Warhammer: Start with a dog

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Will people trapped in the stasis have consciousness?

Robert Guilliman didn't know if others would have consciousness.

However, judging from the reactions of the descendants buried in the Dreadnaught that he knew... since time stopped outside the stasis, the perception caused by a series of biochemical reactions, nerve currents and other internal chemical reactions... should not exist, right?

For ten thousand years, his memory has been fixed on the last moment before stasis -

The touch of the blade cutting the skin, the pain of the venom invading the blood vessels, the pain and regret of suffocating a little bit... the scene of his descendants dying for him, their sad cries in his ears, the red helmets... and the flash of the cold sun on the stormy ocean -

All of this stayed in his physical body, making his eyes seem elusive, ethereal and empty, until he began to dream.

Yes, dream.

Since he began to dream, was this stasis still... stasis to him?

This was the thought that came to him at the last moment of his wonderful dream. Unfortunately, too many things happened at that time... and too shocking, so that before he was sent back, his thoughts only briefly passed over this question.

Unfortunately, before he could further think about the deeper meaning of this question, he was kicked back and played the role of the eternally silent and vivid statue in the Temple of Rectification again.

Now his baby blue eyes are still looking forward, and the drop of blood on his neck is still hanging on the wound. Somewhere in his body, the poison tempered on Fulgrim's sword is about to reach and corrode his heart.

At this moment, as long as the stasis position is lifted, a few seconds - perhaps only the last second, Robert Guilliman will truly face his death, and his name and responsibility will be crossed out from this dark, decayed, and dying reality, like a corpse, and become the same as his other brothers. In the end, just a legend.

Everything will be rewritten, everything will be completely different.

His blue-armored descendants were clueless. Even the most outstanding one among them, the Great Guardian of Macragge, who took the name of Calgar on behalf of others and fulfilled his promise, could not see through the fog that shrouded the visitor.

Because at this moment and here, their perception of him was "this person has been dead for many years", so "there is no possibility of appearing here", and it was easy for them to ignore him.

Only the talented little prophet in the center saw him through his vision of the future - after all, in a certain "future" that was getting closer and closer, he did appear here, so Varo Tigris was able to break through this cognitive illusion, see his existence, and boldly attack him.

A psychic lightning exploded in front of his eyes. He waved his hand impatiently and threw it back behind the curtain, melting into the depths of the waves of primordial energy.

The next wave of attacks followed, and there were others who tried to comfort and stop Tigris from constantly using his power.

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"Danger!" The unprecedented strong spiritual pressure exhausted the chief think tank. He stood up again panting and raised the staff in his hand, "Get out of there! Get away from him! This is a traitor and a great enemy!"

Although the lords and captains of the Ultramarines who quickly dispersed from his sight did not feel any breath of chaos or the unliving. But the look and tone that seemed to be something really evil and vicious for him to see and not fake still made his comrades choose to believe Tigris again.

For the sake of caution, Otan Cassius, the Lord of the Sanctuary and the Guardian of the Soul of the Chapter, raised the priest's staff in his hand and recited the sacred prayer loudly with his voice full of passion and courage. The two small bodies of the Cherubim he summoned hovered above him and sprayed holy water and incense smoke for this place.

Still nothing happened.

The Temple of Rectification was quiet and peaceful, with the smoke of candles and incense floating between the names of the dead in rows, which were reflected in the golden candlelight.

From the clouds above the temple's grand dome, which was so high that it could form an internal microclimate, tiny raindrops fell, like soft tears. You could hear a pin drop in the room. As if in response, the pilgrims who were evacuated far away from the outside and walked down the mountain sang beautiful and sad hymns, praising the fate of the dead warriors and loyal souls.

The other Ultramarines stood silently in a circle, watching the Chief Think Tank frantically and helplessly trying his best to stimulate his power towards a deserted place. The marble floor was charred and broken, and the ancient rock layers and soil underneath stirred up handfuls of dust on the bright and clean floor.

Severus Agman sighed and wanted to step forward to persuade Tigris, but Calgar suddenly reached out and pulled him, shaking his head solemnly at him.

Suddenly, the Chapter Master clenched his power fist and threw a fierce punch at the place where Tigris attacked with all his strength.

Everyone held their breath.

Nothing moved.

No illusion was broken, and nothing screamed to reveal its true form.

Now even Calgar frowned.

Could it be that the current situation is really just that Tigris has been fighting against the High Heaven for many years, and this talented and loyal Chief Think Tank has exhausted his will too early in frequent mental battles, so that he can no longer distinguish between reality and illusion?

Thinking of the scenes that he had heard about or witnessed many times when high-level psykers lost control, Calgar finally made up his mind that he could no longer let the chief think tank act like this in front of the tomb of the Gene Father.

——He didn't want Tigris to melt his flesh and blood into a subspace crack in the spiritual flames that burned within his body, giving the filthy and unclean inanimate any possibility of setting foot in the Temple of Solemnity.

——He did not want to lose Varro Tigris, his comrade-in-arms, his brother, his reliable and loyal old friend.

He turned his head slightly and exchanged glances with Cassius, Agaman, and Galenus, who still couldn't believe that things would turn out like this.

Then they pounced on him, the iron halos around them sparkling due to the agitation and conflict of energy in the air. Calgar prepared to control Varo Tigris himself - and began to try to knock him unconscious.

"No! Calga! Don't do this! He's 'the one'! I'm saving you all..."

"I'm sorry, Varro, but we can't let you have problems here."

The chief think tank's eyes widened, and then he convulsed and fell into Calgar's arms, revealing a single molecular blade combat dagger inserted behind his back - it was inserted into Tigris's body by Brother Cassius, the Lord of Souls. A nerve interface forcibly used severe nerve pain to temporarily inhibit his ability to move.

Tigris looked unwillingly and angrily at the Primarch who stood there and stared at his eyes with interest - yes, it can only be the Primarch. With such an appearance and power, it can only be a Primarch, and Varro... Tigris, as one of the people in the Adeptus Astartes and perhaps the entire empire, has the most knowledge of forbidden knowledge and ancient records. The name is on his lips, but he cannot directly shout his evil name to his brothers. Warning.

The tall, thin, strange and beautifully pale creature raised a finger towards him and made a silent mouth gesture.

Those two thin lips were raised, slowly speaking silent words to Tigris.

Shh. Still, not, to, when, when.

Tigris wanted to say something else, but the pharmacist who came after hearing the news began to quickly push the powerful sedative from the armor's medication pipeline into the body of the chief think tank.

An irresistible feeling of fatigue swept through the brain and nerves of the chief think tank. Several sparks jumped unwillingly on his psychic hood, and then began to extinguish. Calgar breathed a sigh of relief and asked the forging master to step forward and put it on Tigris urgently. Psychic suppression collar.

Hee, one of the fates of a Seer is to always be questioned, no matter how much you have contributed to your Chapter, experience this well, Son of Guilliman.

The Primarch of the Night Lords sneered at the chief think tank and glanced dangerously at Calgar, whose eyes contained trust and worry, with an unhappy look.

——Tsk.

Then he seemed to be listening to something, and then he raised his head and looked at the sky with some impatience.

——The time has come, why hasn’t it...

The huge shadow blocked the golden sunlight cast by the star on the earth, and a shrill air defense siren sounded in the sky above Macragge.

Very punctual, well done, son of Perturabo.

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Macragge, the jewel of the Imperium and the Ultramarine Segmentum, the center of the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, the home world of the Ultramarines, was now on the screen before them, shining with beautiful blues and greens against the black background of the universe. Light, white clouds sweep across her surface, her poles and equator dotted with her famous fortified fortifications and fortresses, a series of orbital defense platforms encircling her equator like dots of diamonds around a lady's neck.

"I can't believe it! This impossible thing happened! We really got here without any fighting!"

Adalic Vanus stood on the left side of the command throne, while Kadarath Grendel stood on the right side of the commander. The Iron Warriors champion, who was now officially promoted to the warband's lieutenant, was seriously placing a filled data pad. He went to the servitor holding the file box and replaced it with a new one.

"Although with the help of your Ultramarines' automatic response contemplation array and the code in the Inquisitor's mind, your luck is too good."

The former Raven Guard folded his arms and stared at the beautiful planet in front of him with Honso on the command throne.

"There was not a single person who asked to personally board the ship for inspection along the way! They verified the code but did not discover that your navigator was a demon prince! We just drove straight in and jumped directly to the sky above Macragge!"

"Macragge." The ghostly face of the amulet inhabited by M'ka, which hung like a bracelet on Honso's silver arm, retched in disgust. Its voice sounded like it came from the bottom. The horror of the abyss echoes, "I remember this place, and it's disgusting how little it has changed after all this time."

"Because no one thought I would jump over Macragge." Honso smiled reservedly as he sat under the dome of the cathedral. "The Indomitable was originally authorized to 'jump randomly within the Ultramar sector', wasn't it? It's just that the original crew would not set the jump coordinates towards the home planet and important planets, but would only choose desolate and uninhabited areas, but this does not change the permissions it was actually granted. So, even if the defense platform and the fleet are confused, the authorization and code we use come from Maneus Calga and Varo Tigris, and are completely legal and authentic, without any counterfeit parts. They certainly have no reason to doubt that such a 'loyal' star fortress directly under the Lord of Macragge and carrying half a company of Ultramarines passed through their defense zone."

The master of medicine looked at Hestiaan's brain wave monitoring in the sink, input some prepared write-in scenarios, and then began to inject him with sedatives.

"As for where I'm going to jump out after I pass by, that's my business, isn't it?"

"We did arrive at our destination without losing a single soldier." Grendel's voice sounded out of place, "But the combined success rate of all the Space Marines and troops we brought from the Maelstrom and you from Medlengard is still not high for a direct attack on Macragge."

The champion lieutenant was clacking on the calculator and input panel, "There is also a complete defense fleet in the far orbit of Macragge, as well as personnel stationed in the Hera Fortress. According to the current communication results, all members of the First and Second Companies of the Ultramarines are here, in low-Earth orbit... Oh, there are the remaining half of the Fifth Company, and their strike cruiser 'Eternal King', it seems they are back too. The success rate of starting a war needs to be lowered again, Warsmith."

"Then you will refuse to fight, Grendel?"

Kardas calmly put away the data board and showed his full-energy beloved gun and axe to the other two. "I will offer all the harvested souls and blood to our father. This is a long-lost honor. How can I refuse?"

"...Too horrible." Vannus whispered to Honso in a voice that everyone could hear, "Seeing you turn Grendel into this makes me feel cold again, although I feel like I hear the gods laughing wildly."

"Haha! Boy! What do you think! It's time to release me! My demon army will help you win easily!" M'Ka laughed wildly, "You said we would come to the home of Guilliman's son to do something big... You really did what you said and really came to Macragge. For this, I will not care about your rudeness of not releasing me immediately and driving the warp engine! Now! Let me out! I want..."

"You should go back to work." Honso replied expressionlessly.

"Little bastard! How dare you..." As the power of the magic circle carved around the engine increased, M'Ka was dragged back to the trapped engine core with strong resentment and unwillingness.

"So what do we do now?" Vannus asked.

"We only have about eleven minutes left before we might be discovered." Grendel looked up.

Honso smiled.

"Is 'there' ready?"

Grendel nodded. "As you ordered, we started preparing when we jumped out of the warp."

The warsmith stood up, "Next, I'll show you what 'I', Honso, can do, my dear brothers."

He grinned, as if he was satisfied with what was going to happen next, which would cause the Ultramarines irreparable damage for a long time afterwards.