2 Bonus chapters coming up~
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"Very well." Guilliman turned to Zeke. "What function has this organ added?"
"Teleportation," Zeke replied confidently. "But don't take my word for it. Let's test it."
Guilliman stepped forward, his expression hardening. The modification of the Primaris Marines was a matter of grave importance; he would conduct the experiment personally.
"Archmagos Cawl, record all data."
The Primaris Marine stood rigid, shaken to his core. To spar with Guilliman was not just a test; it was a supreme honor that terrified him.
The group moved to a spacious training bay next door.
Guilliman wielded a simple training sword, while the Primaris was clad in the new Mk X Tacticus Power Armor that Cawl had specially developed.
The Primaris bowed deeply to his gene-sire. Then, he moved. His training blade sliced through the air, aiming straight for Guilliman's center line.
"Not bad," Guilliman noted inwardly.
With just that opening move, the Primarch gauged the warrior's strength level—it was significantly higher than that of a Firstborn Astartes. Cawl had truly been putting in the effort over the millennia.
However, in front of a Primarch, this thunderous strike appeared pale and powerless.
Guilliman didn't even use his full strength. He simply turned sideways, letting the blade pass harmlessly. His left hand shot out like a piston, the gap in speed was overwhelming.
Just as the blow was about to connect—a strike that would surely crack ceramite—the Primaris felt a sensation that was mysterious and profound. It was a call from the void. He followed the feeling, his figure blurring into static.
Vwoop.
With a sound like displacing air, he vanished from his spot.
The next second, he materialized three meters behind Guilliman.
Is this the teleportation Zeke spoke of? The Primaris thought, exhilarated. This would be the ultimate tool for assassination.
Guilliman was momentarily surprised. This abrupt displacement indeed exceeded his predictions based on combat logic.
However, a Primarch is a Primarch.
Facing an attack from his blind spot, Guilliman didn't need to turn his head. He simply flipped his right wrist, reversing the grip on his sword, and drove a back-elbow strike behind him. The power and timing were perfect to the peak, completely sealing off the warrior's attack route.
But before Guilliman's elbow could land, violet light flashed violently in the Primaris's eyes.
Vwoop.
His figure dissipated once more. Guilliman's inevitable strike hit nothing but a cloud of dreamlike, purple particles.
On the other side of the training bay, the Primaris solidified again. He fell to one knee, panting heavily. Using high-load spatial abilities twice in rapid succession was evidently a massive burden on his physiology.
Silence filled the training bay.
Guilliman slowly lowered his weapon. The test was conclusive.
Archmagos Cawl's mechadendrites twitched frantically as they recorded the stream of data.
"Strike and survival methods that transcend convention," Guilliman evaluated, his voice echoing in the hall. "The teleportation is abrupt and difficult to predict. On a real battlefield, this would be a nightmare for enemy commanders."
He looked down at the panting marine. "However, it is not invincible. High-frequency use clearly places a severe burden on your biology."
The Primaris gasped for air, his hearts hammering with shock. Is this the strength of a Primarch? Even after warping space itself, he had been neutralized with casual ease.
"Continue training. Master it. Control it," Guilliman ordered.
He turned and walked toward the observation window where Zeke stood.
Cawl conducted several more rigorous tests. He discovered that the Primaris could also carry teammates during teleportation, though the added mass significantly reduced the jump distance.
After the final test, the Primaris suddenly squatted down and coughed up a mouthful of blood.
"I'm fine," the warrior waved off Cawl's concern, wiping his mouth. "I probably just pushed the ability too hard."
"Judging by 'Little Black's' condition, it's a Rejection Reaction," Zeke explained from behind the glass. "It's not a big problem; just a normal negative side effect of the transplant. It can be relieved with Immunity Serums."
"However," Zeke added, "this serum only alleviates the symptoms for a period of time. It doesn't cure the root cause. He'll need regular doses."
"Little Black"... Guilliman heard the nickname Zeke gave the marine and decided not to comment. After all, the warrior's skin had turned a shade darker, resembling the void-creature the organ came from.
The implication was clear to the Primarch: those with transplanted organs would be dependent on the serum. And the formula for the serum was solely in Zeke's hands.
It added an invisible layer of insurance for Guilliman. The serum could be mass-produced, so supply was no issue. But if a problem arose—if loyalty wavered—he could cut the supply immediately.
One must always be wary.
Zeke then took out the Blaze Heart. "Magos Cawl, I have another organ here. Do you have any spare Primaris?"
"There is one last subject," Cawl rasped. Most of his Primaris Marines were slumbering in secret vaults across the galaxy; he hadn't brought many on the ship.
The ability of the Blaze Heart was much simpler and cruder: Fire Breath and a massive bonus to heat resistance. Combined with the Melta weapons Cawl had developed, the firepower would be formidable.
The modification of the Primaris came to a temporary halt. The rest would have to wait until they reached Terra and requisitioned more subjects.
Guilliman issued a formal invitation for Zeke to join the journey to Terra. Zeke accepted.
–
After Guilliman and Cawl left, ensuring the room was empty, Zeke picked up the Chest Opener.
He hesitated for a moment, then clicked the device against his own chest.
Click.
Unlike everyone else, Zeke's chest cavity contained no surplus organs. No heart, no lungs, no ribs.
It held only a blurry, spinning block. He couldn't even make out what it looked like.
Crap. Zeke sighed, closing the interface. Now I'm really not human anymore. I've become a literal block person.
Transplanting organs into himself was an option, but Zeke didn't think much of teleporting a few meters or breathing fire. If he was going to modify himself, it would have to be something on the level of the Ender Dragon.
Transplanting organs is just a gimmick, he reminded himself. Developing mods is the hard truth.
Zeke disembarked from the Iron Wraith and stepped back onto Macragge's soil.
–
On the surface, Guilliman announced his plan for the Terran Crusade.
The call to arms was answered immediately. A group of Battle-Brothers was selected from the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Companies of the Ultramarines to accompany their father. Captain Sicarius of the 2nd Company would serve as the commander of this elite force.
Grand Master Voldus, leading the 3rd Brotherhood of the Grey Knights, was also on the list, ordered by the Primarch to join the fleet.
In addition, adhering to the principle of voluntary participation, the heroes Zeke had traveled with stepped forward.
Marshal Amalrich of the Black Templars, Saint Celestine, Inquisitor Greyfax, and Archmagos Cawl all pledged their blades and resources to the Crusade.
It is worth mentioning that due to his outstanding performance, Marshal Amalrich was taken aboard the Strike Cruiser Scourge of Heretics. There, he accepted the Armour of Faith and the Black Sword, becoming the new Emperor's Champion.
Finally, Zeke and Guilliman boarded the Chapter's ancient flagship—the Macragge's Honour.
On the glorious vessel, the sons of the Ultramarines had deliberately preserved the layout of Guilliman's personal scriptorium. This room had existed since the days of the Great Crusade, one of the few things that could evoke warm, long-lost memories for the Primarch in this dark millennium.
Guilliman made his final speech of farewell. The Terran Crusade had begun.
The massive Imperial fleet set sail, the exhaust flames of countless engines streaking across the void of the star sea, setting a course for the homeworld of humanity.
This time, Zeke would travel to Terra via the Warp.
"Engage Geller Fields," the order rang out.
As the Navigator reported the transition, the Warp jump began. Reality tore open.
A chaotic and unbearable scene unfolded outside the viewports. Zeke felt as if his eyes were being violated by the mere sight of it.
Arrogance churned into surging vortexes; Fury and Lust merged into storms of madness. Despair condensed into steep straits of impossible geometry, and lurking upon the sheer cliffs were hordes of ravenous daemons, clawing at the ship's energy shields.
The journey ahead was bound to be perilous.
But the Crusade knew no fear.