You Are Unworthy to Hear
"Forget it, I'm too lazy to reason with you."
He paused, then added, his tone flat but filled with absolute contempt:
"You are not worthy to hear this."
After saying that, Guilliman stopped looking at Fulgrim altogether, as if the other was just a wisp of filthy air that needed to be cleaned up.
He turned and walked straight toward the false crown, forged from the power of Slaanesh, that had fallen to the ground.
"Father! Do not touch that heretical creation!"
Calgar, Sicarius, and the others were extremely anxious and exclaimed in unison.
They witnessed firsthand how the crown attempted to corrupt Guilliman, and the sinister visions left them deeply disturbed.
In their view, this damned crown should be thrown into the core of the nearest star immediately and burned for millions of years to atone for its sins!
Guilliman smiled gently at them and waved his hand to reassure them.
"Rest assured,"
His voice was transmitted through Psionic Energy to the hearts of his children:
"Your father knows what he's doing."
He bent down and, with two fingers, picked up the still breathtakingly beautiful crown.
The golden laurel leaves and dreamlike gems shimmered in the sunlight, as if the demonic manifestation and attempt at corruption had never happened.
Guilliman held the crown up to his eyes, examining it closely as if admiring an interesting work of art.
Then, without turning his head, he posed a seemingly casual question to Fulgrim, whose expression was unpredictable:
"Do you consider me their 'king,' Fulgrim?"
Fulgrim paused for a moment, then answered without hesitation:
"Of course! Otherwise, why would I give you a 'crown'? You should be their king, leading them, following me, to reach an even greater height..."
"This is the fundamental difference between us."
Guilliman interrupted him, his voice calm yet carrying immense power.
"I reiterate, I am here to become emperor!"
He stopped looking at the crown and instead raised his head, his gaze sweeping across the entire room.
His gaze swept over the people who were somewhat bewildered by his earlier "verbal battle" with the demon, but whose hearts were now stirred again by his actions.
He saw the anxiety and loyalty in the eyes of Calgar and the others, and the confusion and expectation on the faces of the Astra Militarum soldiers.
I saw in the eyes of millions of ordinary people a mixture of fear, dependence, and the purest... trust.
They were afraid.
They feared that this king, who had just brought hope, would be corrupted by this evil crown.
They fear that the light they have just grasped will be swallowed up again by the Chaos darkness.
If he falls, they don't know what will become of the newly revived Ultramar, or even the future of all humanity.
Guilliman was deeply moved by this profound trust.
He spoke slowly, his voice not loud, yet like heavy drumbeats, striking the hearts of everyone present:
"A crown makes the wearer feel superior."
He paused, and everyone nodded instinctively.
This is common sense, an unchanging truth throughout history.
A symbol of power, a mark of status, a crowning glory.
Fulgrim nodded slightly, feeling that his brother had finally gotten to the "main topic".
"This is a symbol of power, a symbol of glory," Guilliman repeated, his gaze growing ever more profound.
Then, his tone shifted abruptly, his voice rising sharply like a thunderclap:
"But! That's not the true meaning of the crown!"
He turned around abruptly, and for the first time, he truly looked at Fulgrim with his own eyes.
The gaze no longer held mockery or disgust, but only a pure, cold indifference, like looking at a stranger's dust.
"The king you envision is someone high above, possessing endless power and worship, and even capable of leading his subjects into an eternal dream—a 'ruler'."
"The crown you perceive is merely an 'ornament' that signifies this dominant position and satisfies your vanity."
As Guilliman spoke, he used his free left hand to gently brush away non-existent dust from the crown.
His movements were meticulous and gentle, as if he were handling a true sacred object.
This action made Fulgrim's eyelids twitch, and an ominous premonition rose in his heart.
"And between you and me, there is a fundamental and insurmountable chasm in our understanding of 'king' and 'crown'!"
The instant he finished speaking, Guilliman moved!
With his left hand, he steadily placed that dazzling, deceitful Slaanesh Crown back on his head!
"Father!!!"
Calgar and the others' hearts sank to the bottom, and screams of terror escaped their lips.
However, the anticipated corrupting aura, decadent atmosphere, and whispered Whisper... nothing happened.
The crown rested quietly on Guilliman's golden hair, its golden leaves and jewels still gleaming.
But strangely, it lost that eerie allure, instead blending into Guilliman's "Destiny" armor, crimson cloak, white scarf, and his own imposing and majestic aura.
It presents a completely different, solid, and sacred splendor.
It was as if this crown was meant for him from birth, not for temptation, but to bestow upon him a heavy responsibility.
Guilliman gave no one more time to react.
The Emperor's Sword, which he had been gripping tightly in his right hand, suddenly erupted with unprecedentedly intense golden flames!
The flames were no longer burning quietly, but soared into the sky like a roaring golden dragon, their brilliance even briefly overshadowing the starlight of Macragge.
The pervasive purple mist sizzled and burned, then rapidly dissipated!
He turned abruptly, no longer turning his back to Fulgrim, but facing his fallen brother with the upright and majestic bearing of a crowned king!
His gaze, like thunder and blazing sun, pierced through Fulgrim's alluring purple eyes, reaching the deepest recesses of his twisted soul!
"This is the true meaning of the crown!"
"When disaster strikes from the sky--"
Guilliman's voice was amplified by Psionic Energy for the first time, sounding like a million giant bells ringing simultaneously.
The echoes reverberated in Hera Fortress, echoed in Macragge, and even seemed to pierce through the void and reach the stars!
"I will stand in your way!"
"I only want you to see—golden hope!"
With the last word uttered, Guilliman vanished!
It wasn't Psionic Energy, but rather the visual residue caused by the pure physical power exploding to its limit, breaking the sound barrier, and tearing through the air!
In the next instant, he was already standing less than three feet away from Fulgrim!
The Emperor's Sword transformed into a destructive golden torrent, devoid of any fancy techniques, only the purest, most ruthless, and most unstoppable thrust!
Target: Fulgrim's seemingly magnificent, yet corrupt core—his chest!
Fulgrim truly lives up to his reputation as a former master swordsman and now Daemon Prince.
Although caught off guard by Guilliman's series of unconventional actions and declarations, the fighting instinct still spurred a reaction at the last minute.
He swung at least three arms with incredible speed and angle.
The pair of demonic scimitars intertwined "Pleasure" and "pain" into an impenetrable, purplish-black net of blades, attempting to block and deflect this terrifying attack.
At the same time, he flicked his snake tail and retreated rapidly, trying to create distance.
However, he underestimated it.
He underestimated the terrifying physical strength of Guilliman at this moment!
That was not a blessing from Psionic Energy, nor a gift from Warp evil.
Rather, it is the purest and most savage physical power resulting from the complete awakening of the Vitruum bloodline, the forging of faith, and the Primarch!
"Clang--Pfft!!!"
First came the terrifying, deafening crash of the scimitar colliding with the Emperor's Sword, like the collision of planets!
The purplish-black evil energy blade light melted and shattered instantly before the golden imperial flames, like ice and snow meeting the blazing sun!
The pair of renowned demonic scimitars were sent flying high by the absolute power contained in the Emperor's Sword, and Fulgrim felt a sharp, tingling pain in his arm holding the sword!
The Emperor's Sword's momentum was only momentarily halted!
Immediately following was a sickening, dull thud as a sharp blade pierced through flesh and the very essence of evil.