156: The only choice is between death and rebirth!

Cawl's scarlet optical lens reflected nothing but that eternal blue glow.

His massive body, pieced together from countless components, moved. Ignoring the roaring Warmaster and the thunderous roar of Bolters within the hall, he took heavy, calculated steps, disregarding the flying shrapnel and scorching shockwaves, moving firmly toward Guilliman's Golden Throne.

Dygrys did not merely hold his staff; the crystal at its head flickered constantly, and invisible psychic barriers materialized and vanished around him and Cawl in an instant, precisely twisting or deflecting several Bolter rounds aimed at their vitals.

Yvraine and the Thousand-Faced had completely merged with the shadows and chaos. Their movements were graceful and swift, like two silent shadows, clinging to the flanks of Cawl's mechanical body, using his massive bulk as cover.

The moment she passed by Zhang Yuan, Yvraine's eyes, containing ancient stars, glanced at him. There was no hostility or curiosity in that gaze, only a kind of equality, as if she were a player confirming the position of another piece on the chessboard.

Dygrys cast a reassuring smile at Zhang Yuan, and the crystal at the top of his staff flashed with a gentle psychic halo.

Zhang Yuan was bewildered, but he had no time to interpret these cryptic looks. The battle around him had reached a fever pitch.

The steel line formed by the Chaos Terminators, like a moving wall, advanced unstoppably. The hail of fire from the reaper autocannons tore through the air, shattering an Ultramarines Honour Guard, armor and all. Heavy flamers spat liquid fire, making the marble floor sizzle.

The loyalist firepower was completely suppressed.

Calgar, Amalrich, and Valdes, the three giants, were valiant and peerless, charging into the enemy lines and stirring up a bloody storm, but they were tightly entangled by more Chaos elites and could not break free.

"This cannot go on!" Ilaria's voice rang in Zhang Yuan's ear, her bolt pistol firing continuously, "They will be worn down to death!"

Zhang Yuan saw it; a new batch of Chaos Space Marines leaped down from the hole in the dome. The scales of battle were irrevocably tipping toward Chaos.

He hesitated no longer.

"Titus!" Zhang Yuan roared over the comms.

"Here." Titus's reply was always concise and powerful.

"Lead your squad to support the main battle line! Attack from the left flank and disrupt their formation! Tear a hole and draw the attention of all those Chaos scum! At all costs, do not let them approach the Throne!"

"Understood."

Titus had no unnecessary words; he made a tactical gesture to the Deathwatch Space Marines behind him. The nine giants clad in black armor instantly turned into a black torrent, their Bolters pouring fire into the flank of the Chaos Terminators with a precise and deadly rhythm.

"For the Emperor!"

Seraphina, who had long been unable to restrain herself, shouted the holy name, transforming into a burning comet. Her Bolter spat holy fury as she charged out, following Titus's squad.

Their entry was like a sharp Warhammer, smashing fiercely into the junction of the Chaos lines.

In an instant, under the Throne, only Zhang Yuan and Ilaria remained, standing back-to-back, protecting Ayla in the center.

Flesh flew, energy surged, and the entire hall groaned.

However, Ayla, protected in the center, displayed a heart-wrenching calmness. Her small hand gripped Zhang Yuan's coat tightly. There was no fear or panic in those clear eyes. She just stood there quietly, like an uninvolved bystander, looking past the chaotic battlefield toward the Golden Throne.

Her gaze was locked onto Cawl, Dygrys, and Yvraine.

"Click—whir—"

A harsh sound of mechanical interlocking rang out.

Zhang Yuan turned his head abruptly.

Cawl had arrived beneath the Throne. The floating platform he had brought, covered with a shroud, had unfolded, transforming into a complex precision construct composed of countless mechanical arms and energy conduits. At the center of the construct was a gleaming, brand-new suit of power armor—the Armor of Fate.

Cawl's countless mechanical appendages, like the most dexterous surgeon, quickly arranged this massive device around Guilliman's Golden Throne, with countless probes and interfaces docking precisely.

Meanwhile, Yvraine walked to the side of the stasis field generator.

She raised the "Cronesword" in her hand.

That black longsword emitted no light; instead, it was like a black hole, devouring all light and hope around it.

"No—!!!"

In the center of the battlefield, Calgar, who was smashing a Chaos Terminator into a pulp with his power fist, caught a glimpse of this scene from the corner of his eye.

His roar changed tone instantly, turning from a war cry into a terrified scream.

"Dygrys! Stop her! In the name of the Chapter, I order you, stop that xenos witch!"

He frantically tried to shake off the enemies in front of him to rush back to the Throne, but two new Chaos Terminators entangled him tightly with their own bodies.

Dygrys, standing beneath the Throne, heard his Chapter Master's roar. He turned slowly, looking across the battlefield of blood and fire at those eyes that had turned red with anger and fear.

He simply shook his head.

Then, he turned to Yvraine and spoke in a tone so calm it was almost cold.

"Do it now."

Calgar's movements stalled for an instant. He could not believe his ears. His Chief Librarian, his most trusted comrade, was ordering a xenos to desecrate their gene-father.

In despair, he turned his head sharply and, with all his might, yelled at the lone mortal on the other side of the hall:

"Governor Zhang Yuan! Prophet! Is this the hope you brought?! Answer me! Is this the will of the Emperor?!"

There was a trace of pleading in his voice.

Zhang Yuan met that gaze that threatened to tear him apart without flinching. He took a deep breath and, using all his strength, let his voice pierce through the clamor of the battlefield to respond to the desperate Chapter Master: "Lord Calgar! This is not the end; it is the necessary labor pains for rebirth! When a god sheds their old divine body, there must be mourning! Trust your father; he is on his way back, it is just that the road... is more rugged than you imagine!"

He could not explain more; he could only convey this "prophecy," the only thing he could say, with an apologetic but incredibly firm look.

He was just an actor reciting lines.

And now, the climax of the script was being performed.

Yvraine did not hesitate again.

The Cronesword in her hand traced a pure, all-consuming black trajectory.

"Shh—snap!!!"

Dazzling arcs and sparks exploded!

Several thick energy cables maintaining the stasis field were severed instantly!

That blue glow that had shrouded Guilliman for ten thousand years flickered violently a few times, and then, like a popped soap bubble, it silently... vanished.

Time seemed to stop at this moment.

Immediately after.

From the helmet speaker of the "Armor of Fate" that had just closed, completely enveloping the Primarch's body, came a... sigh.

The sound was not loud, but it traversed the clamor of the entire battlefield.

It did not belong to a mortal, nor to an Astartes, nor to any known life form.

It was a sigh that spanned ten thousand years, filled with endless exhaustion, endless sorrow, and endless grief.

It was as if a sleeping god, at the first moment of waking, saw not the dawn, but the funeral of the entire universe.

The moment he heard this sigh, Calgar's massive body trembled violently.

The ten thousand years of waiting, the crushing weight, the spark of hope that had just ignited and was enough to start a prairie fire... all turned into cold ash in this one sigh.

The anger, fear, and pleading in his eyes... faded away at this moment.

Only dead, boundless despair remained.

"ROAAAAR!!!"

Calgar roared to the sky. The sound was no longer an angry war cry, but the pure, animalistic wail of someone who had lost everything.

He abandoned all defense, abandoned all tactics.

He charged into the densest enemy formation, those two power fists flashing with blue electric light turning into two primitive, barbaric hammers of destruction.

Every swing smashed a Chaos Space Marine into a puddle of indistinguishable flesh and broken bone.

Every roar vented the grief and fury that could drown the stars.

He dared not turn back; he dared not look at the Throne again.

He dared not imagine what had happened to his gene-father, the master of Ultramar, in that cold steel cage.

And before that silent Throne.

Cawl's synthesized electronic voice sounded, devoid of any emotion, only mechanical precision.

"Now..."

"—Initiate 'Ark' protocol!"

As his final command fell.

The massive machine enveloping Guilliman, that final masterpiece known as the "Armor of Fate," emitted a low rumble from within.

Countless tiny indicator lights turned from red to green, lighting up one after another in the dark hall, like a newborn sea of stars.

Cold coolant began to rush through the pipes, making a hissing sound.

Beams of soft, life-giving green light shone through the gaps in the armor, illuminating Cawl's scarlet lens, which was flickering with data streams.

The machine began to operate.