"What do you mean? 'Fulgrim' has appeared in the galaxy?"
Perturabo read the front-line battle report, his brow deeply furrowed.
"Yes, and 'Ferrus' as well," Guilliman added with a tinge of sorrow, as the fallen forces had struck his own children. "They were spotted by my Chapters. Two of my Chapters suffered heavy casualties before those two traitors fled back into the Warp."
"By all logic, Slaanesh's power should only be able to resurrect the likes of 'Lucius' or 'Eidolon' at most," the Emperor observed from the side. "How could Primarch-level entities be brought back as well? Does this mean even Greater Demons are manifesting again?"
"Extremely likely," Guilliman replied. "Reports from other galaxies show that many traitors have grown stronger. Before, banishing or slaughtering them required a single engagement; now, we have to deploy significantly more forces."
"It hasn't even been a millennium—Chaos is already recovering?" The Emperor, surprised, quickly checked his and Perturabo's blockade. Seeing no breaches, he was puzzled.
"Because we are still alive, they awaken alongside us," Perturabo explained calmly, knowing the root cause. "The Chaos Octagram has always been a single entity. Our blockade hasn't weakened; this is simply the natural ebb and flow of Warp energy."
He clearly held the traitors in contempt. "They've barely recovered a fraction of their strength—it means nothing to the Imperium. Whether they can build momentum depends entirely on the Astartes, and how strong can those Astartes really be?" To Perturabo, aside from the initial Dark King 'Roboute', no traitor was worth taking seriously.
"You can't overlook them so easily," Malcador chimed in. "Their true threat has always been Chaos corruption—especially Nurgle. Currently, Nurgle's forces and the Tyranids pose the greatest danger to the Imperium."
As an administrator, Malcador loathed dealing with post-war logistics. "Worlds corrupted by Nurgle are entirely unusable without thorough decontamination. The inspection process is far more tedious than dealing with the Orks. Sanitizing those planets and systems takes centuries."
Nurgle might not be the strongest Ruinous Power, but its attrition tactics inflicted the heaviest economic and material damage. Fortunately, Nurgle's 'Khan' and 'Mortarion' were at odds, and both had irreconcilable friction with their respective First Captains; otherwise, those two First Captains alone would cause endless headaches.
For the Imperium, war was an engine for continuous expansion. For the traitors, war and spreading corruption were the entire point. The Imperium only tolerated these disruptions because it was vast enough to absorb small losses without flinching.
"What I care about," Guilliman redirected, "is how many traitors and demons have truly returned, what conditions allow them to manifest, and whether we can establish proactive countermeasures."
If prevention was possible, Guilliman wanted to scale up the Grey Knights' production and deploy them across all galaxies for a systematic purge. The Word Bearers could also be fully mobilized to launch direct strikes into the Warp.
Ever since Perturabo and the Emperor had battered the Warp into submission, Guilliman had arrived at a conviction: Why should Chaos be the only side allowed to invade realspace? Why can't realspace strike back?
If the C'tan could achieve this in ancient times, modern humanity could do the same. Perturabo and the Emperor's feat proved it was possible; now, humanity needed to replicate it using its own strength.
"If we have the capability," Guilliman declared, his voice echoing through the quiet Throne Room, "we should launch a direct counteroffensive into the Warp and reduce them to permanent silence. We shouldn't let them wreak havoc in realspace while we sit idle."
The others stared at Guilliman—the most pragmatic, steady anchor of the Imperium. It was surreal hearing such an aggressive proposal come from him rather than Perturabo.
"Roboute," the Emperor began, "the Warp is not a physical fortress to be conquered. It is a mirror reflecting our inner souls—"
"Speak plainly," Perturabo interrupted, having no patience for philosophical abstractions.
The Emperor adjusted his tone. "The more aggressively you try to eradicate Chaos, the stronger it grows. Our emotions, actions, and consequences feed it. Perturabo and I locked down the Warp because our power suppressed the Chaos Gods and occupied the positions of the Octagram. The Warp quieted down not because Chaos vanished, but because we sit at the peak."
"Our blockade restrains the major powers," the Emperor continued, "but minor threats will slip through. Greater Demons and Champions are vessels for Chaos. As their gods' consciousnesses awaken, they operate through these hosts. Our immediate priority is purging these traitors, sealing Warp rifts, and educating the Imperium against corruption. Invading the Warp right now is overly idealistic. We should first restore humanity's Golden Age technological level."
Perturabo did not argue, agreeing with the Emperor's assessment. Launching an offensive into the Warp was too large a leap for the Imperium's current state.
Guilliman walked over to the massive viewscreen, watching the endless stream of administrative fleets moving through orbit.
"I understand," Guilliman said softly. "The Regent and I have spent centuries bound to administrative duties for this Imperium. I know progress is slow, but every step forward prepares us for the future. Yet... it has been too long, Father, Warmaster."
"Hope will not fade, but we are not the ones paying the ultimate price—it is generation after generation of working humans who die of exhaustion. Our fleets fight across the stars, and the populace cheers for victory, yet ultimate peace never arrives. A millennium has passed since the Revenge Crusade. How many mortals still remember our original glory?"
Guilliman turned back to face them. "Humanity must stand on its own feet—without relying on the Emperor's divine power or the Warp. But currently, everything depends on us. If something happens to us, what becomes of the Astartes Chapters and this vast Imperium?"
That was Guilliman's deepest concern. Perturabo sought to clear all obstacles for humanity; the Emperor aimed to guide them through immediate crises; but Guilliman wanted humanity to develop the capacity to solve its own problems.
"You're right," Perturabo said, his voice unusually low. "We cannot stand in front of them forever."
"Then our task," the Emperor added, "is to leave behind sufficient knowledge and teach them how to grow independently."
"I spent nearly a thousand years doing what I thought was right," Guilliman murmured. "It matters to the Imperium, and to the billions saved from starvation and war. But for the human race as a species, everything we do is a temporary measure. We are merely acting as guardians."
"Father, you once tried to free humanity from reliance on psykers by building the Human Webway. We succeeded in stabilizing the Imperium, yet we've circled back to the starting point: the Imperium relies on Primarchs to lead, Astartes to fight, and trained administrators to function. If we fall, the fortress collapses from within."
"So what do you propose?" Perturabo asked quietly.
"We must build a framework—a system that relies neither on Primarchs, nor the Emperor, nor the Astartes," Guilliman stated. "A system where humanity governs, protects, and surpasses itself."
"That is impossible, Roboute," Malcador noted calmly, without a trace of mockery. "Humanity craves guidance; it is an instinct embedded since ancient Terra. Even during the Golden Age, and certainly through the Age of Strife, they sought a savior to lead them."
"Just because it has always been that way does not make it right," Guilliman countered.
"They will not thank you for it," Malcador replied softly. "People crave stability. Only a small minority drives progress. Our presence is not an anomaly—it is what they seek."
"Roboute," Malcador continued, looking at the Primarch, "you aren't afraid that humanity is too weak. You are afraid that we are too strong. You fear our presence makes them complacent, stripping them of independent thought until they rely entirely on us. But that is human nature. Even if we step aside, they will simply search for another guardian. Very few ever realize that only they can save themselves."
"That is not your failure, Roboute. Nor is it ours."