"For Humanity, for the Emperor!"
The battle-scarred captain, his body fused with machinery through the arcane science of the Adeptus Mechanicus, growled with desperation. His cybernetic limb crashed against the console before him, his red-glowing augmetic eyes burning with determination.
"Divert all power to the propulsion system! Even if they die, I will drag them to hell with us!"
This warship was doomed.
Its void shields had failed, its reactor was overloaded, and explosions tore through the battered hull. The Chaos warship looming ahead would soon finish them off. But the captain was not willing to surrender. A manic grin twisted his face as he shouted once more:
"For Humanity! For the Emperor! Onward!"
At his command, the engines flared to life, consuming the last reserves of energy. The ship, stripped of its shields, surged forward, hurtling toward the grotesque, flesh-warped Chaos vessel. It was a final act of defiance, a desperate attempt to take the enemy with them in a fiery death.
But fate is cruel.
Lady Luck did not favor the brave captain and his crew.
A barrage of warp-tainted lances from the Chaos warship tore through the hull, striking the plasma reactor already pushed beyond its limits. The resulting explosion erupted in a brilliant inferno, engulfing the five-kilometer-long warship in fire and shrapnel. The lives of over ten thousand Imperial crew members were extinguished in an instant.
Even as the flames consumed him, the captain bellowed one last time:
"For Humanity… for the Emperor!"
But his sacrifice was just a drop in the ocean of carnage.
The Space Battle Over Macragge
The war in orbit was at its breaking point.
The Imperial fleet fought desperately to reclaim control over Macragge's orbit, their only hope of sending reinforcements to the besieged planet below. They launched wave after wave of counterattacks, but for every Chaos vessel destroyed, another took its place.
Macragge itself was already burning.
Cities lay in ruins under relentless bombardment. The planetary defenses had been shattered, artillery batteries silenced, and armored columns reduced to twisted wreckage. Imperial fighters wove through the smoke-filled skies, struggling to maintain air superiority against the hell-forged war machines of the enemy.
Only the Ultramarine Janissaries still held the line, standing as the last defenders of the civilian population. Men and women of fighting age had been conscripted, while the weak and elderly huddled behind the makeshift barricades, whispering prayers to the Emperor.
They did not pray for salvation—only for a quick death, that their souls might be spared from the torment of the Warp.
The Siege of the Ultramarines' Sanctuary
Within the shattered halls of the Ultramarines' Sanctuary, the battle raged with a fury that shook the heavens.
A Chaos Space Marine clad in bloodstained black armor carved through the defenders like a butcher in a slaughterhouse. His chainsword, slick with gore, reaped lives with every swing. Ordinary Guardsmen, outmatched and outclassed, fell like wheat before the scythe, their severed bodies painting the sanctuary floor red.
"For Humanity! For the Emperor!"
The Imperial soldiers charged without hesitation, laser rifles blazing. They knew they stood no chance against the monstrous traitors, yet they fought to buy precious seconds for their comrades.
The Chaos warrior sneered beneath his horned helmet.
"Blood for the Blood God!" he roared, swinging his chainsword in an arc that sent broken bodies flying.
Even as their comrades were torn apart, the remaining Guardsmen pressed forward. They were not fighting for victory—they were fighting for every moment of defiance before the darkness consumed them.
The Last Stand of the Holy Warriors
Deeper within the Sanctuary, the final defenders of Macragge made their stand.
The Battle Sisters, the Death Guard, and the Black Templars had been cornered, their strength nearly spent.
Saint Celestine, her radiant wings tattered, knelt upon the bloodied ground. One of her arms hung limply at her side, shattered beyond use. Her golden armor, once a symbol of divine purity, was cracked and broken, and crimson blood trickled from her wounds.
She whispered a prayer to the Emperor, seeking strength, seeking purpose.
The Chaos horde surged forward. Demons and traitors alike howled as they rushed toward the wounded saint. Celestine did not waver.
"For the Emperor! For Humanity!"
Golden light erupted from her broken form. A divine radiance surged outward, incinerating countless abominations in an instant. The Emperor's will coursed through her, but it would not last forever. More Chaos Marines and daemons poured in, overwhelming the remaining defenders.
The Despair of Marneus Calgar
At the heart of the carnage, Marneus Calgar, Chapter Master of the Ultramarines, fought like a caged lion.
His power armor, once a beacon of hope, was battered and scarred. His bolter ammunition was spent, his blade shattered—only one of his power fists remained functional.
A loyal Ultramarine beside him was vaporized by a melta blast, leaving only smoldering remains.
"Traitors!" Calgar roared, his voice shaking with grief and fury. He lashed out, crushing a Chaos Marine's skull with a single blow of his power fist. But for every foe he felled, another took its place.
He turned his gaze toward the altar at the center of the sanctuary.
There, Tech-Priest Belisarius Cawl and his xenos allies were frantically working. The Primarch Awakening Protocol was nearly complete.
Calgar clenched his bloodied fist. Was it too late?
Had they failed?
The Great Rift and the Fall of Cadia
The galaxy was already on the brink of annihilation.
The Great Rift, a tear in reality itself, had split the Imperium in half.
The 13th Black Crusade, led by Abaddon the Despoiler, had succeeded in shattering Cadia, the last bastion that held the Eye of Terror at bay. The resulting catastrophe unleashed an endless tide of daemons, drowning the galaxy in war.
Worlds fell one by one, billions perished, and Chaos reigned supreme.
And now, Macragge—the heart of Ultramar—was next.
The Arrival of Hope
The Sanctuary trembled.
A second wave of Chaos drop pods smashed into the ruined halls, spilling out fresh legions of Traitor Marines. The defenders had no more strength left.
"For Humanity! For the Emperor!"
The last warriors of the Imperium uttered their final battle cry. They knew this was the end.
But then… a sound rang out.
A deep, resonant chime echoed through the Sanctuary.
The great stasis chamber at the heart of the altar began to shift, its metal petals unfurling like a massive iron flower.
From within, a towering figure emerged.
Ten thousand years had passed.
Now, at humanity's darkest hour, its last hope had awakened.
The Primarch Roboute Guilliman, the Thirteenth Son of the Emperor, the Lord of Ultramar, opened his eyes.
Confusion flickered across his face.
Wait… wasn't I just playing a game?
A flood of memories surged into his mind, and reality settled upon him like a crushing weight.
Fuck.
He understood everything now.
And he did not like it one bit.