Warhammer 40k Origins Stellaris Civilization Simulator

Within the magnificent fortress of Macragge Prime, the voice of Grand Inquisitor Voltus of the Ordo Xenos echoed through the dome, his eyes burning with unwavering determination: "They will land on this planet in three days at most. You must take the remaining forces and the Primarch and leave Ultramar immediately."

Calgar's face turned ashen, and the iron fist that could strangle Kane's incarnation could only uselessly grip the armrest of the chair. His tall body was like a sculpture, suppressing his anger.

Calgar's helmet lay on the long table beside him, so that the Inquisitor could see his gloomy expression. "Inquisitor, do you know what you are talking about? You want us to abandon Ultramar before we even fight? Our Gene-Father himself would never abandon his homeland, and so his descendants cannot escape! The Ultramarines will not retreat a single step, not from the Orks, not from the Zerg, and not today!"

"madness!"

The Inquisitor's voice pierced the air like a sharp blade. "How long do you think we can hold this place? You already know about the tragedy at Talasar. The Federation fleet is advancing. Macragge's defenses are extremely weak against their terrible weapons. There is no way this place can withstand the Federation's offensive!"

Calgar's rage burned to its limit. He slammed his fist on the table, flipping the thick tactical map. "How dare you question the Ultramarines' ability and honor? We will not let our homeworld and our Primarch fall into the hands of the xenos. We will defend this world, even to the last man!"

The Grand Inquisitor did not flinch. He stared coldly at the Ultramarines Lord: "Honor? In this era, honor must give way to the best interests of the Empire. If you fail, the consequences will be disastrous!"

"You already know the capabilities of the Helka xenomorphs. If you fail to stop them, those xenomorphs might use their technology to enslave the Primarch, or acquire his genes to create a greater conspiracy."

"They might create a second Randan Empire, using the Primarchs as their pawns. Do you know what that would mean? The Imperium simply cannot afford a loss of that magnitude!"

A flicker of struggle flashed in Calgar's eyes. He clenched his fists, breathing heavily. Every muscle in his body resisted the Inquisitor's words, but he couldn't deny the harsh reality.

Just as the two men were on the verge of a fight, the door was suddenly pushed open. A group of unusual figures broke into Guilliman's sanctuary. They were an unexpected ally.

……

Standing at the forefront was Belisarius Cawl, one of the greatest sages of the Mechanicus. His mechanical body gleamed with a cold metallic light in the dim light.

Accompanying him was Celestine, the living saint draped in holy light. Her wings fluttered slightly, and the dazzling golden light made her look like a messenger of God descending from the throne of the Emperor.

Beside them, Amaleki, the Grand Marshal of the Dark Templar, and Greyfax, the legendary figure of the Inquisition, stood on either side.

The most surprising thing was the "person" at the end of the team. She was a prophet of the Eldar, Evelyne, a witch of the Eldar clan with an aura that was hard to ignore.

Their arrival suddenly made the atmosphere in the sanctuary freeze. Calgar looked at the group warily: "What are you doing here? I hope my colleagues from the Empire have come to aid us in our defense."

Cawl's prosthetic eyes scanned the crowd. His voice was mechanically processed and deep: "Our purpose is more important than that. I am here to fulfill a promise I made to the Lord of Ultramar."

Karga frowned: "What promise? I don't remember..."

"This is not the agreement between you and me, Lord Karga."

Cawl said calmly, "It is a pact between your genetic father, the Primarch himself, and me."

……

There was shock in Karga's eyes.

"Robot Guilliman foresaw his own slumber and knew the darkness that lay ahead. Ten thousand years ago, for the survival of the Imperium, he struck a pact with me – should he be destroyed, I must find a way to return him to the fray."

Kaur continued.

He pulled a brand new piece of power armour from the reliquary. It was a matchless piece of armour, more refined and powerful than the Ultramarines' most precious relic armour. Its blue surface was engraved with golden patterns, and the Imperial Eagle on its chest spread its wings, as if foreshadowing the return of glory.

"This suit of armor is tailor-made for Guilliman."

Cawl explained, "It is more than just a suit of armor. It heals the wounds within him and grants him abilities beyond those of mortals. The Emperor's Child of Mankind will return."

"Will this be successful?"

Hope ignited in Calgar's heart. He believed that the Father of Genes would be able to reverse the situation, but he had to be careful whether this was a trap set by heretics or aliens.

"We will definitely succeed, High Lord, provided you agree to the assistance of this Eldar."

Kaur said so.

"The toxins of Chaos still linger in his wounds, trapping the Primarch between life and death. He must be completely killed by the power of Death, then resurrected by the power of the Wheel of Life and Death. Finally, the Armor of Destiny must be used to truly awaken him."

The Eldar prophet Evelyne, whom Caul mentioned, described her "surgical plan" frankly.

Now even the Alien Inquisitor, who had just been at loggerheads with Calgar, was siding with the Overlord: "This sounds like a complete conspiracy! These alien tricks can't be trusted!"

The Ultramarines and the Inquisitors obviously had no confidence in this plan, but in the end, thanks to the support of the Ultramarines' chief think tank Digris, Cawl and his team were able to obtain permission to enter the sanctuary where Guilliman was and begin their work.

……

"What you agreed to is even crazier than what we just discussed. If the second traitor walks out of there, we will all be punished in purgatory for eternity."

The Alien Inquisitor made a very pessimistic judgment based on his understanding of the Eldar.

"Don't worry. The Federation's labor camps are far from being hell. As for the psychic dimension, it's ten thousand times worse than the bottom of hell."

A teasing voice echoed from a distance, startling the Inquisitor and Ultramarines High Lord Kalgar, who drew their swords.

The Federation has arrived.

In the ripples of time and space, the elite genetic warriors and mechanical combat troops of the Helka Federation have arrived at the gate of Macragge's Golden Palace!

"Commanders of the Human Empire, you have repeatedly violated the Federation's territory. Today is the time to settle the score!"

The Federation's master tactician, the Chirik Scland-Sharpbeak, shouted a challenge, heralding the start of the attack.

This is the beginning of the show, and two groups of actors have already appeared.

More important things are yet to come.

170

Chapter 170 The Primarch returns... a little late.

The Primarch of the Imperium of Man, Roboute Guilliman, lies dreaming in a coma.

He floated in the void.

He had no body, no weight, and even his thoughts were vague. He was just a fragment of consciousness that rose and fell with the invisible tide, without time or space.

He was familiar with this void. He had been here for a long, long time.

But something was changing, and the force that kept him afloat was dissipating.

In the void, a relentless suction pulled at him, as if dragging him into the abyss. He could not see the end of the abyss, only the cold, darkness, and utter silence.

He tried to resist, but he was only a shadow, a consciousness outside of time, and he was powerless. He fell, fell, fell...

At this moment, a cold sun rose in the void.

The light wasn't warm or blazing, but rather a chilling paleness, like the morning sun reflected off the snow. It hovered silently above the abyss, casting a beam of light down upon him. The beam pierced the darkness, holding him up and halting his descent.

He looked toward the sun, his consciousness coming to him. He knew who it was. He knew what that light meant.

"Father……"

The Emperor of Mankind.

……

Amidst the light, a feeling emerged. It was that of a being of unparalleled majesty, eyes blazing like the core of a star. His features were blurred and hazy, his majesty real and weighty.

Robouti Guilliman heard two voices. Gentle wisdom and stern coldness mixed in an irregular rhythm. This was the essence of the soul dimension: chaos, chaos, and more chaos.

"My Child/Number Thirteen..."

"You must save humanity / Your mission is to protect the Empire."

"You must be rational, tolerant, and do your best / loyal, ruthless, and do whatever it takes."

"If necessary, you can take a different path / We are right and there is no turning back."

Two voices overlapped and echoed in his mind.

On one side is wisdom and tolerance, on the other side is iron, blood and command.

On one side is lost hope, and on the other side is the cruel reality.

The pain came.

The pain was indescribable. It wasn't physical torture, but a tearing apart of the soul. His mind seemed to be split in two, half leaning towards gentleness and rationality, while the other half was immersed in battle and destruction.

He tried to think, but the Emperor's two voices kept interweaving, growing louder and louder, until—

He woke up from his dream.

……

Guilliman's eyes snapped open, his lungs taking a sharp breath of air.

His consciousness returned to reality from nothingness, and his magnificent body sat up from its dormant stillness.

His eyes were blurry and his ears were buzzing, as if he was suddenly thrown back into the air from the deep sea, but this decompression sickness was ten thousand times more serious than that.

He felt alive, yet in pain, and for a moment he could hardly tell whether he was alive or still in the aftermath of a dream.

The world before my eyes gradually became clear.

He saw Belisarius Cawl standing not far away, the Archmagos of the Mechanicus's optical scanners fixed upon his Primarch, as if analyzing his physiology.

He saw Celestine the Living Saint, standing in the light, she who had brought the Sword of the Emperor that Robouti Guilliman now held.

He saw his gene-children, though he could not recognize any of them. Digris, the Ultramarines' Librarian, gazed at his gene-father in amazement, as if witnessing some miracle.

Cawl opened his mouth, about to explain everything to the Primarch.

He was inclined to let the Primarch retreat directly, because even if he returned, it would be difficult to reverse the current situation.

The Federation's navy has surrounded Ultramar, and the Archsage is thinking quickly about how to make Robert Guilliman accept the current situation.

But even the world itself is helping him, and at this moment, the universe is torn apart.

……

An indescribable fear swept across the entire sanctuary, and even the entire world outside this small chapel.

Reality itself seemed to have opened a bloody wound.

Space became distorted, time became disordered, the mutterings of psychic entities roared like a storm, and the laughter of the residents of the other world distorted everything.

In an instant, the entire universe seemed swept into a turbulent torrent. The Ultramarines, the Mechanicus, the Inquisition—everyone present felt the arrival of a terrifying presence.

The Federation also sensed this chaos, and it seemed as if it was headed straight for them. All of the Federation's reality stabilization devices began to frantically sound alarms, and the overall drop in the reality index itself caused the power of these stabilization devices to also begin to decrease.

At the federal headquarters, many worlds were instantly swallowed up by a huge psychic anomaly belt and gradually became virtual planets. Those worlds did not need to panic about this, as the real trouble was right now.

The Extreme Marines and Federation Gene Warriors who were fighting desperately outside looked up at the same time and saw that the sky was cracking.

A massive warp storm is unfolding in orbit around Ultramar, engulfing all Federation fleets in space.

Amidst the storm, decaying space hulks emerged like ghosts, their hulls covered with twisted marks and traces of forging in hell's furnaces.

Ultramar repeated the mistakes of the Shadow Crusade ten thousand years ago. The Ruinstorm, a disaster that even the Demon Primarch himself could not create, has now come in this era.

……

Countless demons used this opportunity to break through the barriers of reality, roaring and charging into every battlefield in Ultramar. Khorne's bloodletters, Tzeentch's daemon sorcerers, and a large number of Chaos cannon fodder poured in like a tide.

And in the center of the storm, the black figures of Space Marines emerged, clad in armor that had stood the test of time, holding blasphemous blades in their hands, and shouting the names of the Chaos Gods.

The Black Legion's ageless veterans, once chosen by the Great Rebellion's leader, and now the elite of the Great Plunderers, have descended upon Ultramar!

This is truly a loyal act, worthy of being the most favored warrior of the successor to the Emperor of Mankind. How amazing.

"Damn psychic creatures, there's no place for you here, go back to your methane tank and eat mud!"

The Federation's genetic warriors were furious at what they saw, as the invasion of Chaos Demons once again attempted to undermine their efforts.

But this time, even if the Chaos God himself arrives, there's no way he can save their beloved human empire! Dragon roars, bolters, and the roar of Chaos power intertwine on the battlefield.

The three forces fought each other.

……

Guilliman felt unfamiliar with everything he saw, but there was one thing he knew very well: the Son of War instinctively wanted to fight and expel all the aliens and traitors from his homeland!

His kingdom is being ravaged, and he must take up the Emperor's sword to defend the place where his true parents are, his true home.

However, just as he was about to draw his sword and rush to the battlefield, a sharp pain suddenly erupted from his body. His steps gradually stopped, and finally he fell to his knees.

Guilliman grabbed his neck with both hands, where the wound his rebellious brother had left him was, and felt some invisible shackles preventing him from making a move!

The wound was merely suppressed, it still existed, so the force that caused it was unwilling for Guilliman to accept the Federation's invitation to duel, as he might as well die again.

Just as the Eldar Prophet and the Great Sage were horrified at the rapid decline in the effectiveness of the Destiny Armor, a ray of light spread here.

Celestine, the Living Saint, whispered, "The one He favors most must come."

Guilliman did not understand what the people around him were talking about, or rather he wondered what else he could understand at this moment.

At this moment, a familiar voice whispered in his ear: "Robert, you must go to Terra. Father needs you."

Guilliman looked up suddenly and saw a figure that shocked him.