Chapter 473: No Enlightenment Whatsoever! The Primarchs Descend on Terra!
Guilliman understood his next task: he was to help the other Guilliman accompany the Atlantean civilization through its final journey.
This civilization was about to enter an unprecedented golden age, only to then head straight into extinction.
But the one to wield the butcher's blade would not be him—it would be the other Guilliman. Having grasped the essence, that Guilliman would complete his ascension ritual at the cost of Atlantis's destruction.
At that point, the Universal Megacorp's god-making plan would finally be a resounding success!
"I know what I must do next."
Guilliman nodded, no longer questioning the Emperor. He trusted that the Emperor would not be wrong. All he needed to do was obey faithfully.
"There are many who will assist you in completing this plan. You need not worry—just follow through."
"Yes!"
...
...
Main Universe, Civilization Breeding Sector, Atlantean Star System
Infinity divine miracles and technology nodes were emerging from the earth, from ancient tombs, from primordial caverns. A kind of god-blessed ecstasy and joy was spreading and permeating throughout Atlantean society.
Many Atlanteans believed themselves to be the chosen people of this universe. Otherwise, how could they possibly have risen so swiftly on this habitable world of billions of years?
For a time, the people of Atlantis abandoned war, chose to cooperate with one another, and threw themselves wholeheartedly into breaking out of their star system, determined to follow divine guidance to the ultimate destiny of civilization.
Watching this scene unfold, Dr. Halsey, who had been monitoring the situation, couldn't help but sigh softly and ask:
"Must we really do this? Is there truly no other way?"
Just look at these diligent, lively Atlanteans. At this moment, how much they resemble humanity when it first received the fire from Prometheus, when it first drove away the dark and the cold.
Or rather, perhaps they were simply a race so similar to humans that they might truly have become a part of the Megacorp.
"Of course there are other ways. But the price we would pay would be far higher, and the returns possibly much lower. It simply isn't worth it."
V answered calmly, without a ripple.
The Atlantean civilization had always been meant as the substitute offering in place of the Warhammer 40K universe. If not them, it would be someone else. And precisely because they were so much like humanity, they had been chosen as the sacrificial victims.
If the offering had been an ordinary low-quality civilization, Guilliman's ascension might very well have failed outright. In that case, the Megacorp would have had to pick out yet more civilizations for sacrifice.
How could there be such a thing as having it both ways? This was merely the lesser of two evils.
This method had already been tested and debated countless times by some of the sharpest minds before being finalized. It was not something that could be overturned by momentary sentiment.
Which meant Dr. Halsey's compassion was utterly meaningless.
She fell silent.
She knew V was right. This was the optimal plan. To help Guilliman complete his ascension ritual, there had to be a species that made the sacrifice.
If not humanity, then Atlantis. Otherwise, the ascension of the God of Corruption and Ruin could never be completed.
She could not bear to watch the Atlanteans die. But could she bear to watch the humans of the Warhammer 40K universe perish instead?
Three months passed.
During this time, Dr. Halsey and V had continued observing the Atlantean civilization's development.
By relying on the divine information that had been passed down, the Atlanteans had unlocked a massive trove of technological creations. The foundations of physics, which had lain stagnant for ten years, suddenly seemed to spring open, advancing rapidly, updating and iterating.
Towering skyscrapers shot up into the skies. Thanks to perfected AI automation, the pace of Atlantean development was nearly catching up to the Megacorp of fifty years ago.
The surface of the Atlantean world was changing visibly every single week. Many Megacorp researchers found themselves astonished.
Give them fifty more years, and they might truly catch up to the Universal Megacorp!
Unfortunately, everyone knew this was impossible. The Atlanteans' accelerated progress was not like humanity's technological explosion—it was a divine gift, a double-edged sword.
Their rapid growth was like mitochondria in the human body suddenly speeding up their metabolic cycles. Yes, this could make one healthier, slimmer, with a heartier appetite. But equally, it would make one's life shorter.
Now the Atlantean civilization had contracted precisely this illness, and was slowly walking the path to extinction.
"Will their existence, their experiences, give us some kind of enlightenment? Or will we one day end just like the Atlanteans, suddenly cut off?"
Dr. Halsey muttered, unsure if she was speaking to herself or to V beside her. By now she was even beginning to doubt the meaning of this so-called god-making plan and the grand campaign of conquest across the heavens.
"No enlightenment, no meaning. We don't even know if what we're doing now has meaning. Only after decades, centuries have passed will we know if it had meaning."
V responded, cold and indifferent.
History had always repeated itself. Yet everyone within it always thought they were treading a path never before seen. Then, ten thousand years later, people would look back and see they had simply been running in circles, bound to the cycle.
That was why humanity could never draw true lessons from history—because it never perceived the patterns that could not be perceived.
"Guilliman has arrived. We can accelerate our timeline."
At that moment, Guilliman passed through the stargate, arriving at the edge of the Civilization Breeding Sector in the main universe.
Clearly, the Atlantean civilization was soon to meet its god.
...
...
Warhammer 40K Universe, Holy Terra!
At this moment, Horus, bearing his mandate, had already led his Primarch legions to the vicinity of Terra.
This formidable Imperial fleet, brimming with menace, had scarcely approached the Solar System when it threw the defensive network into turmoil.
Seeing this sudden arrival of fully armed fleets, Terra's garrison troops fell into panic. The Imperium, already on its last legs, had barely any forces worth fighting with.
This sudden appearance of such an armada almost certainly spelled the doom of Terra.
Fortunately, before long, the Custodes and the Inquisitors recognized the origin of these warships. They were well-versed in history, familiar with the registry numbers and the silhouettes.
"These are Imperial warships—Primarch legions, long vanished…"
Staring at these vessels, belonging to both loyalist and traitor legions alike, the Inquisitors were utterly dumbfounded. Some of those Primarch forces had perished long ago—how could they possibly have been resurrected?
In the end, the Inquisitors simply stood there in stunned silence as this fleet drew ever closer to Terra. They gave no order to fire.
Before they could figure out the origin of the other side, launching a rash attack would only bring greater trouble. What's more, with Terra's current strength, it was very difficult to withstand the offensive of this army.
The gap in strength between the two sides was far too great. Once war broke out, Terra would inevitably fall quickly, and the Imperial garrison forces deployed in various regions would be unable to arrive in time.
Therefore, their top priority was to delay the other side as much as possible and send signals for reinforcements.
At this moment, the Primarchs were all gathered aboard Horus's Vengeful Spirit. After a long voyage over the past several days, they had finally arrived at Terra.
Since the Warhammer 40K universe had no new warp routes and still relied on the traditional warp lanes, their speed of travel appeared somewhat slow.
However, neither the Emperor nor the Universal Megacorp had urged Horus's forces to rush their arrival, so they simply advanced toward Terra at an unhurried pace.
Just then, the Chief Librarian under Horus received a communication request coming from Terra.
"Report to my lord, there is a communication request. Should I connect it now?"
Horus nodded and ordered the Chief Librarian to connect immediately. Over these days, they had more or less come to understand the history of the Warhammer 40K universe.
They had learned of the Horus Heresy and the Chaos invasion. Even if Guilliman hadn't explained it, they would have gone to investigate on their own.
At first, Horus did feel a bit embarrassed. But that awkwardness only lasted for a moment, for in the end, the Horus of this timeline and himself were two entirely different people.
There was no reason for him to feel guilty over mistakes made by another.
"Pass the order—no legion is to act without authorization. Even if attacked, they are not to retaliate without my command!"
Horus's order was issued.
The Imperium of Mankind, ten thousand years later, had already endured too much suffering and torment. There was no need to cause further fear among these people. If anything happened, it was better to communicate openly.
Soon, the Chief Librarian had established the connection.
As the holo-projection flickered into being, Horus saw the figures of many people: representatives from the High Lords of Terra, the head of the Sisters of Silence, the commander of the Custodes, and the Chapter Master of the Imperial Fists.
Yet their faces were all unfamiliar to Horus, for he did not recognize the high-ranking leaders of the Imperium ten thousand years later.
But though Horus did not know them, they all recognized the Primarchs.
In particular, Grigore Decian, Chapter Master of the Imperial Fists, stared in disbelief at none other than his own Primarch, Rogal Dorn.
He might not recognize every Primarch, but Dorn's image was something he could never forget even in death.
The flagship Phalanx of the Imperial Fists was adorned throughout with Dorn's statues and murals. Every Astartes of the Imperial Fists knew clearly the face of their Primarch.
Thus, the moment he saw Dorn, Grigore could not help but exclaim:
"Primarch…!"
Dorn looked back at him and recognized from his insignia that this was a member of his own Legion.
Rogal Dorn nodded to him in response. In this universe, Dorn had vanished ten thousand years earlier during the Penitent Crusade, his fate unknown.
Now, with the Emperor and the Primarchs both returning to Terra in succession, how could humanity, lost in darkness, not see their hope rekindled?
The Primarchs themselves were filled with emotion.
They had already learned of all humanity had done for the Imperium in these past ten millennia—mortals resisting desperately, holding on through the Long Dark in the absence of their Primarchs, facing Chaos invasions with grim determination.
Perhaps they had truly misjudged these "lowly" mortals.
At that moment, the others standing beside Grigore had also recognized several other Primarchs, though they dared not speak their recognition aloud.
For all knew the truth of the Heresy ten thousand years ago—that the Primarchs had been divided, loyalists and traitors irreconcilable, with many killed or corrupted.
The once-glorious Legions had collapsed into ruin. Yet here stood warships thought long destroyed, pristine and whole. How could they not suspect some trick?
Could this be a plot of the Ruinous Powers of the warp?
"Compose yourself, Chapter Master Grigore."
At this moment, Goge vandire spoke coldly to remind him. For now, the two sides had merely encountered one another, and the true identities of these figures could not yet be confirmed.
"We come from a world ten thousand years past, dispatched here by the Emperor's command. I believe the Emperor has already arrived ahead of us. You should seek his judgment."
Horus replied calmly. The aura of majesty and charisma about him was nearly indistinguishable from the Emperor's own.
Even Primarchs found it hard to resist Horus's commanding presence, let alone ordinary mortals.
Primarchs from ten thousand years ago…
Horus's response left the others stunned, though not entirely disbelieving. After all, too many bizarre and uncanny events occurred in the Warhammer 40K universe.
Though outrageous, it was not entirely impossible.
The group turned their eyes to the Custodes Commander and the leader of the Sisters of Silence. Clearly, the matter had gone far beyond their comprehension; only by petitioning the God-Emperor could the truth be discerned.
"We will request an audience with the God-Emperor at once."
The leaders of the Custodes and Sisters of Silence departed to report to Him.
While waiting, Horus asked the others for more detailed information about the Heresy of long ago.
It was hard for him to imagine that such a rebellion, which had ended the Imperium's golden age, could have been caused by his own hand.
Faced with his question, Goge vandire did not answer. This was not a matter he dared speak of lightly.
Any great conspiracy contained many layers, and every account was tinged with personal perspective. The objective causes were complex.
Before the situation was fully understood, Goge vandire feared that a single careless word could bring unnecessary disaster, so he chose silence.
Seeing this, Sanguinius smiled gently and spoke in a warm voice:
"On our way here, we have already gained some understanding of the situation. But we require more concrete details."
"Please send us all available records of that Heresy. Only by knowing the past can we discern the true points of failure."
Neither the Universal Megacorp nor the Emperor had given the Primarchs much detail about the Heresy. Perhaps it was to preserve their unity, or perhaps to prevent them from knowing too much and drawing danger upon themselves.
But the less they knew, the more they yearned to learn.
For only by understanding the past could they know how to avoid repeating those errors—by reflecting upon their own flaws instead of allowing old tragedies to circle back again.
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