He Is Not a God
"Ugh--!!!"
Fulgrim let out a shriek that was a mixture of pain, shock, and disbelief.
He lowered his head and looked at the greatsword burning with golden flames.
Like a hot knife through butter, it easily pierced through the amethyst horny armor on his chest, which had been enhanced by Slaanesh's grace.
It pierced through his demonic body, with half of the sword tip protruding from his back!
Golden imperial flames burned wildly within his body, bringing a purification pain far exceeding ordinary suffering, targeting the very essence of Chaos!
There was no skillful maneuvering using Warp powers, nor any unpredictable clashes of Psionic Energy.
It's the simplest and most direct form of overwhelming force!
Is this guy... really my brother?
Are we really the same species?!
All that remained in Fulgrim's mind was this absurd and terrifying thought.
He had fought against many Primarch, including the powerful Angron, but he had never felt such pure, savage, and unreasonable physical power!
This was completely beyond his understanding of the power of the Primarch!
Guilliman's face was inches away; he could even see beneath the man's golden eyelashes.
The intense light burning in those azure eyes, like a supernova explosion, and that... undisguised, ambitious, and exhilarating smile!
"This world--"
Guilliman's voice rang in his ears, not loud, but carrying a soul-stirring authority and madness.
"This is my empire!"
He twisted his wrist sharply, and the Emperor's Sword spun violently inside Fulgrim's body!
More golden flames erupted from the wound!
"What I do is the Way!"
Fulgrim screamed in agony, his body convulsing violently from the excruciating pain. His six arms flailing wildly, and his snake tail pounded the ground, creating deep craters.
Guilliman drew his sword, took a half-step back, and gave his opponent no chance to retaliate or catch his breath.
He raised the Emperor's Sword high, and the golden flames on its blade raged even more violently, as if to burn away all the filth in the world.
He no longer looked at the agonizing Fulgrim, but turned once more to his people, to those millions of eyes filled with shock, excitement, and a burning flame.
His voice, amplified by the combined vibrations of Psionic Energy and physical sound waves, resounded throughout the universe like a divine pronouncement of creation:
"And now..."
"I decree that I will protect my people and ensure their peaceful and prosperous lives..."
Guilliman took a deep breath, feeling as if the stars were resonating within his chest, and then transformed that oath, carrying responsibility, ambition, and boundless faith, into his final battle cry:
"This is my glory!!!"
"For Guilliman! For Ultramar! For humanity!!!"
Calgar was the first to react, tears welling in his eyes, and he roared at the top of his lungs!
Immediately following was the overwhelming roar of 300,000 Ultramarines!
It was a hysterical cheer from millions of Astra Militarum and civilians!
The sound waves converged and soared into the sky, as if they were about to shake the Milky Way!
"No--!!!"
Almost simultaneously with Guilliman's declaration, from the depths of the Warp, at the core of the Palace of Pleasure, came a shrill scream mixed with anger, heartache, and frenzy!
That was Slaanesh's voice, no longer alluring, but like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away, or a venomous snake whose sore spot had been touched!
An enormous, unimaginably large, violet-colored hand, pieced together from countless images of perfection and depravity, suddenly emerged from the rift between the Warp and reality!
This hand is breathtakingly beautiful, yet twisted to the point of madness, its fingertips swirling with the ultimate Pleasure and pain.
He reached straight up to the sky above Macragge, grabbing at Vogrim, who was burning painfully in the golden imperial flames and whose spirit was beginning to become Fulgrim!
Slaanesh must personally intervene to rescue His most beloved prince, His most perfect "work of art"!
However, just as this giant hand was about to touch the Realspace—
"Snort."
A cold, indifferent snort, seemingly imbued with the heavy, immense power of the beginning of the universe, came from the deepest, most painful center of darkness in the Warp.
It came from the dark sun.
Immediately afterwards, a pure, refined golden barrier, seemingly forged from the indomitable will of humankind throughout the ages, appeared silently in front of the violet giant hand.
Slaanesh's massive hand gripped the golden barrier, unleashing a surge of energy that illuminated a vast Warp, yet it could not penetrate it even slightly!
"You Cursed One! How dare you—!"
Slaanesh's roar grew even sharper.
"Enough!" "Stop!" "This is outrageous!"
Almost simultaneously, three other terrifying wills, imbued with endless rage, cunning, and decay, descended from three other directions in the Warp!
A crimson tide of blood, a deep blue labyrinth of intrigue, and a ghastly green Plague Garden simultaneously unleashed a tremendous force, no longer directed at the material world, but pressing down on that pitch-black sun!
Khorne, Tzeentch, Nurgle —the three Chaos Gods have struck at the same time!
"What the hell do you want?!"
"Old zombie, your son is going to blow up our premium figurine!"
"This is unfair! This is cheating!"
Chaotic and violent thoughts collided wildly in the higher levels of the Warp.
They could stand by and watch Fulgrim and Guilliman fight, and even accept Fulgrim's temporary setback.
But we must never tolerate the complete destruction of Slaanesh's "treasures" under the Emperor's interference!
This involves the delicate balance of power and the issue of "face" among the four deities.
Under the combined restraint and pressure of the three gods, the light of the dark sun dimmed and shrank slightly, and the power maintaining the golden barrier was also greatly dispersed and weakened.
"Squeak--Bang!"
The giant violet hand finally managed to tear open a gap and narrowly passed through the thinning golden barrier.
He seized the remaining spirit and part of the essence of Fulgrim was almost completely incinerated by the golden flames of the Emperor's Sword.
Then, like a startled venomous snake, it retreated into the depths of the Warp at an even faster speed than when it appeared.
All that remained was a series of sharp, venomous echoes, filled with resentment, unwillingness, and lingering fear.
As the Slaanesh retreated and Fulgrim was rescued, the pervasive purple mist vanished instantly, as if it had never existed.
In the plaza, Guilliman remained slightly out of breath after swinging his sword, the golden flames on the Emperor's Sword slowly receding.
The "crown" on his head was still dazzling, but it no longer carried any trace of evil.
He slowly raised his head and looked towards the Warp, his face showing neither regret nor anger at the fact that Fulgrim had been rescued.
Instead, he grinned, revealing a wild, unrestrained, and triumphant laugh!
"Hahahaha--!!!"
The laughter was unrestrained, filled with soaring pride and disdain.
He suddenly opened his arms wide, as if to embrace the entire universe, and turned to his people below, who were still in shock and fervor.
His voice was slightly hoarse from laughing, but it was all the more powerful.
"Look! My people! Raise your heads and see clearly!"
He pointed towards the Warp, even though it was now completely empty.
"This is what they call the ' Chaos Gods '!"
His words were like whips, lashing the air.
"He sends His most 'perfect' and most 'favored' messenger, with carefully prepared 'gifts' and 'doctrinal teachings,' to corrupt your king, your hope—"
Guilliman tucked his arms in, put his hands on his hips, and laughed loudly, his posture as proud as a lion surveying its territory.
"And He failed! He failed miserably!"
"Something like this!"
Guilliman's voice rose to its limit, filled with utter contempt and judgment, like a final divine pronouncement, echoing across the boundary between reality and the Warp:
"They are utterly unworthy to be called 'gods'!!!"