"..."
Guilliman stood frozen in place.
Qin Mo smiled at his close friend.
He had once told Guilliman that the two of them were like a pair of unlucky brothers punished together to clean toilets. He had not expected Guilliman to still remember those words.
And he remembered what Guilliman had said as well.
Guilliman had felt himself inferior to Lion because he was not as tall as Lion.
When Qin Mo sat upon the Throne and discovered that his will could influence so many things, he chose to give his best bro a height-enhancing operation.
Guilliman, now a full size broader than before, stood stunned for a long while. His dry lips parted, then closed. Words rose to his mouth, only to be swallowed back down.
He had thought Qin Mo had become a cold Warp creature, but clearly... he had not.
"When you threw the Emperor's Sword just now, you weren't aiming at me. You were aiming at the Throne." Qin Mo leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. "Just as I thought, you're the most human of the Primarchs. I never considered Lion a friend, nor did I consider Sanguinius a friend. You may not believe it, but in my eyes, Sanguinius is warm on the outside and cold within... Anyway, we're fellow sufferers. Good friends."
Guilliman said nothing. He could not be certain what state Qin Mo was currently in.
Just now, he had seen through everything. He knew the purpose of the Throne, and he knew the purpose of the ritual.
The Throne required only Qin Mo's will to interfere with the Warp, and it could accomplish all of Qin Mo's goals.
Destroying the Discordant Engine and Vashtorr, building an Imperium that would never decay...
If that was his will, then beyond the