58 Reclaiming Hope (15)

Roboute Guilliman heard the unspoken words of the Necron general the instant Zahndrekh raised his head—where would they fight? Here.

Naturally.

So, when the Radiance of teleportation and an exceptionally violent gale erupted from Zahndrekh's body, the primarch of the Ultramarines immediately reached for his sword. But Zahndrekh's hand gripped him like an iron clamp, keeping his right hand from reaching the short sword that still rested in its sheath.

Guilliman narrowed his eyes, studying the gradually twisting expression on Zahndrekh's iron face through fractured time, then suddenly stepped back slightly to evade a lethal slash.

Sanguinius withdrew his sword with a dark expression.

It had struck nothing.

The blade hummed hungrily in his hand, yearning to reap an enemy's life, but Sanguinius could give it nothing now.

The Necron he had deemed an enemy had completely vanished, leaving only a long, narrow rift hovering in place. Half a second later, endless deep-green light blossomed from it, utterly drowning everything in Hangar Five.

Within the light, Sanguinius turned to look at his brother, only to find Guilliman smiling.

—He could not help but smile.

You shameless old swindler. Roboute Guilliman thought with irrepressible delight and admiration.

You exhausted every means to ensure that this war would unfold according to your wishes. You kept to etiquette and upheld honor, yet you still could not escape the nature of war. But I suppose you did not wish to escape it either.

Then come. Let us win by any means necessary, within the bounds of rules and principles.

He narrowed his eyes, drew his sword with his right hand, and amid the shriek of steel, the light swallowed everything whole.

When it faded, the original Hangar Five had expanded into an unimaginably vast battlefield. Dim light pressed down from the ceiling of the