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Chapter 204: The End
🕑 Added 2025-09-27 12:56:45 +0000 UTCChapter 204: The End
In the end, Marneus Calgar was transported back to Macragge in the medicae bay of his Chapter's flagship, the Caesar.
The Chapter Master's exceptional performance during the Tyrannic War had marked him as a high-threat target that the Hive Mind had to eliminate. As the Tyranid's void fleet was being annihilated by Imperial firepower, on the ground, the once-orderly tide of the swarm, having lost its unified command, descended into chaos. Their flexible tactical coordination dissolved completely, leaving only the savage hunger of their base instincts.
Unable to trouble the four, more formidable leaders, the Hive Mind concentrated its remaining resources on Boros Minor and hatched a Norn Emissary to launch a final, desperate assault on Calgar, seeking to eliminate this thorn in its side.
If not for Titus's timely intervention with his neural shredder, which disrupted the Emissary's psychic reception organs and steadily weakened the Hive Mind's control, allowing Tigurius to finally banish the Hive Mind's presence from the killer's body, Calgar's injuries would have been far more severe than two ruptured hearts.
When Calgar awoke from his coma, he was already on his way back to Macragge. The war was in its final stages.
"Calgar is something else," Ramesses remarked, leaning against Romulus's data-terminal and looking at the post-battle report from the Chapter Master himself. His eyebrow cocked in a mixture of admiration and weary amusement. "A legendary tank. If I remember correctly, just before we arrived, he had a heart ruptured in a solo duel with a Hive Tyrant and ended up in the ICU, didn't he?"
He turned to Karna, who was lounging on a plush chair by the viewport.
"He did," Karna replied, leisurely sipping a Macragge coconut, a local specialty of Ultramar, through a straw.
He had been relatively idle since entering the Realm of Ultramar. Most of the region had been scoured by the swarm, leaving it empty. There was no one to even preach to. Of course, he felt no pressure proselytizing in Guilliman's domain. The tenets of the Church of the Dawn were, after all, a product of the four's own moral compass. They were certainly more advanced than the current Ecclesiarchy, which still practiced human sacrifice. And the Regent probably wouldn't want to wake up to the sight of little 'cherubs' with flapping wings all over the place, would he?
Swish—
A document was placed in front of Romulus.
"The explorator fleets haven't detected any swarm activity for three weeks," Arthur said, displaying a star-chart projection and marking several silent scout sectors. The three of them were now gathered around Romulus.
Ramesses was gleefully watching Vashtorr, who was currently locked in a desperate struggle with the Tyranids, trying to salvage his industrial facilities.
Karna was slacking off, his gaze distant as he mentally organized his lesson plans for his next class.
And Arthur was assisting Romulus with military affairs. He leaned forward slightly, the shadow from his high-bridged nose tracing a sharp line on his face. He pointed to a blinking coordinate at the edge of the sector. "Should we expand the reconnaissance perimeter?"
"Let the local Chapters consolidate the defensive lines," Romulus said, stamping the document with a golden-nibbed quill that left the mark of an Aquila. The sound of the nib scratching against the parchment was a soft whisper. "Further expansion could create vulnerabilities. We will leave the next phase to Calgar, once the sectors have recovered their strength."
"Understood," Arthur nodded. He saw Romulus pull a gilt-edged invitation from a mountain of documents and asked, "Are we heading back next?"
"Of course," Romulus said with a light laugh, flicking the edge of the invitation. The parchment made a crisp sound. "They've been urging us for a long time. And they're sincere. We've kept them waiting this long, and they haven't gotten angry."
"Right," Arthur replied succinctly and turned to the hololithic projector.
Outside the viewport, the Imperial fleet was a torrent of steel spread across the void—the main battle fleets of several sectors, dozens of Astartes Chapters, the armed forces of several Orders of the Ecclesiarchy, and countless Imperial Guardsmen. No power in the galaxy, at present, could withstand such a force.
The Tyranid swarm was indeed powerful. They had a vast fleet of bio-ships, rapidly evolving combat units, and a near-terrifying collective will. But this vanguard fleet from beyond the galaxy had its limits. When the main fleet, which included two Gloriana-class battleships, arrived in the sector, the balance of power shifted completely.
The massive macro-cannons and lance batteries destroyed the ships that had survived the baptism of the warp rift. With their rear secure, the Astartes were deployed to the planet's surface, slaughtering every enemy they could find.
Romulus did not relax his vigilance. A mobile fleet composed of Black Templars and explorator fleets was constantly patrolling the surrounding sectors, bringing the full weight of the Imperium to bear to crush the last vestiges of the Tyranid threat. Reconnaissance fleets operated around the clock, and landing forces conducted thorough sweeps of every suspicious asteroid belt, gas giant ring, and derelict space station in every system to prevent any residual Genestealer contamination.
This clean-up operation lasted for more than four months.
Hive Fleet Behemoth was finally annihilated. Aside from a few small splinter fleets still lurking in the deep void, beyond the reach of the Imperium's sensors, the xenos' first major offensive in the galaxy had been utterly eradicated.
Romulus stared at the hololithic display before him. The augur matrix presented a complete list of the reclaimed planets in the sector. Beside each floating planetary projection, key information such as the ruling body, resource reserves, defense level, and recovery progress was displayed in detail. His gaze swept over the planets marked "Ultramarines Garrison," and a satisfied smile touched his lips.
These Astartes Chapters, all of the Ultramarines' lineage, were breathing new life into these worlds. They were not just rebuilding the planetary defense systems; they were also helping the local governments restore order, training PDF forces, repairing infrastructure, and clearing the remaining Tyranid taint. This systematic reconstruction was the core of the Astartes civil-servant system that Guilliman had designed so long ago.
"This is good..." Romulus murmured to himself.
There could be no better outcome than this. The scene before him made him imagine another possible future, the nightmarish situation that Guilliman would have been forced to face. Chaos warbands rampaging in the heart of Ultramar; the Tyranid Hive Fleet having already devoured the Sotha system and closing in on Talassar; the T'au Empire's expansion fleets probing the northern border; more than ten Ultramarines successor Chapters either annihilated or on the brink of destruction; a large-scale Necron awakening around Orpheus Secundus, indiscriminately slaughtering all life in the surrounding sectors.
But now, none of that would happen. The prematurely awakened Gene-Primarch would not have to face such a desperate situation. The reclaimed sectors were forming a strong defensive depth. An efficient coordination mechanism had been established between the various Chapters, and the border early-warning system had been fully upgraded. When the real crisis came, Ultramar would no longer be an isolated island, but a complete defensive system capable of mutual support.
Although he would inevitably be called ambitious by some, so be it.
"Lord Romulus, the final reconnaissance reports have been confirmed," an astropathic message from High Marshal Helbrecht arrived. "All major hive nodes have been eliminated."
The Crusade Fleet had spent nearly three years pacifying the entire eastern fringe of Ultramar. Hundreds of planets had been severely damaged, and thousands of worlds had been touched by the fires of war. Populations had been decimated, economies shattered. But he had seized this opportunity for change, bringing these worlds, which had been separated from Greater Ultramar for nearly ten thousand years, back into the Macragge system.
The loss of life was still heartbreaking. Looking at the cold numbers on the planetary readouts, Romulus couldn't help but sigh. But he eventually pushed these thoughts aside. For now, it was time to enjoy the fruits of victory.
The Honour of Macragge, along with the other two Gloriana-class vessels, slowly entered the homeworld's orbit in the triumphant light of dawn. Forty-eight hours after the confirmation of the Hive Fleet's destruction, the battleship that carried the Primarch had finally completed its mission, safely returning the slumbering Guilliman to the sanctum within the Fortress of Hera on Macragge.
Viewed from low orbit, the entire planet seemed to be draped in flowing golden silk. It was an ocean of banners, millions of Ultramar Aquilas lining every major thoroughfare, rippling in the gentle breeze.
On the newly constructed victory plaza before the Fortress of Hera, elite formations from the various Chapters were assembled in neat ranks, their master-crafted power armour gleaming with their own unique lustre in the sunlight. Delegations from three hundred reclaimed worlds, holding the crystal sigils of their respective planets, stood on specially constructed viewing platforms.
A wedge formation of Leman Russ tanks, decorated with laurels and gorse, was parked on the streets. Their cannon barrels, still smelling of smoke, were entwined with freshly picked olive branches from the people of Macragge.
As the landing craft's ramp slowly opened at the spaceport, thirteen defense platforms simultaneously fired a victory salute, the massive sound wave shattering the clouds. The bronze bells of Macragge's great clock tower then began to toll, their sound echoing over the city, mingling with the cheers of the crowd to form a triumphant anthem that shook the heavens.
The Primarchs strode down the ramp and were instantly engulfed in a shower of golden confetti and flower petals.
In the shadows, Arthur, standing with Ramesses, reached out and caught a single falling gorse petal, watching it tremble in his palm.
In the center of the victory plaza, at the request of the Primarchs, a newly completed Hero's Monument stood tall. The inscriptions on its black obsidian surface glittered in the midday sun:
[IN MEMORY OF ALL WHO DIED TO DEFEND ULTRAMAR. THEIR NAMES ARE ONE WITH ULTRAMAR.]
[741-748.M41]
A constantly changing hololithic projection surrounded the base of the monument, the faces of countless fallen soldiers flickering within it. Romulus stared at the flashing images: a grey-haired veteran of the Guard, a fresh-faced new recruit, an Astartes in shattered power armour.
A gentle breeze swept across the plaza, carrying a flurry of scattered golden foil. In the distance, the clear voices of children singing a hymn could be heard.
Romulus took a deep breath of the air, scented with flowers and smoke, and slowly closed his eyes.
The war was over.
For now.
