Warhammer: Dawn of Annihilation

Guilliman, clad in his azure power armor, stepped onto the command deck, flanked by his honor guard in their imposing iron cavalry Terminator armor.

Their massive steel frames exuded an overwhelming sense of pressure, making it hard for everyone on the deck to breathe. The Glory Guards, elite Ultramarine veterans with awe-inspiring battle records, stood with an intimidating presence in their bulky Terminator armor, far larger than standard Space Marine armor. Simply standing and addressing them required immense courage from ordinary personnel.

"How's the situation, Breher?" Guilliman inquired, his gaze fixed on the captain seated in the command chair.

"They've gathered on Planet No. 2 in the Sara galaxy," Breher replied. "Based on the insignias and battleship characteristics, our intelligence is accurate—the enemy is indeed the Death Guard. Our fleet is strategically positioned, and given the relative strength of both sides, victory should be easily within our grasp."

The Death Guard—spreaders of plague, cursed traitors, eternal enemies of the Empire—were beyond forgiveness. Once part of the Fourteenth Legion under the Primarch Mortarion, they had played a key role in the Great Crusade and mankind's unification.

However, during the Horus Heresy, Mortarion and his legion betrayed the Emperor, massacring loyalist forces in the Itari galaxy alongside other traitor legions—an act of unforgivable treachery.

During their warp travel, Mortarion's fleet was betrayed by his subordinate, Typhus, who sabotaged the ships by killing the navigators and disabling the Gellar fields, leaving them vulnerable to the malevolent forces of Chaos. The Chaos God Nurgle took advantage of this and subjected Mortarion—who despised sorcery and Chaos—to unimaginable torments, eventually bending him to his will.

Though Mortarion had once fiercely resisted the forces of Chaos, the endless suffering within the warp and Nurgle's influence forced him to surrender. He became a daemon Primarch of Nurgle, representing plague, death, and rebirth.

Mortarion's descent into Chaos was akin to an unwilling warrior being tamed by an insidious and persistent force. Eventually, the Death Guard participated in the Siege of Terra, unleashing plagues that decimated the Imperial defenses. Following Horus's defeat, they fragmented into warbands and retreated to the Eye of Terror and the Empire's fringes.

Processing this knowledge, Guilliman turned his focus back to Breher.

"I have no doubt about our victory," he said. "But what's the situation on the planet's surface?"

"There's been no response. All our transmissions—whether electromagnetic or astropathic—have been intercepted. It's likely the enemy has seized control of communications. Worse yet, the astropaths on the surface may have been corrupted or killed," Breher reported gravely, his single organic eye reflecting deep anger.

Another planetary massacre had likely taken place—billions of human lives lost to the dark gods.

"May the Emperor have mercy on their souls and guide them to his light," Breher murmured solemnly.

Guilliman's gaze shifted to the strategic console, where the Mechanicus' meticulously maintained tactical displays projected the Sara system. The data streams and light projections provided a comprehensive view of the enemy's plague fleet, all of which were in orbit around Sara II.

"Perhaps there's still hope," Guilliman said thoughtfully.

Breher nodded.

"We will attack. If there are survivors, we will save them. If not, we will avenge them," Guilliman declared firmly.

"Understood, my lord."

The Imperial fleet, led by Macragge's Glory, advanced swiftly, bringing Sara II into view—a lush green planet with glacial polar caps, vast grasslands, woodlands, and scattered deserts. It was an ideal world for colonization, with a population exceeding 50 billion and six towering hive cities, one of which spanned over 26 million square kilometers.

As the fleet approached, the Plague Fleet reacted, moving into formation to intercept the Imperial ships.

Guilliman observed the unfolding battle. The enemy consisted of three separate fleets, lacking coordination—a typical weakness of Chaos warbands, which were often fragmented and distrustful of one another.

At a distance of under three million kilometers, the battle escalated to close-quarters combat. Imperial ships unleashed waves of torpedoes and missiles in wide formations, cutting off maneuvering options for the enemy, while tons of anti-ship shells followed suit.

Space combat at such distances was highly complex, requiring immense computational power to predict enemy movements and battlefield variables. Guilliman analyzed the situation carefully, not overlooking any detail.

Before his awakening, he had believed that energy weapons like lances were superior for space warfare, but real experience had changed his perspective. Each weapon had its strengths—missiles were highly maneuverable, while lances provided precision but were more predictable. Slow-moving torpedoes, once thought outdated, could force enemy ships into difficult positions and overwhelm void shields.

The battlefield became a chaotic web of crisscrossing light lances and explosive shells. Macragge's Glory absorbed repeated energy blasts, its void shields shimmering under the stress. The Plague Fleet concentrated fire on it, knowing it was the greatest threat. However, Macragge's Glory retaliated fiercely, leveling city-destroying firepower upon the enemy.

One plague ship's shields collapsed under the relentless assault. A torpedo struck its prow, sending it spinning before a follow-up barrage tore through its hull, triggering a chain reaction in its plasma cores. A silent, fiery explosion consumed the vessel, and debris crashed into another warband ship, weakening its shields before an Imperial cruiser obliterated it with a macro-cannon volley.

With Macragge's Glory leading the charge, the Imperial fleet sliced through the enemy like a blade, rapidly tipping the scales in their favor.

"This isn't normal," remarked Phikris, standing nearby. "The traitors usually flee when faced with certain defeat."

"Perhaps they're too frightened to run," Breher smirked, relishing the thought of leaving the traitors' corpses adrift in the void as frozen reminders of their failure. "A dead traitor is a traitor worth acknowledging."

Guilliman, however, remained unconvinced. "Something doesn't add up. We need to find out what's happening on Sara II. The key might lie on the planet's surface. Once we have more intelligence, we'll understand their true intentions."

Despite his status as a time traveler, Guilliman had fully integrated his predecessor's memories and abilities. His strategic foresight told him that the Death Guard's behavior was highly unusual.

Nurgle's followers were not known for reckless self-sacrifice—that was more in line with the Blood God, Khorne. This stubborn stand hinted at a deeper scheme.

Guilliman's instincts told him that something far more sinister was unfolding on the surface of Sara II.