Ultramar Campaign - The Avenging Son: The foremost Black Legionaries were mere Terran yards away from the foot of Guilliman's throne when the rune-panels on Cawl's auto-reliquary flickered from red to green. A single chime sounded, a clear, pure note that cut through the clangour like a knife. The Archmagos himself, fighting back-to-back with the Ynnari and Chief Librarian Tigurius, emitted an uncharacteristic blurt of binharic triumph. The next moment, the outstretched armatures of the auto-reliquary folded back with a gaseous hiss to reveal a sight of breathtaking splendour.Where before Roboute Guilliman had sat, a pale, stasis-locked revenant, now the Primarch stood awake, alert and very much alive. His presence was immense, dominant as a thunderhead suddenly filling the shrine with its crushing pressure. Guilliman was clad in a magnificent new suit of Power Armour, an ornate masterwork that had travelled all the way from the forges of Mars within Cawl's auto-reliquary. In one hand the Ultramarines Primarch held the Emperor's Sword, lit now from hilt to tip with leaping flames, and in his eyes was a look of such murderous intensity that even the Loyalists within the shrine quailed to see it.It was as though a spell had settled over the shrine. Though outside the din of war thundered on, within that echoing chamber friend and foe alike stared awestruck at the legendary figure reborn in their midst. An incoherent scream of rage shattered the silence, a single Khorne Berzerker charging headlong through the stunned combatants to launch himself in a flying leap at the Primarch. Guilliman moved with such blistering speed that the Ynnari themselves would have struggled to match it. His burning blade drew a pyrotechnic arc through the air as it swung, bisecting the Khorne Berzerker at the waist and hurling his severed halves to the ground.As the Chaos worshipper's armoured corpse crashed to the floor, the spell was broken. With a great howl of hate, the Black Legion warriors surged towards Roboute Guilliman. Wordlessly, the noble demigod strode to meet them, and the carnage truly began.Saint Celestine looked upon the towering form of the Primarch reborn, and knew the abiding satisfaction of her faith being borne out once more. A son of the God-Emperor Himself, a demigod of battle to lead the Imperium out of the darkness that, with each passing solar day, seemed more certain to engulf it entirely. In what greater endeavour could she have played a part? What single event could possibly be more important than the manifestation of this breathtaking miracle? Humbly, Celestine offered up her profound thanks to the Emperor for permitting her to be a part of such a wondrous thing.Around her, the battle still raged, yet every aspect of the conflict had changed for Celestine in that singular moment of rebirth. The strewn corpses of Imperial warriors were no longer a tragic waste, but instead the fallen bodies of martyrs whose sacrifice would be immortalised forever. The traitorous killers filling the shrine were no longer hated despoilers, but instead merely the first of an endless tally of Heretics that Guilliman would lay low. Her own hurts no longer mattered, whether the physical wounds to her own body or the spiritual rents opened by the deaths of her Geminae Superia."Thank you", intoned Celestine, a single golden tear rolling down her cheek as she turned her face to the heavens. "Thank you, my Emperor. He is a blessing we do not deserve."Snarling, a Black Legionary lunged at Celestine with a serrated blade in hand. Presumably he thought her distracted in her moment of sublime gratitude, but he could not have been more mistaken. With the fires of faith searing through her veins, Celestine turned the golden radiance of her gaze upon the Heretic and smiled beatifically as she felt her broken arm heal itself anew. The Ardent Blade came up in a single, swift movement and ran the Heretic Astartes through.Even as her assailant fell back with blood gushing from his mouth, the Living Saint launched herself skyward and soared across the shrine. She alighted beside Inquisitor Greyfax, who was stood atop a sarcophagus pouring Bolter fire into the Heretics massed on every side."I erred", shouted Greyfax over the roar of her Bolter. "And I shall do penance. You truly are an instrument of the Emperor's will.""Vigilance is not a sin, Katarinya Greyfax", replied Celestine, slashing her blade through the enemies before her. "You serve Him as surely as I.""Indeed", said Greyfax with a curt nod. "Then let us serve him together, as true warriors of faith." With that, she raised her blade and lunged into the foe, Celestine leaping at her side.First to die was the Sorcerer whose powers had shaken the temple to its foundations. Guilliman raised his mighty gauntlet, the Hand of Dominion, and a storm of armour-piercing fire erupted from beneath it to rip the tainted psyker to pieces.Next to fall were the remaining Black Legion Berzerkers. Following their comrade's example, they flung themselves screaming at the reborn Primarch. Like their fellows, they were reduced to so much armoured meat, smashed from the air with terrifying speed. Guilliman was running now, storming forward through the hail of bolts and shells unleashed by the Black Legionaries. Rounds exploded against the Primarch's armour, but none could pierce its inviolable plates.As he crashed into the front ranks of Black Legionaries, Guilliman let out a building roar of pure, undiluted fury. The Primarch's first blow threw a Black Legionary high into the air, blood streaming behind the corpse in a red trail. His second strike smashed a Traitor Terminator into a bronze and marble column with enough force to drive the Chaos worshipper clean through it, and out the other side. A spiked Power Fist swung for Guilliman's chest, only to be lopped from its wielder's arm before the blow could land. Guilliman's return swing parted his attacker's head from his shoulders, cauterising the stump of the Traitor's neck as the body crumpled to the floor. On it went, the Primarch moving with such speed that even the Heretics' superhuman reactions couldn't save them. None could match Guilliman. None could even come close, and the few opponents that landed lucky blows found their weapons turned aside by the Primarch's masterwork armour.As the Black Legion hurled itself towards the towering warrior in its midst, so the pressure lessened upon the surviving Loyalists in the shrine. Full of vengeance, inspired by the spectacle of the Primarch, the last of the Celestinians and their allies threw themselves back into the fight with renewed vigour.As Guilliman cleared the foes from around the foot of his throne, Tigurius, Cawl and the Ynnari followed him into the gap. Yvraine blurred through the air, felling a Chaos Space Marine before cart-wheeling between two more and leaving them as crumbling statues of dust and ash. A Traitor raised his Plasma Gun to blast the whirling priestess, only for the Visarch's sword to lop his arms off at the elbows. The Champion of Ynnead reversed his grip on his blade, ramming it through his victim's helm before basking in the escaping psychic energies of the Traitor Marine's corrupted soul.Tigurius released a thunderous barrage of aetheric energies, thumping tectonic shock waves that hurled Heretic Astartes from their feet and shattered their armour like porcelain. The Chief Librarian felt Guilliman's gaze upon him then, for just a heartbeat. The Primarch's appraising stare seemed to strip Tigurius down to his soul. Then Guilliman stormed on through the enemy ranks.With every blow, the Primarch of the Ultramarines sent mutated corpses tumbling through the air. His expression was graven granite and frozen hate, a mask of vengeful anger that had endured millennia.For Guilliman, his last memory was a desperate battle against a tainted brother, a fraternal contest of godlike strength and barbed, hateful taunts -- then poison and pain beyond endurance. Now he found himself in strange surroundings, facing a twisted horde of creatures that were nightmarish parodies of the Adeptus Astartes ideal.Not that his apparent allies struck Guilliman as much more familiar, but he could at least detect who in this vast sepulchre was tainted by Chaos and who was not. For now, that was enough. The Primarch compartmentalised his questions for later, and concentrated solely on the battle at hand.The Black Legionaries continued to hurl themselves at the reborn Lord of Ultramar, clearly willing to sustain any amount of casualties if it meant laying Guilliman low. Yet they were laughably outmatched in almost every regard. Sweeping the Emperor's Sword in wide arcs, firing off hammering volleys from the Hand of Dominion, the Primarch reaped a bloody tally as he drove the Traitors back. As they retreated, so the prone form of Marneus Calgar was revealed, his armour cracked and his face beaten bloody. Guilliman paused for a moment in his rampage, looking down upon this fallen son with an unreadable expression on his face.Calgar stirred, one eye opening to look up at the Primarch reborn. Satisfied that his scion lived, Guilliman pressed on, leaving the fallen Chapter Master to stare in disbelief at his resurrected gene-sire.Across the chamber, Grand Master Voldus and his Paladins were driving the surviving Chaos Sorcerers back. The Heretics were powerful psykers both, but neither could hold a candle to Voldus' preeminent power. Surrounded by a crackling vortex of empyric energies, the Grand Master strode through the dark flames and molten lightnings conjured by his foes. Propelled as much by thought as by his steely sinews, Voldus' lightning-wreathed Nemesis Daemonhammer Malleus Argyrum swung in an unstoppable arc and slammed into the helm of the closest Sorcerer. Ceramite, flesh and bone exploded in a crackling spray, and the Traitor toppled backwards as a headless corpse.The last of the Heretic leaders lost his nerve, barking orders at his underlings to cover his retreat from the shrine. The Sorcerer turned, lumbering in his Terminator Armour, and found himself face-to-face with Roboute Guilliman. Screaming witch-light rushed in as the Sorcerer attempted to conjure a potent curse. Before he could even spit the jagged syllables to unleash his power, the Sorcerer was hoisted bodily off the ground, Guilliman's Hand of Dominion clamped firmly around the Traitor's gorget. In a breathtaking display of strength, the Primarch lifted his foe high into the air, Guilliman's face a cold mask of disgust. The Sorcerer made a last, croaking attempt to speak before the Emperor's Sword slammed through the Traitor's midriff, and ripped it swiftly upward. Ancient armour and corrupt flesh parted as easily as silk, and the Sorcerer's innards spilled out in a rush to splatter upon the flagstones.Leaderless, reaped like corn by the seemingly unstoppable Primarch and his allies, the last of the Black Legionaries turned and fled. Not a single one of them would escape the Fortress of Hera alive.