The quantum resonance device hummed, receiving signals from the other end of the galaxy.
The holographic projection continuously refreshed with the influx of data, finally outlining the figure of Guilliman.
"Regent," Alex greeted him.
"Saint," Guilliman replied, "I apologize for disturbing you."
"There's no disturbance," Alex observed Guilliman's expression and asked, "Has something happened?"
Guilliman nodded, "Indeed, there are some matters that require your advice, Saint."
"A disease called 'Tear Plague' has appeared in the Drol, Thalassa, and Parmenio star systems…"
After Alex left, Guilliman immediately launched an expedition.
With the help of the Pharos Lighthouse, the speed of the campaign was much faster than expected.
Loyalist forces everywhere fought back fiercely, causing the Chaos forces to retreat steadily.
However, just as the Loyalists were achieving continuous victories, a disease called 'Tear Plague' broke out.
Patients would uncontrollably shed tears; the tears were viscous and foul-smelling, quickly coating the entire face and causing severe swelling.
This disease spread very quickly, yet strangely, when Guilliman arrived in the affected areas, a 'miracle' occurred: the disease disappeared.
Wherever Guilliman went, the 'Tear Plague' would vanish, but in the places he left, the 'Tear Plague' would return.
"Is it Nurgle's handiwork?" Alex asked.
Guilliman nodded, "Yes, Grand Master Woldaes advised me to give up and proceed to Holy Terra (Earth/Reality) first."
"Because the 'Tear Plague' is the work of the God of Plagues. Whenever I arrive at a place, he takes back his 'blessing,' and as soon as I leave, he spreads it again."
"Woldaes and I had an argument. Witnessing Ultramar in such distress, I really couldn't pull myself away, so I contacted you to hear your thoughts."
Alex said, "You care too much about your people. For a ruler, benevolence is a fatal weakness; enemies will exploit this to drain your time and energy."
"Your father is too busy to attend to Holy Terra (Earth/Reality), and your brothers are still missing. Guilliman, you are humanity's only hope, and currently the only one who can integrate the Human Empire."
"You must learn how to fight Chaos, learn to hide your thoughts and plans like your father—the Emperor—so they cannot guess your intentions."
"I finally understand why many of Father's past actions were so peculiar," Guilliman said self-deprecatingly, "Fighting Chaos is not an easy task."
The Emperor's many actions in the past were not understood by the Primarchs.
Ten thousand years later, Guilliman, from the perspective of a successor, reviewed the Emperor's various measures and realized how terrifying his father's judgment and grasp of the overall situation truly were.
He challenged the gods with mortal wisdom and intended to overthrow their thrones.
"If it were your father, how do you think he would handle this situation?" Alex returned the question to Guilliman.
"He would not hesitate to abandon Ultramar, return to Holy Terra (Earth/Reality), take charge, and then find a way to gather forces and fight the enemy again," Guilliman knew his father well.
"You know the answer, and contacting me was just to confirm it," Alex said, "Then I can tell you now, go to Holy Terra (Earth/Reality), Regent. If you remain trapped on Macragge, you will be like a fly in a bottle, unable to stir up any waves."
"You must abandon Ultramar and properly assume your identity. You are the ruler of the Empire, the Guide of humanity; necessary sacrifices are indispensable."
"Moreover, Ultramar's situation is not too bad. Before your return, your son Calgar has protected it very well. You just need to give him authority, and that's all."
"I understand, I will go to Holy Terra (Earth/Reality)," Guilliman said, "Thank you for your guidance, Saint. For human civilization, necessary sacrifices must always be made."
"You don't need to worry too much. I will find a way to look after Ultramar. I will have the God Chosen stay by Calgar's side, and when he encounters an insurmountable enemy or problem, I will help him."
Alex made a promise to reassure Guilliman.
So that he had no worries.
Alex knew Guilliman's attitude towards Ultramar; it was his little kingdom.
During the Great Crusade, he had diligently cared for this kingdom, striving to maintain stability and peace.
As soon as the promise was made, a smile appeared on Guilliman's grim face.
This made Alex wonder if this guy was deliberately telling him these things to get a promise.
Before the communication ended, Guilliman also told Alex another matter.
Archmagos Cawl was installing a small lighthouse on the Macragge's Honour.
Once successfully completed,
the Macragge's Honour and the Imperial Glory would be able to communicate instantly.
This surprised Alex; he had thought that given the other party's personality, he would hesitate for a while, and only after observing Sotha for some time would he tentatively set up the lighthouse.
It was probably also the 'Tear Plague' incident that made the Primarch realize the importance of communication and choose to compromise.
Of course, only one was built on the Macragge's Honour.
For now, it was enough for Cortana to remotely assign tasks and distribute rewards to players.
The communication ended, and the projection closed.
Alex pondered Guilliman's pilgrimage.
As the only active loyal Primarch, the gods were watching Guilliman.
Other traitor Primarchs were also secretly plotting various sinister schemes, intending to drag this brother into eternal hell.
There were many dangers along the way; Magnus, Fulgrim, and others could all appear.
"Master."
Cortana interrupted Alex's thoughts.
"What is it?" Alex looked at the little angel.
"The list for the ninth batch of players is out. Do you need to review it?" Cortana said.
"Let me see," Alex suppressed the thoughts about the pilgrimage expedition in his mind and attended to his own matters first.
A projection screen appeared before Alex.
The IDs of a total of eighteen thousand game players appeared before Alex.
Alex glanced over, his gaze lingering on the ID of the 9999th player, and he frowned.
"Guilliman is the Sun."
"Old Thirteen? Did he change his name?"
"Selected for the ninth time, and still such a sensitive number. Has the Emperor been possessed by Tzeentch?"
"Or does he have a special connection with Tzeentch?"
Cortana leaned her head over and asked.
"Is there a problem, Master?"
Alex continued to scroll down, shaking his head, "No problem, just leave it."
This wasn't because Alex was careless; if the Emperor was controlled by Tzeentch, then giving Old Thirteen a game slot would be meaningless.
If the Emperor was not controlled by Tzeentch, then Old Thirteen's matter was purely a coincidence,
it's just that there might be some connection with Tzeentch.
He was quite curious about what kind of relationship Old Thirteen had with Tzeentch!
Could it be Tzeentch's preferred Greater Daemon?
"Okay, Master, I will go distribute the helmets immediately."
Cortana left to distribute game helmets to the selected players.
......
With the distribution of game slots, the Warhammer OL official website forum and chat groups became lively.
Chat Group.
Guilliman is the Sun: "'Laughing.jpg' 'Showing off.jpg' 'Arrogant.jpg' I got it, I got it, brothers, I finally got it."
Chosen Llama: "What's wrong with Old Thirteen?"
I Don't Want to Be a Stinky Can: "Did you become Fan Jin?"
One Night Output Slaanesh Ten Times: "It must be that he was overly joyful, and phlegm surged up, clouding his mind. He needs to find a godfather to slap him a few times."
Second Empire Warmaster: "Child, fear not, godfather is here."
Desert Lone Smoke: "Count me in too."
Qi Tingzhang Only Wants to Progress: "And me."
One Night Output Slaanesh Ten Times: "@Guilliman is the Sun, never thought you'd have so many godfathers caring about you?"
Guilliman is the Sun: "Get lost, get lost, I got the closed beta slot, what Fan Jin?"
"I had given up hope, who would have thought it would take such a turn, a ray of light in the darkness."
Then, a photo was also sent to the group, which was the Warhammer OL game helmet.
Twisted person Uses Ning Ba Hammer: "You didn't use Tzeentch's luck transfer method last time, did you?"
Dora is the Lord of Myriad Machines: "Selected for the ninth time, definitely worships Tzeentch."
The Big Bad Wolf Who Plays Red Riding Hood: "You damned God Chosen of Tzeentch, where is the Inquisition? Where is the Inquisition?"
"..."
Guilliman is the Sun: "You bastards, I am loyal to the Emperor. As the saying goes, there are no two suns in the sky, and in my heart, there is only one sun, the Emperor."
Second Empire Warmaster: "Look at your ID, then say that."
Guilliman is the Sun: "Guilliman is my little sun."
"..."
...
The ninth batch of players went online three days after the helmets were distributed.
The login point was, as always, the cathedral in Tirien Hive City.
Nearly twenty thousand players logging in simultaneously, the scene was quite spectacular,
The high-ranking officials of Tirien Hive City had to dispatch personnel to maintain order.
Dora, MC Myth, and other veteran players had arrived early, preparing for a new round of recruitment.
"There are so many new people this time, all I see are heads."
"Yes, I wonder if there are any SSR-level talents this time. I hope we can recruit more engineering talents."
"We need pilots, pilots!"
"Are there any former navy personnel? We need navy."
"..."
Just then, a commotion broke out in the crowd.
A player, visibly much larger than the others, was fumbling at his face with both hands, looking at a loss.
Even though he was only level one, that guy possessed a physique no less than an Astartes, even taller than an Astartes.
Astartes are normally just over two meters tall, while this guy was over three meters, only slightly shorter than the Guide.
It was just that his eyes held an indescribable simplicity and wisdom.
"Holy crap, how can there be an Ogryn?!"
"Is it a hidden character?"
"Are there really hidden characters?"
"What are the conditions?"
"..."
Dora and MC Myth exchanged glances, then, along with others, parted the crowd and walked up to the Ogryn.
"Are you Old Thirteen?"
The Ogryn touched his head and nodded.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Dora. Damn it, Old Thirteen, you still say you're not a God Chosen of Tzeentch??"
"I'm an Ogryn. Does that have anything to do with me being a God Chosen of Tzeentch?"
Dora held out both hands, "Count how many fingers there are here. Once you've counted, I'll tell you what the problem is."
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. There are 10 in total. Now tell me."