Guilliman entered his private chambers aboard the Rock. He saw Qin Mo standing before the bedroom viewport with his back to him.
Though he knew the figure was merely a holographic projection and that Qin Mo himself was thousands of light-years away, Guilliman still approached him with his usual warmth.
But when Guilliman tried to embrace the projection, Qin Mo turned around, his gaze deep and his expression grave.
"What is it?" Guilliman asked after a brief pause.
"It's inevitable," Qin Mo said. "The war between us and the Necrons."
Guilliman froze again, wondering why Qin Mo had suddenly become so certain.
Then Qin Mo laid out all of his recent experiences in one breath.
From taking the C'tan to search for their shards, to the war with Menak after awakening the Kasa Dynasty, to his conversation with Szarekh, the Silent King, and Szarekh's overarching plan.
After hearing it all, Guilliman sat down on the steps, one hand pressed to his forehead.
Then the Primarch drew his legs together, wrapped his arms around them, and sat there hunched over.
He looked almost meek, but this was actually how he behaved when burdened by heavy thoughts and suddenly deprived of his sense of security.
For anyone, the prospect of going to war with something on the level of the Necrons was not something that could leave even the slightest sense of security intact—not even for a Primarch.
"I was thinking that perhaps there had been some small chance I could prevent a war between humanity and the Necrons," Qin Mo's projection said as he sat beside Guilliman. "But then I thought that perhaps I personally strangled that chance."
"No, that's not right. I was too blindly optimistic. The Imperium was too optimistic. How could we ever think the flames of war