That Wasn't a Good Choice

Guilliman looked at the shocked and furious red-haired giant before him and thought to himself: There is always a reason why someone is pitiful.

It is hateful that they are so stubborn and foolish, and that they make deals with the Tzeentch.

It's pitiful that... when the Wolf King Leman Russ was ordered to destroy Prospero and slaughter his offspring, the Emperor's words, "Abandon them, I have prepared better ones for you," were nothing short of a cruel insult.

It's like telling you that I've thrown away the dog you've raised for over ten years, and if you're unhappy, I'll buy you a new one.

Anyone would get furious with you in that situation.

Magnus's impatience, as it was with the Emperor, will now be directed at Guilliman as well.

"Roboute —what do you mean?!"

Magnus's single eye was instantly filled with bloodshot veins of rage, and his elegance vanished completely.

He abruptly released the Magnus's Blade, and his other hand shot out with lightning speed, a strangely shaped crimson pistol— the Warpfire Serpent —already aimed at Guilliman, who was standing right in front of him.

Are you kidding me?!

With a roar, he pulled the trigger.

It's not a physical munition, but a highly compressed, pure Warp flame Psionic Energy to incinerate a planet!

The crimson fire python roared out and instantly engulfed Guilliman's figure.

Magnus gritted his teeth, unleashing a torrent of Psionic Energy in an attempt to reduce this hateful "preacher" and his ridiculous attempts at appeasement to ashes.

However, several seconds passed, and the figure in the flames... remained completely still.

Magnus's gaze shifted from rage to astonishment, and finally to an undisguised... terror.

The flames gradually died down.

Guilliman remained standing in the same spot, his Hand of Dominion still gripping the blade of Magnus's Blade.

Not a single scorch mark remained on his blue armor, and his facial expression was eerily calm, with only a slight furrow in his brow revealing his impatience with this farce.

"I gave you a chance, Magnus."

Guilliman released his grip on the blade, then lunged forward, seizing the barrel of the Warpfire Serpent's gun before the other could react.

"Now, grab it with all your might." Guilliman's voice was calm, yet it carried a chilling undercurrent. "Otherwise, I'll crush your head."

His fingers began to tighten.

The gun barrel, forged from Adamantium and an unknown alloy, groaned and slowly deformed and collapsed in the hand that shimmered with a blue-gold glow.

"I don't mind... killing my own family."

Magnus tried in horror to pull his weapon back, but felt as if the barrel was welded to the other man's hand.

He watched helplessly as his beloved, incredibly powerful Force Weapon was crushed and destroyed by Guilliman with a single hand, like a lump of clay.

Guilliman casually tossed the scrap metal aside, clasped his hands together in front of his chest, and the steel finger guards clinked together with a crisp sound.

He looked down at his Psionic Energy brother with an air of superiority, his cold face revealing no trace of brotherly affection, only the scrutiny and judgment of an emperor.

"I'll still call you brother, Magnus for now."

"Return to the Imperium."

"Or."

"I'll kill him right now."

"Choose one."

I assure you that I will respect your choice.

Blue-gold flames rose behind him, like a halo around a throne.

Magnus, the Lord of the Thousand Sons, was once hailed as the Primarch closest to the Emperor's wisdom.

Under Guilliman's unfathomable gaze, all that remained in his heart was endless chill and shock.

What he was facing no longer seemed to be the Thirteenth Primarch he knew.

Instead, it was a... unknown emperor.

"Hmph, go back?"

Magnus's single eye burned with millennia of pent-up resentment and despair as he hissed, "I can never go back, Robert! Everything has changed!"

He pointed to the invisible distance, as if he could pierce through the Warp to see that burning memory.

"It was him! He killed my children! He let that beast Leman Russ destroy Prospero!"

That's my home! My life's work! My people and my legacy!

Magnus's Psionic Energy surged violently with excitement, creating chaotic ripples in the surrounding area.

He stared intently at Guilliman, his voice suddenly rising, sharp with questioning and sarcasm:

"If the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar were destroyed, burned, and your people were slaughtered, would you be happy?!"

Roboute! Answer me!

Would you, like he did to me, casually tell your people, 'Give up, I'll give you something better'?!

"Stop putting on that condescending, pity-giving act! Your tone now is exactly the same as his back then!!"

This statement is like throwing ice water into boiling oil.

The moment Magnus uttered the words "Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar" with venomous resentment.

Within Guilliman, the deepest essence of Primarch Roboute Guilliman, ignited by the rage of his brother's betrayal, boiled over completely!

That was something older, more fervent, and more inviolable than the rage of the Son of War.

They are adoptive father Connor Guilliman and adoptive mother Tarasha Guilliman.

With the sunshine of the vast land of Macragge, the love and respect of the simple people, and their unreserved affection and guidance.

The crystallization of "humanity" is infused bit by bit into the soul of war weapons.

It was they who transformed the Emperor's war-making persona into a "Lord Regent" who understood responsibility, humility, and protection.

Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar is the embodiment of this heritage, the "home" that his adoptive parents protected throughout their lives and ultimately entrusted to him.

It is the ultimate embodiment of all his rationality, planning, and struggle.

This is their Achilles' heel.

It is an absolute forbidden zone that must never be touched, even if the Primarch's memories have partially dissipated and even if an even more ancient will is currently in control!

"This is not a good choice, Magnus."

As the deep voice rang out, Guilliman's figure had already vanished from the spot.

The next second, he appeared before Magnus, enveloped in blue-gold flames, like a falling star, and slammed down with his Fist of Domination!

Magnus, filled with shock and rage, hastily raised his already bent Magnus's Blade scepter to parry.

Boom—Crack!

Amidst the deafening crack of metal twisting and breaking completely.

Magnus, along with his staff, was blasted away once more by an unparalleled force, streaking across the eerie background of the Warp like a burning meteor.

"That's really not a good option."

A chilling voice followed him like a shadow, sounding simultaneously right beside him!

Magnus turned his head in horror, and what came into view of his single eye was an iron fist covered in blue-gold energy and rapidly expanding.

Bang!!!

The punch landed squarely on his faceplate.

The meticulously crafted Daemon Prince's mask, imbued with powerful protective runes, instantly dented and shattered.

Unimaginable pain, accompanied by flashes of black and white in his consciousness, swept over Magnus.

Since ascending to the rank of Daemon Prince, he has deeply integrated his flesh and blood with the Warp Essence.

He had not felt such pure, profound, and almost soul-shattering physical pain in a very, very long time.

Thoughts seemed to be violently ripped out, like an ordinary person being thrown into the most chaotic vortex of the Warp.

A 360-degree infinite rotation, bizarre and fragmented scenes and sharp screams flashed wildly in the depths of my consciousness.

"You should choose to submit."

Guilliman's voice was cold and ruthless, yet his attacks were as fierce as a storm.

Even if you don't choose to submit--

Another punch slammed into the arm guard that was trying to lift, shattering it and causing the bones to groan under the strain.

You shouldn't have either—

"Mentioning the Five Hundred Worlds!"

The final uppercut landed squarely on Magnus's jaw.

The Daemon Prince's towering body was sent flying upwards, spitting out a mixture of spiritual light and shadow "blood" from his mouth.

Magnus roared in anger and pain as he rolled, his single eye turning bloodshot.

He forcefully gathered his almost dissipated Psionic Energy, and his body expanded rapidly under the infusion of Warp energy, becoming even larger, temporarily using the Psionic Energy barrier to withstand subsequent attacks.

He swung his massive fist with the force of a mountain collapsing and sea splitting, smashing it again and again toward Guilliman's head and shoulder armor!

Thump! Thump! Thump! A dull thud echoed.

Guilliman simply tilted his head slightly and took the punches head-on.

Magnus felt as if a mortal body were using flesh and blood to strike a mountain made of Adamantium.

The recoil caused his fist to shatter, and his Psionic Energy armor flickered unpredictably.

Not only did he fail to budge his opponent in the slightest, but he also felt a sharp pain in his own arm, as if it were about to shatter.

I heard.

Guilliman shook his head, as if merely brushing off dust, but the chill in his voice was enough to freeze the soul:

"Leman Russ broke your back back then, didn't she?"

Magnus's pupils constricted sharply.

"I think you'll miss this feeling."