Waking Up on the Wrong Side of the Bed

Broken memories surged in like a tide, filling Guilliman's slow, sluggish mind with scenes of his desperate battle against Fulgrim.

A moment ago, he had been enduring a blade cutting through his throat, vicious curses spreading through his body, and the agony of worrying about the Imperium's future.

Now, he found himself in a rather unfamiliar hall, with... Perturabo standing before him...

There were no intricate cables or components embedded in his head, nor was there any cold aura of resentment and dissatisfaction in his eyes.

The unfamiliarity left the newly awakened Guilliman stunned for a moment. Then, the unique perception between Primarchs confirmed that the man before him truly was Perturabo.

His brother—Perturabo!

The traitor who had besieged Terra—Perturabo!

The man who had thrown himself into Chaos—Perturabo!

Fury burst from Guilliman's body in an instant, and his sons felt the wrath of their genetic father as well.

The Hand of Dominion slammed viciously into Perturabo's face. An attack that could have reduced a Space Marine to pulp only broke Perturabo's nose.

Caught off guard by the punch, Perturabo staggered back several steps. Fulgrim lunged forward from the side, hoping to make Guilliman stop for the moment.

"Fulgrim?" Guilliman saw Fulgrim and was greatly startled by the form of his mortal flesh. In their several clashes, this Phoenix completely controlled by Slaanesh had always been a disgusting space eel.

Was this his brother?

Guilliman did not know, but judging from the daemonic runes on Fulgrim's arm, he could only conclude that everything before him was an illusionary killing trap woven by Slaanesh and Fulgrim.

The Hand of Dominion opened fire on Fulgrim. These bolt rounds from the era of the Great Crusade still functioned reliably.

Fulgrim was driven back by the bolt rounds. His plain armor was pierced, leaving many