Six colossal war horns scattered throughout Hera Fortress were sounded simultaneously.
The deep, far-reaching, and powerful roar echoed across the skies of Macragge.
These ancient horns, hollowed from the tusks of extinct prehistoric beasts, had a history even older than Guilliman himself.
They had witnessed the rise of the Primarchs, the Emperor's arrival, the upheavals of the Second Empire, and countless moments of glory and sacrifice.
Today, they would once again bear witness to a new historical moment.
As soon as news of the ceremony spread, it sparked unprecedented attention.
Citizens who could attend in person swarmed in, gathering around intersections and plazas.
Those unable to reach the scene put their work aside, flocking to public projection screens around the city or crowding into taverns to watch the grand parade live.
At this moment, the streets of Macragge were practically deserted.
When the horns gradually died down, the parade officially began.
Thousands of engines of war, like steel behemoths, rumbled through the Titan Gate into the military plaza of Hera Fortress.
Knight armors, Titan Legions, tank battalions—each made their entrance.
Next came the Astartes from various chapters, arrayed in strict phalanxes, each with different colors, their aura of killing intent soaring skyward.
After them followed the Ultramar Auxiliary forces gathered from many worlds, each with heads held high and determined faces.
Datch, Living Saint Celestine, Archmagos Cawl, and others stood on a grand viewing platform, appreciating the magnificent spectacle.
He didn't care much for lengthy story dialogues, but for such grand parades, he had no resistance—they were simply a feast for the eyes.
After the last unit entered the plaza, Guilliman addressed the masses:
"Today's festivities are not only to celebrate Macragge's victory in repelling the enemy, but for another important reason: I, Roboute Guilliman, the thirteenth son of the Emperor, the true master of Ultramar, have returned."
"We all know what's happened recently—Cadia has fallen, the entire galaxy has been torn asunder, the storms of the warp rage unchecked, communication is cut off, and worlds are lost in darkness and burning in war. Even my father—the Emperor's light—has never been so dim."
"A dark age more terrifying than any crisis in history has arrived. Some say the Imperium of Man is facing its end. Some will succumb to despair, believing resistance is futile."
Guilliman's tone suddenly rose, sharp as a drawn sword piercing the hearts of all.
"But I, Roboute Guilliman, tell you now—never!"
"Humanity will never abandon hope due to momentary darkness, nor kneel and beg for mercy because of encircling foes."
"Look at those around you, at every warrior beside you. We bear not only weapons and armor, but the fire of human civilization's continuation—the Emperor's gift to us—an unyielding will."
"We will fight, on every world, in every city, on every street. We will reclaim lost ground, eradicate all evil, pave the road to the future with the bones of our enemies, and use our victories to reignite the flame of civilization in this dark galaxy."
Guilliman raised the Hand of Dominion and roared:
"For the Imperium of Man! For the Emperor!"
The people watching the ceremony were the first to respond.
They shouted Guilliman's final words, "For the Imperium of Man! For the Emperor!"
Next, the soldiers in the military plaza echoed the chant in unison, their voices so powerful it seemed to sweep away the darkness shrouding the galaxy.
"For the Imperium of Man! For the Emperor!" Datch also shouted, swept up in the atmosphere.
He suddenly remembered playing Stellaris—when armies assembled and the declaration of war speech was made, did the citizens in that game feel this excited too?
At this moment, Consul-General Bard Oliver approached Guilliman with a dazzling golden laurel crown, his face solemn.
But Datch, lost in thought, was suddenly attracted by the glaring black question mark above Oliver's head.
"A black question mark? Never seen that before."
With a quick sidestep, Datch blocked the consul-general and opened his info panel.
[Bard Oliver, Consul-General of Macragge, Chosen of Chaos, Apostle of Desire]
Oliver was startled by Datch's sudden move, but forced himself to remain calm, even squeezing out a well-timed look of confusion and displeasure.
"Honored Astartes, you are blocking my way. The coronation cannot be delayed."
But Datch ignored him. He pulled a super shotgun from his inventory and leveled it at the consul-general.
"Chosen of Chaos, show your true form!"
"Chosen of Chaos?? This… this is slander! My lord, watch your words!" Oliver's face changed drastically. "I have served as consul-general of Macragge for decades, loyal and faithful. You cannot make such baseless accusations…"
The next second, his words were cut off.
Because everyone around—Guilliman, Celestine, Greyfax, Ageman, and all the high-ranking Ultramarines who could hear—had all turned to look at him with changed expressions.
Datch's actions seemed absurd, but the miracles he'd performed before had already established his credibility.
Without hesitation, Guilliman motioned, and the guards surrounded the consul-general, exuding immense pressure.
Grand Master Voldus was the first to step up and grabbed Oliver's luxurious robe.
When the Grey Knight's blessed gauntlet touched him, a sizzling sound rang out.
Oliver's body began to twist and deform, his voice becoming sharp and unintelligible.
In full view, the consul-general finally transformed into a loathsome monster covered in scales, twisted, deformed, still wailing in pain yet bulging with muscle.
"My dear brother," croaked the monster, his voice both sweet and rotten, "Don't you like my gift?"
"Fulgrim." Guilliman would never forget that sweet, venomous voice.
Hearing Guilliman name the enemy, Datch muttered to himself:
"So it was that demon-possessed narcissist, always calling himself the most handsome in the galaxy, but not even as good as a single angel's feather."
"Tsk, I remember this guy was so arrogant fighting regular Imperial Fists in the Palace on Terra, but as soon as Rogal Dorn showed up, he ran away with his tail between his legs."
After those words, the people around them looked at Datch with subtle expressions.
Even Guilliman was surprised—he didn't expect this mysterious "Emperor's Angel" to know so much about the Battle of Terra.
Could this guy be one of Father's hidden avatars?!
Far away, deep in the warp, in a palace filled with sickly beauty and eternal moans—
Fulgrim: "…"
A storm of rage, shame, and raw nerve-struck agitation swept through the favored son of Slaanesh.
That exquisite, gem-like face instantly twisted.
Slander! This was pure slander!
He was the most perfectly evolved being in the universe—how could he be inferior to even a single hair of Sanguinius?
And that stone-headed Dorn… that time… that time was just a moment's carelessness!
…
Bonus Chapter 100 PS