"The walls of Skull Fortress have been breached!"
"Lord of Tyran has personally led his elites into the fortress and is now fighting the Demon Army!"
The crew on the bridge loudly reported the progress of the ground war.
Every piece of news was enough to stir excitement. The originally grueling siege had become far easier because of one person's involvement.
Perhaps from a strategic perspective, an immensely powerful warrior was not enough to earn a commander's attention and praise. As a combat unit, the value of one powerful warrior could hardly compare to that of a group of ordinary soldiers.
But if a warrior was powerful enough to completely turn the tide of battle, then he was a strategic-level combat unit.
"I should have gone down there and fought alongside him," Guilliman suddenly remarked.
"Gone down there to die?" Lion shot Guilliman a glance. "The intensity of this war is far greater than when those plague swine ravaged Ultramar. What could you accomplish down there?"
Guilliman frowned at his brother.
There was plenty a Primarch could do. Even if he had no way to directly intervene in a battle involving so many Bloodthirsters and Daemon Princes, he could still devise strategies, arrange forces, and assume command.
And a Primarch wielding the Emperor's Sword could do even more.
But Guilliman merely thought this and did not say it aloud. Instead, he silently observed Lion.
Lion looked somewhat tense at the moment. He sat beside the tactical table with his head lowered, saying nothing, his expression exceedingly grave. It was plainly the look of someone worried about something.
Sensing his brother's gaze, Lion took the initiative to speak. "I'm worried about what will happen if an opponent more terrifying than Skull Fortress appears, and Lord of Tyran cannot return in time."