Guilliman conversed with Saint Celestine, Inquisitor Greyfax, Marshal Amalrich of the Black Templars, Emperor's Champion Garrien, and even Yvraine and the Ynnari.
He used every bit of political charm and cunning, creating a harmonious, friendly atmosphere, drawing out information from each and cross-checking details with humor and wit.
He praised each guest's insight, courage, and contributions to the Imperium, highlighting the best side of himself to suit each personality, effortlessly earning their trust and honest answers.
Outwardly, the Primarch's emotions were perfectly masked, as if all was under control.
But inside, their words struck his mind and heart like shells—confusion and dread suffocating, grief and pain almost unbearable.
"Ten thousand years, Father. I'm the only one left."
Once alone, Guilliman could no longer hold back, mumbling, voice full of sorrow.
For the first time, he desperately wished for a brother by his side—Jaghatai, Vulkan, anyone. Just someone to talk to, to discuss and critique the Imperium's state.
But now, they were all gone. He had to bear this pain alone.
Guilliman buried his face in his hands, his armor humming with the motion.
"Just look at what the galaxy has become! Look at what the Imperium has become!
Blind faith, ignorance, suffering, decay—all rampant in your name. Father, you hated gods, but now you are worshipped as one by ignorant masses. How ironic.
You failed. We all failed. Pride and vanity led us into error, betraying all of humanity.
If Horus were alive, he'd be laughing at this."
Guilliman stood in fury, glaring at the banners, seats, and murals around him, his gaze like a lion's—filled with fire.
He wanted to smash everything, vent his rage, destroy it all.
But he didn't dare. Those outside needed him as a pillar of faith, to keep from despair.
Their eyes were full of expectation and hope—as if staring at the Emperor himself.
If a Primarch showed weakness, it would devastate them.
He had to be strong, show no pessimism. Only then could he bring hope.
Finally, his gaze fell on the Emperor's portrait.
"Why? Why am I still alive?
I gave you everything, gave them everything. Father, what more do you want from me?
Look at the Imperium now—our dream of reason and progress is gone, replaced by a bloated corpse sustained by hatred, fear, and ignorance.
I'd rather have died at Fulgrim's hands than witness this…"
Guilliman's voice was hoarse with accusation.
He had once been a true idealist—the Primarch who most hoped to make humanity the galaxy's greatest civilization.
Now, the Imperium he fought for became what he hated most.
This pain was beyond words.
At last, Guilliman slumped on the throne, weighing his next move.
No matter what, he would not abandon humanity. It was his duty and mission.
He would never regret it, even if it cost his life.
At that moment, the communicator beeped. Upon playback, the voice of Tigurius, Chief of the Librarius, came through:
"Your Highness, the mysterious Emperor Angel is here. He's waiting outside."
Suppressing his grief, Guilliman replied calmly, "Let him in."
He'd saved Datch for last—since the man was always running about, he had to summon the others first.
The door opened, and Datch strode in under the Honour Guard's gaze.
The room was simply furnished, devoid of luxury—except for rare Primarchs like Fulgrim, most cared little for material pleasure.
Even Horus, as chroniclers noted, lived more simply than most Imperial citizens.
To be honest, the Emperor was the same—paying little mind to luxury, ruling with a superhuman mind. The very image of a wise philosopher-king—yet still dissatisfied, always intent on handing power to mortals.
Look at the mess the High Lords made—there's not enough time to complain about it all.
One Age of Apostasy had nearly destroyed the foundation of humanity.
"Perhaps we should have a deep talk,"
thought Guilliman, hoping to draw Datch out with conversation.
Unfortunately, Datch wasn't here for dialogue.
He had no intention of wasting time listening to NPCs drone on about lore.
As soon as Guilliman opened his mouth, Datch raised his arm and shouted:
"For the Second Imperium! Great Regent, what's my next mission?!"
Guilliman: (ΩДΩ)
What? I just said let's talk, and you're shouting that out loud?! That's not something to blurt out!
"Calm down. We're just having a chat, that's all." Guilliman took a deep breath, steadying himself.
"Skip, skip! For the glory of the Second Imperium, what's my mission?" Datch repeated.
Guilliman: ┭┮﹏┭┮
Oh, come on!
Guilliman's frustration was quickly replaced by panic.
The Second Imperium was a sensitive topic—it couldn't be spread about.
"The Second Imperium is an extremely important secret. Can I ask you to keep it confidential?"
Being a Primarch, Guilliman quickly figured out how to handle Datch.
[Mission: Keep the Second Imperium Secret.]
The Imperium is in turmoil and cannot withstand further chaos. Roboute Guilliman asks you to guard the secret of the Second Imperium, preventing it from being used to cause disaster.
Reward: 1000 EXP, 1000 Points, +150 Reputation
Datch's eyes sparkled—an easy quest!
"Of course! For the glory of the Imperium, I'll keep this secret."
[Congratulations! Mission completed: Keep the Second Imperium Secret.]
[Reward: 1000 EXP, 1000 Points, +150 Reputation]
Guilliman breathed a sigh of relief.
Sizing Datch up, he realized he'd never get any useful info from him. After some thought, he decided to set aside the mystery for now—at least Datch was on Humanity's side.
If answers wouldn't come, it was best not to force them.
"Hera Fortress is in ruins. Can you help rebuild it?" Guilliman asked.
A prompt appeared before Datch:
[Mission: Rebuild Hera Fortress.]
The Emperor's subjects have driven off the traitors, but their home lies in ruins. Guilliman hopes you can help rebuild Hera Fortress.
Reward: 1200 EXP, 1200 Points, +180 Reputation, Captain America's Vibranium Shield x1
…
Bonus Chapter at 100 PS