Chapter 59 Welcome Back, Great Regent of Imperium Secundus

Khorne projected his power and will straight into the body of a Berserker. A crimson aura swallowed the warrior whole, his muscles bulging at a visible rate as dense, bloody runes crawled across his flesh. The battleaxe in his grip shifted into a deep, visceral red—looking as if it were forged from freshly spilled blood and radiating the foul stench of gore. Everyone nearby, friend or foe, instantly felt a suffocating pressure, their bodies trembling uncontrollably from the sheer oppressive weight.

Guilliman stared down the Khorne-possessed Berserker. His grip tightened on the Emperor’s Sword, his expression entirely devoid of fear. The moment their eyes locked, all pleasantries were thrown out the window. Moving in perfect, deadly unison, they lunged at each other with a speed completely invisible to the mortal eye.

Khorne blurred into a scarlet streak, leaping into the air to bring his battleaxe down with devastating, earth-shattering force. Guilliman met him head-on, swinging the Emperor’s Sword upward to parry the seemingly unstoppable strike. The divine blade collided with the bloody axe, unleashing a deafening shockwave that ripped through the battlefield. Their furious melee was so fast it left nothing but afterimages hanging in the air. The sheer ambient force of their clash pulverized the surrounding walls and colonnades into jagged rubble.

Around the Blood God and the Lord of Ultramar, the war between Imperial loyalists and Chaos forces raged just as fiercely. Calgar and Dante—two absolute badasses of the Imperium—roared battle cries as they led the loyalists, raining righteous fury down upon the traitors. To top it off, the spirits of fallen Ultramarines, summoned forth by Guilliman’s ascension to godhood, manifested on the battlefield. Burning with wrath against their ancient enemies, these phantom warriors fought alongside the living to slaughter the daemons and heretics.

“Another son has returned to us.” Saint Celestine forced Abaddon back with a sweep of her holy blade and glanced up, catching sight of the Primarch clashing with the Blood God.

The return of Roboute Guilliman—a true son of the God-Emperor and a demigod of war—meant humanity actually stood a fighting chance against Chaos. Of course, all the credit really belonged to the Forefather. With him and the God-Emperor on their side, humanity was bound to break free from this grimdark fate and forge a path toward a brighter future.

“I owe you an apology.” Inquisitor Greyfax gutted a Chaos Space Marine in her path and moved to Celestine’s side, her tone surprisingly sincere. “Celestine, I never should have doubted you. You truly are the manifestation of the Emperor’s will.”

“Think nothing of it; vigilance is a virtue,” Celestine replied, her voice gentle as she looked at Greyfax. “Now, let’s take the fight to them. We banish them here and now.”

“Agreed. Let’s send the Archenemy back to the hell they crawled out of.”

Holy sword in hand, Celestine charged the Dark Warmaster, with Greyfax hot on her heels, both fully intent on wiping the Despoiler from existence.

—

The first fight to reach its conclusion was between Vane and Vashtorr.

Armed with Bloodletter [Carnage] and fully decked out in the Reaper of Souls Suit, Vane was an absolute menace. He had the burst damage, the raw DPS, the speed, and to top it all off, zero-cooldown teleportation. He was basically a maxed-out, min-maxed god-tier player. Vashtorr spent the entire fight getting completely steamrolled. The Arkifane couldn’t even put up a decent defense, let alone counterattack. In no time at all, the daemon was covered in over a dozen horrific, gaping wounds.

Suddenly Vashtorr chucked his forge-hammer and detonated it, using the ensuing blast wave to knock Vane back. Having finally bought himself a little breathing room, the Lord of the Soul Forge dragged his mangled body forward, tore open a rift into the Warp, and limped inside.

“Bro, are you serious? I haven’t even started trying yet, and you’re already folding.”

“What absolute trash.”

Vane openly mocked Vashtorr as he watched the daemon scurry into the rift like a beaten dog.

Vashtorr shook with unadulterated rage at the insult, but he didn’t dare look back. He was genuinely terrified that Vane would just teleport over and kill him. Following the rift, the Lord of the Soul Forge plunged headfirst into the Empyrean, vanishing without a trace. Before bailing, though, he managed to shoot Abaddon a quick message: Run.

This Forefather was just too broken. His combat power was off the charts, and he had way too many tricks up his sleeve. If they didn’t dip now, they were going to get permanently wiped.

Abaddon didn’t need to be told twice. He swung his daemon sword to force the Living Saint back, then immediately ordered his sorcerers to teleport him straight back to the Vengeful Spirit. Seeing the Despoiler tuck tail and run, the rest of the Chaos Space Marines scrambled to disengage, terrified that if they lagged behind, the Imperial loyalists would butcher them to a man.

—

Meanwhile, the brutal slugfest between Sanguinius and Magnus was also drawing to a close.

The Crimson King had unleashed a barrage of esoteric sorcery, inflicting unimaginable damage on Sanguinius. The angel’s pristine, snow-white wings were scorched black and shredded with terrifying gashes. Divine blood dripped from his feathers, and his golden armor was covered in deep fractures.

But in this clash of Primarchs, Sanguinius ultimately held the high ground. In the thick of their grapple, the Great Angel reached out and literally tore one of Magnus’s daemonic wings right off his back. The agonizing pain forced a horrific, guttural shriek from the Crimson King as tainted blood sprayed across the battlefield.

Pressing the advantage, Sanguinius grabbed Magnus by the torso. With everyone watching, he hoisted the Crimson King high into the air and brought him slamming down over his knee in a devastating backbreaker. A sickening, resonant crack echoed through the air as Magnus let out another tortured, agonizing scream.

“Brother, this is for our father. It’s for the future you completely ruined, and it’s for all the ordinary people left suffering in your wake,” Sanguinius said, his voice ice-cold as he tossed Magnus to the ground like a broken toy.

“And, of course, this is for the Forefather. You really pissed him off.”

Already writhing in agony, Magnus’s face twisted even further at those words.

I’m the victim here! What the hell does that bastard have to be upset about?!

“Save the Primarch!”

“To the side of Magnus, the Changer of Ways’ favored son!”

The Thousand Sons Sorcerers and Tzeentchian daemons that had accompanied Magnus desperately tried to rush in for a rescue op.

Right on cue, Vane dropped from the sky like a meteor, wielding Bloodletter [Carnage]. He plunged into the fray, moving like he was playing on easy mode. With every flash of his blade, he carved through the Sorcerers and daemons, leaving a massive trail of corpses and rivers of blood in his wake.

Imperial heroes like Celestine, Dante, and Calgar followed right behind him, swarming the remaining enemies in a chaotic melee.

In the end, aside from a few stragglers who managed to flee, the entire host was slaughtered down to the last man.

—

Roar!!

“I will return!”

The duel between Guilliman and Khorne had finally reached its end. Even though Khorne was a Chaos God wielding supreme authority, the mere sliver of power he had projected into the material universe was nowhere near enough to overcome Guilliman, who had fully assimilated the authority of a War Titan.

After an apocalyptic slugfest, Guilliman drove his sword straight through the Khorne-possessed Berserker, drawing out a bitter, defiant roar from the daemon.

“I’ll be waiting, Dark God. One day, we will have our true, final reckoning. And when that day comes, I will obliterate you.”

With that final promise, Guilliman raised the Emperor’s Sword and brought it slashing down.

The Berserker’s head hit the floor. Golden flames erupted across the decapitated corpse, reducing it to absolute ash in a matter of seconds.

Abaddon and Vashtorr had fled in disgrace. Khorne was forcefully banished back to the Warp. Magnus had been broken over a knee and taken prisoner. Once the remaining Chaos forces managed to scramble back to their warships, they fired up their engines and gunned it, with the Imperial Navy relentlessly hot on their heels.

The Battle of Macragge had finally concluded with a sweeping, decisive victory for the Imperium.

Guilliman powered down the Emperor’s Sword, its scorching flames dying out instantly. He strode toward the gathering crowd, a rare look of visible excitement breaking through his stoic demeanor.

Watching the thirteenth Primarch approach, Vane casually stowed his weapons and whipped out a record player to blast a victory theme song.

“Ladies and gentlemen, tell the band to strike up a tune! Let’s celebrate the return of the Regent of Imperium Secundus!”

“Eternally loyal to the great Imperium Secundus!”