The flaming Emperor's Sword descended in a fiery arc, cleaving straight through the demon's weapon. The possessed being instinctively raised its arm to block the blow, but it was no match for the holy blade. Molten metal and burning flesh flew as the demon's arm was severed at the shoulder, the wound cauterized by the Emperor's power.
While once human, their transformation into a demon through the favor of a Chaos God granted them unimaginable power and resilience far exceeding that of any mortal.
Guilliman couldn't fathom the number of human worlds this creature had ravaged in the past ten millennia, the countless skulls it had offered to Khorne in exchange for power and promotion.
No number of ordinary Star Militia soldiers could hope to stand against such a monstrous ascension.
Even the legendary Emperor's Angels, interstellar warriors renowned for their prowess, required the combined might of powerful psykers to vanquish a demon of such stature.
The Grey Knights, the Imperium's elite daemonhunters, were a testament to this necessity, their specialized training and unwavering faith allowing them to contend with these horrors at a far lower cost in lives.
The true terror of a Great Demon was beyond comprehension. Powerful beings like those aligned with Tzeentch, the Chaos God of Change, could manipulate entire galaxies, extinguishing stars with a mere thought.
Planets harboring such entities were deemed lost causes, marked for Extermination Orders. The Imperial Navy would unleash a devastating barrage of Cyclone Torpedoes and lance beams, a celestial bombardment that would scour the surface clean, leaving behind nothing but a lifeless husk.
This painted a stark picture of the immense power wielded by a Great Demon. Even Saints, wielding the Emperor's own power, needed careful preparation to face such a foe. A single misstep could spell disaster.
Yet, here stood Guilliman, making light work of the creature before him. With a single blow, he had disarmed and critically wounded the demon.
No amount of roaring or gnashing of teeth could change the fact that its defenses were breached, its weapon a smoldering ruin.
Disbelief flickered in the demon's yellow-brown eyes. It had been dealt a crippling blow in a single exchange, a feat that defied its understanding.
Could this being truly be the Primarch it remembered from ten thousand years ago, a figure slumbering for millennia?
Even the mighty Primarchs were formidable, but surely not this powerful, right?
This demon was a relic of a bygone era, a participant in the Great Crusade alongside Guilliman ten thousand years prior.
Later, it had followed its gene-father Angron into rebellion, joining the ranks of the Chaos Gods and fleeing to the warp rift known as the Eye of Terror. In all those years, it had never encountered a daemonized Primarch, let alone one loyal to the Imperium.
However, its memories were clear. The Primarchs of ten thousand years past did not possess such devastating power.
Celestine, Amaric, and the others were equally stunned by Guilliman's display. While they anticipated the Primarch's formidable strength, the sheer magnitude of his power was awe-inspiring. A single blow to inflict such grievous harm upon a Great Demon – it was a sight to behold.
Guilliman's strength stemmed not only from his inherent Primarch power, but also from the potent belief coursing through him.
The Dominance trait channeled the unwavering faith of humanity, empowering him with each fervent follower. The more the Imperium believed, the greater his potential became.
The return of Guilliman to the battlefield ignited a firestorm of cheers amongst the Imperial soldiers. News of his revival spread like wildfire, igniting hope within the hearts of terrified citizens.
Even though much of Macragge had fallen to Chaos, millions of soldiers and billions of civilians remained. The faith of these loyalists fueled Guilliman with immense power, making the battle against the Great Demon seem almost effortless.
"I find it amusing," Guilliman goaded the creature, "that Khorne, the so-called god of bloodlust and violence, seems the weakest of the four. Perhaps your master isn't much better.
I'd recommend seeking advice from the followers of Slaanesh. Their... unorthodox methods can be far more lethal than your crude brutality."
Guilliman's words were a calculated jab. Slaanesh, the Chaos God of excess and pleasure, was Khorne's antithesis.
Suggesting a follower of Khorne adopt Slaaneshi tactics was akin to advocating for a hardened warrior to don a ballerina's outfit – utterly ludicrous. The demon roared in fury, the insult cutting deeper than any physical wound.
Despite its immense power, the Great Demon, now a Lord of the Warp, found itself woefully outmatched. Its attempts to parry Guilliman's attacks were futile.
The Emperor's Sword, ablaze with holy fire, cleaved through the demon's weapon and armor with ease, its blows echoing with the might of a vengeful god.
Chaos warriors surged forward in a desperate attempt to aid their fallen leader, but they were no match for Guilliman's wrath.
The Emperor's Sword sliced through their ranks with horrifying efficiency, the holy blade dissecting flesh and warp-tainted metal alike.
"Well then," Guilliman taunted, his voice laced with amusement, "why the silence? Perhaps your sojourn in the warp has dulled your wit along with your strength. Weakling."
He approached the maimed demon, the holy flames of the Emperor's Sword burning brighter with each step. The demon, filled with impotent rage, could only watch helplessly as the Primarch advanced.
The irony wasn't lost on the creature. Throughout its existence, it had mocked and belittled human defenders, calling them nothing but "ants." Now, the tables were turned, and the demon itself was the insect being squashed under Guilliman's metaphorical boot.
"You will pay for this, Guilliman!" the demon roared, its voice thick with hatred. "The gods are watching! Your return is a mere amusement for them! You cannot change the tide of fate!"
Before it could finish its tirade, Guilliman silenced it forever. The Emperor's Sword swept in a powerful arc, severing the demon's head from its corrupted body. The massive head rolled a few times before coming to rest beside a discarded hover bike.
The villainous monologue had been its final mistake. Even on the precipice of oblivion, the demon couldn't resist the urge to boast.
Guilliman retrieved the severed head, holding it aloft as a trophy. Witnessing the demise of the Great Demon, the Star Guardsmen, Macragge Guards, and Space Marines erupted in cheers.
Even Celestine, Amaric, and the others shared a look of exhilaration. The near-impossible feat of slaying a Warp Demon had been accomplished.
The revived Primarch proved his might in a whirlwind of action. With a few powerful strokes of the Emperor's Sword, he decapitated the Great Demon, a scene that solidified his image as an invincible champion.
This act ignited a fervent belief amongst the warriors. They saw Guilliman as a divine gift, the Emperor's own hand reaching down to save them from the brink of oblivion.
The tide of the battle turned decisively. The morale of the Chaos army plummeted as their demonic leader met his demise. Guilliman's mere presence instilled such fear that they offered no significant resistance.
Fueled by renewed hope and righteous fury, the Imperial forces launched a ferocious counterattack. Soldiers chanted slogans and oaths, their voices a unified roar against the invaders.
The message was clear – no traitor, no daemon would escape their vengeance.
The ground battle ignited a fire that spread to the skies above Macragge. The Imperial fleet, learning of the Primarch's return and the decimation of the Chaos forces, surged with renewed vigor.
Majestic warships erupted from the warp, their arrival heralded by blinding flashes of light. They tore into the Chaos fleet with unyielding fury.
The Chaos forces, realizing their mission was a failure, attempted a desperate retreat. But the Imperial pursuit was relentless, vowing to annihilate every last enemy ship.
Only a handful of lucky Chaos vessels managed to limp away, escaping back into the nightmarish realm of the warp.
The war subsided, leaving Macragge scarred. The skies were choked with the wreckage of battleships, the cold corpses of warriors a grim testament to the conflict. Rescue and reconstruction efforts began immediately.
The surface of the planet mirrored the devastation in space. The once-proud city of Macragge lay in ruins, a tragic reminder of the war's brutality.
Yet, amidst the heavy losses, a sliver of hope remained. They had welcomed back a son of the Emperor, a beacon of light in the darkest hour.
From every corner of Macragge and beyond, a tide of humanity surged forward. Interstellar soldiers, Star Militia, Planetary Defense Forces – all poured into the streets, united in their fervor.
They chanted Guilliman's name, sang hymns to the Emperor, their voices overflowing with gratitude and joy.
Just a short while ago, despair had gripped them. Now, with Guilliman leading the charge, they had triumphed against seemingly insurmountable odds. His name echoed through the crowds, a symbol of hope and defiance.
After ten thousand years of grueling struggle, they had finally found their guiding light. Guilliman stood tall, a beacon of hope, for dignitaries in opulent attire and ragged survivors alike.
People from all corners of the Macragge system converged on the battlefield, their eyes filled with a mixture of awe and reverence.
When Guilliman, clad in his cobalt blue power armor, descended from the battlefield, the crowd erupted in a deafening roar. They looked at him with a mix of gratitude and hero worship.
Some women, clutching their children close, even welled up with tears, wanting their offspring to witness the legendary savior firsthand.
The magnitude of the situation overwhelmed Guilliman. Calgar, ever vigilant, recognized the need for action. He ordered the Ultramarines to form a protective barrier around the Primarch, lest the ecstatic throng engulf him entirely.
Saint Celestine, standing beside Guilliman, spoke softly, "They all cheer for you, my lord. They see in you, the Emperor's son, their only hope for escape from this unending war."
Guilliman met her gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "And that," he replied calmly, "is precisely why I awoke."
Patreon
how great it was
Nice chapter. But this Dominance trait came out of nowhere, it wasn’t present when the system first appeared… or is this a Guilliman thing I didn’t know about?