The Chaos Lord's scream was instantly terminated by a golden spear of light.
The Chaos flagship, serving as the command hub, silently decomposed and evaporated under the purification of the Fire of Glory, turning into the purest dust in the universe.
The fall of the commander became the final straw that broke the camel's back.
The offensive of the 'Blasphemer' Warband, which had previously been acting like madmen, instantly collapsed.
Ships draped in corpses turned and fled as if their spines had been removed, like birds startled by the mere twang of a bow, desperately rushing toward the unstable Subspace rifts, seeking only to escape this holy hell radiating with golden light.
On the bridge of the genesis, no one ordered a pursuit.
In just a few minutes, the battlefield transformed from purgatory to a divine kingdom, and then from a divine kingdom into a dead silence.
Only the 'Tear of Heaven' spanning the galaxy continued to flow quietly, as if silently witnessing the battle that had just overturned all common sense.
On the main screen, the blue Chapter insignia representing the Ultramarines replaced all battlefield data streams, occupying the entire display.
A high-level encrypted, absolutely private communication request was connected by Valeria.
There was no image.
Only sound.
A heavy, raspy voice, like two pieces of rusted metal grinding together, came from the communicator, every word suppressing emotions like a landslide or a tsunami.
"You..."
"What exactly is this power?"
It was Roboute Guilliman.
In his voice, there was no longer the majesty of the Imperial Regent, nor the judgment faced by a heretic; there was only a primal, immense bewilderment born from having his perception completely shattered.
Leticia's answer was calm and rippleless, as if stating the simplest fact.
"Regent, what you see is the will to protect, the radiance of life itself."
"It requires no sacrifice, nor does it require corruption."
"This is unlike any power you have ever known."
Guilliman fell silent.
In the communication channel, only his heavy breathing, sounding like a worn-out bellows, remained.
A few seconds later, his voice rang out again, this time carrying the cold, judgmental tone of an Imperial ruler.
He attempted to use what he was most familiar with to forcibly impose a definable shackle on everything he could not understand before him.
"Any unauthorized supernatural power is heresy!"
"The source of your power is unknown! Your actions are shaking the very foundations of the Empire!"
"According to the imperial codex..."
"Heh."
A light chuckle interrupted Guilliman's pronouncement.
It was Leticia.
Her laughter was very light, yet it was like the sharpest dagger, precisely cutting into the gaps of Guilliman's words, making it impossible for him to speak further.
Leticia's voice carried a hint of playful, condescending questioning.
"The foundations of the Empire?"
"Then, Regent, please tell me."
"A foundation that lets countless humans live in ignorance, pain, and despair..."
"A foundation that twists your father, that great Emperor of Mankind, into a withered idol sitting upon a throne, needing to devour a thousand Psyker souls daily just to linger on..."
"Is it... truly still worth maintaining?"
Boom!
These words carried no psychic energy, yet they were like a heavy bomb, detonating within the mental ramparts Guilliman had constructed from logic and reason!
His breathing, at this moment, completely seized up.
For ten thousand years, he had campaigned in the east and fought in the west, suppressed rebellions, and stabilized territories; everything he did was to maintain this tottering Empire.
He buried all his exhaustion, all his doubt, and all his pain deep beneath the cold mask of the 'Imperial Regent'.
He told himself this was his duty.
This was the only thing he, as a son of the Emperor, could do.
But now, this mysterious woman had so casually, without a shred of mercy, lanced the festering wound in the deepest part of his heart—the one even he did not dare to touch!
Guilliman's gaze involuntarily fell back to the main tactical screen.
On the screen, the green icons representing the Sisterhood forces were like burning golden flames; after crushing the Chaos main force, they were slowly drawing back in an aesthetically pleasing, rigorous formation, standing guard around the genesis.
In contrast, the blue icons representing his Ultramarines fleet appeared so... rigid.
On the bridge of the glory of macragge, Chapter Master Calgar was roaring, ordering those mortal crewmen who had fallen into a crisis of faith after witnessing the 'miracle' to return to their posts.
Some young Space Marines even stared blankly at the starry sky where the golden light had dissipated, forgetting to operate the consoles in front of them.
His fleet, the glory of the Empire, was suffering from low morale and sluggish actions after experiencing a brief psychic shock and a far more intense shock to their faith.
Just like this Empire.
Ancient, massive, and rigid, yet long since rusted through.
And the other side...
Guilliman looked at those green icons.
Every one of their actions was full of vitality.
Every one of their attacks was full of Hope.
Their very existence represented a vigorous, upward... life force that he had never seen before.
A terrifying thought emerged uncontrollably and for the first time so clearly in Guilliman's mind.
Leticia's power represented 'Hope'.
While the Empire he protected represented 'Decay'.
The impact brought by this realization even surpassed the 'miracle' he had just seen.
"...The battle is over."
Guilliman's voice rang out again.
He forcibly suppressed all emotions, transforming back into the logic-driven strategist.
He silently watched the signals of the scattered, fleeing Chaos warships on the tactical screen, without issuing any orders to pursue.
He knew this ambush no longer had any meaning.
He just watched, looking at the starry sky that had once burned with the golden Fire of Glory, making a fundamental judgment in his heart.
This was by no means a trick of Chaos.
The power of Chaos is corruption, a bargain, a chaotic ecstasy.
But what he had just seen was protection, rebirth, and pure glory.
That power was purer and more dazzling than any power he had seen during the Great Crusade.
The communication channel fell into a long silence.
Just when Valeria thought the other party had cut off the communication.
Guilliman's voice rang out once more.
This time, all the judgmental, probing, and bewildered tones in his words had vanished.
In their place was the absolute gravity belonging to an Imperial ruler, a galactic-level chess player.
"The battle is over."
He repeated it, as if reaching a conclusion.
"But I believe our 'meeting' has only just truly begun."
He paused for a moment, as if giving both sides time to redefine the situation.
"I propose a formal meeting between our respective flagships."
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