Datch set the anchor target through the Mirror of the Inverted World interface. Taking the current Warhammer Universe—filled with war, devastation, and despair—as the baseline, they explored a completely opposite, heaven-like Warhammer world.
The Mirror of the Inverted World rippled like the surface of water, as if a massive boulder had been hurled into a tranquil lake. Immediately afterward, an incomparably pure light burst forth from the mirror. It was gentle yet vast, brimming with divine sanctity.
That light instantly enveloped the entire bridge of the Macragge's Honour. It transformed everything into an endlessly expansive pure-white world where the concepts of space and time seemed to dissolve, embracing all people and objects alike.
From the mirror flowed an aura filled with vitality and rational order, like a spring breeze, evoking the inner beauty within every person.
Without hesitation, Datch stepped toward the rippling mirror. His figure seemed to melt into water as he quietly vanished into the mirror, disappearing toward the boundless source of light.
Light and shadow shifted before his eyes, and the surrounding space changed in an instant.
The next moment, Datch's feet landed on firm, smooth ground that radiated a warm, vibrant sensation.
He looked around and realized he had stepped into an extraordinarily prosperous and lively world.
Opening the information panel, Datch discovered that the world he was in was a parallel-universe Terra.
This version of Terra—untouched by his interference—remained unbelievably beautiful, like a paradise on Earth.
The sky was a clear azure, with a few white clouds drifting lazily. Towering yet elegant, streamlined silver buildings stood like a forest, their surfaces shimmering with a soft glow. Some structures even floated in the air, connected by invisible force-field channels.
Countless aircraft of various shapes and sizes glided silently and swiftly along invisible flight paths in the sky, tracing faint blue lines that wove a dynamic web of light.
The streets bustled with pedestrians. Their clothing was comfortable and practical, blending utility with artistic flair in diverse styles. On their faces were calm, satisfied, and hopeful smiles. When they spoke, their eyes sparkled and their postures were relaxed.
The air was filled with a refreshing fragrance—a blend of ozone and flowers, with no trace of industrial exhaust or irritating odors. Lush greenery adorned the roads and magnificent buildings, achieving a harmonious coexistence between civilization and nature.
Looking up at the sky revealed several grand, colossal structures, each unbelievably massive—comparable in scale to planets themselves. In this era and space, humanity's civilization and technology had clearly reached an extremely high level. Material resources were abundant; society had long moved beyond the stage of fighting over scraps for survival.
The social structure was entirely different from that of the human Imperium. People conversed about artistic creation, scientific exploration, philosophical reflection, and interstellar adventure. In their eyes there was no greed, no fear, no apathy—only a passion to realize their own value and explore unknown worlds.
Datch quickly scanned the information bar to review the background of this heaven-like Warhammer world and understand why it was so magnificent.
In ancient times, the ancient sages did not wage catastrophic wars against those who feared death. Instead, they used superior intellect and technology to completely strip the death-fearing species of their aggression and capacity for war. They guided ordinary people onto alternative paths of development, gradually freeing them from the curse of short lifespans.
The High Lords and the Holy Emperor system were fully abolished, and the death-fearing race gained true freedom.
The C'tans were exiled to stagnant prisons at the edge of the universe, where they subsisted on dying stars and irredeemable evil souls. First, this maintained silence; second, it resolved the problem of pollution in the Warp.
After long ages, the ancient sages noticed the galaxy's stagnation. They guided the Eldar, urging them to become the galaxy's new rulers and guardians. Once they judged that the other side could independently bear responsibility, the ancient sages chose to journey to other star systems in pursuit of life's ultimate mysteries.
The Eldar did not succumb to decadence and hedonism. After their empire reached its zenith, they proactively and gradually transferred dominion over the galaxy and its rich heritage to the rising, promising humanity.
Afterward, they chose the noble path of cosmic exploration to unravel the ultimate mysteries of life.
Today, humanity had become the undisputed, compassionate, and enlightened leader of the Milky Way. Through prolonged, rational negotiations, humanity and awakened intelligent machines achieved deep mutual understanding and integration. Conflicts were resolved through wisdom in the early stages, preventing any mechanical crises.
Most importantly, the Warp in this universe had not been polluted by the wars between the ancient sages and the death-fearing ones, nor by the intense emotions surging across the galaxy. It consistently promoted positive energies characterized by peace, order, and creativity.
It nurtured and gave birth to many gods that symbolized superior qualities and propelled civilization forward. They acted like guides and guardians, encouraging living beings to develop technology and comprehend the universe's mysteries.
The Emperor, Astartes, Eldar, and other immortals existed as well.
They bore various titles—scholars, artists, explorers, philosophers. They quietly mingled within prosperous human society, skillfully guiding the progress of civilization.
In this universe, the Emperor had not created those twenty demigod-like combat weapons. However, in the pure Warp where humanity's collective positive emotions and noble ideals converged, nature naturally birthed twenty-one conceptual minor gods, each symbolizing different superior qualities.
The one bearing the lion emblem symbolized the God of Forests and Oaths, representing protection, responsibility, and noble chivalry.
The one clad in wings of light symbolized the God of Courage and Sacrifice, who fearlessly paid any price, confronted destiny head-on, and brought hope and salvation.
The one holding scrolls and lenses symbolized the God of Wisdom and Change, who eternally sought knowledge, embraced transformation, and dispelled ignorance.
...
These twenty-one conceptual minor gods served as beacons of human virtue within the Warp, silently guarding human civilization and guiding it toward a brighter future.
According to certain prophecies, when human civilization theoretically reached the pinnacle of ultimate harmony, a fifth god—the supreme God of Light and Hope—would be born.
"What the hell... This is literally Warhammer Utopia," Datch muttered inwardly after finishing his browse, unable to hold back his dissatisfaction. "It's too beautiful—almost unreal. It's the complete opposite of the main universe's despairing atmosphere. It's overflowing with hope, practically bursting at the seams."
"To be fair, this game's lore setup is pretty damn good."
Datch closed the information bar and immediately pulled out Rick's teleportation gun. According to the background data, a stable Warp entrance existed on the planet called Moro in this universe.
He pulled the trigger. A portal appeared, and Datch leaped through, heading straight for planet Moro. Passing through the Warp portal there, he entered the depths of the Warp—filled with orderly side gods—to seek blessings from the benevolent gods for Guilliman.
…
Macragge's Honour Bridge.
As Datch stood before the mirror, endless radiance enveloped everything. Once inside the bridge, everyone was thrust into a pure-white world; their five senses were completely stripped away.
"Nameless One!" Guilliman shouted, but his voice echoed strangely hollow in the boundless white light, receiving no response.
He felt as though he were floating in a void without any sense of up, down, left, or right. Even the feedback from his power armor's sensors grew blurry and indistinct.
What happened? Did the plan fail? Why aren't the Nameless Ones replying? Have we been caught in a spacetime turbulence?
A rare unease surged in the Primarch's heart.
"Carken! Sicarius!!"
Guilliman shouted again, trying to confirm the presence of his subordinates. "Whoever you are, if you can hear my voice, please respond!"
There was no reply—only silence.
Then, everything ended as abruptly as it had begun.
The pure-white world vanished in an instant.
The bridge looked like a freshly repainted, faded oil painting, but it quickly regained its original appearance.
The walls were made of gold, control consoles flickered, holographic images displayed, and faces showed confusion, bewilderment, and an indelible trace of terror. Everyone remained frozen in place, as if the white-light world they had just witnessed had been nothing more than a collective hallucination.
"Where did he go? Is that all?" Guilliman looked around but saw no sign of the Nameless One. He asked in a low voice.
The surrounding officers and technicians exchanged glances, but none could provide an answer.
"He went to seek power for you."
A calm voice rang out.
It was General Victor Hawke's prediction. Victor gazed at the mirror. It had returned to silence but still emitted a faint glow.
"Our test results indicate that the Nameless One has initiated some kind of extradimensional interference protocol. Since he isn't keen on the planet-destroying plan, he's trying to grant you sufficient blessings to fight that chaotic anchor which has received multiple blessings."
The moment he finished speaking, the once-quiet mirror surface began rippling violently again. It churned like boiling mercury, stirring up layered ripples of intense energy.
The light flickered uncertainly.
The next instant, Datch's head burst out from the mirror as if emerging from water. At tremendous speed, he shouted at Guilliman:
"Lord Regent, may we begin preparations for the airborne operation? Proceed to the surface of Ax and confront Mortarion! I have convinced the gods of order that we are merely waiting for the appropriate moment to bestow blessings."
Before Guilliman could react, Datch's head retreated back into the mirror, and the surface continued vibrating fiercely.
Guilliman: "..."
Me, confronting Mortarion—who has been blessed by the four gods?
Guilliman could already imagine himself being thoroughly beaten down. That scene would be truly brutal.
Hello everyone!
The Human Imperium has officially launched Guilliman's meat sauce. Stock is limited—grab yours before it's gone!
The Primarch felt utterly powerless.
The Nameless One's words had been far too vague. Yet when he looked at the gazes of his surrounding subordinates—filled with trust, expectation, and a hint of worry—he knew he had to make a decision.
"Issue the order to the entire army," Guilliman said after a deep breath, his voice regaining its usual calm and strength. "Prepare for an emergency landing on the surface of Ax. We will head personally to the core area and destroy the Chaos anchor.
We fight for humanity's future. We will put an end to the Chaos Gods and the traitors."
"A truly courageous decision," Victor nodded lightly. "The Human Alliance fleet will provide spatial teleportation support and establish stable routes for troop transport.
At the same time, equip all Imperial soldiers participating in the assault with Emergency Warp Beacons. If vital signs drop to dangerous levels or if the individual is in a state of severe corruption, the beacon will activate automatically, sending the patient back to the nearest medical ship for rescue and purification."
Guilliman nodded. This guarantee from the Human Alliance would undoubtedly greatly improve survival rates.
He turned and fixed his gaze on the projected image of planet Ax, shrouded in chaotic forces.
"Mortarion, I'm coming. Let's have our final battle and end everything."
...
The large-scale airborne operation against the Ax system began in a manner far exceeding the Human Imperium's previous understanding.
The Human's Fleet did not use bulky drop pods or landing craft. Complex optical arrays deployed beneath each warship precisely identified relatively vulnerable points on Ax's surface.
Then, spatial portals opened one after another—silent, with silver light flowing continuously along their edges.
Imperial forces—Astartes, Astra Militarum, Battle Sisters—and the elite Human Alliance troops in refined power suits wielding energy weapons passed through the portals in orderly, efficient fashion, materializing directly onto the war-torn surface.
At this point, Ax had completely become part of the Warp.
The very ground writhed and breathed; cracks in the earth oozed foul-smelling pus. Original rocks and buildings had transformed into living fortresses twisted with eyes and sharp teeth.
The air was thick with toxic mist and blasphemous psychic whispers. Visibility was extremely poor; only eerie, thick green and scarlet lights flickered within the fog.
The battle was fiercely intense from the very beginning. Waves of daemons seemed endless, and the land itself was filled with malice.
However, the Human Alliance's logistical support demonstrated terrifying efficiency. An Imperial Guardsman was torn from his breastplate by a daemon's claw and collapsed with severe injuries. His beacon lit up instantly. In a flash of light, he vanished—only to reappear moments later in the sterile room of a Human Alliance medical ship, undergoing nanorobotic surgery and energy therapy.
Twelve minutes later, once his injuries had stabilized, the soldier returned through a portal to the fiercest frontline.
Cawken, Sicarius, and other high-ranking Imperials personally experienced this invincible treatment. Severe injury → evacuation → treatment → return…
The cycle repeated.
"When will the Human Imperium acquire such technology?" Guilliman drooled while reading the reports. He wanted to shout, "This is all mine!"
(The Emperor, in his heart: "This guy really is my son. I want to shout that too," and quietly gave a thumbs-up.)
Even against a mighty enemy, the human forces pressed forward with unyielding will and their available weapons, carving a path toward the heart of corruption.
Yet everyone understood this was merely a meaningless war of attrition. As long as the key—Mortarion, blessed by the four gods—remained standing, the daemons would never cease appearing.
Guilliman stayed behind to command and conserve forces. After several bloody battles, the vanguard successfully forced the installation of multiple shielded beacons deep within the contaminated zone.
"It is time to head to the battlefield," Guilliman said in a low voice upon seeing the blinking beacons on the tactical map.
"As you wish," Victor replied.
A Human Alliance teleportation beam enveloped Guilliman. Space shifted, and the next moment he stood on the surface of planet Ax.
He activated the Emperor's Sword in his hand; blazing flames illuminated the void. Holy golden fire rose, dispelling the surrounding toxic mist. Lesser daemons that approached fled in terror.
"Mortarion!"
After slaying a daemon with his sword, Guilliman roared. His voice thundered across the chaotic battlefield. "I'm already on Ax. Stop the scheming and come out to face me!
Stop acting like a coward!."
After several shouts, the thick fog ahead churned violently, as if stirred by a colossal beast. A larger, more distorted figure descended from the sky.
Mortarion had reappeared.
His appearance had become indescribably horrifying. His once-swollen body, blessed by Nurgle, was now entwined with Khorne's crimson muscle patterns, Tzeentch's shimmering rune bands, and Slaanesh's eerie purple tentacles. Four colors of evil light clashed discordantly before forcibly fusing across his form.
The moth wings on his back were even more tattered, yet they still burned with four-colored flames. His aura shook and distorted the surrounding space.
"You, like Horus, have become a pitiful puppet—a toy in the hands of the Chaos Gods." Guilliman frowned, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.
"Puppet? No, this is enlightenment. I have accepted the ultimate truth of the universe!" Mortarion's voice carried terrifying power, booming like a deafening roar. An ordinary person would likely have knelt before him on the spot.
"You know nothing of true power, brother."
"I have no interest in becoming a monster." Guilliman pointed his sword directly at Mortarion. "This time, don't even think about running."
"Running?" Mortarion let out a shrill laugh. "You are the one who should be afraid. You are the one who should flee, Roboute Guilliman.
Right now, crushing you would be as easy as twisting my hand!"
Before he finished speaking, Mortarion moved. His speed surpassed the limits of vision; he appeared before Guilliman in an instant.
The massive scythe, infused with multiple blasphemous powers, swung down with enough force to tear apart reality and souls!
Guilliman blocked with all his strength.
The golden flames of the Emperor's Sword collided with the scythe's chaotic energy, erupting into a blinding storm of power.
The two engaged in a fierce battle imperceptible to others. However, the gap in their combat strength was far too vast. In just a few exchanges, Guilliman was sent flying by overwhelming force.
The Emperor's Sword flew from his hand, spinning before embedding into the writhing, flesh-like ground in the distance. Guilliman's body crashed down heavily; his power armor was dented and cracked in many places, and blood flowed from his mouth.
"I won't kill you… at least not yet." Mortarion approached slowly, his voice dripping with cruel delight. "If you die, that troublesome Nameless One won't fall into this carefully laid trap."
He extended a massive, slimy hand mixed with rust and scabs. In his palm appeared a grotesque brass syringe with a needle as thick as a finger, dripping thick green liquid.
The liquid inside was a special plague mixed with the Primarch blood Guilliman had previously shed, possessing the power to corrupt a Primarch's soul and flesh.
Mortarion precisely positioned the large, cold needle… and plunged it deep into the wound on Guilliman's neck.
It was the fatal injury inflicted by Fulgrim during the Battle of Thessala; even now, awakened, the wound remained.
"Aaaah—!" Guilliman involuntarily let out a groan of agony from the plague toxin. He felt a cold, malicious, endless temptation toward corruption.
As the viscous liquid desperately injected into his veins, it eroded the essence of his genes and tainted his soul.
This was targeted corruption, not intended to kill him instantly. Rather, it was like the most dangerous addictive drug—first destroying his will and pride. Eventually, he would kneel of his own accord, beg for the power of Chaos, and become a slave more pitiful than death.
A satisfied smile spread across Mortarion's face. He still held a weapon in his other hand—one crafted for the Nameless Ones. Soon, both would become slaves of the Warp Gods.
"Foolish Roboute. In the end, I will be the one laughing."
"And you are an arrogant, foolish clown." Mortarion looked at the kneeling Guilliman and burst into maniacal laughter.
...
Victor watched the projection screen before him and issued instructions to the nearby technician.
"The target's vital signs are deteriorating rapidly, and the corruption index is spiking. Initiate emergency Warp extraction immediately!"
Just then, Datch emerged from the Mirror of the Inverted World and stopped Victor.
Behind him followed five figures radiating indescribable divine brilliance, yet instilling peace, reverence, and warmth in the soul. They were not physical entities but highly condensed conceptual manifestations, their outlines flickering between human form and pure radiance.
One emanated emerald-green and golden light, bringing inexhaustible vitality and natural harmony.
One was enveloped in ever-shifting blue light of reason and silver light of wisdom, symbolizing infinite knowledge and positive change.
One blazed like molten gold with courage and pure power, radiating rock-solid light.
One emitted a warm, gentle glow of serene beauty, evoking noble emotions and creative splendor.
And at the center stood the one whose pure, all-encompassing radiance seemed the very source of all light, order, and ultimate harmony—the God of Light and Hope, born only at the pinnacle of human civilization in that parallel universe.
The moment the five avatars of the Order Gods appeared…
The entire Warp felt as if it had been plunged into ice water after being heated red-hot, unleashing unprecedented, terrifying waves. Across the galaxy, countless Chaos worshippers, daemons, and weaker Warp entities trembled.
Simultaneously, countless cracks suddenly appeared in the stable structure of the eight-pointed star symbol representing Chaos's essence. Pure, powerful light of order burst forth from the cracks like swords of judgment, shaking the foundations of the chaotic realm that had stood unshaken for billions of years.
Even the vast, immeasurable domains of the four gods themselves began to tremble violently.
Nurgle's garden swirled with pus and overflowed with boundless life force; new buds sprouted from withered flowers, grass, and trees. Cracks formed on the walls of Khorne's brass fortress. Tzeentch's labyrinthine paths twisted and rearranged chaotically. Slaanesh's sensual realm produced discordant yet beautiful tones, reshaping itself into a paradise of art and beauty.
The gods were seized by terror. They sensed it within the very authority and concepts that formed the foundation of their existence—oppressed, stripped away, and about to be overshadowed by a higher, purer force of order from the same origin!
This time, they were truly stunned.
This is cheating!
This is blatant cheating!!!
Is no one responsible? We opened it, but why are humans allowed to open it too?? The balance of this universe is terrible!!!
Even the Emperor, seated on the Golden Throne and staring intently at the battlefield while preparing to rescue Guilliman, felt somewhat bewildered and confused.
Why did he feel a strange sense of familiarity toward the God of Light and Hope?
"That's him! Give him the blessings—the highest-grade version!" Datch pointed at Guilliman lying on the ground in the holographic projection and spoke to the five gods behind him.
The five avatars of the Order Gods gazed at one another without exchanging words, resonating on a conceptual level. In an instant, they transformed into five dazzling beams of light that pierced through the bridge, traversed the void, ignored the chaotic energy shields of planet Ax, and directly entered Guilliman's body.
A solemn, majestic voice filled with blessing and power resonated directly within Guilliman's soul. It also reached the consciousness of every loyalist watching the scene.
"O bewildered guardian, you shall bear the great aspiration of Light and Hope…"
"O indomitable warrior, you shall receive the blessing of Life and Abundance…"
"O wise leaders, you shall draw inspiration from Wisdom and Transformation…"
"O courageous pioneer, you shall gather the power of Courage and Glory…"
"Guided by mercy, you shall feel the nourishment of Love and Beauty…"
BOOM!!!!!!
An indescribable, mighty force erupted within Guilliman's body.
The chaotic corruption toxin injected into him instantly evaporated like dew under sunlight, purified by the five supreme forces of order.
Guilliman's wounds healed at a visible speed. His shattered power armor was restored to its original state by flowing golden energy.
Noticing something wrong, Mortarion immediately tried to kill Guilliman. Even if he couldn't use him to trap the Nameless One, he would slay Guilliman and offer his soul to great Nurgle.
But he was too late.
A terrifying torrent of energy erupted from Guilliman's body, blasting Mortarion away and slamming him into the ground.
When Mortarion rose again, Guilliman was already standing. His eyes burned with pure flame. He was surrounded by a sacred halo composed of five orderly radiances.
From Guilliman emanated a terrifying pressure surpassing any human—like a newly born star!
The shock of this new power caused the entire planet Ax to shake violently. The chaotic corruption on the surface receded and retreated across vast areas, as if encountering a mortal enemy.
Countless daemons screamed in agony and fled in panic from Guilliman's location.
Roboute Guilliman, chosen as the commander of the galactic war, had truly arrived at this moment.
"How could this happen?" Despair filled Mortarion's voice. He had chosen to accept the blessings of the four gods—why couldn't he defeat Guilliman? Why was fate so cruel, treating him this way?
"Why not?" Guilliman's voice thundered like lightning. "Did you think you were the only one who could receive such blessings?"