The strongest astral army in Warhammer 40K

The air in the secret space seemed to freeze. Guilliman's Armor of Fate shimmered with a cold blue light in the dim glow, and the Mark of Macragge's Radiance emblem on his breastplate pulsed as if alive. Cato Sicarius released a holographic projection, which displayed Russell's figure—an entrenching shovel crackling with golden arcs of electricity cleaved through the Plague Warrior's corrupted armor, psionic grids surged into the engine room along the pipes, and even as the escape pod ejected, the faint image of Guilliman could be seen peeking out from the inside of his breastplate.

“My lord,” Cato’s voice held an unusual respect, “this mortal is called Russell. His body is peculiar; he possesses a golden psionic energy.” He lightly tapped the holographic projection with the tip of his sword, the image freezing on a replica of the Guilliman Tactical Manual on the inside of Russell’s breastplate. “His power… is like the golden light once wielded by the Emperor.”

Guilliman's eyes were like the deep starry sky, his gaze piercing through the holographic projection, as if he could see into the secrets deep within Russell's soul. His fingers tapped lightly on the gauntlets of the Armor of Destiny, the sound like the tolling of an ancient bell: "Golden psionic energy..." A barely perceptible fluctuation lingered in his voice, "...the Emperor's legacy, or some unknown mutation?"

Cato continued, "Whatever it is, his power is worth noting. Perhaps he is... some kind of revelation left to us by the Emperor."

Guilliman's gaze shifted from the holographic projection to Cato: "Monitor him, but don't alert him. If his power is truly connected to the Emperor…" His voice held a deeper meaning, "We must ensure he's on the Empire's side."

Cato nodded, his cobalt blue cloak sweeping across the ground. "Yes, sir."

As the door to the secret space slowly closed, Guilliman's Armor of Fate shimmered with a cold blue light in the dim glow. His gaze pierced through the void, as if he could see into the depths of Russell's soul. "Golden psionic energy..." his voice echoed in the air, "...the Emperor's legacy, or some unknown mutation?"

………………

Guilliman's Armor of Fate hummed low in the shadowy corridors of Terra Palace. His footsteps echoed like ancient war drums, each step causing the walls adorned with imperial icons to tremble slightly. The mechanical tentacles of Archsage Kaul of the Mechanicus danced in the air, his multiple prosthetic eyes flashing with data streams, as if deciphering the stories behind every scratch on Guilliman's armor.

“Golden psionic energy,” Guilliman’s voice echoed through the corridor. “Cato’s report indicates that the mortal—Russell—possesses power remarkably similar to the golden light once wielded by the Emperor.” He tapped the holographic projection, the image freezing on a replica of Guilliman’s tactics manual on the inside of Russell’s breastplate. “Cauer, do you know what this means?”

Caul's mechanical tentacles traced complex symbols in the air, and data streams flickered in his prosthetic eyes: "Primarch, there is no record of this psychic power in my database. It belongs neither to the Emperor's Light nor to the corrupting influence of Chaos." A hint of confusion lingered in his voice. "Perhaps it is a completely new power—or some forgotten ancient legacy."

Guilliman's Armor of Fate shimmered with a cold blue light in the dim glow. His gaze pierced through the holographic projection as he continued, "If this is the Emperor's legacy," a deeper meaning lingered in his voice, "we must ensure it does not fall into the hands of Chaos."

Caul's mechanical tentacles traced complex symbols in the air, and data streams flickered in his prosthetic eyes: "I will immediately activate Project 'Golden Dawn' to conduct a comprehensive analysis of Russell's psionic data. Simultaneously, I will dispatch elite units of the Cult of Assassins to ensure his safety."

Guilliman's fingers tapped lightly on the gauntlets of the Armor of Fate, the sound like the tolling of an ancient bell: "Be careful, Caul. We cannot let Chaos detect our actions."

As Guilliman's figure disappeared at the end of the corridor, Caul's mechanical tentacles traced complex symbols in the air, and data streams flickered in his prosthetic eye: "Golden psionic energy..." His voice held a hint of confusion, "Perhaps the Emperor's last gift to us."

…………

Guilliman's fingers traced the gilded lettering on the parchment, the candlelight beneath the imperial icon casting his shadow on the mithril floor of Terra Palace. The scroll of data presented by the Chief of the Interior was spread out on the table, every line imbued with an air of mystery:

Bertrand Russell

**Affiliation: 357th Cadia Commando Regiment. Captain (revoked)**

**Codename: Kashejin "Blade of Fire" (MIA-999.M41)**

**Missing Record: Lost signal during the Battle of Vigilant Stars during the Black Expedition**

**Time Reenactment: The Nameless Death World on the Edge of the Empire (021.M42)**

“Seventeen years…” Guilliman’s fingertip paused on the coffee-stained annotation at the edge of the scroll, where a line of illegible Ancient Terran script read: *“Anomalies in warp echoes and psionic readings, suspected contact with fragments of the Black Library.”*

As the commander of the Imperial Guard's golden boots shattered the silence, Guilliman stared at the holographic projection of a replica of Russell's tactical manual on the inside of his breastplate. It was a tattered page from his personally compiled "Macrag Raid Outline," with a handwritten annotation added to the margin: *"Miracles that reason cannot explain are the true edge of the Emperor's sword."*

“I need a Shadow Squad.” Guilliman didn’t look up, the joints of his Armor of Fate gleaming softly. “Use psionic shielding to prevent the Inquisition from detecting anything.”

The commander of the Imperial Guards' spearhead struck the ground, sparks flying: "To mobilize the Imperial Guard for mortals requires the High Lords Council—"

“What’s needed is silence.” Guilliman suddenly looked up, his pupils reflecting the star map of the Great Crusade era. “That mortal’s breastplate contained my tactics manual, and he survived seventeen years on the fringes of the Empire—you think that’s a coincidence?”

As the golden figure disappeared at the end of the porch, Guilliman retrieved a chip stained with dried blood from a secret box. This was a fragment of battlefield data synchronized by Caul; the psionic spectrum of Russell's detonation of the Plague Engine perfectly matched the frequency of an ancient facility somewhere beneath Terra Palace.

“Father…” he whispered to the imperial statue, “Is this your new pawn, or yet another secret you haven’t told me?”

The candlelight suddenly flickered violently, and a fleeting golden light flashed in the pupils of the statue.

Russell was unaware of these things. He obtained Killieman's tactics manual by chance, and most importantly, he admired Killieman so much that he kept it.