Dorn hurried back to Holy Terra, accompanied by guards from the Imperial Fists.
When he saw that the entire plaza in front of the Imperial Palace had been completely wrecked, even Dorn couldn't help saying, "Guilliman, you ambitious bastard!"
Guilliman was probably the most normal of all the Primarchs. But among a bunch of lunatics, if you were normal, then sorry—you were the most abnormal one of all.
As professional construction guys, the Imperial Fists were just like Blackwatch, who liked to make nuclear bombs in their spare time. Pouring concrete had become an everyday necessity for them. Seeing the plaza floor completely ruined, they didn't need Dorn to give orders; they divided up the work and got started on their own.
But to decide who would be foreman, the Construction Boys ran over to the spot where the Dog-men had practiced boxing earlier and held a Rak'shir Ritual, passed down from Blackwatch. Only the strongest could become the boss of the Construction Boys.
The onlookers had no idea why these noble Angels of Death had suddenly started dueling, but they felt their tickets were well worth the price. As expected of Holy Terra—it was nothing like their own backwater. For the price of one ticket, they got to watch two shows.
No one knew what the bloodthirsty audience was thinking, but it didn't matter if the Imperial Fists found out. The people of the Imperium were tough and fierce. If something rubbed them the wrong way, they wouldn't wait until the next day; they'd grab a gun and shoot the other guy dead right then and there.
By comparison, the Imperial Fists' duel was civilized indeed. At least it wasn't a fight to the death like the one with Juexue.
As the Construction Boys fought over who would be