius? Why have they all come back?"
"Why has something even madder than the Webway appeared?"
The Imperium had once stood at the brink, but was now vigorous and alive again.
Damn it—was destroying Cadia a mistake? Around him, the Black Legion officers and Chaos Sorcerers quaked in terror and silence. No one dared anger the Warmaster, for fear his rage might tear them limb from limb.
..
Somewhere in the Ultramar system, the Death Guard flagship Resilient was filled with toxic gas and grotesque flesh. Mortarion looked up from the plague bees' message, his rotting face expressionless.
"Guilliman and the Nameless coming up with this—I never expected it. Fascinating, truly fascinating."
He murmured in his low voice.
"Do you think you can win through such tricks, my brother Roboute, and that troublesome Nameless One?"
A chilling, smug grin spread on Mortarion's lips.
"I have already prepared a special welcome for you—Otrum is irreversibly corrupt."
"Come, Guilliman, return home. Witness with your own eyes how your world is reborn under Father's blessing. Then you will be my slave—beaten and scourged by my lash."
…
After the initial shock subsided, Guilliman forced down the turbulent feelings in his heart and, relying on his authority as Lord Regent, issued a command.
"Select battleships for the mission to Ultramar, assign them to support operations, and have them pass through the Stargate in turn for Macragge!"
The enormous imperial fleet moved like a pod of metallic whales. One after another, ships fired up their engines, changing course, guiding themselves into a constantly spinning tunnel of light. The moment a ship vanished into the hole, a strange scene occurred. It was not a horrifying Warp scene full of whispers, but instead, passengers immersed themselves in a dazzling river of light—not blinding, but vivid, like a living veil passing across the observation windows.
Every crew member witnessed this unfathomable spectacle, faces full of awe and disbelief. The entire transition took only a few minutes. After entering, the prow emerged on the far side—a familiar edge of the Macragge galaxy, returning from the void to realspace. The Oraclyron's sensors matched the star maps perfectly—every ship crossed to the other side with no risk, no loss, something utterly unheard of in the past, when Warp travel always involved some casualties, sometimes entire ships disappearing.
Even the Eldar's bone-shaped flagship, piloted by the Farseer Natase, arrived at Macragge's outer system. The shock on the faces of these elves was even more intense than on the humans'—for their own webway was nowhere near as efficient as the human-constructed FTL tunnels. If laid across the galaxy, it would undoubtedly replace the Eldar network.
The bridge of Macragge's Honour buzzed as crew urgently communicated with other warships to confirm.
"Send a message to the Macragge garrison—inform them the Primarch has returned."
Guilliman stood at the highest point, looking out the viewports at the blazing star and the planet Macragge orbiting it. A single idea crystallized in the Primarch's mind, rapidly becoming a workable strategy.
"Contact Father Matthew at once."
He spoke to Imperial Guard Commanders Carken and Sicarius, his determination unwavering.
"In the name of the Regent and Lord of Ultramar, I decree that the deeds of the Nameless shall be hailed as the highest divine miracle in the Ecclesiarchy."
"We also need to erect statues of the Nameless—grander than those of the Emperor—at both ends of this FTL tunnel."
"Let all who pass this gate be filled with hymns to the Nameless God."
Father, I can't go back anymore. I too wish I could build a statue to commemorate you, so future generations could revere you, but there are so many anonymous donations—I just can't resist it, my child!
Do not brandish such arbitrary truths. Gods exist in this galaxy! And now they are bathed in divine glory.
Don't say I have changed. I only want to hold tight to the one with the most strength. If I could set a limit for how long I must stick to the powerful, I'd wish for ten million years.
The thought of winning favor with a stranger never once made Guilliman ashamed. On the contrary, he straightened his back, filled with righteous anger. On his and the Nameless One's shoulders rested the hopes and burdens of the Imperium's five major celestial zones and millions of worlds.
…
Guilliman further considered how to win over the powerful…
At the Astral Express's control center, Datch saw the mission complete notification:
"Congratulations on completing your mission! You have aided the Lord Regent in finding the shortest route to Ultramar."
[Quest Reward: EXP +2000, Points +2000, Reputation +1000, Moon Greatsword ×1]
With a flash, an orange greatsword, glittering with a cold and clear light, appeared in the game inventory. Datch hadn't even finished thinking about it when the power sword appeared in his hand, and he gripped it firmly. The sword's info panel appeared:
[Weapon: Moon Greatsword]
Description: According to legend, this blade was forged by the secret Moon Goddess sect with all their resources.
The sword was neither gold nor jade, but holding it felt like it was forged from solidified moonlight, radiating pure silver gleam.
Trait 1: Frosty Moon – When activated, the blade is wrapped in lunar frost, attacks carry powerful freezing and soul-chilling effects, dealing bonus damage to Warp entities.
Trait 2: Wrath of the Moon – When charged, releases an unrivaled crescent-shaped wave of light to purge evil in its path.
Review: "Cool. That's it. Plus, he's really good at fighting demons and monsters."
"Nice!" Datch's face brightened with joy. He couldn't wait to try his new weapon. He immediately pulled out a teleport gun, set the coordinates for a deserted planet, and disappeared.
Guilliman, boarding the Astral Express on a transport, was disappointed to find it empty—though fortunately, the conductor, Pam, greeted him warmly. As the train manager, Pam took pride in welcoming new passengers onboard—at least in terms of sightseeing and transport, for the Astral Express belonged to Datch and wouldn't move unless Datch commanded it. Anyone attempting sabotage would be ejected by Pam.
A group of tech fanatics eagerly followed the Primarch aboard, secretly plotting to disassemble it. After Pam kicked out a few who got overly eager, the rest behaved, using only their equipment to probe critical faults, and never daring to attempt disassembly. Pam didn't care so long as the train wasn't damaged.
Guilliman had just finished touring the train. Soon the stationed fleet of the Macragge System arrived—approaching as if to face a formidable foe. Then, receiving data from distant outposts, they discovered that the entire Macragge's Honour fleet, supposedly far away on expedition, had suddenly appeared at the system's edge.
At first, officers thought it must be some Chaos plot, but only when they saw Macragge's Honour and dense Imperial ships with their own eyes did they relax.
"Send this message to Hela Fortress on Macragge with top priority!"
…
Planet Macragge, Hela Fortress
Marneus Calgar, the current Chapter Master of Ultramar, was now tormented by an unprecedented unease. Mortarion and the Death Guard's invasion was no simple frontal assault, but a brute-force war of rot reaching all quarters. As the frontlines worsened and resources ran low, the Nurgle cult and their followers incited rebellion and spread despair on every planet—so much so that even Macragge itself erupted in protest and chaos.
Calgar had suffered defeat on many battlefields and felt himself a loser—unable to meet the earliest expectations, unable to protect his home. At that moment, an emergency transmission from the void fleet, with absolute priority, reached his command.
When the word came, even this legendary hero of the Imperium was stunned, convinced it was impossible. Recently, the Primarch had sent a message saying he'd be gathering forces in the Nephilim Sector to battle the Necrons. How could he have suddenly reappeared on Macragge?
Was it because he hadn't managed to stop the Primarch, allowing all Ultramar, even Macragge, to spiral into chaos? Was that why the Primarch hurried back at all costs?
"Are they going to fire me?"
Calgar pictured the most terrifying outcome.
And why would the Primarch race back from the distant Paradis system—half a galaxy away?