I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 190 Macurag, a 5A-level scenic area: Guilliman on the throne

Passing through the deep and ancient Hall of Heroes, the space ahead suddenly opened up. A magnificent curtain of light descended from the sky, rendering the entire space dreamlike and ethereal.

Looking up, Nguyen Van Bo saw that the dome had been completely transformed, pieced together from countless pieces of glass in various colors. The sunlight from the stars penetrated this colossal work of art, decomposed and reshaped, transforming into countless beams of mixed colors that descended from the sky, casting shimmering, undulating reflections on the ground and pillars. The air was filled with the sacred scent of purifying incense, and distant, solemn hymns echoed through the space, making this place seem less like the mortal realm and more like a legendary divine kingdom.

At the edge of this sacred glow, a towering throne stood atop the platform. From a distance, Nguyen Van Bo could vaguely make out the blue giant seated upon the throne. Not far from him, hundreds of pilgrims knelt or stood before the figure, offering their most devout worship.

A strange thought popped into Ruan Wenbo's mind: No wonder the Ultramarines weren't holding meetings at Hera Fortress anymore; they had transformed it into Macragge's premier AAAAA-level tourist attraction, generating revenue for Alteramar...

As he stepped forward, the giant on the throne became clearer, and the invisible pressure grew heavier. Ruan Wenbo quickly banished the thought from his mind, composed himself, and began to examine it carefully.

Robert Guilliman.

Son of the Emperor, Son of Vengeance, Lord of Alteramar, will awaken in 25 years Earth time and 254 years Warhammer time to become the Regent of the Empire of Man.

He sat silently upon the magnificent throne crafted from adamantite and marble, clad in the armor of the Ever Victorious Army. Even with his eyes closed and his body enveloped in a static force field, he still exuded an overwhelming aura capable of ruling the stars and commanding everything, a leader's charisma enough to shake the world and change the very fabric of existence. It was as if, as long as he breathed his last, the order and civilization of humanity would remain unbreakable.

“No wonder he’s Robert Guilliman, the son of an emperor,” Nguyen Van Bo exclaimed, deeply impressed by his aura. “Just seeing him alone makes one think of the Great Crusade of ten thousand years ago, the Twenty-One…”

“Governor Ruan Wenbo,” Sicarius’s voice suddenly interrupted him, “You’re mistaken, it’s nine Holy Primarchs.”

“Uh, sorry.” Ruan Wenbo’s heart skipped a beat; he had almost forgotten that the exact number of Primarchs was a taboo topic that the Empire of Man couldn’t discuss. Ordinary players could discuss it freely, but he couldn’t now. “It makes one wonder about the power of all the Primarchs walking together in the world, and the Emperor himself…”

“God,” Sicarius corrected again, “God Emperor.”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me,” Ruan Wenbo said sincerely, but he would definitely say the same thing next time.

He took a deep breath and looked away from the sleeping demigod: "Alright, let's go, Sicarius. We've seen everything we needed to. The war is urgent; the Tyranids could come at any moment. We need to get to the Arctic Fortress quickly."

“Aren’t you going to do anything else?” Sicarius gestured to Nguyen Van Bo who was worshipping and praying to Guilliman.

Ruan Wenbo's gaze swept over the group. Among them were nobles in magnificent robes, exuding an air of nobility; portly merchants with shrewd eyes; military officers with medals adorning their chests; and even an ordinary worker in simple clothes with calloused hands. Their status, position, and wealth varied drastically, but without a doubt, their prayers for Guilliman, the Emperor's son, were all incredibly devout.

Faced with Cicharius's proposal, Ruan Wenbo hesitated for a moment. Even though China is a secular country, and the gods of the earth are merely fictional authorities, various Taoist temples and monasteries still burn with incense during festivals. Now, a real, flesh-and-blood Son of God is right before him. Should he pray and worship?

Nguyen Van Bo made his final decision.

“No,” he shook his head, his voice soft but firm, “Let’s go straight to the Arctic fortress.”

“I think Guilliman would be very upset if he saw his people worshipping him like a god. So, no.”

Sicarius said nothing more. Ruan Wenbo's choice was clearly unconventional, but not entirely incomprehensible. The Ultramarines didn't follow the blind worship of a state religion. The two turned and left this radiant temple, which resembled a divine kingdom. Their footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, gradually fading from the melodious hymns and whispers of the pilgrims.

The polar fortresses at the two poles of Macurag are quite different in style from the Hera Fortress. There are no magnificent statues or ornate reliefs here, only cold metal walls and bright tactical lights, filled with a grim atmosphere of actual combat. Sicarius led Nguyen Van Bo to a heavy blast door. After the door slid open automatically, he stepped aside.

“We’ve arrived at the tactical conference room, Your Excellency. My mission ends here.” With that, Sicarius turned and left, the heavy metal door slowly closing behind Nguyen Van Bo.

The room was brightly lit, with a huge tactical table occupying the center. Nguyen Van Bo's gaze swept over the people gathered around the table.

Seated at the head of the table was none other than Chapter Master, Lord of Macragge, Kargar. His massive frame exuded an aura of oppression even while seated. Surrounding him were several equally imposing figures: an Inquisitor clad in black power armor with a prominent Inquisition "I" insignia on his chest; a nearly three-meter-tall Mechanicus Sage in a crimson robe, countless metal tentacles and cables extending from his back, writhing slightly like living beings; a crisply dressed Otlamar auxiliary officer; and a naval admiral in a dark blue uniform. A short distance behind them stood a scribe, holding a data tablet, ready to take notes at any moment.

Aside from Calgar, whom everyone had already met, all eyes turned to Ruan Wenbo the moment he entered. Their gazes were filled with scrutiny, inquiry, and even a hint of barely perceptible impatience. Clearly, they were filled with curiosity and questions about the Calgar Chapter Commander's sudden announcement that they were waiting for an unknown planetary governor.

“Very good, the last person is here,” Calga’s deep voice broke the silence. He nodded. “Then the meeting shall begin.”

With a wave of his hand, the holographic projector above the tactical table emitted a low hum, and countless particles of light converged, transforming into a vast three-dimensional star map—a part of the star system on the eastern edge of the Milky Way. Ruan Wenbo could immediately discern the approximate distribution of power: those sapphire-like, dazzling points of light were undoubtedly the five hundred worlds of Otrama; an area shimmering with a pale yellow halo was the site of the recently concluded Damocles Expedition, the territory of the Tau Empire; and beyond that, there were vast expanses of gray, seemingly lifeless planets, like tombstones in the universe.

“These,” Calgar’s voice was heavy as he pointed to the gray planets, “are worlds that have been completely devoured by the Tyranids and are now nowhere to be found.”

As he spoke, he turned his gaze to the Inquisitor and Wick: "Let me double-check, Inquisitor Kriptman, Sage Wick, is this star map alright?"

“No,” the alien Inquisitor, known as Kriptman, said curtly, his voice like two stones rubbing together.

A series of data streams flashed in the mechanical eyes of the Sage Wick, who replied in a synthesized electronic voice: "This is data from three Terra days ago, and it is still relevant."

Calgar turned to Ruan Wenbo and explained, “The detailed intelligence about the Tyranid invasion came from Inquisitor Kriptman and Sage Wick. Coincidentally, Inquisitor Kriptman keenly sensed the terrifying aliens coming from the east of the galaxy and went to investigate himself, while Sage Wick happened to be on an exploration mission in the eastern star system when he encountered these aliens and wanted to rush to Macragge to inform us. One went forward and the other retreated, and the two bumped into each other.”

Ruan Wenbo nodded slightly to Kriptman and Wick to express his respect: "I deeply admire your bravery. Not everyone can escape unscathed from the Tyranid tide."

"You know a lot about the Tyranids?" Kriptman's professional instincts kicked in, and his scrutinizing gaze instantly sharpened. "But I've searched through the Inquisition's files and have never seen a record of an invasion similar to the Xenomorphs."

"Are you the planetary governor of Peditia?" Sage Wick asked, his optical lens locked on Ruan Wenbo as if performing some kind of deep scan.

“Yes,” Ruan Wenbo answered Sage Wick first, then repeated to Kriptman, “Yes.”

“Gentlemen,” Calga’s voice was steady and powerful, drawing everyone’s attention back, “let’s get back to the tactical table, shall we?”

After a brief exchange of glances, the judge, the sage, and Ruan Wenbo turned their attention back to the gray star map that represented death and crisis.

(End of this chapter)