Very good, the technical pillar is stabilized.
Just then, Calgar, standing by the strategic chamber door, saw the heartwarming scene between the Primarch and Cawl.
His face under the tactical mask turned red again, and he quickly stepped forward, announcing in a loud voice: “Mother…
cough cough!
Father!
Everything is ready, please enter!” He stepped forward personally, and together with another Honor Guard member, slowly pushed open the heavy alloy doors that symbolized the highest power and decision-making on Macragge.
The moment the doors opened, the bright and solemn light from within flowed out, merging with the golden halo around Guilliman.
The first thing that caught Guilliman’s eyes was the magnificent interior of the strategic chamber.
High domes were embedded with stained glass windows depicting the history and battles of Macragge.
A massive oval table made of dark hardwood was inlaid with gold at the edges, and several complex holographic star maps and data streams were projected on its surface.
The walls were hung with the battle standards of the Ultramarines, captured enemy banners, and portraits of past Chapter Masters.
And at this moment, around the long table, and even standing against the walls on both sides of the room, were already full of people.
The main seat at the head of the table was naturally empty, waiting for its owner.
To the left of the main seat were the core members of the Ultramarines Chapter: First Captain Agemman, Second Captain Sicarius (who looked a bit unnatural, obviously not having fully recovered from the sewing experience just now), Chief Librarian Tigurius, and several other Captains and veterans on Macragge.
They were all wearing ceremonial power armor, polished to a shine, standing straight as guns.
To the right of the main seat, it was more “diverse”: Representing the Adeptus Mechanicus, the newly reborn Belisarius Cawl quickly slipped to this spot and stood still.
Saint Celestine, wearing silver-grey power armor, with white wings on her back, her face beautiful and solemn with a hint of surprise.
Inquisitor Greyfax, wearing black Inquisitor armor, her face stern and serious, but her eyes sharp as a hawk.
Vordus, Supreme Grand Master of the Grey Knights, wearing Terminator armor, holding a giant power staff, his presence as steady as a mountain.
And Mathieu, the Ecclesiarchy priest in a simple monk’s robe, holding a data slate, his expression one of reverence mixed with scholarly curiosity.
And at the end of the long table, near the door, stood a figure who looked out of place with the humans—the leader of the Aeldari Ynnari, Yvraine.
She was still wearing a dark purple robe, the sword of the old one hanging at her waist, her face under the hood half-hidden in shadow, making it impossible to see her expression.
In addition, more representatives from the Ultramarines successor Chapters (such as the Iron Snakes, Spears of the Emperor, etc.) on Macragge were standing solemnly on both sides of the room, as well as high-ranking generals of the Macragge Planetary Defense Force, fleet commanders, and so on.
It was a full house, covering almost all the supreme power and military representatives of Macragge and the surrounding star sectors.
When the doors opened and Guilliman appeared at the doorway, bathed in the interwoven light from inside and out, with that holy, beautiful, and rule-breakingly cute image, looking into the room with a gentle and firm expression— Time seemed to have been pressed on the pause button.
All conversation, the humming of data streams, and even breathing ceased in that instant.
Everyone’s gaze, as if captured by the most powerful gravitational source, focused instantly and irresistibly on the small, golden figure at the door.
The hearts of the Ultramarines, including the representatives of the successor Chapters, were like a depth charge had been dropped into them: Wow—!!
(The tactical channel was instantly flooded with meaningless exclamation marks and garbled code) Mother…
it’s Mother!
This light…
these wings…
this face…
these eyes…
Holy and cute!
Majestic and kind!
Ah, I’m dead!
The Emperor is above, this is more inspiring than any speech!
“Hold it together!
Don’t lose composure!
But really… it’s too beautiful!
Father!
No, Mother!
We shall be loyal to you forever!” Despite the turbulent emotions within, the strict discipline of the Ultramarines and their ten millennia of reverence for the Primarch allowed them to quickly make the most “correct” reaction after a brief moment of collective distraction.
Led by Agemman and Sicarius, all members of the Astartes orders, regardless of whether they were Ultramarines, all let out a loud “clank” as they struck their left breastplates heavily with their right fists, lowered their heads, and shouted in unison, their voices deafening yet filled with excitement: “Father!” The sound echoed throughout the magnificent strategic chamber, filled with burning loyalty, though the address still subtly carried some historical baggage.
Celestine, the Living Saint of the Emperor and a battle-hardened warrior, felt her very soul trembling at this moment.
She looked at Guilliman, at the pure, holy light radiating from her that was the exact opposite of the filth of the Warp, and at her posture, which resembled the angels in some of the Emperor’s icons, yet was even more… vivid and adorable.
(Is… is this Lord Guilliman?
The Emperor’s thirteenth son?) Celestine’s heart was filled with disbelief.
(How could… she have become like this?
Could it be… the Emperor’s will?
Is this some sort of blessing or… change He bestowed upon the Primarch while in slumber?) (But… she… is really so cute.) This thought popped up uncontrollably, causing Celestine’s serious face to flush slightly.
(This light, this aura, so warm and pure, it even reminds me of the feeling under the Emperor’s psychic protection… No, it’s softer, more… intimate.) Inquisitor Katarinya Greyfax was known for being suspicious, cold, and uncompromising.
Her first reaction was vigilance and scrutiny: Morphological mutation?
Is this Chaos corruption?
An Aeldari plot?
But the moment her gaze touched Guilliman, those cold, scrutinizing programs seemed to encounter some sort of unparseable “error.” (Something is wrong.
This image… this infectiousness…) Greyfax struggled to maintain the sharpness of her thoughts.
(Is it some kind of psychic charm?
But my anti-psychic devices aren’t reacting.
Is it pheromones?
But I’m wearing sealed power armor.) (And… why do I feel she…) Deep within the Inquisitor’s cold heart, a forgotten corner seemed to loosen.
(…is a little… inviting?
No!
Katarinya!
Wake up!
She is a Primarch, a subject of investigation!
Dead brain!
Don’t think!
Dead eyes!
Don’t look!) But she had to admit, even by the most stringent Inquisitorial aesthetic standards, the Guilliman before her was… impeccably beautiful, with that beauty even carrying a sense of divinity.
This made her even more confused and vigilant (though her vigilance was inexplicably mixed with a trace of wavering she refused to admit to herself).
Grand Master Vordus of the Grey Knights, who fought the vilest daemons of the Warp year-round, had a mind as firm as Titan armor.
Yet at this moment, what he felt was not filth, but the light of absolute, pure order.
That light reminded him of the relics in the deepest depths of the Grey Knights’ fortress, and even of the legendary radiance of the Emperor Himself before He ascended the Throne.
(Such a pure embodiment of order…) Vordus was shocked.
(Could Lord Guilliman’s change be some deeper layout by the Emperor to counter Chaos?
This form… while unexpected, its very existence is a strong negation of Chaos.) (And…) This Grand Master, known for his iron will, loosened his grip on his staff slightly.
(It does… possess a power that calms the soul.
After the endless darkness of fighting Chaos, seeing such light… it’s hard not to feel favorable toward it.) He quickly recited a prayer of purification in his mind, dispelling those “unprofessional” thoughts.
Ecclesiarchy Priest Mathieu, however, was a different sight.
The datapad in his hand fell to the ground with a “clatter,” but he was completely oblivious.
He opened his mouth wide, his eyes wide as saucers, looking at Guilliman as if he were seeing a living illustration from the scriptures—no, something even more beautiful!
(A miracle… this is a living miracle!) Mathieu’s heart was filled with religious ecstasy.
(Lord Guilliman has slept for ten millennia and returned in such a holy, perfect, and divinely radiant form!
This must be the Emperor’s grace!
The blessing of Holy Terra!
This halo!
These wings!
This face!
This holy aura capable of purifying all filth!) (Ah!
I must record this!
No, I must compose a new hymn!
A new prayer!
‘The Holy Thirteenth Primarch, the Maiden Saint awakened from the light, the Star of Hope for Humanity’…) He had already begun to craft sentences in his mind, his face flushed with excitement, his eyes looking at Guilliman filled with near-fanatical devotion and worship.
Yvraine was perhaps the only person present who had seen Guilliman’s “initial state” before.
But at this moment, the bathed, dressed, and calmly determined Guilliman brought an impact that was undiminished.