Horus: Hiss, this plot feels a little familiar...

The Tyranid bugs swam through space like schools of fish, closing in on the wreckage of The Bastion under the will of Ron's Clone Body.

He had mobilized the elite Tyranid forces under his command to come and rescue Guilliman.

There was no other choice. Chaos had blockaded this region, making all Warp jumps extremely difficult and prone to getting lost.

And if he sent a fleet over, they would have to smash head-on through the vast majority of the Chaos Coalition's elite forces. There was no time for that.

The only method Ron could think of was to use the gravitational passage of the Tyranids' Horned Whale.

It was a mode of travel that did not involve the Warp, and the Tyranids' Bio-field could also resist Chaos interference.

Thus, they could swiftly reach their destination.

Of course, this method carried some risk and might deviate from the destination, but fortunately, he had succeeded.

Zzzzt!

Ron controlled the four- to five-meter-tall Wings of the Blade, its chitinous bone wings beating as it accelerated even further.

That was the limit of this body. He had to arrive quickly and block the Fallen Primarchs' attacks for Old Guilliman!

The Bastion's wreckage.

"Am I going to fall here, end my life in this place—"

The ground was covered in the marks left by fierce battle. Guilliman's armor was nearly shattered, and he lay collapsed on the ground.

He struggled with all his strength, but he could not get up.

Guilliman's heart was filled with deep unwillingness, yet he still did not give up. "No, it can't end like this. I must hold on until Brother Ron arrives!"

The Fallen Phoenix, Fulgrim, came toward him, his pointed tongue lightly licking the blood from his rapier.

The blood of that loyal Primarch was so delicious.