He Shenyan blinked thoughtfully and said nothing.
Roboute Guilliman turned to glance at the grave-faced Fulgrim and Leman Russ. They said nothing either, though in his case, he simply did not know what to say. The other two were purely pretending to be serious. Their expressions a moment ago had not been like this at all.
A few minutes earlier, a transmission from Konrad Curze had plunged the cockpit into an unspeakable silence.
The three Primarchs, who had originally been arguing nonstop, also fell silent in tacit agreement. As for the Mage, the look he wore while thinking made it impossible to tell whether he was truly pondering, or whether he wanted to take a blade into the Warp and settle accounts with Slaanesh.
After a while, armed with tremendous courage, Guilliman gave a soft cough.
"Konrad Curze has brought us a very valuable piece of intelligence." He frowned solemnly and began recalling the time he had worked overtime for 128 hours straight. "If what that Evil God said is true."
"Then it is undoubtedly an enormous problem," Fulgrim continued for him. The Phoenix's expression was likewise solemn to an indescribable degree, and Guilliman could not help wondering what he was thinking about right now to suppress that urge to laugh.
"Y-yes, indeed," Leman Russ said with a twisted face, the corners of his mouth twitching.
Seeing this, Guilliman was filled with solemn respect—you actually held it in?! Russ!
"If you want to laugh, laugh, Russ," He Shenyan said. "This matter is indeed absurd enough—at least, that's how it appears on the surface."
He frowned. "But It should actually have known my height long ago. It has seen me, yet It wanted to get that number from Curze's mouth again. Why? For some form of acknowledgment? Interesting. There's no shortage