Guilliman walked out of the sanctum, his unparalleled presence like a storm sweeping in, shaking every Astartes and mortal soldier.
No enemy was his match. The Emperor’s Sword in his hand burned with golden flames, incinerating the essence and flesh of daemons.
He cut down enemies all along the way, wasting no time asking about anything irrelevant,
instead focusing his attention on the strategic information that required concern.
With an astonishing mind, the Primarch swiftly grasped the situation on Macragge, continually taking over command and making the decisions most suited to the current circumstances.
At the same time, he deliberately allowed news of his awakening to spread, to raise the morale of the defenders.
In an extremely short time, Guilliman had rapidly mastered the tangled battlefield situation from limited information,
and set about commanding the various forces of the Fortress of Hera, reshaping its defenses.
No appointment was needed. Everyone obeyed him as a matter of course.
“Inform the 175th Auxiliary Regiment to move to the bell tower two hundred meters from their current position.”
“The forty artillery pieces on Section B-04 of the wall are to bombard coordinates: K-7 / 34.5-18.2 /+2 in unison.”
“Have the Crown of Hera move to K-7 / 39-27 /+0 and carry out a lance strike on that area. Destroy those fallen Titans.”
“Have that mysterious angel of the Emperor go to Zone B245 and open a path for the other forces. Once the path is open, proceed to Zone B214 and repair those tanks...”
“...”
Like an experienced orchestral conductor, Guilliman dealt with every situation on the battlefield with an efficiency that left everyone in awe.
The berserker from moments ago had already returned to the state of the legendary strategic commander recorded in history.
From his orders alone, it could be seen that every battlefield, every defensive line, was within his control.
The Space Marines and mortal troops began fighting together with a level of coordination they had never seen before.
Even they themselves had not known that cooperation between different forces could be so precise and flawless.
Every commander was shaken.
There was a reason the Primarchs had become myth.
And during the Great Crusade, there had been more than one such being.
No wonder mankind of that era had been able to crush and annihilate all its enemies like rotten wood before a storm.
In the myths and legends of the Imperium, Guilliman was not the Primarch most outstanding in battlefield command, but was famed for his strategic talent.
Short-term warfare was, for him, a disadvantage.
But once the duration of a war was extended, Guilliman’s enemies would fall into despair.
Because they would discover something truly terrifying.
That was that Guilliman’s forces were infinite.
If you destroyed one army, he would bring out an even stronger one, endless and inexhaustible.
“So this is the Emperor’s own son? So powerful, so wise. Compared to him, we are like fireflies beside the sun and moon.”
Celestine’s voice was filled with emotion.
Greyfax and the others were the same.
The fall of the Fortress of Cadia had torn the entire galaxy apart, and everyone who realized the Imperium’s current state had sunk into despair.
The Imperium was so vast, so bloated. Who could lead it against this desperate and dark age of ending?
And now, they had their answer.
The Emperor had sent his own son back.
This despairing night would welcome the first light of dawn.
The Chaos host attacking the Fortress of Hera was shocked to discover that the Imperial defenders, who had been under assault, had suddenly become like a sharp sword, shattering their offensive and constantly launching deadly counterattacks.
Thunderous anti-air fire, paired with interceptors weaving through the skies, soon made the Chaos enemies above the Fortress of Hera suffer bitterly.
One Hell Drake and Chaos fighter after another fell toward the ground trailing black smoke, erupting in rumbling explosions.
For the first time, the pilots felt that battle was so easy.
They only needed to arrive at the designated place at Guilliman’s designated time, and they could kill the enemy and win victory.
Taking advantage of this opportunity, the ground forces began their counteroffensive.
According to Guilliman’s orders, the Space Marines and Ultramar Auxilia began carrying out mobile penetration maneuvers.
Raids, feints, feigned retreats, ambushes—the Chaos host was precisely lured and carved apart.
Their numbers had originally far surpassed the Imperial army’s.
However, after Guilliman took command of the surviving forces,
the Chaos commanders soon discovered that Imperials were everywhere. They were attacked from front and rear, unable to attend to one side without losing the other.
Chaos Space Marines of the Black Legion, Alpha Legion, Iron Warriors, and others were continuously driven back.
They were forced to leave behind vast numbers of corpses and abandon the high walls they had occupied.
The traitor Titans collapsed like burning giant trees, and the explosions of their energy cores raised bright, dazzling suns upon the horizon.
The terrifying blasts made everyone feel the earth tremble.
Daqi relied on his jump pack to maneuver at high speed.
Guilliman continuously issued missions, sending him to various places to carry them out.
He used the mithril pickaxe to open paths for trapped troops, and Ashu’s Golden Hammer to repair all kinds of damaged vehicles and artillery.
Every small mission rewarded experience points and credits.
This left Daqi extremely excited. The Primarch was simply the best NPC for grinding missions.
Bring it on to your heart’s content. Let these foolish NPCs experience the terror of a grinding emperor.
At the peak of grinding, I stand above the world; with me, Daqi, there is heaven.
“Praise the Omnissiah. Praise the Machine God.”
Adoli 4556 chanted benedictions while holding an incense burner, kowtowing to a Chimera transport that had just been repaired.
Before he could finish kowtowing, Daqi went clang, clang, clang, and repaired the nearby Leman Russ, Salamander scout vehicle, and a Knight House’s war machine.
Adoli 4556: “...”
There were a bit too many things to kowtow to!!
Relying on his miraculous items, Daqi had already become the finest battlefield support.
What to do if a fighter was damaged? Hit it once.
What to do if artillery was running poorly? Hit it once.
What to do if a war machine was leaking oil or electricity? Still hit it once.
No matter the problem, one hit was all it took to restore it to its original state, leaving the machine spirit greatly pleased.
With Guilliman’s excellent command paired with Daqi’s support,
in just one hour, the Chaos traitors who had invaded the Fortress of Hera were completely annihilated. The Ultramarines’ fortress was safe once more.
After confirming that all danger had been eliminated, Guilliman returned to the sanctum with a heavy heart.
He ordered all attendants and advisers, even the Honor Guard, to leave and wait outside the sanctum.
Once everyone had gone, Guilliman sat back on the throne in desolation and let out a long sigh.
With no one present, he shed his disguise and allowed himself to reveal a trace of sorrow and bitterness.
From the data and information he had obtained, he learned that he had slept for ten thousand years. Everything of the past had been buried, becoming something beyond retrieval.
The Primarch spent half an hour ordering his emotions. Afterward, the Ultramarines held a simple return ceremony for him.
Under everyone’s gaze, Guilliman ascended the command throne that had stood empty for ten thousand years.
The Living Saint Celestine presented him with the sacred Iron Halo and the Emperor’s blessing.
After the ceremony ended, Guilliman began summoning those important figures one by one.
He urgently wanted to know what exactly had happened to the Imperium during the time he had slept.