Chapter 29: The Final Wish (4/5)

Guilliman’s fury was so palpable that the very air in the hall seemed to scorch. The delegates trembled, unable to fathom why the Primarch was so enraged.

"My Lord, my family, the Kalima house, has served the Imperium for three thousand years. We have never betrayed it. You cannot strip us of our rights like this. Is such a cruel decision the reward the Imperium offers to the loyal?" the Planetary Governor of Zara stammered.

"Loyalty?" Guilliman raised his voice, scrutinizing the man before him. "Tens of billions have died on this world, and hundreds of millions have turned traitor, becoming cultists. That I have not executed you is the reward for you not having defected."

"We were appointed by your father. He granted us our hereditary rights. You cannot dismiss us for something like this," another woman stepped forward, desperately trying to justify the legitimacy of their rule.

"Your titles were granted by the Senatorum Imperialis on Terra, which merely speaks on behalf of the Emperor. I established the first Senatorum Imperialis myself, and I hold absolute authority."

(The council created by the Emperor was dissolved during the Horus Heresy; after the war ended and Guilliman arrived, he was appointed Lord Regent and reconstituted the Terran Council.)

"My Lord, we are—"

"..."

Other delegates stepped forward, their questions flying toward the Primarch like a blizzard. As their own power came under threat, they seemed to lose some of their respect and fear for Guilliman.

Power is corrosive, Sicarius thought; it erodes respect, it erodes common sense, and it turns people greedy and selfish. The Primarch was saving this world, yet these people were filled with resentment because their own power was being curtailed.

The power of a single planet could drive men to lose their reason. If it were the power of a sector, a segmentum, or even an entire empire, how much more terrifying would it be? Perhaps they would even kill the Primarch himself to protect their own interests.

Sicarius felt a flicker of terror at this blasphemous thought. Perhaps one day, he would have to make a choice: the Imperium defined by Guilliman, or the Imperium defined by the Terran Council.

Guilliman would not compromise with those entrenched, old-guard forces. From the moment he awoke until now, he had made no secret of his disappointment with the current state of the Imperium. He was desperate to change the present-day Imperium, to pull humanity back from the abyss of ignorance and depravity. Yet those who had ruled the Imperium for millennia would never be willing to relinquish their grasp on power. They would commit any atrocity to preserve their luxurious lives and familial interests.

Under the weight of Guilliman’s wrath, all the delegates were driven out. After a while, Sicarius returned, saluted his Primarch respectfully, and asked for his forgiveness before speaking.

"My Lord, there is someone who might meet your requirements, but he has been infected by the plague and is dying. He cannot come to see you in person. If you are willing, perhaps you could move to the infirmary."

After a moment of contemplation, Guilliman stood up. "Let us go and see him."

The appearance of a Primarch brought a surge of hope to the people of Zara. They ran from all directions, gathering outside the steel perimeter established by the Victrix Guard, shouting the names of Guilliman and the Emperor. Many had tears in their eyes, overcome with emotion. Some devout believers ran to kiss the ground the Primarch had walked upon, weeping aloud and thanking him for saving them from their nightmare.

"They are all insane," Guilliman said quietly as he watched them.

"They are merely overwhelmed, my Lord," Sicarius replied.

"If my father saw this, I wonder how disappointed He would be. He disliked such fanatical worship. No, that is wrong—He disliked all worship," Guilliman said.

Sicarius remained silent; he had not lived in the era when the Emperor walked among them. He did not know what He was truly like.

Guilliman entered a makeshift hospital. The wounded soldiers and civilians were deeply inspired by his arrival.

"You have been exceptional," Guilliman said, not sparing his praise. "You defended this planet and struck a heavy blow against the influence of Chaos. Without you, victory would not have come so easily."

His words brought immense joy to those in the hospital. Every face was filled with pride; they had received the acknowledgement of a Primarch, an incredibly glorious honor. Many deeply moved soldiers secretly clenched their fists, vowing to serve the Imperium until the end of their lives and the final salvation of the realm. To further inspire them, Guilliman even allowed a soldier with a severed leg to hold one of his armored fingers as a reward. He was simply too large for a normal human to shake his hand.

Cheers shook the hospital, and the soldier who received the special treatment wept uncontrollably, willing now to give everything for the Primarch.

Amidst the gazes of respect and adoration, Guilliman walked into the innermost ward. A dying loyalist of the Imperium lay on a hospital bed. Beeping medical equipment filled the space around him. His body was covered in pustules, though there were no wounds; it was all the work of the disease.

"His name is Jian, a Colonel and commander of the Third Defense Regiment. He is the defender of Zara. When his superiors fled, he, as Colonel, took the initiative to shoulder the duty of protecting the planet; otherwise, Zara could not have held out for so long. It is a pity that his internal organs have been corroded by the fighting; there is nothing we can do." A physician beside Guilliman introduced the patient's condition.

Guilliman opened the door to the ward and stooped to enter.

The room was filled with a nauseating stench, like rotting watermelons mixed with putrid fish. Guilliman adjusted his breathing, struggling to acclimate to the foul odor. As for the presence of pathogens in the air, he was not worried. A Primarch possesses the most formidable immune system in the material universe; ordinary germs could not cause them any harm.

"Colonel Jian," Guilliman lowered his voice, calling out with pity to this poor hero of the Imperium.

He had given everything for Zara, and now, he could only lie here waiting for death. How unjust fate was; the loyal gave everything for the Imperium, while the despicable walked upon their bones, enjoying glory and a life of luxury.

The patient struggled to open his eyes, turning his head at a sharp angle to look at the Primarch. A smile broke across his pus-covered face.

"Is it you, my Lord Primarch? The Divine Emperor has not forsaken me. You are so merciful to come and see a man who is about to die."

"No, you are a hero of the Imperium, Jian. This world will have statues and stories of you; you will be sung of for ages," Guilliman said.

"No, I did not fulfill my duty. I let so many die. I should have protected them, protected this world, but I failed. If not for your arrival, everything I did would have been in vain."

A sob broke through Jian's voice. He wept for his own incompetence, and he wept for Guilliman’s arrival; it was the Primarch who saved Zara, who saved those innocent civilians.

"If not for your existence, Zara would have become a plague-ridden death world long before we arrived. You held the enemy back and created the opportunity for us to annihilate them. In the name of the Imperial Regent, I grant you the Imperial Medal of Honor to commemorate your contribution to the Imperium."

"Thank you, my Lord," Jian wept, happy to have been recognized.

"Do you have any last words?" Guilliman asked.

"Can you grant me the Emperor’s Mercy? I can feel my organs rotting within me. They are torturing me, forcing me to succumb to the pain, trying to make me sell my soul."

Jian looked at Guilliman’s perfect, flawless face, his eyes full of pleading. Every second of life was agony. To be acknowledged by Guilliman was enough; his life was complete. It was time to leave. He would never succumb to the pain and sell his soul to those twisted entities. He remained forever loyal to humanity, to the Imperium, and to the Emperor.

Guilliman was silent for a moment before he spoke. "If this is your final wish, I shall grant it."