As Regent, having Adeptus Custodes guards is perfectly normal, right?

Alvin was genuinely curious where Guilliman had found the courage to challenge the Daemon "Angron" to a one-on-one fight.

Of course, that wasn't to say Guilliman was really "weak."

At least among the many Primarchs, traitors included, Guilliman had scored a few victories. Though he had nearly always needed help from various sources to scrape out a win, the Regent's record couldn't be denied.

The main reason Alvin thought things looked bleak was... this time, Guilliman had no help!

Besides, Angron might have been brainless, but his combat strength was the real deal. He was definitely much stronger than "Lorca," at the very least.

With those misgivings, Alvin took a deep breath, ready to support the "Primarch" at a moment's notice.

Angron's attacks left no openings and showed not the slightest hint of defense. He was like a rabid hound, his two blood axes imprisoning Daemons and billions of souls. Their relentless swings were like an endless storm, turning him into a perpetual-motion machine.

He hacked, swept, and smashed!

The crimson storm raised by the blood axes merged with their piercing shrieks.

A tsunami of destructive sound swallowed the Primarch. Every gust of wind from each swing held enough force to rip the earth apart.

The terrifying destructive power was like a sharp sickle, carving a dense web of intersecting trenches into the ground. No one dared approach. Even armor forged from Ceramite couldn't withstand the dreadful force of the two Primarchs' blows.

The burning blood-red flames seemed ready to set the air itself alight.

Amid that terrifying crimson storm, Guilliman was like a tiny boat caught in raging seas, liable to capsize at any moment.

The Primarch's Emperor's Sword became a golden curtain of light.

With exquisitely precise swordsmanship, he blocked, parried, and redirected the force of each blow.