Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 591 Who do you say is running the Ultramarines for me?
-
"Love is looking away and feeling indebted."

----------

That one looked like an Ultramar version of the Iron Warriors - or more accurately, like a possibility that Digris had never dreamed of, such as the Fourth Legion being a loyal legion with much improved taste in everything from paint jobs to medals of honor.

Of course this is impossible.

Because firstly, even the Ultramarines themselves were divided into many sub-Chapters after the Second Founding and the writing of the Codex Astartes. The term "Legion" has not been used for thousands of years, and everyone in the Imperium only knows about the various orders and chapters.

But the warrior walking in front of him was wearing beautiful and complicated power armor of the Legion Archon style that only appeared in the oldest records. Although he did not paint the Iron Warriors' most iconic yellow and black warning stripes on his legs and other parts, the various yellow and black cloaks, silver edges, gun silver, extremely unique broad stature, black hair, cold white skin and blue eyes repeatedly reminded Digris of his most likely genetic bloodline.

The think tank director clenched the ancient staff in his hand.

The staff was theoretically a gift of thanks to him after he saved the Mechanicus expedition team on the world of Andraxus seventy-seven years ago.

Decoding of the fragmentary code within the relic had led them to believe that it was a staff that had somehow become part of Malcador's possession and had been lost in the area.

But as if to verify this legend that was not fully realized, when Digris welcomed the former imperial regent who called himself Kadur Malcador to the incredible Temple of Justice filled with chaos and evil, the mysterious thing in the staff that seemed to be connected to a light in the distant darkness disappeared quietly like the last ray of sunset on the horizon.

Cautious psychic perception passed carefully and imperceptibly over the attendant who was leading the way and the surrounding walls and ceilings, whose decoration style was almost simple to the point of simplicity compared to the Temple of Strictness.

Neither of them showed any sign of profanity or fel energy.

Although the Terminator attendant is full of traces of killing, he is also full of cold logic and reassuring order, showing that he does not get any twisted pleasure or joy from this job and the weapon in his hand.

And the environment of this place is actually even more incredibly clean for a powerful and sensitive psychic like Digris.

The clear feeling of breathing is like you have been forced to breathe in the negative second-hand smoke of psychic energy from the subspace all your life, and suddenly you find that the air here is as clean and light as if it was equipped with a filtration system that can filter out these strands of psychic energy and negative emotions like ordinary poison gas and dust.

It was unclear whether the aide-de-camp sensed the temptation but showed no reaction, or was simply indifferent. Diglis was no longer able to care.

Because just after he guided him and opened the last door for him, the Chief Think Tank's eyes first swept across the smooth throat and the very strange-looking laurel wreath. When he frowned slightly and his eyes met those baby blue eyes, the Chief Think Tank's eyes were suddenly filled with tears.

A ray of distant, golden light shone here like a sharp arrow from the cold darkness, grabbing his soul and making his talent resonate with it; in that instant, he caught a glimpse of the young figure of the blond-haired, blue-armored god in front of him, full of arrogance and pride nine thousand years ago, the tens of thousands and hundreds of thousands of blue troops of the Thirteenth Legion gathered in an overwhelming manner, paraded, or rushed towards the enemy, slaughtering worlds and aliens that refused to surrender and did not obey the Emperor's will one by one. This scene, which could be regarded as witnessing a myth, almost made him lose his balance.

A silent revelation flowed through the heart of the Ultramarines' Grand Librarian like a golden stream, and only then did he realize that the staff in his hand seemed to resonate with some existence in this place, and it trembled slightly in his palm. It was this resonance that gave him a sudden omen, telling him clearly that although this person seemed to be more suspicious than Julius, he was indeed the real Robert Guilliman, who was stolen by the hateful Chaos Apothecary in the Temple of Uprightness in full view of everyone that day.

His lips trembled as he turned his gaze once more to the other person, boldly looking directly into the eyes of the one who had made the Ultramarines glorious for eternity.

Those eyes were pure and bright, full of spirit and vitality.

It was the ember of a bygone imperial glory, the last gleam of a glorious sun, the last echo of a golden age and the last relic banner that proved that the good old days of humanity's vision of a bright future had indeed ever existed.

After the sadness, he also saw the possibility of a future in which Robert Guilliman would lead them on a new, hopeful pilgrimage and expedition - although that future was also full of various obstacles from the darkness, the golden sunlight was dim and powerless, and was pulled into the eternal polar night by the shadows, but there was still a powerful black and white light protecting the Primarch's shoulders, preventing him from fighting alone; he also saw the Primarch's brothers coming from impossible places and standing beside him. Although their faces could not be seen, the solid arms they stretched out formed a reliable wall; the afterglow of the former empire fell, and the light of the new sun illuminated the entire world.

The Chief Think Tank was amazed and moved by the vision of such a great and glorious future revival. Pure ecstasy enveloped his soul. In such extraordinary joy, he knew for sure the bond between himself and the person in front of him, without any doubt.

On the other hand.

At the first sight of Varo Digris, even if the Thirteenth Primarch had any curiosity, doubts or similar things about his offspring, whom he had never met but whose brothers obviously had a good opinion of, all of these melted away like ice and snow in the sun the moment he saw him.

Although the Primarch was virtually unaware of the influence of any other factors, and was not aware at all of the great revelation that Digris had received in that brief moment, he was so friendly and approachable purely out of the habits he had developed on the Iron Blood, and even more out of the intuition of the warm resonance of his own genetic bloodline.

"My son."

Although the voice was as gentle as the sunshine in the bay, it was so deep and powerful that it shook people's hearts and stirred up the most admiring and primitive emotions in Diglis's soul. His eyes were sore and swollen, but he tried his best to endure it and not to be rude.

"Come to your father." The god who was once just a dead, cold statue of flesh sitting high in the shrine of his tomb has come alive, paying attention to him so eagerly like a mortal father, a wise elder and a perfect commander. It seems that every change in Digris' expression and movement will tug at his father's heartstrings.

"Come and tell me your story, my son. Do not worry, I am here."

The Chief Librarian struggled to take a few steps forward until he reached Guilliman's presence. He was too busy to even pay attention to the one of the two superiors beside him who was staring at him excitedly and curiously. Naturally, he did not notice the strange psychic shadow and unfriendly angry eyes of the other superior on the other side.

Diglis only had eyes for Robouti Guilliman at this moment.

He was on the verge of collapse the first time he saw the shadow in the Temple of Rectification, but his unwillingness to give up due to responsibility and love kept him going until this moment.

At this moment, Digris finally knelt on the ground, and then precious crystal tears fell from his cheeks. This great prophet, who had been devastated and deeply traumatized in his life and soul in countless battles in the past, was finally able to speak freely in front of a father without any repression.

Guilliman helped him up with his own hands, and they walked into the side hall of the office. The door blocked out the curious and angry gazes in the office. Only the attendant quickly brought the guards to serve them refreshments and then silently closed the door for them.

The father and the son began their conversation, spanning nine thousand years of time and life and death.

Digris described for his father a universe in which he had heard all the rumors and events that had taken place over the past nine thousand years since the Battle of Thessara, as one of the people in the Ultramarines Chapter and even in the Imperium who probably knew the most and most deeply about those fragments of history.

Although Honsou was able to infer some fragments of history from medical records from ancient times to the present with genius, this was the limit of the truth that a Chaos Astartes like him, who was young and not a Ultramarines, could deduce.

Digris, with his knowledge that surpassed any scrolls and books in the Ultramarines' corpus, began to tell his father the secrets from the Beast Wars and the coup d'état launched by Grand Master of the Assassins' Court, Wangorich, on Terra to kill other High Lords who he believed were not qualified to lead the Imperium of Man, and then Holy Terra even fell into a century of chaos and anarchy ("This is outrageous! What the hell are the Custodians doing?!" - Guilliman heard this), to the secret suppression of the power of the Ecclesiarchy and staying away from the increasingly complex political infighting on Holy Terra, while focusing the Ultramarines' main energy on expanding territory and exploring and conquering the fringe planets of the star regions further east.

Countless battles, countless sacrifices, slaying seemingly endless aliens, executing endless heretics, extinguishing Chaos plots and noble schemes; saving a world, and then deciding whether to rebuild it, or destroy it more thoroughly. Guilliman was deeply saddened by this, as he witnessed these children and people who were born and raised here, who had only seen and heard the darkness and danger around them, and had seen nothing but hardship, hardship and endless war in their lives. Despite this, they never gave in and persisted in their resistance, even though they were surrounded by enemies.

They talked about the "Nova Terra Rebellion", the Ork WAAAGH encountered by Talashar, and dozens of alien races fighting against the Ultramarines in border battles that lasted for centuries or even longer; considering that the starting point was always the Eye of Terror, Abaddon's first few Black Crusades rarely interfered with the Far East Star Region, and Digris talked more about the details of his more familiar exploits in the nearly five hundred years after entering M41:
The Tyranid Wars, the First Battle of Macragge, he spoke of the unusual evolution and intelligence of the Tyranids, and the eternal hunger of the Great Devourer; the Battle of Thrax, where the Daemons were repelled; the sudden and rapid rise of a xenos empire called the Tau; the battle to protect the Tomb of Orar, the arrogance of the Eldar and the wisdom of Calgar; the first defeat and imprisonment of the Daemon Prince M'kar (Guilliman slightly averted his eyes here); the invasion of the different tentacles of the Hive Fleet, the Kraken and the Leviathan; the daring theft of Guilliman's tomb (the Thirteenth Primarch decided to change the sentence of a certain nephew back to infinity); the coming of Julius, who was considered a "saint", and the governance of Macragge (Guilliman frowned); a series of accidents after the opening of the Great Rift, and at the very end, the prophecy made by Varo Diglis to his Primarch and father through the aftermath of the revelation.

"I see different enemies on your path, entangled in your footsteps, trying to pollute your mind. Perhaps the first one is the snake, and the most difficult one is the fly, but the most threatening one is the bird, and there are many, many more conspiracies..."

Of course, what Robouti Guilliman had heard from his nephew and brothers was enough for him to warn his illustrious son in return: now that the Great Rift has been fully opened, space and time throughout the galaxy have been completely distorted under the control of this incredibly powerful force, so that anyone who wants to understand the progress of wars in various parts of the galaxy in linear time will have no chance of achieving anything other than creating Sisyphus-like futile madmen and fools.

In order to make his son who was immersed in the psychic side understand better, Guilliman used his brother's exquisite metaphor, "like who knows how many layers of Mobius strips and Klein bottles are stacked together." But he received a confused look from his son. The Primarch who wore the laurel of rationality and curves had to give up and used another way of saying that his son with precious prophetic talent could understand better, "It's like four cults appeared on a planet at the same time, and different variants appeared in countless different individuals."

--------

In the end, the Primarch was once again shocked by the detailed description of the history and facts of Macragge and the current situation of the Imperium and the difficult situation of the Chapter that was presented to him.

Only then did he realize how much the insights opened by his nonsense nephew, during the time he had spent with Honso and woken up in the Maelstrom, had given him strong support for the current reality of the Empire - perhaps he could consider not hanging him forever on the tower of Macragge's Glory, but allowing him to serve a limited period of hard labor.

"Well," he finally spoke slowly with a lot of doubt, "My loyal child, if that's the case, who is now in charge of supporting the operations of Macragge and Ultramar?"

In an instant, panic, shame, helplessness, and humiliation, emotions that should never appear on the face of an experienced fighter, warrior, Lord of the Arcane, and Space Marine veteran like Digris, were displayed like a kaleidoscope in his entire expression and body language.

"Yes……"

He spoke with difficulty, meeting his father's expectant and encouraging gaze.

"Your...brother."

Guilliman raised his eyebrows in great amusement.

"Conrad Coates."

(End of this chapter)