MTLNOVEL Chapter 18: chapter 18
Chapter 18: Self-Righteousness
For the self-proclaimed 17th Legion of Justice, killing was effortless. All they needed to do was activate the void shields and advance. The immobile steel behemoths of the enemy fleet were vaporized upon contact with the shields, their hulls boiling under the onslaught of macro cannon shells and lance strikes.
This was even easier than target practice—there was no resistance. The enemy's power systems, void shields, and weapons were still in the process of activating. All the Word Bearers had to do was locate and lock onto the cobalt-blue warships, and they could destroy them with pinpoint accuracy.
Each time an Ultramarines vessel was obliterated, the Word Bearers erupted in cheers, their shouts filled with raw hatred. These were the same warriors who had once been humiliated, forced to kneel under the Emperor's oppressive rule after the fall of the Perfect City.
Today was the day they repaid that humiliation.
Today was the day the Supreme Power revealed the ultimate truth.
Artillery fire roared across the void. Plasma and energy beams crisscrossed over hundreds of kilometers, while lightning arced through the enemy ranks, tearing through armor and massacring all life within.
A four-kilometer-long Sabre-class frigate erupted in flames, disintegrating from within. The battleship Hope was swallowed by a blinding white-hot explosion, and the auxiliary carrier Farewell detonated like a blossoming flower, consuming tens of thousands of lives as it was torn apart.
The Vosferus was struck mid-maneuver, its failing engines sending it into a collision course with a nearby troop transport, slicing it in half.
These once-proud warships, symbols of honor, were now eternal tombs. Their wreckage drifted through space, captured by the gravity of distant stars, carrying their fallen crews with them in their final, silent orbit.
Yet, thanks to the sacrifice of these brave warriors, the remaining Ultramarines warships finally reactivated. Their reactors burned at full capacity, forcing their engines back to life.
"The weapon systems on Macragge's Glory are online! Power restoration is nearly complete!"
The captain's report sent a jolt through Guilliman. Without hesitation, he gave the order:
"Fire at full power!"
The Hellfire-class battleship Pure Flame, which had been attacking the dock, was a monstrous sight—its sleek, bladed hull gleamed like a deadly weapon, and its reinforced prow could tear smaller ships apart. But its rampage was about to end.
A volley of Macragge's Glory's lance fire struck its rear, superheated energy searing through its armor. The engine block ignited in a chain reaction of explosions, and in a matter of moments, the once-majestic warship was reduced to a cold, lifeless husk.
With its thrusters roaring once more, Macragge's Glory surged forward. This 26-kilometer-long super-battleship, the pinnacle of Imperial engineering, was a force of nature. It carved through the enemy fleet, ripping apart any Word Bearers warship within range.
The revival of the flagship signaled a turning point. One by one, damaged but functional Ultramarines vessels rejoined the battle. Though many bore heavy scars, their weapons still had enough firepower to punish the traitors.
"Excluding destroyed ships and those that have lost contact, approximately 45% of our fleet at Calth has regained operational status," the captain reported.
Guilliman felt his heart sink. In just a few hours, nearly half the Ultramarines' fleet had been annihilated. And the one responsible for this devastation had yet to be punished.
"I order all warships—fire at full power! Annihilate the enemy!"
His command echoed across every Ultramarines vessel. The void was once again filled with the fury of macro-cannon fire and the blinding energy of lance strikes.
The battle was a relentless cycle of destruction. Every moment, ships exploded and vanished into the void—yet more emerged to take their place, fighting with unwavering resolve.
No fear. No hesitation.
---
"It's Useless, Roboute."
"You don't even understand what you're fighting against."
The voice slithered through the vox, its tone laced with mockery and certainty.
"The Wolf King Horus is rising. He will replace the Emperor as the new Lord of Mankind and lead humanity into the embrace of the Supreme Power."
Guilliman's expression darkened as the voice continued.
"Our brothers have already chosen their path. I stand at Horus' side, as do Fulgrim, Angron, Perturabo, Mortarion, Curze, Magnus, and Alpharius."
"Ferrus Manus is dead—Fulgrim severed his head. Vulkan and Corax are also gone. How much strength do you have left, Roboute?"
The words were like poison, confirming what Guilliman had already suspected. This wasn't just treachery from the Word Bearers—half of the Primarchs and their Legions had turned against the Emperor.
This wasn't bad news.
This was a nightmare.
"You're the most rational among us," the voice taunted. "You and I have our differences, but I wouldn't destroy your Legion out of personal spite. Everything I do is for the sake of overthrowing that hypocritical tyrant. I want humanity to embrace the Supreme Power and accept the perfect truth!"
The sheer fanaticism in Lorgar's voice sent a chill down Guilliman's spine.
They've lost their minds.
They had shattered the dream of humanity's revival and still had the audacity to claim it was for the greater good.
Guilliman clenched his fists. The hundreds of millions of innocent lives being burned away on Calth—were they also sacrifices for this so-called "truth"?
"Lorgar, I don't care about your delusions," Guilliman growled. "I will put an end to your madness."
But Lorgar only laughed, stepping forward as if he could break free from the holographic projection and materialize on Guilliman's bridge.
"Despite everything, I actually respect you, Roboute," Lorgar said. His voice was almost gentle. "So out of respect—"
"Please die."
The hologram shimmered, its light morphing into something unnatural. It wasn't just a projection anymore—something was breaking through.
Guilliman's instincts screamed.
What had once been Lorgar's image now oozed with dark, dripping ichor. His skin melted away, revealing sinewy black muscle and grotesque, writhing veins. Bulging, twitching eyes covered his body, while massive bat-like wings unfurled behind him.
Fangs. Claws. Malice incarnate.
The thing standing before Guilliman was no longer his brother.
It was a nightmare given flesh.
A foul stench of blood, venom, and decay filled the air as the entity stepped forward. Its horns, twisting and jagged, stretched over four meters long. Its very presence distorted reality, whispering madness into the minds of those who beheld it.
Guilliman's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.
The demon grinned, its voice dripping with malice.
"Roboute… Let the galaxy burn."
Then, with a single explosion of Warp energy, reality tore apart—and Roboute Guilliman was thrown into the abyss of space.
(End of Chapter)