Guilliman turned slowly and left the observation room.
He did not look back.
As the heavy bulkhead, forged from an unknown alloy, closed silently behind him, it seemed to cut off that faint warmth that had made his very soul tremble.
Outside the door, Leticia and her three Sisters were watching him quietly.
Their gazes varied; some were scrutinizing, some wary, others indifferent.
The confusion, pain, and hollowness on Guilliman's face after laying down his ten-thousand-year burden vanished without a trace the moment the door closed.
In their place was the same cold, rigid mask of the Imperial Regent that had remained unchanged for ten thousand years, like a frozen ocean.
He nodded slightly toward Leticia, the leader of this mysterious faction.
It was a gesture of equality, a courtesy between players on the board.
Devoid of any personal emotion.
Then, he turned and strode with heavy steps toward the end of the corridor, where the blue shuttle awaited him.
Calgar followed closely behind.
The Chapter Master of the Ultramarines felt as if he were walking on the edge of an active volcano about to erupt.
Inside the shuttle, the suffocating silence was even more oppressive than the vacuum outside.
Calgar looked at the Regent's profile, colder than the vacuum of space, and at his deep, bottomless azure eyes that had returned.
He wisely chose to remain silent.
He knew the Regent was thinking.
Using his super-biological Primarch brain, capable of managing the entire galaxy, he was engaged in an unprecedented storm of thought.
Guilliman was indeed thinking.
His strategist's mind was running at a feverish pace.
He attempted to translate everything that had just happened into cold, logical data that could be understood, analyzed, and exploited.
Genesis Sisterhood.
A new third-party faction possessing god-like power.
Its leader, Leticia, was a realist with clear goals, clear logic, and a terrifying level of frankness.
Her guiding principle was "protecting home."
This was a logical foundation that could be predicted and exploited.
Under her command were at least three... no, now four, powerful warriors comparable to a Primarch.
They were the incarnation of perfection, the incarnation of wrath, the incarnation of Hope, and...
A small, golden figure flashed through Guilliman's mind.
The analysis stalled at this moment.
All of his logical chains and data models collapsed instantly the moment they touched that figure, as if they had struck an incalculable singularity.
"Uncle."
"You..."
"Why do you look so tired?"
That soft, pure, childlike voice echoed in his mind over and over again like an inescapable curse.
It was like an invisible hammer forged from the purest goodwill, relentlessly pounding against the logical barriers he had built over ten thousand years of reason and duty.
Each echo left a tiny crack in those solid barriers.
His Primarch heart beat heavily and uncontrollably.
No.
That's not right.
Guilliman clenched his fist suddenly, and his power armor emitted a harsh grinding sound.
This was a psychic attack.
A highly sophisticated psychic attack, one he had never seen before, that struck directly at the core of his soul.
She had exploited his yearning for his father, utilized his ten-thousand-year exhaustion, and created an emotional trap that logic could not overcome!
Yes.
That must be it.
He had to stabilize his logic.
He had to reaffirm the foundation of his existence.
"Adjutant!"
Guilliman's cold voice shattered the dead silence inside the shuttle.
"Yes, my lord!"
An Ultramarines officer in a blue uniform immediately straightened his posture.
"Retrieve all core doctrines of the Ecclesiarchy and the latest official reports on Terra's daily sacrifice of one thousand Psykers to the Golden Throne."
"Display them on my personal terminal."
Guilliman gave the order.
He needed these.
He needed to use these cold, absolutely correct "cornerstones" that represented the order of the Empire's operation to re-anchor his wavering heart.
He needed to remind himself of the vast, sacred, yet fragile civilization he was protecting.
Everything he did was to ensure that the human race could continue to exist in this dark universe.
Even if the price was lies.
Even if the price was ignorance.
Even if the price was the souls of a thousand innocent people every day.
This was a necessary sacrifice.
This was the right path.
"Yes, my lord."
The adjutant did not hesitate.
Soon, top-secret documents emblazoned with the Aquila appeared on the tactical screen in front of Guilliman.
He saw the flowery, empty rhetoric praising the divinity of the Emperor.
He saw the indisputable articles defining all xenos and heretics as needing to be purged.
He saw the cold, daily updated report recording the number of "soul tithes."
In the past, seeing these would only make him feel a heavy, ruler-like numbness.
This was the lubricant and fuel necessary for the Empire to function.
He did not like it, but he accepted it.
However, now...
At this moment, a red report marked "Highest Emergency Level" popped up automatically.
The report came from a Cardinal on Terra, one of the highest levels of the Ecclesiarchy.
The content of the report was an urgent statement regarding the joint battle that had just taken place in the Tear of Heaven system.
Guilliman's gaze swept over the intense, fanatical, and prejudiced words.
"...An ultimate heretic claiming to be a 'god,' a false god who has stolen the Emperor's divinity!"
"...Those so-called 'Sisters' beside her are the most vicious blasphemy against the Primarchs! They are the most insidious creations of Chaos!"
"...The power they have displayed is poison coated in honey; its essence is the ultimate temptation to lure humanity into an abyss of eternal damnation!"
"...We implore the Regent, in the name of the Emperor, to use all the power of the Empire to carry out the most thorough and ruthless purge of this 'the fifth calamity'! Turn their flagship into stardust, and sacrifice their souls upon the Golden Throne to manifest the supreme glory of the Emperor!"
At the end of the report was the signature of the Cardinal in frantic handwriting, along with a bright red seal representing the highest authorization of the Inquisition.
In the past, seeing such a report, Guilliman would have acknowledged this "loyalty."
He would have understood this anger born of "faith."
He would even have praised the bishop's vigilance.
But now...
Guilliman looked at the words in the report—ignorant, fanatical, greedy, arrogant, and filled with fear and prejudice against unknown power.
He only felt a strong, visceral nausea.
He remembered Leticia's calm, black eyes that seemed to see through everything.
He remembered her declaration, which was simple to the extreme, yet also pure to the extreme.
"Protect my family."
"Build a home away from war, away from conspiracy, where one can live in peace."
Then look at the report in front of him.
This report representing the highest "faith" of the Empire.
Ugly.
Putrid.
Ridiculous.
It was simply ridiculous to the extreme!
Boom!
Guilliman suddenly raised his hand and slammed his fist hard onto the tactical table forged from a composite of adamantium and ceramic armor plates.
A loud bang!
The table, solid enough to withstand a direct hit from a Bolter, was dented with a deep, cracked fist print!
"Shut up!"
Guilliman roared at the flickering report, a sound repressed to the extreme, like a wounded beast.
Calgar was frozen stiff by this sudden outburst of rage.
He had never seen it.
He had never seen the incarnation of reason, the eternal strategist Robert Guilliman, so... out of control.
Guilliman breathed heavily.
He realized for the first time.
He realized so clearly for the first time.
That the so-called "faith" and the so-called "cornerstones" of the Empire he protected were actually so ugly, so putrid.
Compared to Leticia's small, pure wish.
Compared to Terrania's pure, golden eyes that contained not a trace of impurity.
This so-called "holiness" was simply like a dirty, vicious joke.
A seed of doubt.
A seed of doubt about the Ecclesiarchy, about the Inquisition, about the way the Empire operated, and even... about the very essence of the existence that had been silent on the Golden Throne for ten thousand years.
At this moment, it finally broke through the shackles of the ten-thousand-year permafrost.
It was quietly planted deep within his soul.
...
Meanwhile.
On the bridge of the "genesis."
Leticia calmly watched Guilliman's fleet, one ship after another, tearing open the veil of reality, warping away, and disappearing into the deep universe.
She turned around slowly.
She looked at the beautiful faces behind her, filled with anticipation and curiosity.
She smiled slightly, a smile like a spring breeze that instantly melted the cold and murderous aura remaining on the bridge from the great battle.
"He has left."
Her voice reached the ears of every Sister clearly.
"Now, it is time to go and welcome our new family."
------------------------------
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! If the fanfiction has you hooked and you can't wait to see what happens next, you can unlock 30 or more chapters in advance over on my patreon: patreon.com/FTLGenBen
Also every bit of support means the world to me so if you're loving the ride, don't forget to drop a Power Stone, Thanks.