"Guidos, thank you for your hard work," Guilliman said, his tone calm yet authoritative.
Guidos, selected from among psykers willing to serve the Primarch, had been entrusted with maintaining the mechanical sage's clone deep within the Glory of Macragge—a task shrouded in absolute secrecy. Even trusted loyalists like Sicarius were forbidden from venturing into this sanctum without explicit orders.
"It is my greatest honor to serve you, my lord," Guidos replied, his milky-white pupils lifting in reverence.
"Your loyalty is appreciated. Let's proceed. I need to understand the message Kaul has sent so I can take the necessary steps to control the broader situation," Guilliman instructed with a nod.
Guidos turned and walked into the darkness ahead, and Guilliman followed.
The deeper they ventured, the hotter the air grew, thick with the hum of unseen machinery. An oppressive psychic weight pressed heavily on Guilliman's mind. He bore the discomfort silently, his resolve unwavering.
At last, they reached a door—a massive construct of intricate, interwoven panels resembling tortoiseshells, their combined thickness forming an imposing barrier.
Guidos paused briefly before the door slid open slightly, signaling Guilliman to step forward for identification.
A red beam scanned his pupils.
"Retina scan complete," a monotone voice announced.
The process was thorough, bordering on invasive. Guilliman stood as various instruments emerged from the steel walls, assessing his physical, mental, and spiritual state. Only after all the checks were cleared did the door grant them access.
Inside, the room was pitch-black, the silence broken only by the low hum of dormant machinery.
"Lighting," Guidos commanded.
The room responded with a sequence of mechanical rumbles. One by one, white lights flickered to life, illuminating the space. Along the walls, rows of closed panels aligned with the height of an average person's line of sight. From the ceiling, pipes hung securely, their presence adding to the industrial severity of the chamber.
Guidos gestured to a console, his expression grim. "Kaul's psychic communication is unique—eerily devoid of the vibrancy one usually encounters when minds touch the vast void. I suspect he uses machinery to send these messages. Such technology once seemed impossible, but Kaul's mastery has redefined the limits of our understanding."
Guilliman nodded thoughtfully. "That sounds like Kaul. Without a doubt, he possesses more knowledge than any other human alive. If I lacked my own database, I'd consider him the most informed individual in the Imperium."
Kaul's longevity was a marvel, even by the Imperium's standards. Ten thousand years of unbroken life—a feat unimaginable to most. The Horus Heresy had claimed the Eternals of Humanity, either through death or disappearance, leaving Kaul as perhaps the last of his kind.
"His technology allows information to remain uncorrupted," Guidos continued. "Psychic messages, especially after the opening of the Great Rift, are often plagued by distortion or malicious tampering. Kaul's method ensures clarity—a priceless advantage in these tumultuous times. The Great Rift has reshaped the galaxy, and with it, the fate of our Imperium hangs in the balance."
"This will change, Guidos. I promise you," Guilliman said with quiet determination.
"I have faith in you, my lord," Guidos replied, before stepping toward a massive machine that dominated the room. "With the blessings of the Omnissiah, let us begin."
Leaning on his crutch, Guidos activated the machine by speaking a carefully guarded code.
The steel walls groaned as detection rays swept the room, scanning the occupants.
"Identity test passed: Astropath Guidos. Secondary authentication required," the mechanical voice droned.
Guilliman stepped forward, allowing another beam to scan him.
"Identity confirmed: Primarch Roboute Guilliman, Regent of the Imperium, Lord of Ultramar."
A final green beam passed over both Guilliman and Guidos, confirming their genetic identities.
"Genetic scan complete. Password required," the voice prompted.
A soundproof cone of light enveloped Guilliman, isolating him from the outside world. The password, entrusted only to Guidos, was a safeguard against psychic manipulation—a grim necessity in an age where chaos whispered into the minds of even the most steadfast.
Kaul's warning echoed in Guilliman's memory: "Never underestimate chaos. They are far craftier than you imagine."
Guidos murmured his portion of the code, and the soundproof barrier surrounding Guilliman dissolved. Raising a hand to shield his voice, Guilliman spoke his part of the password.
"Dark code verification complete. Main system activated," the machine confirmed.
With a series of metallic clatters, the panels along the walls slid open. Behind each was a glass cabinet filled with nutrient solution, and within each cabinet, a severed human head.
The heads floated serenely, their necks encased in metal sheaths from which cables and tubes extended, connecting to the machinery above.
As the room's circuits lit up, the heads began to twitch, their features contorting in visible distress.
"My lord," Guidos whispered.
"Leave us," Guilliman commanded with a wave of his hand.
Guidos bowed deeply before retreating into the shadows, leaving Guilliman alone with the machines.
The hum of the equipment softened as a dull, metallic voice emerged—a voice devoid of warmth or humanity.
"Master Primarch."
"Kaul, what's the status of the project?" Guilliman asked, his voice steady.
The voice belonged to Kaul's avatar—a fragment of the mechanical sage's consciousness. Kaul had devised a way to encode his messages, allowing them to be transmitted, received, and then decoded into coherent speech by the machines aboard the Glory of Macragge.
It was a technological marvel, though dangerously close to violating the Imperium's stringent doctrines. Guilliman's protection was the only shield Kaul had against the wrath of the more conservative Tech-Priests.
"Progress is satisfactory," the avatar replied. "New technologies are being implemented. The Primaris Space Marine project is advancing as planned. Additional enhancements—tendon coils, pituitary hymn glands, the Belisarian furnace, and now the 'Guilliman's Heart'—are underway."
"Guilliman's Heart?" Guilliman asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Yes. Inspired by your physiology, the mechanical sages have developed an organ capable of elevating humans to superhuman status. This organ can also be remotely deactivated, ensuring loyalty and preventing rebellions akin to Horus's heresy."
Guilliman's expression darkened, but he nodded. "It's ambitious, but I see the value. Continue the work. I'll ensure you have the necessary resources."
The avatar's voice lingered as Guilliman considered the implications of Kaul's work—a blend of brilliance and peril that could shape the Imperium's future.