Chapter 339: The Empire’s Reinforcements, the Suicide Mission of Three Barrel
The Regent Guilliman issued the command to reinforce Baal.
Under the leadership of the Macragge's Honour, a vast reinforcement fleet was gathering in the void, consisting of hundreds of large vessels and numerous battle groups.
This force accounted for nearly half of the Indomitus Crusade's Second Fleet.
It carried the full might of the Imperium's army.
The most powerful among them were the Primaris Space Marines—enhanced Astartes whom Archmagos Belisarius Cawl had spent nearly ten thousand years developing.
There were tens of thousands of them.
These Primaris Marines were taller, stronger, more powerful in combat—and far more loyal.
The Regent firmly believed this force would be a formidable counter to the war raging on Baal.
A crushing response to the Tyranid swarm.
Now, the Indomitus reinforcement fleet was fully assembled…
Inside the Sanctum of the Regent.
Hundred-meter-tall bookshelves stood silently, the stained-glass dome above letting in shafts of light, while fine dust drifted gently through the air.
Felix, the chamberlain, stepped inside, controlling his steps to remain nearly soundless.
He knew the Primarch preferred silence.
Yet despite his quiet steps, Felix's three-meter-tall frame clad in blue-and-gold trimmed armor still gave off an imposing aura.
Felix was one of the earliest successfully enhanced Primaris Space Marines under the direction of Archmagos Cawl.
Shortly after the Horus Heresy had ended ten millennia ago, he had been chosen as a prime candidate and sent to Mars to undergo the Primaris transformation trials.
For the next ten thousand standard Terran years…
He remained in cryogenic stasis, subjected to complex experiments. Occasionally awakened for further hypnotic indoctrination to reinforce his loyalty.
His sacrifice had not been in vain—the Primaris transformation had succeeded.
More importantly…
His gene-sire, the Primarch of the Ultramarines—Roboute Guilliman—had returned, making it possible for the Primaris to walk the galaxy once more.
Afterward…
Felix joined the Indomitus Crusade, achieving great merit in battle and earning the Primarch's favor.
He became the Primarch's personal chamberlain.
Not only that…
The Primarch had even amended the restrictions he himself had placed in the Codex Astartes, creating the Eleventh Company of the Ultramarines and appointing Felix as its Captain.
Such a gift was profound.
Felix strove to live up to this honor with unwavering commitment.
Guilliman noticed his approach, set down his papers, and looked up.
"Felix, have we found a navigable route to Baal?"
"My lord, the Librarius has identified a traversable corridor—but they've also issued a warning…"
Felix spoke softly:
"They said that moving such a massive force might attract the attention of warp abominations."
"We've always been under the eye of Chaos. Those foul gods—and my fallen brothers—are constantly seeking to strike me down and steal my life."
The Regent considered the risk and made his decision.
"No more delay. Let the reinforcement fleet depart!"
Baal was one of the hubs of the Dark Side—utterly irreplaceable.
If they stalled further…
They might miss the critical Battle of Baal and trigger even greater consequences.
"Yes, my lord."
Felix nodded and immediately issued the order for the fleet to set sail.
A short while later…
The light inside the sanctum dimmed slightly, the glass dome above now covered by protective plating. Faint tremors passed through the structure.
There was no doubt.
The Macragge's Honour and its escort fleet had entered the Warp.
Guilliman gathered his documents and rose to walk along the sanctum's pathway.
"Come, Felix. Walk with me…"
There were many things one could not grasp from papers alone.
He needed more direct communication with his subordinates to gain deeper insights.
Felix straightened. He felt honored, if a little nervous.
"Yes, my lord!"
Guilliman clapped a large hand on the chamberlain's shoulder, making the latter involuntarily stiffen.
Seeing this…
Guilliman withdrew his hand and said in as gentle a tone as possible:
"When facing me, don't always be so tense. And do not fall into blind worship. You must see me as a living man."
"In this universe, there are no gods—only entities wielding more power."
"That includes my father—the Emperor of Mankind…"
The Regent tirelessly emphasized this, hoping to prevent his followers from falling into blind religious reverence.
He wished to be seen as a man.
Not, like his father, raised to godhood—
And thereby burdened with the torment of faith.
In truth…
He had begun to feel the weight of growing devotion again. His followers' blind worship had only deepened.
"So troublesome… I wonder how Brother Eden copes with it all," Guilliman thought.
The Regent continued down the pathway with Felix, calmly inquiring about the state of various Chapters and military units, as well as Felix's opinions on certain issues.
He rather enjoyed this conversational approach.
Though it inevitably brought some pressure to those speaking with him.
Zzzzt—
Suddenly, as they walked, the lights began to flicker.
A pale gray-pink mist crept in. Candle flames danced.
A short distance ahead on the path…
A magnificent phantom began to solidify. Pale-skinned, with exquisite makeup and a long, coiling serpent tail.
"My lord, beware!"
Felix immediately drew his power sword, activating its disruptive field.
"My dear brother."
The voice was slightly sharp and effeminate. Once the Phoenix of the Imperium, now a fallen Primarch, he licked his forked tongue:
"I finally caught you… perhaps we can have a little fun this time…"
He had planned for a long time to ambush Guilliman here.
As soon as he spoke—
The entire ship shook violently. Guilliman's vox channel flooded with alerts of hostile attacks.
At that moment…
The Sea of Souls howled and roared. Warp tides surged, sweeping the reinforcement fleet deeper into the Immaterium—
Throwing them off course.
Within that tide, swarms of starving daemons launched their assault!
Yet…
The greatest threat stood directly before them.
Guilliman signaled Felix to fall back. This was not a battle a chamberlain could fight.
He stared at Fulgrim, the once-noble brother now twisted by corruption, radiating obscene perversion. His eyes burned with fury—and pain.
"How dare you appear before me? Look at what you've become!"
"Isn't it glorious?"
Fulgrim twisted sensuously, sneering:
"Once you experience such ecstasy, you'll understand the beauty of it all. Your loyalty is blind—I pursue higher art and perfection!"
He drew the Blade of Laer.
The same venomous dagger that had once nearly slain Guilliman.
Fulgrim mocked:
"Look at yourself now—just a barely-alive corpse sustained by xenos tech. Perhaps I'll help you finish it. Come—let's finish what we started!"
After ten thousand years, he sought once again to duel Guilliman—confident he would prevail.
Boom!
Guilliman didn't respond to the taunts.
He simply ignited the flames of the Emperor's Sword.
And assumed a battle stance.
He let out a heavy sigh:
"If our father could see your twisted, effeminate form, he would never forgive you!"
Hearing this—
Fulgrim's pupils shrank. A flicker of fear crossed his face.
But he quickly became furious at his momentary weakness.
He shrieked:
"That cursed wretch is nothing but a desiccated skeleton! One day, I'll tear his bones apart and hurl them into the abyss to be defiled by daemonettes!"
Though Fulgrim feared their father…
This was the deep Warp. The Emperor's influence could not reach here.
However—
Just as he finished speaking, the Warp shuddered.
A chorus of daemonic wails rang out.
Fulgrim felt it most keenly.
He saw something—something that filled him with dread.
His voice reverted to a man's:
"No… impossible!"
The fallen Primarch panicked.
Utterly losing the will to remain, he fled like a dog with its tail between its legs, vanishing into the pink mist.
Only a single tortured scream remained, as if something had dragged him away:
"F-Father… no!"
Then—
The path returned to calm.
As if nothing had happened.
At the same time—
Macragge's Honour stabilized once more.
Chapter 340: The Empire's Reinforcements, Three Barrels' Suicide Mission (Continued)
The sudden turn of events left Guilliman momentarily stunned.
He had expected a brutal battle.
But unexpectedly, his fallen brother had fled without a fight.
"By the Emperor… He has protected us…"
At some point, Felix had fallen to his knees, praying fervently to the Emperor, his voice trembling with disbelief.
Guilliman was exasperated.
Clearly, their father had acted again—appearing in this place—yet Guilliman himself hadn't sensed it at all.
"Stand up, Felix. My father—the Emperor—does not want to be worshipped. We must not kneel to anyone!"
He sternly ordered his chamberlain to rise.
After doing so, Felix began recounting the sacred vision he had just witnessed:
He had seen a tall figure bathed in hazy golden light—
Undoubtedly the glorious Emperor.
It was He who had driven away the daemonic forces in the Warp and shielded the fleet!
Soon after…
Reports from others poured in. Some claimed they had seen the Emperor with golden wings, some saw a golden sun, or a towering warrior in gleaming golden armor.
One even said they witnessed a golden Emperor angrily pummeling a weeping she-daemon with a serpent's tail.
Certain Librarians described even grander visions or symbols:
In the raging tides of the Warp, the daemons sought to capsize the Imperial vessels and consume the souls within.
But golden angels, radiant saints, and countless golden walls rose to hold back the corruption.
RUMBLE—
Guilliman walked to a viewing port in the sanctum and retracted its armored cover.
There—
He saw something remarkable.
Amid the chaotic Warp, a radiant golden road stretched out before the fleet, lighting their path forward.
Their father had dispelled the daemons barring their way—allowing the fleet to press on toward Baal and toward Brother Eden.
This revelation brought both relief and concern.
This event—
Had shown the fleet far too many miraculous signs, shattering the secular, atheistic creed Guilliman had worked so hard to instill.
He had no idea how to undo this spiritual reversal.
"Father…"
Guilliman sighed deeply.
"You always hated being seen as a god… So why summon such confusing illusions?"
If Eden were here, he would've explained:
These were not deliberate acts.
They were side effects—created unconsciously when one harnessed faith-based power, causing followers to perceive various visions of the object of their worship.
In short—it was the Warp's fault.
This realm of metaphysics defied science and always influenced the human psyche.
Before long…
The Regent set aside the matter temporarily.
There were more pressing concerns.
Due to the daemonic interference, the fleet had veered far off course and become lost in the depths of the Warp.
Their arrival at Baal was severely delayed.
Fortunately—
There was still hope.
The Indomitus reinforcement fleet regrouped the ships scattered by the shockwave, adjusted course as one, and followed the path marked by the golden light—
Continuing toward the Baal system.
At the same time that Guilliman led his fleet to Baal…
Holy Terra had received word.
After deliberation, the High Lords of Terra issued astropathic messages to every reachable Space Marine Chapter.
They urged them to dispatch forces to aid in the Battle of Baal.
It was a desperate measure.
The previous war in the Morrigar system had exhausted all nearby mortal regiments.
At present, only the Space Marine Chapters had the mobility to operate within the Dark Side or to pierce the Tyranid Shadow in the Warp.
In response to the Regent and the High Lords' call—
Many able Chapters sent reinforcements to Baal.
—
Baal System, Nearby Region
Void Space
A battered warship bearing faded green colors slowly came to a halt, its Chapter insignia—a star—flickering under the nearby sun.
It was the battle barge of the Sons of the People Chapter.
Inside the vessel—
A wanted poster was nailed to the wall.
It depicted a helmetless Space Marine, grinning with a slightly chubby face, holding two bottles of red wine.
This was the only image captured by monitoring equipment at the scene of the crime.
According to the poster—
This brazen Space Marine was named Three Barrels.
He had many nicknames, such as The Shame of the Imperium, Great Heretic, The Glutton Who Visited the Mess Hall Eight Times a Day, and so on.
His life was nothing short of legendary.
According to a certain equally shameless collector, Trazyn the Infinite—
Three Barrels had been born near the outer walls of the Imperial Palace on Holy Terra.
His father had served a long term in the Astra Militarum and survived, then—due to a paperwork mix-up with the son of a high-ranking official—Three Barrels' family was promoted.
They became minor clerks within the Imperial Palace, rising from poverty to elite bureaucratic status.
Three Barrels himself had extraordinary luck.
At 14, he accidentally wandered into a Warp-tainted brothel run by Genestealers.
He was kicked out for not having money—but by sheer fortune, the Inquisition raided the place.
He immediately reported the brothel, triggering a fierce battle, and in a moment of heated desperation, picked up a meltagun and killed a Genestealer.
He saved an Inquisitor's life.
This feat caught the eye of a Chapter serf, who recommended him to a Space Marine Chapter he refuses to name.
There, he underwent gene-seed implantation—
And even awakened psychic powers.
At first—
His immense psychic potential excited the Chapter Librarians. They even predicted he might become Chief Librarian.
But over more than a decade, the only thing he learned to do was form a powerful psychic barrier to protect himself.
Nothing else.
All hopes were dashed.
Worse—
Due to his insatiable appetite and bad influence on others, he constantly caused absurd incidents—
To the point where the Chapter refused to even mention his name and excluded him from all combat operations.
They essentially left him to fend for himself.
This, in itself, was an act of mercy—he hadn't been executed.
Still—
Three Barrels did have moments of merit.
In one battle, in a fit of rage, he unleashed psychic energy that saved an entire lunar-class cruiser.
He preserved a fragment of a precious STC, revered by the Mechanicus.
This earned him lavish rewards from the Tech-priests and a grandiose title—The Human Void Shield.
After that—
He wandered through the Imperium, interacting with various Chapters—
Including the Space Wolves, Salamanders, and more.
He even clung to the Salamanders for four years, joining their wars.
When he finally returned to his home Chapter's monastery—
He discovered, tragically, that he was the last surviving member.
All his battle-brothers had perished in a war against the Necrons.
His Chapter was now extinct, with no assets remaining.
This drove him to sorrow.
But later, he resolved to rebuild his Chapter according to the Codex Astartes—
To restore its former glory.
Unfortunately—
Due to his infamous reputation, he was forbidden from using the original Chapter's name, lest he desecrate it.
So—
He chose a new name: Sons of the People.
After reforming the Chapter, he tried to train new Marines.
But most of the time, they were destitute and unsupported by the Departmento Munitorum.
So—
He resorted to "creative" survival methods.
Such as:
Repainting their power armor to resemble Salamanders equipment and selling it on the black market at premium prices
Selling looted Ork trinkets to planetary governors, then blackmailing them by threatening to report their possession of xeno artifacts
Claiming an STC was discovered and luring multiple Mechanicus sects into a warzone, only for them to find it produced silicone heretical idols
These actions triggered an Inquisition investigation—yet yielded no results.
Most recently—
Three Barrels had infiltrated the vault of a High Lord and stolen a fortune's worth of rare red wine.
This time, he had gone too far.
The High Lord issued a warrant for his arrest, seeking severe punishment for this infamous Chapter.
But—
Three Barrels and his men had already fled in their decrepit warship.
Yet they could not escape the Inquisition forever.
This time, it was Inquisitor Greyfax—the mad legend herself—who pursued them.
She finally intercepted him in the Dark Side of the Imperium.
Now—
Greyfax's masterwork bolt crossbow was pressed to Three Barrels' forehead.
Worse still, an Inquisitorial cruiser had locked weapons onto their crumbling vessel.
"Lady Greyfax… may I finish this glass of wine first?"
Three Barrels held the precious red wine with tears in his eyes.
Around him, his battle-brothers hurried to down the remaining wine, fearing it would be wasted in the coming clash.
They had been dirt poor for years and couldn't bear to lose the taste.
CRACK!
Greyfax's bolt shattered the wineglass, spilling the vintage all over Three Barrels' face.
Of course—
He didn't resist. Nor did he lash out.
Partly because the Inquisition ship had them in its sights.
But also because he would never betray the Imperium.
Though he dabbled in gray areas, his heart was ever loyal to the Throne!
Greyfax sneered coldly and delivered the sentence:
They were to be deployed to Baal.
To fight against the Tyranid swarm.
They were not allowed to retreat.
They would fight to the last—
Or until the war was won.
It was mercy.
Were it not for the desperate need at Baal, they would have faced much worse punishment.
Three Barrels and his men accepted the verdict.
Of course—
This didn't mean they admitted guilt.
It just meant Baal needed them.
Soon—
The Sons of the People battle barge took off again—heading for the Baal system.
—
Aboard the Dreamweaver, Savior's Sanctum
"No signal? Are we inside a Warp turbulence zone?"
Eden used a specialized psychic relay to try contacting the Regent, intending to coordinate their arrival time and plan the defense of Baal against Leviathan.
But he could not reach Guilliman.
Suddenly—
Eden sensed a massive Warp fluctuation…
(End of Chapter)
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