[The next battle will begin in two days — please prepare your Tyranid pieces.]
The board had entered a countdown, which meant Caleb could no longer deploy units on it.
Like the other Chaos Gods, he was now "off the table."
Everything happening on Macragge was beyond Caleb's ability to influence as a player.
However, since the sandbox battlefield hadn't yet switched, Caleb could still observe the situation on Macragge.
Though he was now cut off from the two Primarchs and Malcador, having Malcador plus two gene-Primarchs meant the situation could only go from strength to strength, right?
Caleb turned his mind to preparing his Tyranid pieces for the next battle.
On the board, Guilliman and Lion had reached the point where they would part ways and carry out their separate missions.
"Guilliman, next time I call you, don't you dare hang up on me!"
"And another thing — if you breathe a word about how I look right now, I'll make you pay!"
"You may have no shame, but I still do!"
"And if you ever dare hang up on your big sister again, I'll teleport straight to Terra and beat you up in front of Father!"
"Is that really appropriate?" Guilliman could only put on a pitiful, innocent expression.
That innocent little face instantly triggered every Ultramarine's protective instinct toward their gene-mother!
Everyone could feel the honor guard of Ultramarines around them drawing heavier breaths — as if at any second they were going to pull out their weapons and go at the Dark Angels on the spot.
"Haah—" Lion let out a sigh, folding his arms across his chest with a dramatic lament: "Actually, that phone booth can contact Father too."
"If you ever have urgent need, you could call him."
"The prerequisite being that you'd better be ready for the Emperor to slap you upside the head — Father absolutely hates it when people call him on the psychic phone."
"Why?" Guilliman was genuinely puzzled. Surely just making a call wouldn't make Father that angry?
Was the cost of a single call really that steep? If so, he would have to think very carefully about ever ringing Father up.
"It's not that—" Lion bit his lip hard. He didn't want to reveal this secret, because it was far too explosive.
He had only found out about it from Malcador , who had told him the full story of the War in the Webway.
Lion was tight-lipped by nature, so naturally he had to keep this secret under lock and key.
After careful deliberation, all Lion could offer was: "Maybe someday when you run into that traitor Magnus, you can ask him."
"Best to capture him yourself and then force it out of him — that way you'll probably get closer to the truth."
"If you call Father on the psychic line right now, he'll have a trauma response."
"You might dial the number and immediately get a loving psychic smack from Dad."
"…Oh."
Guilliman clearly had no idea what kind of trouble that would invite. He couldn't fathom what enormous price one might pay simply by making a call from that booth.
Left in the dark, Guilliman could only speculate that the cost must be severe — and that unless absolutely necessary, he would not be using the Macragge's Honour's magic phone booth to ring up Dad.
Watching that impossibly smooth blue giant, Guilliman couldn't help but marvel: "I never imagined Father had tricks like that — and such a strange iron man keeping that secret for him."
"You Dark Angels certainly have a lot of secrets."
"You haven't even told me what mission you're heading off to carry out — you really do keep things close to the chest."
Guilliman's gaze held a faint reproach, but Lion just burst into laughter.
"Ha ha — your sister has been entrusted with a very important mission by Father!"
"This mission concerns the future of the Imperium."
"No — I should say the future of humanity. As for the Second Imperium, Father is actually quite aware of it."
"He even seems rather indifferent about it!"
At that, Lion's grin faded. His expression grew gradually serious as he turned to Guilliman and spoke with gravity.
"Guilliman, I know that when you return, you'll be doing a great many things."
"But I still have to say — Father perhaps does not prize the Imperium as much as you might think. What he has always cared about is humanity. The Imperium is merely the tool he used to make humanity better."
"If the tool stops working well, I think Father genuinely has the courage to pick up a new one at any time."
Malcador showed no visible reaction, but hearing those words, the others felt as though a thunderclap had gone off beside their ears.
Had there been more people present, many would have called those words treasonous — grounds for accusation of heresy and sedition.
But after everything they had been through, everyone now understood: the Imperium was about to change beyond recognition.
"Understood."
Guilliman carved those words deep into his heart.
Originally, upon his return, he might have employed more moderate methods — extensive political maneuvering to win over other factions and build support.
But now, if even the Emperor held this attitude toward the Imperium…
Then this time, Guilliman's return would claim the lives of far more unfortunate souls than he had planned.
"With those Norn Queens in hand, I imagine things will be quite simple for you, Guilliman — if someone refuses to cooperate, you might just sic the Tyranids on them."
But glancing back at Guilliman, Lion found him sunk in silence, brow furrowed, deep in thought. That young-looking face wore an expression of indescribable gravity and composure.
He was a Primarch — one who had lived for a very long time. He was nothing so simple as a child.
"Although it goes against my nature — if the situation truly deteriorates to that point, I will do it."
"But unless absolutely necessary, I don't like that sort of brutal approach."
"I would hope, Sister Lion, that you too rely on such methods as little as possible."
[Skill: Mind Theft!]
The two of them were speaking in riddles, but a single Mind Theft told Caleb everything he needed to know.
Just a quick glance through their memories and he understood exactly what the two were discussing.
The Norn Queens captured this time would set off enormous upheaval across the Imperium — not in the halls of Imperial politics, but on countless worlds throughout the Imperium.
Caleb could sense it clearly: the two Primarchs had vastly different ideas about how to use the Norn Queens.
Guilliman, unless pushed to the absolute limit, would never deploy assassin units like Lictor-types to eliminate political enemies. Lion, by contrast, was completely casual about it.
Lion had always believed that as the Emperor's Sword, dealing with exactly such matters was his purpose.
If a planetary governor was disloyal to the Emperor — or even merely suspected of disloyalty — they should be dealt with. He would use the most extreme methods: floods of Tyranid bio-units to kill and consume them, seizing the opportunity to purge entire governing bodies, nobles included.
Guilliman, by contrast, would be far more restrained.
He had researched the Tyranids extensively and knew that the reason they could locate so many planets was largely thanks to the Genestealer Cults. If he could exploit the Tyranids' hive-mind control to cultivate a loyal, Imperial-aligned Genestealer Cult — it might make all the difference. At the very least, his reforms upon returning to Terra would proceed far more smoothly, without so many entrenched old powers stirring up resistance.
"All right, Lion."
"I've already got a rough idea of what the Emperor has asked you to do. Go carry it out."
"I look forward very much to your success — because for both the Emperor and me, it may be the only hope."
"Guilliman, we should be heading back."
"Once we're beside the Golden Throne, the poor signal problem will naturally resolve itself."
"Mm. Thank you, Uncle Malcador."
Malcador paused for a moment at that. The number of the Emperor's sons who had called him "Uncle" could be counted on one hand. The one who did so most was probably Sanguinius.
What a pity. That boy had died young — it happened before Malcador himself had fully faded. In the countless painful memories, he had glimpsed the final moment after Sanguinius's death. Though it was only a flash, Malcador thought it was genuinely a shame the way that one had died.
As the previously obscured sandbox board cleared like a veil being lifted, the four Chaos Gods once again turned their gaze upon Ultramar.
Yet thanks to Caleb's various maneuvers and the interference of the Ultramarines and Dark Angels, the influence of the four Chaos Gods on Ultramar had become extremely feeble.
Even those oblivious Roomba-drones kept munching their way through the space above Ultramar, meaning most daemons didn't dare approach the region at all — even when temporary warp rifts cracked open.
[Slaanesh: That's not right — I clearly already corrupted his warp-essence. Why hasn't he submitted to me?]
[Guilliman's so much harder to fool than Fulgrim~]
[Did I not use a high enough dose?]
[Nurgle: Don't even bring it up, dear.]
[After this battle, two more Greater Daemons of mine have gone off to consort with that wretched Cawl.]
[We've probably lost to the Accursed again. Lucky I didn't stake too much on this one.]
Slaanesh was furious at how this plan to corrupt and debase had turned out.
Nurgle, the Grandfather, had been all thunder and no lightning — he hadn't even deployed a Daemon Primarch!
[Slaanesh: I'm telling you, you should have just given me Isha.]
[Keeping her cooped up in your garden is pure waste.]
[If you're willing to hand her over, I can fix the whole Ultramar situation for you — even if I go bankrupt on the next wager, I'll sort it out. How about it?]
[Nurgle: Get lost!]
In the warp, a green storm and a purple storm coiled around each other. In the span of a single quarter-hour, the two sides had already fought 6⁷ skirmishes.
Caleb watched the two squabbling and fell into thought — it seemed Cawl had quite a significant influence on Nurgle after all.
But that aside — the next battle would involve the World Eaters!
Was it going to turn into helping Khorne beat people up midway through?
He had certainly wanted to use the board's power to directly purge Khorne.
But given the limitations of the current battle's mission parameters, truly cleansing the four Chaos Gods was probably not going to be easy.
Caleb pulled out the figurine of the beautiful young warrior with the saber-teeth once more.
He had decided: he would use the piece his good friend had made as Angron.
The small figure, roughly ten centimeters tall, had already had the Butcher's Nails removed.
Without the Butcher's Nails to interfere, Angron's performance in the battles ahead would probably be far smoother.
Caleb had just placed Angron's piece in the staging area when a dialog box popped up over the figure!
[Detected: player is preparing to deploy Angron.]
[Would you like to grant her a warp-essence nature?]
[Note: you may add extra ability entries to give Angron a more complete power set.]
[Caleb : Oh?]
Caleb stared at the so-called signature-ability option and fell into thought.
There had actually been a lot of speculation online about what Angron's signature ability ought to be.
Originally it seemed like Angron was meant to be a "father-figure" who could calm and comfort soldiers — but once the Butcher's Nails were hammered in, the whole function was broken, and that side of her was gone forever.
Thinking it through, that did make sense. The old Angron was genuinely well-suited to a female Primarch role — she could have absorbed a great deal of… well, various meme-worthy commentary aside, fans often joked that the Nails were the "real" Angron, and the body was just meat.
"Fine, since I feel sorry for you, I'll write you an interesting entry."
"Your kids must have had a rough time following you."
"Getting the Butcher's Nails hammered into them — what a terrible tradition."
Caleb intended to rewrite her warp-essence nature, but couldn't quite think of a good angle. So he decided to browse the forums for inspiration — maybe there'd be something creative or outrageous.
He'd barely scrolled down when a spectacularly unhinged post caught his eye.
[Post: What if Angron Were a Girl?!]
"...Hm. I may not have a brain, but I've got an idea!"
A few lines in, Caleb could only tip his hat to the collective intelligence of the internet.
These people, if they ever got transported into the setting, would at minimum end up being crowned as Slaanesh Princes.
What exactly did they have rattling around in their heads?
These people are keeping the entire baby oil industry alive...
If he actually implemented what they were suggesting, Angron would be deployed and immediately transform into a Slaaneshi daemon Primarch!
"Forget it. I'll write it myself."
"Since Angron wants to express her feelings — what if we let others hear Angron's inner voice? Hehehe!~"
The idea no sooner occurred to Caleb than he could see its potential. He got to work drafting a special warp ability themed around Truth or Dare.
[Extra Skill: Truth — Angron can hear the inner thoughts of others, and in turn, her own inner world can be overheard by her children.]
[No one may deceive Angron. If they attempt to, they must perform a Dare.]
[Skill: Dare — If, in the act of deceiving the Primarch, a person makes some kind of promise, they must fulfill it.]
[The Dare cannot exploit a literal interpretation of the promise to subvert the Primarch's true intent; the promisor will act in accordance with what the Primarch actually thinks and wishes.]
"Heh heh heh."
Looking at those two abilities, Caleb had already started to grin.
He was very much looking forward to what miracles Angron would produce going forward.
At first he had considered writing some truly overpowered warp-essence traits for her.
But for some reason, every time he wrote something too godlike, the system would throw an error — the dialog box would go red.
It was just like a compiler error — as if the code simply couldn't be pushed through.
Caleb's guess was that this was probably because the Primarch's warp-essence nature wasn't of a high enough tier to sustain something too overpowered to be written in.
Only relatively practical — or entertainingly chaotic — abilities seemed to pass through.
So he had settled on Truth or Dare.
Caleb was genuinely curious what kind of entertainment Angron was going to cook up in the missions ahead.