Chapter 4: The Great Demon of the Subspace

Chapter 4: The Great Demon of Hyperspace

After confirming the reward, Guilliman nodded. This golden opportunity wasn’t too bad—barely usable, but usable nonetheless. By combining dark-matter computer technology with the original forge-star marine techniques held by the Mechanicus Sage, Cal, he could create an entirely new batch of warriors to fight against the traitors and the forces of Chaos.

The Empire’s existing Space Marines were indeed somewhat weak when facing these chaotic powers. More often than not, victory was won through sheer numbers. The casualty rates were horrendous—too brutal to witness. To forge such a powerful new army would be a strong pillar supporting the boundaries of the human Empire.

Guilliman had no choice: either he helped the Empire defeat Chaos, or he would be captured and enslaved by them. Run away? Best not to dream. The nearest galaxy beyond the Milky Way was hundreds of thousands of light-years away—how could he escape? Without a celestial beacon, without navigational charts, escape was impossible.

Even if the fleeing ship could reach the universe’s maximum speed, escape was futile. Traveling at light speed to another galaxy would take hundreds of thousands of years. If the ship broke down midway, it would drift until death. Using hyperspace was even more perilous. Hyperspace was the domain of dark gods; without the Emperor’s beacon protecting it, the Gellar field would collapse within days. Without the Gellar field, the dark gods could toy with him at will.

There was also the impracticality that other places might not be safe. Within the Warhammer universe, there was the Tyranid race—extraterrestrial horrors arriving from beyond the galaxy, devouring all in their path, fleeing from even more powerful beings into the Milky Way. One could imagine what awaited beyond the galaxy—it might be even worse. Escape would only lead to a more tragic end.

He could only win; otherwise, he would die horribly. There was no third option.

“Out. Clear them away,” Guilliman said as he stepped forward, his eyes burning with terrifying fury, the Emperor’s sword blazing with destructive flames.

Calgar, Celestine, Amarech, and other survivors rallied, gathering beside Guilliman.

Thunderous artillery roared outside the sanctuary. The Imperial defenders continued their desperate fight, striving to drive the Chaos invaders from their home.

Magrag City, this magnificent hive metropolis, was a battleground everywhere.

Factories, spaceports—sounds of slaughter echoed throughout.

Space Marines from all corners of the Empire, clad in various armor, clashed fiercely with the forces of Chaos.

The Astral Guard and Magrag Wardens continued firing, using street defenses to shoot the cursed cultists and demons.

Laser beams cut through the acrid air, searing monsters and stealing their lives.

Yet the monsters, cultists, and traitors were so numerous, their waves relentless, overwhelming the Empire’s loyal lines and forcing the defenders to retreat step by step.

“For the Chaos Gods! For supreme glory! Kill!” The cultists, twisted and covered in bone spurs, screamed and swung their weapons, spurring their followers onward to break the defenders’ line.

A man with a face distorted by tumors screamed with unnatural excitement, “For the Father’s blessing, for the end of all things!”

Other traitors shouted bizarre, blasphemous slogans.

The Imperial defenders held on grimly, maintaining a line on the verge of collapse. Behind them lay Magrag City’s last sanctuary—they could retreat no further.

Civilians huddled inside shelters, praying before statues of the Emperor.

“Save us.”

“Do not let evil harm us.”

“Save us.”

As the sounds of artillery and the frenzied shouts of the Chaos forces grew closer, their fear deepened. Falling into Chaos’s hands meant death was no longer a release but the start of fresh torment.

At the thought, they trembled violently, overcome by terror.

The commander of the Astral Guard defending Magrag’s shelter sank into despair. Facing the overwhelming waves of Chaos, he could only squeeze every ounce of strength from his troops to buy a little more time.

Over a hundred legions were ground down in this brutal war; countless Space Marines fell on this battlefield.

The only hope lay in the Imperial fleet regaining control of near-orbit; only then could they hope to win.

Corpses piled high on the battlefield, blood pooling and flowing, the air thick with its pungent stench.

The horror of war bred despair.

No sign of victory appeared.

The surface was cut off from space; no one knew how the battles in orbit fared.

Had they won? Or fled?

Green flies buzzed ominously over the battlefield. Spotting fresh corpses, they swarmed, burrowing into flesh to lay eggs, injecting the Father’s mercy—those strange viruses and germs—into the bodies, reanimating them as plague-ridden undead.

The defenders’ plight worsened, while the enemy’s assault grew fiercer. The dark gods of hyperspace whispered sinister words, seducing the remaining soldiers, trying to drag them from the rotting corpse on the Golden Throne into the sweet gardens of oblivion.

“Are we finished?” The commander, watching the collapsing front, felt despair flood him. How could they win this fight? Continuing was a death sentence.

Victory was impossible.

No air support, no tank concentrations, no Titan knights, no reinforcements.

The Astral Guard commander looked skyward; even air superiority was lost to the enemy. What chance remained?

Despair spread among the defenders, their faces etched with hopelessness.

Many gripped their weapons tightly, fighting to calm trembling bodies.

Several veterans made the Aquila salute, offering final prayers.

Watching the demons and traitors surge again, they silently prayed their souls might rest beneath the throne, alongside fallen comrades.

Suddenly, the eerie whispers vanished.

Everyone felt nameless power surge within, banishing pain, weariness, and despair, restoring strength to their bodies.

The mad Chaos warriors, demons, and cultists’ ecstatic expressions vanished, replaced by terror.

Guilliman emerged from the sanctuary like a war demi-god blazing with wrath stepping from the divine realm into reality. The Emperor’s sword burned fiercely; wherever its light touched, shadows of hyperspace broke and fled.

“I have returned,” Guilliman roared, charging forward. Celestine and others followed swiftly, joining him in a charge against the demon-traitor horde.

They were like sharp spears piercing the enemy ranks. At first contact, a terrifying slaughter erupted; torn limbs flew everywhere.

“Counterattack! All units, charge!” Seeing the saint, the grand marshal, and the battle-lord guarding a demi-god of myth, the battlefield commander realized Mechanicus Sage Belisarius Cawl’s plan had succeeded: a son of the Emperor had been resurrected.

Victory beckoned. Humanity would endure; the Empire’s glory would be eternal.

He bellowed a war cry, ordering the entire army to charge.

“For humanity! For the Emperor!”

“For humanity! For the Emperor!”

Heeding the command, soldiers climbed from trenches, shouting oaths as they rushed the now fearful Chaos forces.

“For humanity! For the Emperor!” a common soldier shouted at the top of his lungs, the toxic smoke stinging his throat, forcing a violent cough. Yet he hesitated not, charging the nearest cultist, driving a bayonet forged with monomolecular technology deep into the enemy’s body.

“Pay the price, traitor,” another soldier emerged from the trench, firing his lasgun at the enemies he saw, venting his fury.

The tide in Magrag turned instantly. The forces of Chaos lost ground, overwhelmed by the fierce human counterattack.

A roar!

Sensing defeat, the cultists sacrificed their followers to summon a great demon wreathed in flames.

The demon was massive and mighty, covered in metallic bone spurs, terrifying in appearance. Its very presence made many tremble.

The followers’ life forces were drained immediately; they burst into flames and turned to ashes.

“Genetic prototype?” The great demon entered reality from hyperspace through sacrifice, immediately scenting Guilliman’s presence.

Its fiery eyes locked onto the combatants on the battlefield.

The prototype’s skull would be the greatest gift to the Blood God. It revealed a grim smile and let out a roar shaking the world as it charged forward.

(End of chapter)