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Chapter 45 – The Emperor’s Call
🕑 Added 2025-09-23 00:42:19 +0000 UTCChapter 45 – The Emperor’s Call
The thunderhawk settled on the wide landing pad with a hiss of cooling vents. Around it, the harsh lights of Terra’s orbital dockyard gleamed off lines of gunmetal barricades. Adeptus Arbites waited in formation, their black carapace armor polished to a dull shine, weapons lowered but ready.
Captain Gaius of the Ultramarines stepped down first. His blue and gold plate caught the light as his five warriors followed, three veteran Astartes and two Primaris brothers. A dozen serfs carried supplies behind them.
The Arbites commander raised a hand. “Captain, for entry you will submit to verification. Gene-scan and command codes.”
Gaius said nothing. He stood still while mechadendrites whirred around him, reading the gene-seed markers that proved his lineage. His armor’s heraldry, the Ultramarines’ omega and his own sigil, recorded long ago in Guilliman’s archives, flashed across a cogitator screen.
One by one, the Arbites confirmed the other Marines. After long minutes the commander finally inclined his head. “Records match. Lord Regent’s summons verified. You may proceed.”
As the Arbites stepped back, a low metallic thrum rolled across the pad. The Astartes turned. From the far gate a figure approached, towering even over them.
A Custodian.
He came alone, each step measured. Auramite plate glowed like a moving sun. His spear rested easily in one hand. When he reached the group he removed his helm, revealing a face of stern symmetry and eyes as bright as polished bronze.
“I will be escorting you once more, Gaius,” the Custodian said, voice deep as a struck bell.
The Ultramarines behind Gaius stared in quiet awe. Few Space Marines ever stood so close to the Emperor’s own guardians.
Gaius stepped forward without hesitation and extended his hand. “Then I thank you again, Aurelius Kaelion Thryx.”
The Custodian clasped his hand firmly. “It has been some time.”
A memory flickered through Gaius’s mind: years earlier, when he was newly forged by Belisarius Cawl, it was Thryx who had first brought him to Guilliman. Their bond had grown through shared campaigns and long discussions during those early days. Friendship, not ceremony, defined them.
Beside them, a sleek Coronus Grav-Carrier waited. Its golden hull shimmered with layered shields; faint hums betrayed weapons hidden beneath elegant panels. Doors parted with a hiss of sanctified air.
“Come,” Thryx said.
The squad boarded. The grav-carrier rose smoothly, engines whispering as it slid into the heavy air lanes. Smog and ash swept across the viewports. Below lay the endless sprawl of Terra, continent-wide cities, towers like mountains, rivers of light and smoke. Gaius watched in silence. Even after all his wars, the scale of humanity’s cradle always held weight.
The craft cut through layer after layer of security. Gates of adamantine and auramite opened at Thryx’s signal. Custodian squads stood sentinel at every point, motionless as statues, their armor burning in the dim half-light.
At last the vehicle slowed within the Sanctum Imperialis itself, a gothic-megalithic complex so vast it defied reason. Spires the size of mountains clawed upward into the polluted sky. Inside, golden halls stretched beyond sight, black marble floors gleaming under torchlight. The air was thick with incense and the low drone of billions of adepts chanting prayers and data-cant.
The Coronus eased to a stop before a set of towering gates. Waiting beyond stood the Lord Regent of the Imperium.
Roboute Guilliman.
The Primarch’s towering form was framed by the Victrix Guard, his chosen warriors, each a Primaris in immaculate blue and gold. Their armor bore laurels of victory and the scars of a hundred campaigns. Power-fielded shields rested at their sides, and their visors glimmered like sapphire glass.
The five Ultramarines who had traveled with Gaius dropped to one knee as soon as they saw their gene-sire. Awe shone in their eyes.
Gaius did not kneel.
He strode forward, the sound of his boots echoing across the vast chamber.
Guilliman’s stern face softened into a broad smile. A low laugh rolled through the hall. “Stand up, stand up,” he said to the kneeling Marines. “You need not kneel.”
He stepped toward Gaius, studying him. “You truly never wished to join my Victrix Guard. You even left your armor here.”
“I did,” Gaius answered calmly. “I wanted to fight the enemies of mankind, not stand in halls.”
Guilliman chuckled, a warm sound amid the cold grandeur. “I know. I know.” Then his expression turned serious. “Walk with me. We must speak in private.”
He glanced to his honor guard. “See to our guests.” The Victrix Guard nodded and gently guided the other Ultramarines away.
Guilliman led Gaius down a side passage into the Strategium, his war office. Holo-maps of the galaxy filled the air: the great rent of the Cicatrix Maledictum, lines of battle, shifting tides of war. Servitors glided between cogitator banks, their voices a low mechanical murmur.
Guilliman gestured to a chair across the great strategy table. “Sit.”
Gaius complied, the black marble cool even through his armor. Guilliman’s eyes met his, steady and bright.
“My father gave me a vision,” the Primarch said quietly. “A vision of you, no, of us.”
Gaius listened without a word.
“He showed me your gift to cross into other worlds,” Guilliman continued. “And he told me to bring you to the Golden Throne.”
Gaius’s brow tightened. In decades of service beside the Lord Regent he had never been allowed near the Throne, much less summoned. “Will I even be permitted entry?”
“Yes.” Guilliman’s voice held certainty. “The Custodes have received the same vision. Father’s will is known to them.”
Gaius nodded slowly. He understood well how the Emperor’s own creations were attuned to His presence. If the Custodes accepted such a call, there could be no mistake.
Guilliman rose and pressed a rune on the wall. A circular chamber opened, its edges glowing with faint blue wards. “Come. We will use the secure teleportarium.”
Side by side they stepped into the chamber. Light flared, and in an instant they stood before the Eternity Gate.
It loomed like a mountain of auramite and adamantine, guarded by the Aquilan Shield and ranks of Custodians beyond counting. Psychic wards thrummed in the air. Without a word the golden warriors opened a path, their eyes acknowledging the Primarch and the Captain.
Through the vast processional hall they walked, the silence broken only by the hum of null-emitters. Custodians lined the route in endless ranks, motionless as statues of living gold.
At the final portal, another pair of guardians stepped aside. Guilliman inclined his head in brief thanks. The doors opened.
They entered the Throne Room.
The chamber dwarfed even the greatest cathedrals. The Golden Throne itself rose like a mountain of gold and living machinery. Great cables and conduits stretched outward, carrying the sacrifice of a thousand psykers each day. Tech-priests moved like insects at its base, chanting their endless litanies. The psychic pressure was overwhelming, a storm that pressed even on a Space Marine’s mind.
Upon the Throne sat the Emperor of Mankind, corpse-like, yet alive. His body was withered, bound in ancient mechanisms, but His presence filled the hall like a sun.
Gaius felt his vision shift. The marble floor, the golden machinery, even the air itself fell away.
He stood in the Warp.
Before him burned a vast, searing sun. Its light filled every corner of his being. A voice like a thousand thunderclaps struck into his soul.
“Son of Guilliman.”
"My Tool."
“My weapon. My champion. Otherworlder.”
"Each word was a hammer blow. Pain lanced through his mind. Even If he could endure it, the pain was excruciating."
Then as if the Sun saw it was injuring Gaius, it back off.
Then the great sun split. A smaller sphere of light drifted forward, its glow softer, its voice gentler.
“Son of Guilliman,” it said. “I have seen your ability to walk between worlds…”
The words vibrated through him, warm and clear. But before the presence could continue, a flicker cut across Gaius’s vision.
The Multiversal Chat.
A translucent panel only he could see.
【Tony: Hey @Gaius, I might need some assistance.】
[System Message
Mission: Help Tony Stark.
Objective 1: Defeat or Kill Abomination.
Objective 2: Defeat or Kill Hulk.
0/2 - Number of people who can accept the mission.
Reward: The Reward Changes, Depends who accepted it.]
The Multiversal Chat. Here, of all places.
The smaller sun rippled as if startled. The vast psychic light quivered in answer.
End of Chapter 45
i finish it today and goodnight lol, im tired
Comments
NoxVerna
I think Guilliman should join the chat not the emperor, it would be easier to write I feel
Noctis123
Maybe sending Guilliman and Gaius but guilliman following his sons lead and the emperor joins the chat
Noctis123
Please take tomorrow off and prepare for your exam
