Dark Echoes, Unspeakable Loyalty!

027, M42.

When the Terra Expeditionary Force, having overcome numerous hardships and dangers, was engaged in fierce battle with the relentless Thousand Sons Legion on the Luna.

The Imperial Regent, the great Robert Guilliman, walked out of the Imperial Palace gates and sat alone on the Glory Road in front of the Imperial Palace.

Time flies, and 10,000 years have passed. The empire that once dominated the Great Crusade and single-handedly destroyed the entire galaxy is no more. Only a decaying giant, riddled with disease, remains, barely clinging to life in a state of semi-death.

Through the meticulously wiped steps, Guilliman saw himself; he had forgotten how long it had been since he had laughed.

That Ambition guy with the short Little Blondie, who was teased by all the brothers, now only has numbness in his eyes.

"The Four Merchants, the Idiot Emperor, the Idiot Adeptus Custodes, the Idiot High Lord, and the Idiot Astartes Codex."

Damn it, I wrote that stupid Astartes Codex, and I'm an idiot too!

Are you blind? Can't you see the words "For reference only"? You insist on clinging to that book and sticking to your own ideas, insisting that ancestral laws cannot be changed. Well, those are our ancestors!

The thought that even the Great Heresy hadn't crushed the Legion, and that he himself had ended up destroying it, made Guilliman's blood pressure soar.

No, those worms are riding roughshod over you, can't you fight them? Even if it's a rebellion! I can understand that, but you have to go and carry out this damned Penitent Expedition.

Dorn is right, Vulkan is right, and even Russ didn't do anything wrong, so who is really wrong?

Oh, right! It was the High Lords Council I formed; I was wrong after all.

"Father, why was I the one who survived in the end? I'm so tired all alone, who will help me?"

Guilliman's first thought was of Sanguinius, but he inevitably then thought of Zhuang Sen, which made him feel even worse.

"Let's forget about Zhuang Sen, even if it's Russ."

As Guilliman sat on the steps, his thoughts began to wander. He thought of every one of his 21 brothers, and even of Luojia, the traitor.

Looking at the current empire, so ignorant and foolish, abandoning Imperial Truth and turning to feudal superstition, Guilliman couldn't help but sigh, "Luojia, if only you had persevered a little longer..."

If you'd been a little more resolute, I'd drink my old life out of it and still tie Mordred up for you.

Wait, wasn't Mordred killed by his father a long time ago? And the Eleventh Brother was wiped from the data along with him. I clearly remember that their legions were absorbed by the Ultramarines and the Imperial Fists.

Two conflicting thoughts raced through his mind. After confirming that he wasn't that madman, Koz, Guilliman instinctively swung his elbow, something he did whenever his thoughts were in turmoil.

But this time things didn't get better; instead, they seemed to be getting worse. A burly blond guy with a wicked grin flashed before my eyes.

"Death, tool, traitor, number 13, son, Ambition, Gatanothor, centaur, Second Son, talking device!!!"

The Emperor's incoherent voice echoed in Guilliman's ears; clearly, his father, who had been tormented by the Golden Throne for millennia, had gone mad.

After eliminating Ambition that were clearly slanderous, Guilliman focused on several key words:

"The Second Son was probably referring to Mordred, but what is Gatanothor? And what about that talking device?"

"Gatanothor is a monster that fights for the light in children's hearts and a protector of humanity determined to defeat the evil Ultraman."

"Seriously, Guilliman, you've really made something of yourself these days! You even have a star on your chest."

The sudden sound made Guilliman look up at the mysterious hooded figure in front of him. Even though they were in the forbidden area of the Imperial Palace, this mysterious figure was standing straight in front of him.

"Who are you? Why are you hiding your face? Why not show your true self?"

"Oh, since you've asked so sincerely, I'll mercifully tell you."

As a strange misheard phrase, "Auntie pressing down on Auntie," rang out, the mysterious person ripped off their robes, struck an odd pose, and loudly chanted:

"I am Rambo, the Lord of the Green Grassland, Chieftain of Atlas, my master's most beloved and proud disciple, possessing the Rambo of the gods, the last heir of the Wayne Clan, the King of Dogs, and the leader of the Canid Eight!"

"..."

"Holy shit, you dog!"

Upon hearing this, Rambo's mouth opened slightly, and it raised its thick arm and slapped him across the face.

"You dog, you're the dog! My Rambo Clan has been favored by the Emperor for generations. In terms of position, I am a military officer personally recommended by the Emperor. In terms of seniority, I returned to the Empire earlier than you and have fought in the entire Great Crusade."

You're just an Ambition guy who keeps saying "I'll be there in nine hours, I'll be there in nine hours," but you only arrived after the Great Heresy was over, and you still have the nerve to call me a dog!

You dare to say that?

Lies don't hurt, the truth is the sharpest knife. Guilliman fell silent.

For some reason, looking at the strange creature that was clearly Xenos, he felt not anger because it had slapped him, but rather a sense of joy.

In this day and age, even in front of his own offspring, Guilliman always felt out of place. Only with this strange dog that called himself Rambo did he feel a sense of kinship.

This awakened a strange memory, and tears involuntarily streamed from the corners of my mouth.

A still-chilled dessert appeared on the dog's paw, and without a word, Guilliman picked up the plate and put it in his mouth.

"How is it? Delicious, isn't it!"

"Mmm, it tastes just like my mother's."

Watching Guilliman being tortured by the instruments of torture called the Empire, yet forced to endure it silently, Rambo couldn't help but sigh.

"This is what Lady Yuton made, your favorite Macragge Specialty Snack — Coconut Heart Bobo."

I know you have many questions for me, but my time is running out. But don't worry, I will stay by your side in the days to come, until that forgotten history returns.

However, according to the master, it should be grafted.

Although I'm rather disdainful, what can I do when you're the only one available? Even Russ would be better than you, who's still a Psychic Power Muggle.

That's good, though, since a Psychic Power Muggle like you won't experience any rejection reaction.

And what kind of look is that? And what are those tears?

Cheer up, don't embarrass yourself! Next up on the battlefield is the Crimson King, the One-Eyed Sunburnt Eugrim Magnus. You'd better beat him to his knees!

Remember, there is still hope!

The moment he finished speaking, Rambo instantly turned into a handful of ash, which landed squarely in Guilliman's eyes.

Caught off guard by the sudden attack, Guilliman was overwhelmed by an indescribable, excruciating pain that felt like it was tearing him apart. In a daze, he thought he saw his mother waving to him.

But why does this mother look so strong? She's almost as big as Alpharius, and she's carrying a giant axe.

"Radish, cheer up! Don't embarrass yourself! You'll always be Mom's proudest child."

"Mother, I—"

Startled awake, Guilliman cried out. There was no giant, talking dog in front of him, only the Adeptus Custodes and Caldor who had come running at the sound of his voice. But Guilliman knew it was not an illusion.

Father, how are you?

"It's nothing, I'm just too tired."

Seeing the Glory Guard already laid out on a stretcher, Guilliman waved his hand, signaling them to put the thing down quickly, "Old Man I'm not dead yet."

"Hey Caldor, do you have Lighter?"

It is an honor for every Space Marine to share the burden of the Gene-Father, but even such a small request is something he cannot fulfill. Frustrated by the lack of Lighter, Caldor immediately orders his men to find Lighter.

But a hand covered in golden armor reached out from behind, and with a crisp snap, a small flame appeared in front of Guilliman.

"Adeptus Custodes?"

"Yes, Your Highness, but I prefer you to call me Little Cat."

Guilliman nodded, raised his hand, and looked at the cigarette that had somehow appeared in his hand, bearing a grinning dog's head and even a dangerous symbol indicating that it was prohibited for minors.

Without hesitation, Guilliman threw the cigarette into his mouth. As a cloud of smoke rose, not only Guilliman, but everyone saw a terrifying Daemon bound by chains, ultimately crushed to ashes by Emerald Lightning.

Even at the moment of its demise, the Daemon's face showed no pain; instead, it embraced death like a saint.

"Hey ha, I've lived up to the Legion's expectations! For the grand plan!"

The spark known as Fel Energy reignited after ten thousand years, condensing the essence of a Bloodthirsty Demon's power and surging into Guilliman's body. Only the Daemon's blessing, or perhaps the echo of the universe, reverberated in the sacred Imperial Palace: "This is power!"

Three minutes later, an urgent telegram arrived from Terra Starport: the Daemon Primarch Magnus had appeared on the Luna!

"Mother, I will prove to you that I am not a coward!"