40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 774 62. Regaining Hope (XIX)
Roboute Guilliman stood calmly in front of his tactical table, his arms folded across his chest and his legs apart. People kept coming and going around him: people coming to report, running past him with documents in their arms, and workers with repair tools hanging all over their bodies.
They came and went, went and came, but he remained the same, standing still in the raging sea.

His face was immersed in the blue light projected on the tactical table. This light made his face, which could be friendly or dangerous, extremely inhuman. A terrifying rationality flowed coldly in every detail, especially in his eyes. The pair of blazing white meteors had changed color at this moment, almost turning into two black holes that could destroy everything beautiful in this world.

——Therefore, when Captain Idaeos personally brought them before him, Cato Sicarius, Uriel Ventress, and Pasanius Lesani all felt varying degrees of fear.

But their Primarch showed no anger.

He simply raised his head from the complex and ever-changing battlefield, then made a gesture to the fourth company captain, who immediately walked to his side.

They exchanged a few words in whispers, and finally Idaeos nodded and walked away quickly, his sword in hand.

He left without so much as a glance at the three young battle-brothers - Sicarius was struck by a deeper fear, not of punishment, but of disappointing his Primarch and Captain.
Thinking of this, he gritted his teeth and made himself stand straighter.

At this moment, their Primarch called out.

"Come here, three champions," Robouti Guilliman said in a soft voice that was a mixture of calm and mockery. "Let me take a good look at you."

They walked over dejectedly to be inspected by the Primarch.

The first person Guilliman found was Uriel Ventress.

He grasped the young man's chin with his hand, turned his head around like examining a piece of art in a museum, and looked at it carefully. His expression did not change. He just said, "Later, I want you to go to the pharmacists. You have to stay with them for at least six hours and receive a full set of treatment procedures. There must be no mistakes. Do you understand?"

"Understood, my lord," Ventress said with his head down. He seemed very ashamed, and his face, which had turned pale due to heavy bleeding, was now horribly red.

Guilliman nodded, patted him on the shoulder, and turned to Pausanius.

The blond young man is quite famous in the chapter for many reasons, but the most intuitive reason is probably that he looks very much like the young Primarch.

This was acknowledged by Guilliman himself, who had pointed it out to Idaeos after a meeting, in a casual tone that sounded like he was just joking - the Captain of the Fourth Captain also knew that he was indeed just joking, but it was different for others who heard this.

Thus, the reputation of this young man, who had just joined the regiment for less than three years, began to spread, and he himself did not know what was going on until seven months later.

Guilliman reached out and pulled Pausanius closer to him, then raised his other hand and began to brush the dust from his hair.

He did it calmly, as if it was no big deal, but Sicarius glanced at him secretly and read a kind of angry regret in the Primarch's eyes.

A few seconds later, when the cleaning was complete, Guilliman spoke again.

"I heard you killed a Necron general."

"It was a sneak attack." Pasanius immediately added, his tone was so surprisingly weak that it made people wonder how such a tall and strong little giant like him could make such a sound.

"This is war - a sneak attack, so what?" Guilliman looked down at him. "At least you killed it, and let our Marshal live."

"me"

"What? Do you think I will blame you for someone's reckless command? Obeying the orders of superiors is written in our discipline, so stand up straight, Pausanius, you shot accurately and did a good job. You will go to the infirmary with Uriel later, remember to keep an eye on your brother, I don't want to hear anyone come to report to me that you ran away with him."

The uneasiness in Pasanius Lessani disappeared, he took a deep breath, nodded, saluted, and returned to silence.

So, Roboute Guilliman finally turned his attention to Cato Sicarius.

He just looked at him for a while, then walked over. Moreover, before doing this, he waved to let the other two leave.

Sicarius saw out of the corner of his eye that they kept looking back quietly, and seemed to be worried about him.

Roboute Guilliman stepped in front of him, raised his hand, and grasped his shoulder.

He didn't exert much strength, but a part of the enormous force that was far beyond the imagination of ordinary people was still transmitted to Sicarius. It was as heavy as a mountain, but also like an angry ocean, brewing extremely strong explosive power.

Driven by this power, Sicarius raised his head and looked directly into his Primarch's eyes.

"You did something you should never have done," Guilliman said quietly. "To be honest, I am very disappointed with this."

Sicarius gritted his teeth, trying not to make any sound, and tried his best to stand up straight, just as he had done in the past when he was under the guidance of the instructors in the training camp.

"But maybe you will say that the result was good. Indeed, your recklessness led things to a direction that we can all accept: Marshal Alexito survived, the Undead's head and the reactor exploded together, and its army announced its surrender after a period of resistance. Judging from the results, it is not an exaggeration for me to call you a hero."

He raised his head as if to sigh, but the cold and majestic expression he revealed when he lowered his head made Sicarius fully understand what he meant.

'But I won't call you that.'

"It's common for young people to be eager to establish meritorious deeds—" the Lord of Five Hundred Worlds said slowly. "—But, in my impression, you are not such a rash and impulsive person, Sicarius."

"What you have been through is enough to shape you into an indestructible piece of steel. Any young Ultramarines like you would not have the will you have today after going through all that hell. This is not a compliment. There is no need for you to get excited. I am just telling you what I think of you."

"The truth is, I trust you, Cato Sicarius."

He leaned over, his face suddenly changed, and a blazing flame fell from the depths of his eye sockets, falling into Sicarius' heart, making him shrink.

He had seen Robouti Guilliman in anger, but he had never imagined that one day that anger would reach him.

"He trusts you too." Robert Guilliman said softly. "Don't play dumb, you know who I'm talking about." Sicarius pursed his lips and nodded.

"He is dead," Guilliman said suddenly. "He went to them alone, sword in hand, to end the catastrophe once and for all. He proposed the plan himself, and I had hundreds of arguments over it, because I didn't want to agree to it -"

As he spoke, he suddenly laughed. His smile was gentle like the sunshine in the early morning, but his nostrils were tightened, which meant that there was actually pain hidden under the smile.

"--like brothers." Guilliman continued his whisper. "Real brothers, similar faces, similar voices, and even the way they look at all the problems in the world is not much different."

"But he was very young. Unlike me, he did not have to do many things. He had a bright future and had plenty of time to realize his ambitions and make all the people in a hundred worlds live and work in peace and contentment. But he died, and he had to die."

"He threatened me with death, saying he had to do it. His words were no different from mine. The key word is 'must', Sicarius. It is a magical word. Once it is stained with it, the meaning of any words will change completely."

"Especially when someone you know is very determined says this, you know that there is no way you can change his mind - and you don't even have the right to stop him, because you know that his choice is right."

Sicarius listened with trembling as his Primarch spoke his heart out.

Guilliman thought for a moment, then spoke.

"My mother once asked me a question - what is the price of always being upright and always standing on the right path? At that time, I only understood half of it. Today, I already have the answer, but I can no longer tell her."

"The answer is 'must', Sicarius, and it's everything you'll pay for uttering that word. In other words, the price is everything."

He laughed again, loosened his hands, and made a gesture of relief.

"So my brother lost everything." He smiled, but his eyes stared at Sicarius coldly. "And you, young man, how long do you think you can keep your luck on this path?"

Sicarius chose to remain silent and did not answer, so Guilliman patted him on the shoulder and told him both his punishment and reward.

"You acted rashly and led your squad into the center of the battlefield without consulting your superiors. For this, your position as adjutant was stripped, and after the war, you were punished to spend five years in a penance camp. But your recklessness brought about a very good result, and for this, your honor will be retained."

"If the Fourth Company still has no adjutant when you return from the Penance Camp in five years, you can continue to serve in this position. Otherwise, you will need to compete with him. Now go to the infirmary, meet your brothers, talk with them, and express your feelings about surviving a disaster here."

He waved his hand, turned away, and ignored Sicarius. The latter left him silently, but heard a very soft word floating from the noisy wind and fell into his ears.

"Strict military discipline is a must, my son. Disobeying orders and being reckless once or twice may lead to good results, but such good results will make you dependent on them. On this road, you can only win, not lose. Believe me, you can't afford the cost of losing. Next time, before doing something similar, I want you to think carefully."

Sicarius paused in his steps, resisting the urge to cry, he put his heels together, kept his hands still, performed a half-bow that was not noticed by anyone, and then hurried away.

Behind him, Robouti Guilliman returned to the tactical table.

Everything. He told himself. The price is everything.

He willingly sunk his face into the light of war, allowing himself to become something inhuman, the lives of the soldiers becoming numbers that flowed through his mind.

Real-time updates of the front-line situation floated up, showing more details as he wished.

The risky tactic he had proposed to Sanguinius a while ago had worked. The Galactus and their advanced machinery had created a small fortress cluster in the middle of the enemy that was enough to cause them headaches.

Grim and determined, never wavering from their orders, Perturabo's sons are the kind of soldiers any commander would love.

Guilliman admired their bravery, but he would not just watch them continue to be brave until they died.

He narrowed his eyes, waved his hands, and issued some new orders.

He sent the Blood Angels commandos to support them, as well as the Astral Knights, who moved from the right flank, along with the Ultramarines' 9th Company, a heavy firepower company.
Any general with a little experience could read his intention from these deployments: he was going to launch a general offensive.

But the reality is not so. For ordinary wars and battlefields, it is a luxury for so many Astartes military forces to act together. However, in this army, there are two people who have not officially set foot on the battlefield.

Himself, and Sanguinius.

The power of a Primarch cannot be measured by numbers, especially for creatures like the two of them who have gradually left their flesh and blood. Looking back at the past, the existence of a Primarch was enough to change the course of a war, so what about now?
Guilliman turned his gaze to the rear of the battlefield.

Eleven minutes and forty-four seconds ago, he received a warning that mentioned "unusual air power" and "at least ten or more dead spirit phalanxes", which were enough to give people a headache. These words were full of threats in the eyes of anyone, and Guilliman was no exception, but he was prepared.

He pressed a button on the side of the tactical table and asked, "Is my brother back?"

Five minutes later, Sanguinius, with his golden armor shining like new and his wings spotless, returned to him with a huge necromancer blade in his hand.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked simply.

Guilliman smiled and pointed to the back of the projection on the long table. A dark group of enemies had been marked there, like a huge black cloud before a storm.

"I see." Sanguinius nodded. "When do I leave?"

"The sooner the better, brother—and where did you get this sword?"

"An heirloom of the House of Asmaifok," Sanguinius answered calmly, holding it up. "Indomitable Glory."

(End of this chapter)