"The Raven Guard will stand firmly with you, my lord," said Verano, his voice calm and resolute. "We exist only to strangle Chaos and eradicate the alien."
Guilliman nodded approvingly. "That is all I could ever ask of you, Verano. Your loyalty strengthens the Imperium's spine."
He turned to the others assembled before him—stalwart leaders from across the Adeptus Astartes.
"The Salamanders have always stood as the loyal shield of Mankind," said a battle-scarred warrior in emerald power armor, his obsidian skin catching the chamber's dim light. "Any enemy of humanity is an enemy of ours. We stand with you, Lord Regent—if you will have us."
"Loyalty is a rare treasure," Guilliman replied, his voice carrying the weight of command. "And I would never turn it away."
"The Space Wolves have never stood idle in the face of Chaos or xenos, Lord Regent," came a gravelly voice. A warrior wearing a wolf pelt over his pauldrons stepped forward. "The wolves shall be the sharpest sword in your hands."
Guilliman allowed himself a slight smile. "Then I shall wield that sword with purpose."
With the regent's approval, the representatives of the various Space Marine Chapters pledged their strength to Guilliman. They vowed to follow his orders, purge Chaos from Ultramar, and launch a crusade to restore the Imperium's stability from that critical bastion.
When their pledges were made, Guilliman gave his final instruction: they were to rest and ready themselves. Soon, the fleets would assemble, and the great campaign would begin. War was coming—not just another campaign, but a new era of total defiance. Mankind would no longer endure the indignities of Chaos. It would retaliate.
After the council concluded, Guilliman remained in the reception hall, silent for a moment before striding out. His Honor Guard—hulking warriors clad in Terminator armor—followed close behind. Waiting outside were Calgar, Sicarius, and Phikles, paragons of the Ultramarines Chapter. They stood at attention, armored giants forged in war.
"My lord," Calgar saluted, his voice deep and respectful.
"You don't need to stand on ceremony, Calgar," Guilliman replied, shaking his head. "Come. Walk with me. I want to see Macragge City—how the reconstruction is going—and speak of what lies ahead."
A militarized hovercraft awaited them nearby. Originally designed for tourists, it had been retrofitted during the invasion—thick armor plating welded hastily to its hull, weapons mounts still bristling, half-removed.
Macragge, capital of the Five Hundred Worlds and cradle of the Ultramarines, held a sacred place in Imperial history. It had seen both glory and devastation. The scars of war were still fresh—rubble piled where monuments once stood, burn marks streaked across walls and roads.
Rebuilding efforts surged on. Servitors from the Mechanicum scurried across ruined avenues on spider-like legs, ferrying supplies and welding broken structures back into shape. Even Knight Titans had set aside their colossal weapons, repurposed into massive labor engines to assist in reconstruction.
Despite the ruin, Macragge pulsed with life and determination. Humanity, bloodied but unbowed, clawed its way back from the brink.
Yet even amid this resurgence, danger lingered.
A sudden explosion shattered the hopeful calm. Thunderhawk gunships screamed overhead, veering toward the plume of smoke. Gunfire erupted, and the skies flashed with muzzle flare and las-blasts.
Calgar scowled. "Cult remnants. We cleanse Chaos, but the taint lingers. They strike from the shadows, desperate to stall the rebuilding."
Guilliman remained silent, gazing over the city. He took in the battered buildings, the resilient people, the grim but steady pace of reconstruction. His mind drifted to memories—of battlefields soaked in blood, of entire continents leveled by traitor forces, of warriors who never returned.
The Imperium had bled for this world.
Turning to Calgar, Guilliman spoke. "You are my most trusted lieutenant."
Calgar straightened. "I am honored, my lord."
"I have a task for you, Calgar. One I cannot entrust to anyone else."
Sicarius and Phikles listened closely, their expressions a mix of anticipation and envy.
"I will soon launch a sweeping campaign across Ultramar to purge all Chaos remnants," Guilliman continued. "But Macragge worries me. It is too valuable—strategically and symbolically—to leave vulnerable. Another assault would cripple not just this planet, but morale across the Imperium. I need someone I trust beyond all doubt to stay behind and protect it."
Calgar blinked, surprised. He had expected to be at the vanguard of Guilliman's crusade, a gleaming sword thrust into the heart of Chaos.
"My lord, I—"
Guilliman raised a hand. "I know what you would say. You crave the front lines—every Astartes does. But this is no ordinary duty, Calgar. Macragge is the keystone. It holds secrets and technologies that Kaul and the Mechanicus are working to unlock. If they succeed, it could reshape the battlefield. But only if they are protected."
He stepped closer. "I would not trust Celestine, nor even Amaris, with this. They are brilliant warriors, paragons of faith and fury—but they lack the strategic mind I see in you. I need more than a sword here—I need a shield that cannot break."
Calgar bowed his head. "Then I shall be your shield, Lord Guilliman. I will guard Macragge with my life."
Guilliman's voice softened. "You will have your time to strike. While you hold this world, you may prepare a new force—recruits, vessels, doctrines. When Ultramar is secure, I will send you forth at the head of your own army. You will lead the next wave of the Indomitus Crusade, opening paths through the stars for our reformation."
"A new army?" Calgar's eyes widened.
"Yes. From the ground up. A fresh blade forged with new ideas and strength. This campaign isn't just about purging Chaos—it's about cleansing the Imperium itself. The old ways are failing. Corruption, stagnation, cowardice—we will leave none of it standing."
Guilliman's gaze was unyielding. "Parliamentary reformers will travel with your army. They'll reshape local governance. If needed, those who resist must be treated as enemies. You will carry not just war, but rebirth."
Calgar saluted deeply, his disappointment gone, replaced by fierce pride. "Then I will not fail you, Lord Guilliman. I will defend this world and prepare for the wars to come."
"Good. You are not just guarding Macragge—you are guarding humanity's hope. Any failure would be a betrayal of all we fight for."
"I understand, my lord. I will not let you down."
For the rest of the day, Guilliman met with emissaries, commanders, and allies. He listened to their strategies, fears, and ideas—and made decisions that would shape the future of the Imperium.
One week later, the fleet was ready.
The skies above Macragge filled with warships—Imperial Navy battlecruisers, Mechanicum Skitarii transports, Sisters of Battle drop-fortresses, Knight Lance carriers, Titan Landers, Inquisition black ships, and more. An army unlike any other assembled under Guilliman's banner.
From the command bridge of the Macragge's Glory, a massive Queen of Glory-class battleship, Guilliman addressed them all.
His voice echoed through vox-channels and command decks, echoing across every ship and every formation.
"My brothers and sisters. Sons and daughters of humanity. The gods of Chaos thought they could make us their slaves—that we would kneel and grovel in fear. They burned our homes, hunted our kin, and sought to drag us into their madness. But they were wrong."
He stood tall, a titan among men, voice rising like thunder.
"From this moment, we take the fight to them. Not just to defend—but to strike. We are done kneeling. We are done suffering. We are the sword and shield of mankind, and with this sword, we shall sever the grip of Chaos."
The bridge crew, the Space Marines, the Inquisitors, the Sisters, the Tech-priests—all erupted into a roar of approval.
"Mankind will never surrender. Long live humanity. Long live the Emperor!" Guilliman bellowed.
"MANKIND WILL NEVER SURRENDER! LONG LIVE HUMANITY! LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!" the chorus echoed through the void.
On the surface of Macragge, civilians and soldiers alike shouted the same cry. Their voices created a spiritual resonance in the Warp, shaking the foul energies that festered nearby. The Chaos Gods stirred uneasily.
Celestine, Amaris, and others who stood among the faithful felt it too—a thunderous surge of unity, of hope, and of wrath.
With such a leader, the Imperium would not fall.
Calgar stood below, looking up at the stars. Around him, millions joined the chant. Guilliman's charisma was beyond comprehension—his words had forged unshakable resolve.
"Set sail!" Guilliman roared, his voice echoing across time and space. "Sound the horn of judgment. For the Imperium. For Mankind. For the Emperor!"
One by one, the warships tore open the veil of reality and surged into the Immaterium. The crusade had begun.
Humanity had drawn its sword—and declared war upon the gods.
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