The Space Marines, Grey Knights, and Adeptus Mechanicus stood within the vast, bewildering expanses of the Webway. Strange, inexplicable lights flickered around them, accompanied by a distant, rhythmic boom like a titanic heartbeat or crashing waves.
Roughly two-thirds of the warriors who escaped their cells remained alive, thanks to the massive effort of both Gerhard and Roboute. Voldus and his Grey Knights had suffered minimal casualties, as had the Harlequins. That alone was a miracle, but with Gerhard drawing most of the attention, it was lucky for them. The mysterious Cypher had also survived, now commanding a band of dark-armoured Space Marines who had strangely awaited his return.
Gerhard stood beside Guilliman, his battered armour stained with blood long since evaporated, and he looked filthy from all the fighting and damage he'd endured. Though his injuries had healed, his gaze lingered on Alaya and the floating form of Lencillus next to him.
He would focus on Lencillus after they had made it through this clusterfuck, and it would take a while before that happened. Alaya was still dealing with the heavy trauma she had gone through of being forced to fight her friend, mentor and mother-figure and then seeing her being blown up... But that was life for her, and for her sisters who had accepted the burden. Her rage at the Imperium was tempered by what she had been through.
But Gerhard's healing, the Burning Spirit Principle, didn't just mend physical wounds. It went beyond that; only this skill kept the young woman from breaking in that moment and instead let her channel her rage into something productive.
Once Gerhard was satisfied their people were receiving medical attention, he turned his attention back to the situation at hand.
Sylandri Veilwalker approached the Primarch. After exchanging a long, knowing look with Archmagos Cawl, she turned to Guilliman with a stark warning: they could not stay there.
After scouting the region on Skyweaver Jetbikes, her scouts reported heavily armed intruders in ornate chaos, blue-and-gold armour, tainted by the unmistakable stench of Tzeentch sorcery.
Gerhard's expression hardened after Gerhard translated it for everyone.
"Then we're still being hunted. We move before they can close the passages around us. Take us out of this labyrinth, Eldar."
Guilliman's strategic mind pieced the puzzle together. It wasn't even that complicated, really, if one thought about it.
Magnus.
His manipulative brother had sent his cursed children, the Thousand Sons, to intercept them. They had already clashed at the start of their crusade, but Magnus hadn't wanted to destroy it then; he wanted to weaken it, manoeuvre Guilliman into his specific prison, and then kill them off.
Magnus had enlisted his strongest Chaos Astartes son, Ahriman, to navigate the webway's paths using his impressively vast knowledge.
Roboute Guilliman stood over a makeshift tactical projection cast by Gerhard's datastacks, his massive brow furrowed in deep concentration. The air hung thick with tension and the lingering copper tang of spilt blood.
"Magnus is playing a multidimensional game," Guilliman rumbled, his voice still sounding calm and powerful. "He did not cast us into the Maelstrom merely to scatter us. He funnelled us here, manipulating the threads of the Warp to ensure we breached this exact sector of the webway. He most likely expected we would escape our prison. He anticipated our desperate need for a way out."
Archmagos Cawl clicked and whirred, binary static escaping his respirator grill as his mechadendrites twitched restlessly.
"Illogical efficiency, Lord Guilliman. To expend such vast reserves of empyric energy solely to herd biological assets across dimensional boundaries requires a predictive model of staggering complexity. However, my cogitators confirm a 72.9275927398% probability that the Crimson King's predictive sorcery has mapped our trajectory down to the microsecond."
"It is not merely sorcery, Magos; it is hubris," Inquisitor Greyfax spat, stepping forward from the shadows.
Her long coat was scorched, and her power sword hung at her waist. She cast a sharp, distrustful glance toward the camp's fringes, where Cypher and his fallen dark Space Marines lingered in silence.
"The Archtraitor believes himself infallible. If he is hunting us through these tunnels with his Thousand Sons, it is because he intends to use us. We must assume every step we take is tethered to his design."
"To what goal?"
Grand Master Voldus of the Grey Knights stepped into the circle. His terminator armour bore the scars of the prison break, but his psychic aura burned with a steady intensity. He closed his eyes for a moment, drawing upon the esoteric secret lore locked away within the sanctums of Titan.
"There is a threshold, my lord. Deep within the Imperial Palace's inner sanctums on Terra. A sealed portal, bound by the Emperor's own hand and fortified by the most potent psychic abjurations known to mankind. Long ago, during ... that way was breached with catastrophic results."
Gerhard stood quietly at Guilliman's side; he had put on new armour from his inventory and raised an eyebrow.
"You mean the original Webway project. Are you even allowed to speak those words out loud without killing all of us here?"
Voldus nodded, looking Guilliman directly in the eye. He understood that the situation had changed drastically. Keeping the Warp a secret was not only impossible, but it would also mean killing almost everyone in the Imperium.
"The Archtraitor knows that gate. He remembers it, its resonance, and the terrible price we paid when he shattered it. He does not need us to guide him to it; he knows where it lies. But he cannot open it alone from the outside while the Emperor's light holds firm."
Voldus paused, letting the grim realisation settle over the assembled commanders.
"When we approach the threshold, I believe he will strike. He will ride our wake through the gate, forcing his way into the Throneroom while the palace's attention is fixed on your homecoming, my lord."
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the alcove.
"Impossible," Saint Celestine whispered. Her glowing eyes met Guilliman's.
"If the Crimson King breaches the Throneroom while the Master of Mankind is bound to the Golden Throne... the Imperium falls."
Gerhard crossed his arms, his blue mana flaring faintly around his body.
"Which brings us back to our silent, but deadly guides. Veilwalker and her Harlequins most definitely know of another way. Isn't that right?" he asked and looked at the Eldar in question.
"Yes," Guilliman agreed, turning his gaze toward the shadows where the Shadowseer waited. "It seems we are about to take a very different road home."
"And we should hurry. We're about to have a lot of company," Gerhard said.
The crusade could not emerge on Terra if it meant giving Magnus an opening to strike humanity's core; they all knew that.
Fortunately, as Gerhard had said, Sylandri Veilwalker revealed a long-guarded Eldar secret: a lonely, illusion-veiled part of the webway that connected directly to Luna, Terra's natural moon, hidden behind wards impenetrable even to humanity's greatest psykers.
It had been there for millennia and hadn't been used, because the Eldar knew the Emperor was powerful enough to use something like that to his advantage, and that wouldn't have favoured the Eldar.
.
The Terran Crusade immediately set off for the lunar gate. Led by the Harlequins of the Veiled Path, the column moved as fast as they could. The Terran Crusade, which was only meant to reach Terra, had already taken too many twists and hits, and Guilliman hated the losses of those under his command.
He hated waste and tactical inefficiency.
Tanks rolled in the vanguard, and the infantry brought up the rear, while Harlequin jetbikes flashed overhead in rainbow-coloured blurs, guiding them safely through the shifting, surreal environment of misty passages, crystal expanses, and pulsing, organic-yet-not tunnels.
Gerhard used the time to study the Webway as best he could. [Observe] had turned into a ridiculously powerful skill in terms of knowledge. With his skills as a crafter and creator, he was certain he would see the Emperor's dream of eliminating the need to travel the Warp through.
Besides, other ways to travel existed that didn't involve the Warp. And with enough time, Gerhard would find a way, even without stealing the technology from the Necrons. Fuck them.
However, problematic reports soon reached Veilwalker: enemy familiars had evaded the jetbike patrols. And with Gerhard's readings of the energies in the Webway, they realised that the enemy was closing in on them.
The pace quickened further, forcing them to abandon slower servitors. Seeing this as a massive waste, Gerhard tempered with the servitors for a moment, before leaving them behind like breadcrumbs. He added massive explosives of his own creation, which would slow the Chaos Space Marines at least somewhat.
As Guilliman's force thundered into a crystal-studded cavern, Gerhard's devices sent out warning signals as they sensed a sudden spike in sorcerous energy.
"Ambush! Both flanks! Get into cover!" Gerhard shouted.
Guilliman barked orders as Gerhard conjured dozens of [Psionic Mana Shields]. A second later, hundreds of bolt shells wreathed in chaos flame scythed into the ranks, instantly dropping fifteen of their warriors.
More fire hit Gerhard's barrier as Rhinos exploded in sorcerous blasts and Skitarii were mutated by the fires of change. Gerhard worked quickly, together with the Grey Knights and sent out hundreds of [Mana Bullets], shaped like bolter rounds, to hold the enemy off.
The remaining loyalists fanned out, trying to take cover behind crystal outcroppings, but the Webway seemed to shift and move, and they failed. The automata of Thousand Sons Rubricae emerged from the mists, laying down endless bolter fire, which had been forged in the chaos pits, alongside shrieking Tzaangors.
The loyalists fought back fiercely, not willing to let this be the end. Guilliman mapped everything in his mind while firing the Hand of Dominion. They were close, so close. They shouldn't stop here, where the Webway wasn't working with them at all and would let the enemy pick them off easily.
Cypher danced through the crossfire, reaping a heavy toll with his pistols. The Fallen was an impeccable warrior, and even while fighting the sorcerers of the Thousand Sons, he still dealt heavy damage.
Voldus led a desperate counter-attack, his hammer shattering Space Marine armour into pieces. Inquisitor Greyfax was not having a good time, as she tried to hold off the enemy's psychic and physical attacks at the same time. Saint Celestine was doing well, but the Thousand Sons targeted her heavily, and it was only a matter of time before they took her down.
Gerhard took a more active role, rushing Tzaangors with mana bullets, deflecting bolters with his psychokinesis, and driving his Boneblade through enemy breastplates while activating [Life Drain]. He switched back and forth between his [Blank] and [Psyker] states. It was a very effective way to confuse and disorient the daemons and the sorcerers of the Thousand Sons Marines.
"RETREAT!!" Guilliman's voice sounded over the heavy battle.
Realising that holding the ground meant certain death, Guilliman ordered a breakout. The Harlequins, as usual, did what they wanted, and while they seemed to have disappeared just moments earlier, they were back now.
Though more battle-brothers fell in the retreat, the loyalists, spearheaded by Guilliman, Voldus, Greyfax, Celestine, Cawl and Cypher, smashed through every blockade. Gerhard took up the rear, with Alaya and a floating Lencillus making good use of the weapons systems Gerhard had installed as an emergency solution.
The young Anathema Psykana was digging deep into her rage and hatred and slashed through hundreds of daemons, while Gerhard had to make sure that she wasn't killed. She was an impressive warrior, but she was still mortal, and the Thousand Sons Space Marines would squash her.
At last, they reached the rune-sealed portal; the exhausted Imperials stepped through the Webway and emerged onto Luna's surface.
.
Guilliman stepped through the webway gate, bracing for the sickening double vision of reality tearing in half. One second he was bathed in soft, synthetic light and stale air; the next, he slammed into the brutal glare of hard black shadows and the freezing void.
Gravity vanished. With a sharp kick, he launched himself out of the threshold and into the billowing grey dust on Luna's surface.
They dropped straight into a deep crater, swallowed mostly by ink-black darkness. Unfiltered beams of sunlight pierced down from the rim, where Sol's raw rays reached over the edge.
No one had time to catch their breath, though. The enemy was on them.
"Move!" Guilliman roared over the vox.
The loyalists dashed up the crater's steep walls. Space Marines bounded upward hand over fist, a feat made possible by the moon's weak gravity.
Down below, heavy tanks drove through moon dust, their treads whining as they clawed up the loose rock. Columns of Skitarii marched in the remainder of unison that was possible under these circumstances, their biological components instantly beginning to blacken and freeze in the vacuum.
They wouldn't last long on Luna's dead rock, but they didn't need to; they just needed to hold the line until the Omnissiah's work was done as per usual.
Overhead, Celestine soared straight up into the black sky like a golden, shining comet. Her Geminae Superia had snapped their helms into place, but the Living Saint flew through the void unprotected, her golden aura cutting through the dark and illuminating the pit they had arrived in.
At the threshold, Veilwalker, her Harlequins and Gerhard tried to close the gate in time. The Shadowseer braced her staff against the gate, her lips moving in a quick, silent chant that made the runes carved into the stone shine with light.
She was half a second too late. Realising it was futile, Gerhard used [Psychokinesis] and pushed Alaya, Lencillus, and the slowest Skitarii up the incline.
*BOOOOOOOOOOMMM*
The gate erupted in a blast of dark Warp energy. Blue fire poured outward, burning and screaming like a jet engine even in the airless dead of space. Veilwalker threw herself backwards just in time, but her fellow Harlequins weren't as lucky.
The purple fire swallowed them whole, making them writhe in pain as they felt the hands of She Who Thirsts and Cegorach fight over their dying souls.
Their bodies melted like cheap wax, or flash-froze, then shattered before their dathedi suits could even burn away.
Gerhard was hurled backwards, smashing into the ground and throwing up massive amounts of stone and dust.
From near the crater's rim, Guilliman looked back. The portal writhed with black flames created from the Warp, shooting arcs of energy that whipped across the stone and turned the fallen Eldar to grey ash.
The Webway portal twisted and changed colour... And then, out of that cursed vortex, they appeared.
The first Rubric Marines marched out onto the crater floor, their heavy, silent footsteps kicking up slow-motion puffs of dust. Without a word, without hesitation, they raised their boltguns and opened fire.
Cursed, howling shells ripped through the void, hammering into the scrambling imperial ranks that hadn't quite made it up, and that Gerhard hadn't helped.
Armour tore open, souls were scorched, and bulky bodies clad in the armour of the Novamarines and the black bone-white of the Mortifactors tumbled backwards, floating in maddening slow motion down the slope in clouds of dust.
A massive Dreadknight toppled over, its pilot killed instantly inside the cockpit and reducing the visibility around him further. The dry dust on Luna's surface was a problem, and Guilliman adjusted immediately.
"Keep moving! Do not stop! Move back!" Guilliman bellowed, driving his men over the rim and out of the Thousand Sons' kill zone.
Then, the retreating stopped. They regrouped right in the heart of the Mare Tempestus. All around them, the dead, rusting hulks of ancient, decommissioned Imperial warships rose from the grey dust. This part of Luna was a massive junkyard of forgotten voidcraft left to rot in the vacuum.
Overhead, the starry void was choked with colossal orbital docks and gothic defence platforms, glittering with thousands of warning lights.
Yet even those steel mountains faded into absolute insignificance compared to the breathtaking sight hanging right 'above' them.
Terra.
Earth glowed like a red jewel against the black void. It was right there, the finish line, the very heart of the Imperium.
And it was in tremendous danger.
Guilliman's stomach dropped when he realised what he was seeing. The warp-storm tearing through the crater below was powerful enough to rattle his teeth; it surely must have tripped every emergency augur and defence alarm across a dozen Terra-sols.
Help would come, but no one could tell what kind of irrevocable, apocalyptic damage Magnus could unleash before the system's fleets finally arrived.
And not only that. Terra was experiencing the worst Warp storm in its entire history, so the question was how much manpower they could spare to investigate what was happening on Luna.
Guilliman remembered the shattered, burning visions Kairos Fateweaver had shoved into his mind. The visions of a ruined Terra, burning down to ash.
'We have to hold them here,' Guilliman thought.
His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached.
'We stop them here, or humanity dies.'
Down in the pit, the Thousand Sons were pouring out of the gate in terrifying numbers. Scarab Occult Terminators and endless ranks of Rubricae pressed forward, driven relentlessly by sorcerers hovering on disc-boards. They were moving like an unstoppable tide.
Suddenly, the ground on the crater's side erupted, blowing dozens of Rubricase and Scarab Occult Terminators back. From the ground, Gerhard appeared. His figure released cyan bursts of lightning, and he pointed his weapons at the enemy.
Without caring, he held none of his weapon systems back and fired at full force while moving backwards.
Guilliman didn't hesitate when he saw Gerhard once again standing back up after being hit. He was starting to be truly thankful for that highly unusual man and understood why his father had chosen him.
Needless to say, Guilliman still didn't understand anything. Not even Gerhard understood. But this fight would set quite a lot of things straight.
"Take the high ground! Form a perimeter around the lip! Give them everything we've got!"
The crater's rim instantly erupted.
Space Marines, Skitarii walkers, towering Dreadnoughts, Land Raiders, Vindicators, Dunecrawlers, and battle servitors opened fire all at once. Using the jagged rocks of the rim as cover, the loyalists rained down an absolute wall of lead, plasma, and high explosives into the advancing horde.
Worst of all was Gerhard, who, in his Hulk Buster armour, was an absolute unit.
Concentrated lascannon fire knocked walking automatons backwards into the dirt. Their heavy plates buckled under the assault, and glittering, radioactive dust spewed from the cracks in their ornate blue armour. The dust floated away in slow-motion clumps before the empty, animated suits ultimately crumpled into piles of scrap.
"Keep that firing line steady!" sergeants screamed over the vox-static, coordinating volley after volley of demolisher shells.
At the bottom of the pit, a massive pile of shattered, smoking armour began to accumulate around the gate. Even the surviving Harlequins joined in from the shadows, hurling flurries of monofilament discs that sliced clean through both power armour and daemon flesh.
For a few brutal minutes, it actually looked like it was working. The Thousand Sons were getting chewed to pieces, pinned down by the sheer volume of Imperial firepower.
Then... the air turned ice-cold... even colder than it already was in the void of space...
A fresh, violent pulse of dark Warp-sorcery surged from the webway gate, spinning faster and faster until it tore open into a roaring, crimson vortex.
A heavy wave of metaphysical dread washed over the loyalist lines, making veteran Space Marines freeze in their tracks as their souls were shocked to their core.
Stepping casually through the fire, horns curling from his massive helm and vast, tattered wings unfurled, an incredible power stepped onto Luna's surface.
Magnus the Red.
The Daemon Primarch looked up at the rim, locked eyes with Guilliman, and smiled.