After admiring his new gear, Datch happily bounced off to pick up new quests.
He noticed a golden question mark above Living Saint Celestine's head on his minimap—time for new main story!
Sicarius stared after the orange figure, dumbstruck.
He'd barely accepted the Terminator plus sunglasses—at least that was cool.
But now this pumpkin suit outdid Chaos in sheer weirdness.
If someone claimed he'd been corrupted by Chaos, nobody would doubt it.
Sicarius took a deep breath and called the Primarch.
"This is urgent, my lord. It's about the nameless Astartes."
Sicarius's voice still trembled.
Guilliman, reviewing a star map in the strategium, didn't look up.
"Oh! What strange thing has he done now?"
"I have to chide you, Sicarius. Don't be too concerned, that's just his way. You'll get used to it."
The Primarch thought himself inured to Datch's antics.
But Sicarius insisted. "I really think… you should see for yourself."
He sent the recorded footage.
Guilliman glanced at it—and instantly, his marble face showed total shock.
"Oh my old father!"
He swore in thick Macragge accent, words unbecoming a Primarch.
"What the hell is that? How did his armor become a pumpkin?"
His mind raced—he realized a key issue, and spoke urgently.
"Sicarius, broadcast this to all forces—especially the shipboard defense teams and all accompanying units! Make it clear: no matter what… uh, odd attire that nameless Astartes is wearing, do NOT open fire! Repeat, do NOT open fire!"
Guilliman feared jumpy sentries might mistake the bizarrely dressed nameless Astartes for a Chaos monster and open fire.
"Understood!" Sicarius relayed the order immediately.
But their fears were overblown.
Datch, in his eye-catching pumpkin suit, found crew all along his path looking terrified—
Some Imperial Guardsmen even raised their weapons.
He quickly realized this new skin was spooking the NPCs and affecting his interactions.
"Tch, is my reputation not high enough?" Datch muttered. "Guess I need more quests so they'll ignore my antics."
"These NPC AIs are so smart, even their expressions are realistic. No wonder the game is so popular."
With a thought, Datch's pumpkin armor vanished, replaced by his classic Terminator with sunglasses.
The familiar outfit made the Guardsmen lower their guns, though their looks were still odd.
With the "fashion crisis" over, Datch bounced on—still as carefree as ever.
He accidentally knocked over some statues and smashed a few lights,
Drawing the ire of tech-priests and logistics staff, but finally arrived at Living Saint Celestine's chamber.
"Respected Saint, do you have any quests for me?" he asked directly.
Celestine's psy-flame eyes glanced at Datch, unfazed by his bluntness or antics.
She was already used to his style.
She got straight to the point, her voice ethereal and solemn.
"I have been granted a vision from the Emperor. He calls his loyal children home to Terra. But one of his exiled, rejected sons will appear to obstruct us, seeking to drag the loyal one into corruption. Please aid me in foiling this plot."
As she spoke, Datch's quest panel popped up.
[Quest: Assist the Living Saint in Foiling the Traitor Primarch's Plot]
The pilgrimage to Terra is about to begin; Saint Celestine has foreseen danger. A traitorous son, corrupted by the Chaos Gods, seeks to harm Roboute Guilliman. Aid Celestine to ensure Guilliman arrives safely.
[Reward: 3000 XP, 3000 Points, +200 Reputation, Custodian Guard Skin ×1]
"Custodian skin?"
Datch's heart leapt at the reward.
Didn't expect that!
With this skin, he could cosplay as the dazzling golden Custodians.
Once on Terra, he could blend in with the Custodian Guard, stand atop the walls, and shout, "Death to protect the Golden Throne! For Terra!"
…
While Datch was busy questing,
A now calm and rational Guilliman was having a final meeting with the leaders of the Ynnari before parting.
The alliance between mankind and Eldar had proved beneficial for both in the Ultramar campaign.
Sadly, most could not let go of old prejudices, unwilling to entrust their backs to such sin-laden, yet valiant, xenos.
But Guilliman was a pragmatist—not one of the majority.
"The road ahead is long and perilous," said Yvraine. "The gods devour the stars; countless suns are lost. Beware, Primarch."
"You may have eluded death, but countless dangers still await. The slightest slip, and all will be undone."
Guilliman's face was grave.
"I truly don't know how to persuade you—if I could have your help, our journey would be much easier."
"We have made our decision," Yvraine replied. "You have received a precious gift from us; some of my kin paid with their lives. Is that not enough?"
"I will always remember this favor," Guilliman said. "But before you leave, I hope you can answer a doubt of mine. Cawl forged my armor, but alone, could not have revived me, right?"
Yvraine smiled elegantly.
"His tech could heal your body, but we both know the true wound was in your soul. In that field, his knowledge is lacking. Son of the Emperor, you walk among the living again thanks to Ynnead's power."
"Remember: if you treasure your life, never remove your fate armor. But don't worry, it's stronger than you imagine."
Guilliman's heart sank.
He knew Ynnead was the Eldar god of death; his resurrection ceremony had involved xenos divine power.
Who knew what hidden dangers that might bring?
Guilliman hadn't forgotten how Horus fell,
Merely by a dagger and a xenos temple, the Emperor's favored son was led astray to betray father and brothers.
A shadow of worry crossed Guilliman's mind—would he repeat Horus's mistake?
…
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