Brothers Fighting, Tempers Flare

Holding a longsword inverted in his hand, Roboute Guilliman entered a vast dueling pit. The lighting was dim, yet there was no one before him.

Clearly, his opponent was still choosing his weapons and had not yet entered the battlefield. Guilliman rotated his wrist and switched to a standard grip, lightly swinging the sword a few times to get a feel for it before beginning a serious warm-up.

He had not fought for many days, having instead battled mountains of documents. Though that was hardly a problem for a primarch, considering the enemy he was about to face, Guilliman decided it was best to be cautious.

As he turned on his feet, the blunted training sword seemed to transform into a sprite, dancing around his body—and he was very satisfied with it. Although it was merely a weapon for practice and sparring, its balance was among the finest.

Two minutes later, footsteps came from the darkness ahead. Guilliman immediately stopped moving, planted his sword before him in a reverse grip, and allowed a faint smile to appear on his face.

The one he welcomed emerged from the darkness like a god. His wings were folded behind his back, his golden hair bound into a warrior's braid around his neck. His expression was calm, but his face was painted crimson, matching the intricate patterns painted across his bare upper body.

The smile vanished from Guilliman's face.

"Really?" he could not help asking.

"Of course it's true, Roboute."

Sanguinius answered as he raised a hand to loosen his shoulder. His musculature, utterly unlike that of an ordinary man, rippled with the savage force of a beast. He was not smiling, and there was a chill in his voice. Every detail showed just how seriously he took this fight.

The Emperor's thirteenth son