The Star Portal floated quietly in the void, surrounded by fleets of the Adeptus chanicus and the Ecclesiarchy. They were building platforms and defensive structures around the portal. This faster-than-light route, connecting the Paradis Galaxy and the Macragge System, was heavily guarded and destined to beco a vital strategic location.
Inside the embarkation deck of the Glory of Macragge, a Tyrant-class gunship was docked, closely following the crew's instructions. With a hiss, the pressurized hatch slid open. Heavy footsteps echoed as a squad of Ultramarines stepped from within.
At their head was a man cloaked in Mark X power armor, painted deep blue and gold. The armor's pauldron bore the insignia of the 4th Ultramarines, along with runes marking his own achievents. He was a veteran, and had just completed his first appearance in the role of Captain Uriel Ventris, leader of the 4th Company.
He doffed his helt, revealing a resolute face etched with the marks of war, loyalty, and anxiety. Behind him stood four other veterans, each removing their helts and wearing solemn expressions.
Upon learning of their arrival—their return from the Astral Express—Guilliman imdiately welcod them into the Grand Strategium.
When Ventris and his companions entered and laid eyes on the Primarch himself, they all knelt on one knee, hand over heart, as a sign of their devotion.
"Primarch, Uriel Ventris of the 4th Company, Ultramarines, thanks you for this audience," Ventris said, his voice trembling slightly, likely from excitent.
"Rise, child," Guilliman said at last, after a lengthy silence. "There's no need to kneel before ."
Ventris did not rise but instead bowed his head lower, his back ramrod straight.
"My lord, please forgive us. When word reached us of your awakening, the Fourth prepared to set out for Macragge at once, but we were too late. By the ti we returned and entered Hera Fortress, you had already departed for Terra on your pilgrimage."
"To fulfill your duty is never wrong, Captain," Guilliman replied gently, his tone filled with satisfaction. "I will not accept your apology—for there's nothing to apologize for. Now rise and speak with ."
Still, Ventris did not move. His voice grew even deeper, even more earnest.
"My lord, had the 4th Company co faster, perhaps there would be no need for us to et like this now. All this ti, I have discussed your deeds and awaited your return with our brothers in the Chapter. We have imagined this mont often. Yet no matter how detailed our records, or how passionate our hymns, nothing can compare to seeing you standing before now. This is the highest honor I have ever known."
He looked up into the Primarch's eyes, filled with awe and reverence.
"To witness a living Primarch...is as if legend itself has co to life. Forgive my rambling; my thoughts are a ss, and my words have beco scattered and confused."
Guilliman sighed. He often found himself frustrated with the Imperium's ancient doctrine, which had elevated the Primarchs to sothing close to gods. Yet even this was moving.
"Uriel Ventris," Guilliman called, his voice growing in strength, carrying unwavering resolve. "Look upon as you would a father—not as a cold idol seen by a pilgrim. Your gene-seed cos from , your spirit is forged from Macragge's highest ideals. You are my descendant, and more than that—you are a superb warrior."
"Now, rise, and report to as the commander of the Ultramarines."
"Yes, my lord." Ventris took a deep breath, then slowly rose to his feet, his warriors following suit.
"Excellent," Guilliman nodded, unable to hide his gratitude for Ventris. "We have enough ti to communicate before we arrive at Macragge's voidport. No matter how grave the situation, we need only the most accurate information. You must tell the truth. Only through truth can we make plans for the future."
Ventris nodded, then began to recount all he knew to the Primarch. His voice regained the calm of a captain, but the weight of his words quickly filled the room with tension.
"The situation in Ultramar is dire. Mortarion, the Lord of the Death Guard, has led a powerful fleet from the Scourge, and several planets have already fallen. The most important point is this: their invasion is more than a military campaign, it is a calculated act of corruption. Wherever their fleets go, plague and decay follow. The basic ecosystems of entire worlds are being destroyed by virus and disease, as rebellion spreads like wildfire among despairing people."
"We do not know what thods they use, but with every planet that collapses, the surrounding worlds beco contaminated. Rebellions and epidemics ignite everywhere, forcing us to scramble like headless chickens."
At Ventris's command, a projector was activated, shining a star map of Ultramar. The map was awash in red to show occupied areas, and yellow for warzones. Even the Macragge system was not spared; multiple planets were beset by Death Cult uprisings or outbreaks of sudden plagues, immobilizing many Imperial forces. The outermost world of Adigam had been attacked repeatedly, and though the defenders had managed to repel the enemy, the cost was great. Disease spread through every city, with countless deaths reported daily.
Ventris highlighted other key logistical points on the map.
"At present, the greatest danger is on Espand. This hub planet is being besieged by the Death Guard's main force. If it falls, 25 surrounding star systems will be left defenseless, and the entire eastern defense network of Ultramar could collapse in its wake."
Guilliman's expression hardened. After a mont's thought, he asked another crucial question:
"What about the progress of the Great Unification of Ultramar?"
Having awoken from coma and taken stock of the Imperium's crisis, Guilliman had imdiately set about crafting new strategies—including the revival of the Greater Ultramar, consolidating Imperial strength against Chaos and Xenos alike.
Ventris looked troubled, his tone edged with anger.
"Resistance is intense. Many worlds that once belonged to Greater Ultramar are debating whether or not to renew their allegiance and pool their resources. Rulers of more than twenty systems play with words, cast doubt on the legality of the decree, or in so cases, such as one system, a single lord swore loyalty even as the other three refused—plunging the entire system into civil war."
"So worlds deny they ever belonged to Greater Ultramar and absolutely refuse to join. Others cling to outdated autonomy charters, insisting even you, Primarch, lack the right to revoke them. Our reports suggest the most defiant worlds are also the most corrupt. Military gear sits abandoned, armies are poorly organized. Veterans' pensions are slashed, conscription borders on slavery. Their ruling classes indulge in luxury and debauchery, while the lower classes work hours beyond belief, and life expectancy has fallen to shocking lows."
As he listened, Guilliman's frown deepened. No wonder Calgar had gotten nowhere conquering Ultramar; all these flaws were at the root. Dealing with such petty insects—what could be achieved?
They needed an iron fist.
"They oppose Greater Ultramar's restoration only to bargain for greater concessions. But they think too highly of themselves; every cri will find justice. I haven't just returned to defeat Mortarion, but to rebuild Ultramar and solve the problems festering over countless years. Every world, every citizen must recover the good life once enjoyed: dignity, plentiful food and clothing, and a life free from fear. This is more than a war—it is a crusade of restoration and purification. I want to make Greater Ultramar the Empire's model, so its rulers can learn how to govern their lands and their people."
Just as Guilliman finished, Sicarius entered. Bowing, he announced,
"My lord, the Eldar seer Natase wishes to see you regarding the Macragge situation. He says he won't take much of your ti, and wants simply to report his observations."
Guilliman raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Show him in."
Ventris wanted to leave to avoid suspicion but the Primarch stopped her.
When Natase entered headquarters, most of the commanders had grown used to his presence and paid him little mind. Yet the veterans, especially Arturis and his fellows, felt uneasy seeing a xenos aboard the Primarch's flagship. Why should such creatures enjoy honors denied even to themselves? Still, they kept their feelings hidden and stood like statues to the side.
"Seer, what do you require?" Guilliman asked.
"I sense a deeply sinister force gnawing at the Macragge system," Natase answered bluntly, wasting no words. He also needed to contact the Eldar to discuss the appearance of the Naless. Their ergence was bound to reshape the galaxy's fate, and the Eldar would need to adapt all their strategies and consult with their supre seers.
"What do you an?" Guilliman pressed.
"It is well known that souls are closely tied to the Warp. This evil force uses the psyonic network to influence souls, tempting the ignorant into error. The rebellions erupting in Ultramar are almost certainly its handiwork."
Natase walked up to the projector and directed the technicians according to his instructions. He had picked up so knowledge of the Imperium recently—what he once despised, he now realized might need careful handling if the Eldar wished to secure their own future.
On the star chart, a web of filmy threads appeared, covering the worlds of Ultramar and showing contamination spreading from world to world.
"This is the sinister force enshrouding Ultramar—an evil net corrupting every world," Natase declared.
"This must be Mortarion's sche. Infecting people as a virus would, making a plague of Ultramar," Guilliman declared, identifying the core problem. "All those uprisings—he whipped them up by ritual, draining our energy, pitting the Empire's defenders against its own civilians. Crushing the rebels achieves nothing. Destroy the ritual, defeat Mortarion, and we solve the root cause."
….
Macragge, Orbiting Starport
The news of the Primarch's return raced across the planet, filling people with joy. From the city's comms towers, soul-stirring hymns were broadcast, and crowds poured into the streets, cheering in unison like waves parting the dark clouds.
Yet when soone proposed a grand multi-day celebration to lift morale, Guilliman refused without hesitation.
"Efficiency is everything. Let's celebrate after victory. For now, we must save Ultramar, and not waste a single mont—every second lost is more suffering for our people."
When this statent was broadcast over the radio, public respect and fighting spirit soared. Yet not everyone was overjoyed.
As Chapter Master, Calgar was under imnse pressure. The Primarch's return should have been a glorious event, but the chaotic state of Ultramar left him feeling nothing but sha. In his last-ditch effort to save face, he ordered Night Watch Commander Careddas,
"When the Primarch returns, mobilize every man of the Night Watch to keep Macragge safe. Any sign of unrest must be stamped out in the bud. If anything happens again, we must be ready to answer to the Primarch's punishnt."
But what we dread most often happens. The Primarch's return not only stirred ordinary citizens, but also emboldened those secret agitators already dissatisfied with the current regi. They saw opportunity.
The Night Watch was deployed in force, suppressing riots and patrolling every quarter, arresting hundreds of suspects—yet still could not prevent disaster.
When Guilliman's gunship docked at the platform prepared for him, he was greeted by the ecstatic cheers of tens of thousands. Right then, Calgar's encrypted vox-ssage rang out:
"Commander! Ergency! The Illyric Museum has been taken over by rebels. They claim to have a virus bomb capable of killing tens of thousands. They demand the Macragge regi publicly accept a 23-point petition regarding 'the rights of the underprivileged,' to be read worldwide. If we refuse, they threaten to detonate."
Calgar's head spun. He'd rather be cleaved in half by Mortarion's scythe on the battlefield than face this. He could already foresee what would happen next. The Primarch would see him as an incompetent commander, unable even to keep Macragge safe. Never in his life had he felt such a sense of failure.
"A rebellion?" Guilliman learned of the incident swiftly, but did not bla Calgar. He knew how dangerous a foe Mortarion could be—and how no one, not even Calgar, could face him as an equal. This riot, combined with the evil rituals threatening the whole of Ultramar, was nothing more than a diversion.
Guilliman ordered the crowds to disperse and summoned all relevant officers to gather details.
The rebels in the Illyric Museum turned out to be mostly boys and girls only ten years old—the most impulsive age. Their leader manipulated their trust, inciting them to rise up against the governnt with violence.
Guilliman frowned deeply as he heard the report. Mortarion's plan was even more insidious than imagined. The ones most easily led astray and affected were not adults, but children and the elderly. Mishandling these groups would only win the governnt the public's hatred.
"Have the Night Watch and Ultramarines' special forces surround the museum. No direct assault," Guilliman ordered, telling Calgar, "I will go there myself and listen to their demands."
This sparked an uproar among those present. No one expected the Primarch himself to intervene in a terrorist crisis.
Once the order was given, the teams moved imdiately.
Beside Guilliman, a faint green glow appeared. Datch erged, stepping forward with the great lunar sword gleaming in the moonlight. His sudden appearance threw so officials and guards into a panic—after all, he had shown up in such an unorthodox way.
"Quiet! Mind your words!" Sicarius growled low, silencing the commotion.
Several Imperial Guards, accompanying him, detached from their bodies and ford up quietly beside the Naless One, protecting him in case of sudden attack.
Datch ignored them all and slipped past Calgar, who stood next to the Primarch.
"Lord Regent, is there anything I can assist you with?"
Calgar's face darkened for a mont. "How could he…?" But he recovered and schooled his face into seriousness.
Guilliman gazed steadily at the Naless One. When Datch inquired after his orders, a faint smile appeared at the Primarch's lips. This ti, they would surely succeed.
The Primarch had begun to understand the logic of the Naless Ones. If you ntioned any task, they would take it to indicate the current trouble you faced. Then, the Naless One would resolve that problem for you. Of course, if a request was too unreasonable, or had nothing to do with the crisis at hand, they would simply say "skip" until a proper mission appeared.
Today, Datch was ready to use his unique anonymity to make a stir: to use this crisis to help restore faith in the Empire and in Greater Ultramar. Then they would be able to forge public opinion into an iron fist, to crush those contemptible parasites forever.
Guilliman spoke to Datch,
"Naless One, I want you to complete two missions."
"First, a group of misguided youths has seized the Illyric Museum and holds a weapon of mass destruction. I need you to infiltrate the museum, subdue the children, and keep casualties to an absolute minimum."
"Second, Ultramar must be rebuilt—a place as beautiful as Terra. I am entrusting this to you."
Guilliman had long known how Terra had beco a paradise and an ideal, holy land for all.
He, too, wished to transform Macragge, to make it a sanctuary worthy of all of Greater Ultramar.
As he finished speaking, notification of the mission appeared before Datch's eyes:
[Mission: Suppress the rebels in the Illyric Museum.]
Teenagers misled by their leader have chosen violence to fight the governnt.
Roboute Guilliman wishes no harm to co to these children. Please subdue the traitors, minimizing losses to the utmost.
Rewards: 500 XP, 500 Points, Reputation 50
[Mission: Make Macragge as beautiful as Terra.]
Roboute Guilliman asks you to transform Macragge, build magnificent sanctuaries, reinforce unity among worlds, and make it a true holy place of Greater Ultramar.
[Rewards: 2000 XP, 2000 Points, Reputation 500, Wind and Fire Ring Flying Mount x1]
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