In just a short time, all the summoned creatures completed their transformation into Titans. A massive Titan army stood silently behind Ian, radiating a silent, suffocating pressure. The power he now commanded was enough to secure a dominant position or even overturn the foundations of most known worlds.
Within the army, a few Titans were particularly unique. Among them was the Water Golem Titan from Minecraft. Its body was composed of pure liquid water, yet it remained cohesive as if bound by some strange law. Every water block making up its form possessed the properties of Infinite Water, making it inexhaustible. As long as a single bucket's worth of water remained of its body, it could regenerate its entire form, rendering it immortal.
Another was the Stone Titan, whose massive body had developed complex natural geological structures. A giant mine system had formed within its rocky torso, deep and dark. Meanwhile, the massive Bee Titan produced a thunderous buzzing. It summoned vast swarms of bees that flew into the giant hexagonal chambers of the Hive Titan's body. Countless bees swirled around it, while others circled the Honey Golem Titan, collecting the thick, giant drops of nectar that constantly dripped from its form. Several massive Dragon Titans spread their wings in the void, gliding silently and casting vast shadows.
Creatures from the Terraria mods could also be transformed into Titan forms, such as the Titan Goblin, Titan Slime, and Titan Empress of Light.
Ian's gaze swept across this mighty legion. With a thought, he led them back into the primary Warhammer universe. As the massive Titan army appeared under the starlight of the Warhammer cosmos, he issued a direct summons. An invisible ripple expanded, reaching the heart of every believer.
In the next moment, countless lights flared as portals opened in dense clusters before the Titan army. Devout followers stepped through space. Upon arriving, their eyes were immediately drawn to the mountainous Titan host behind Ian, which exuded an aura of both divinity and terror.
The believers felt the sheer weight of power that threatened to crush their souls, and then they saw the supreme being of their faith standing at the head of the army. A realization dawned on them: these giant deities must be the gods serving under their revered God-Emperor. A mix of awe, fanaticism, and excitement washed over them.
"My Lord!"
A mountain-toppling roar of prostration rose up. Every believer, regardless of status, knelt on the ground, foreheads pressed against cold decks or the void, expressing the deepest possible worship.
Ian's gaze calmly swept over the dark mass of people below. Without many words, he divided the followers into several divisions. Each part was assigned several powerful Titan Golems to lead them. Their objective: the Warhammer parallel universes.
The command was given. The legions of Titans and believers turned into streaks of light, leaping toward the designated parallel universe coordinates according to the data Ian provided.
...
The campaign snowballed. As certain Warhammer parallel universes were conquered, a vast number of new ones were discovered. These parallel universes were simply steamrolled. The Four Chaos Gods of the Warp appeared incredibly fragile before the Golem Titans. The Titans crushed them in the most primitive and violent manner possible. They needed no clever tactics or flashy skills—only pure, absolute power that flattened everything in its path.
The Chaos Gods exhausted every trick, scheme, and ounce of power they possessed, yet they could not even halt the footsteps of a single Golem Titan, let alone destroy one. Their roars echoed in the void, but it was all meaningless. As long as the blocks constituting their bodies were not completely annihilated, these powerful Titans could restore themselves to their original state in a short time.
In one of the invaded universes, the timeline had reached the 999th year of the 41st Millennium. The aura of the end-times shrouded the entire galaxy. The dark 41st Millennium was drawing to a close, and the potentially more desperate 42nd Millennium was about to begin. In this year, Abaddon the Despoiler, successor to Horus and the Accursed One, was launching his 13th Black Crusade.
Cadia, the fortress world that had stood for ten thousand years as a symbol of Imperial resilience, finally collapsed amidst endless war. The once-unshakable bulwark turned into cosmic dust. This was followed by the birth of the Great Rift, a Warp storm spanning the stars like a hideous cosmic scar, ruthlessly bisecting the Imperial domains. Despair spread like a plague, and countless planets and creatures felt the chill of the impending apocalypse.
However, even in the deepest darkness, a sliver of light often pierces through. Archmagos Belisarius Cawl of the Adeptus Mechanicus, an ancient being who had lived for ten thousand years, had finally met his Eldar allies. They had crossed numerous perils, risking consumption by Chaos fleets and Warp storms, to reach Macragge, the planet where Guilliman lay in slumber. It was a massive gamble; for the future of the Empire, they were willing to pay any price.
Cawl told Guilliman's sons that he had a pact with the sleeping Primarch, Roboute Guilliman—a pact made ten thousand years ago, or perhaps even longer. He claimed to possess the technology to awaken this Son of the Empire. But they were met not with flowers and applause, but with deep suspicion and vigilance.
The current Chapter Master of the Ultramarines, Marneus Calgar—the battle-hardened ICU War God—scrutinized these uninvited guests. He was full of distrust toward Cawl and the xenos. 'Xenos are always xenos.' This was the iron rule most Imperials were indoctrinated with from childhood. He viewed these outsiders as a hidden threat. He feared their actions would jeopardize the Primarch's last spark of life or bring about even more terrible consequences. The Primarch was the Empire's last hope; no one could be allowed to desecrate him.
Calgar's hand gripped his bolter so tightly his knuckles turned white. Had the Chief Librarian not relied on his own prophecies to desperately stop him, Calgar would likely have ordered their immediate arrest. The atmosphere was heavy, like the silence before a storm. Both sides were at a stalemate, the air thick with the smell of gunpowder, ready to ignite at a touch.
At this tense moment, the sky was suddenly torn apart. This was no ordinary weather change, but a sign of space itself being ripped open by brute force. A piercing shriek cut through the heavens—the screeching noise of metal rubbing violently against the atmosphere. The black drop pods of the Chaos Space Marines slammed down like meteors. They ignored the planet's defense systems and the Ultramarines' alerts, arriving in the crudest manner possible. They slammed heavily into the planet's surface, kicking up clouds of dust and producing deafening booms.
The ground trembled; the air wailed. A large number of Chaos Space Marines wearing twisted power armor poured out of the drop pods. Their armor was covered in blasphemous patterns, their weapons glowed with evil light, and their eyes burned with bloodthirsty desire. They came for destruction and chaos, forcibly descending upon this planet to prevent the revival of the prophesied Regent of the Empire.
The loyal Ultramarines hadn't even fully reacted from their standoff with Cawl. Their minds were still stuck on the deadlock when the Chaos offensive unfolded like a tidal wave.
Suddenly, a massive boom shook the world, drowning out the sound of the drop pods hitting the ground, sounding like the angry roar of a deity. The heavy doors of Roboute Guilliman's slumbering palace, cast from the strongest alloys and capable of withstanding heavy artillery, were kicked open directly from the inside.
Under the shocked and disbelieving gazes of everyone, the Gene-Primarch they had yearned for and expected for ten thousand years—Roboute Guilliman—emerged. Like a hero stepped out of myth and legend, wearing brand-new, holy-shimmering blue-and-gold power armor and wielding the burning Emperor's Sword, he charged straight out of the palace. His target was the newly arrived Chaos rebels.
Every Ultramarine present, including Calgar, had their souls ignited by this scene. The Primarch has returned! Endless inspiration and battle intent surged in their chests.
However, before they could follow the Primarch's lead and launch a charge, something even more incredible happened.
Another figure of their genetic father followed close behind Guilliman, charging out of the shattered palace doors. This Primarch was also clad in blue power armor, but his aura was even more violent and unstoppable than the recently awakened Guilliman. With higher efficiency, greater strength, and a purer will to kill, he swept toward the Chaos traitors like a hurricane. Every swing of his blade and every collision took the lives of a large number of Chaos Space Marines.
'Two fathers?' Everyone was stunned, their minds going blank.
But the next sight completely overturned their cognition. From within that palace, which didn't look exceptionally large, an endless tide of Ultramarines in blue power armor began to pour out. One after another, an unceasing stream. It was as if the palace connected not to a room, but to an infinite barracks. In the blink of an eye, the number of these Ultramarines had exceeded the sum of the Chaos demons and traitors present.
They were exceptionally well-equipped and quickly formed battle arrays, engaging in the fight with perfect coordination. The situation on the battlefield reversed instantly. The Ultramarines standing on the sidelines were completely dazed.
Why were there two genetic fathers? Did the palace protecting the sleeping Primarch have that much internal space? And when did the Ultramarines Legion ever possess so many battle brothers?