Couldn't Care Less
Are you really ready to face all of this, Son of War?
Magnus shook his newly formed head, and four distinct voices burst forth from the depths of his throat, filled with mockery and threat.
"Even the ' Cursed One ' couldn't defeat us, so you, a Lesser God, have even less chance!"
Guilliman responded with a slight furrow in his brow and a simple yet devastating punch that was so fast it distorted vision.
Bang!
This punch not only shattered half of Magnus's face.
That pure, ultimate Material Universe power was unleashed through the will of the Son of War.
Following the Psionic Energy link between Magnus and the depths of the Warp, it surged upstream and crashed violently into the perception level of the four Chaos Gods!
The Brass Throne trembled, the skull ornaments rattled; the crystal spires of Tzeentch's Labyrinth flickered; the plague pools of Nurgle's Garden rippled nauseatingly; and the symphony of pleasure in the Slaanesh's Palace suddenly went out of tune.
The Four Chaos Gods:!!!
It wasn't pain, but an unprecedented sense of offense, like being slapped in the face.
They, the rulers of Chaos, were actually "attacked" remotely by a "Lesser God" from a Material Universe through a link with an agent!
"Kill him! I swear it's part of the plan! Hurry up, or the plan will be ruined!" Tzeentch shouted sharply in the labyrinth.
He had entrenched himself here for ten thousand years, scheming endless plots, and this was the first time he had been so brutally and directly "interfered" with.
On the Golden Throne, the Emperor's will transformed into a burning star.
"I have indeed not defeated you," the transdimensional Psionic Energy Whisper boomed, "But my children will defeat you with my help!"
A dazzling golden light of Psionic Energy erupted from the throne, instantly engulfing the entire palace.
Trajann, the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes of the Imperial Guard, who was on routine patrol, felt the Psionic Energy pressure that was so tangible and almost crushed his soul. He made the most outrageous reaction he had made in three thousand years of service—he turned and ran wildly toward the throne room!
The squad of Adeptus Custodes Guards behind him paused for a moment, then followed with the same lack of solemnity, their Power Armour roaring, their steps heavy and hurried.
"Bang!" Trajann kicked open the heavy doors of the throne room.
A group of golden-armored giants rushed in, then froze in place.
Where was the withered, corpse-like figure who once sat atop the throne?
The Emperor's body was enveloped in a dense, almost tangible golden Psionic Energy light, within which a more magnificent illusion faintly appeared:
He was a king with flowing black hair and golden eyes like the sun. His face was resolute and taut, and his posture was as upright as a commander going into battle.
An overwhelming sense of vitality and power washes over you, as if you have leaped back from the end of the decadent millennia to the most glorious Golden Age of mankind!
Trajann and his Adeptus Custodes all knelt down with a thud.
The commotion His Majesty has caused in the last two days is greater than the total of the past ten thousand years!
"I hope so..."
The Emperor's resounding voice echoed directly in their souls, young and powerful, leaving no room for doubt.
On the battlefield, Guilliman's "acceleration" was already so fast that it left a blur.
His punches were no longer "striking," but rather a continuous "bombardment."
Magnus regenerated frantically under the infusion of Psionic Energy, but the rate of regeneration was far slower than the rate of destruction.
His consciousness was torn between excruciating pain, Chaos Whisper, and Guilliman's cold blue iron fist.
Gradually, a bizarre sense of clarity emerged.
"No, brother! Wait a minute, listen to me!"
Taking advantage of the brief respite during his thirteenth brain reorganization, Magnus roared through his broken vocal cords, "Actually, I really love sitting on the Golden Throne! Really! I really want to try sitting on it."
"I can consider your suggestion!"
He struggled to wave his only remaining intact hand, trying to express "sincerity."
Guilliman was just talking to him at length about the prefrontal cortex and rationality, but damn it, his prefrontal cortex still isn't fully developed!
Guilliman completely ignored him.
The fists fell like a storm, precise and efficient, each strike containing the power to shatter mountains.
Magnus: Let the rain fall, so you won't see the struggle on my face~
Driven by the madness of the Four Gods' will, a tiny but malevolent plan is being executed outside his consciousness.
The arm that Guilliman had first severed and left in the ruins suddenly twitched at its fingertips.
It seemed to have gained an independent life, using its knuckles as feet, crawling silently yet swiftly across the gravel ground.
Bypassing the burning embers of Psionic Energy, head straight for the "Magnus's Staff" that had fallen to the ground not far away.
This Psionic Energy staff-blade, imbued with the power of the four gods and enhanced to its fullest extent, sensed the approaching severed arm and emitted a greedy hum.
The severed arm gripped the cane handle.
Buzz--!!!
Four colors of evil light shot into the sky.
The rage of Khorne, the cunning of Tzeentch, the decay of Nurgle, and the sharpness of Slaanesh were all forcibly twisted into one at this moment and poured into the tip of the staff.
The severed arm, as if launched by a catapult, transformed into a destructive rainbow of light, piercing straight into Guilliman's unsuspecting back!
This strike contained most of the malice that the four gods could project at this moment, determined to pierce through this terrifying war-like body in one fell swoop!
The essence of Son of War, that intuition for absolute control of the battlefield, sounded a sharp alarm in a fraction of a second.
Guilliman didn't even turn around completely.
His left hand swung backward at an incredible angle, not to block, but to form a claw with his five fingers and clench in mid-air!
Time seemed to stand still for a moment.
The staff-blade, imbued with the power of the four gods and capable of piercing the core of a planet, suddenly froze just inches from Guilliman's armor.
Immediately afterwards, azure Psionic Energy patterns spread from Guilliman's palm, like the most precise scalpel, instantly cutting into the fragile balance point of the four intertwined divine powers.
The Smart Atoms within Roboute Guilliman's body suddenly concentrated!
That is the pinnacle of the material world! Indestructible and unbreakable!
Snap... Boom!
There was no earth-shattering explosion, only a crisp, mournful sound like shattering glass.
The Magnus's Staff, this renowned Primarch weapon, was viewed with disbelief by the Four Gods and all onlookers.
It shattered inch by inch, exploding into countless fragments that shimmered with an eerie light, scattering haphazardly across the ground.
The terrifying Psionic Energy attached to it hadn't even completely dissipated yet, like a extinguished cigarette butt, futilely flickering its last glimmer.
The roar of the Warp abruptly ceased.
Immediately following was a shrill scream and interrogation, a fusion of four consciousnesses, that nearly tore the Veil reality apart.
Four Gods: Not a buddy? You opened it?!
This is completely unreasonable!
How did something like you even come into existence in the material world?
The four gods understood, of course, that this was not some kind of Psionic Energy magic, because they were the pinnacle of Psionic Energy.
Even if Guilliman's punch was enhanced by the Emperor's power, it would only be enough to put up a fight; it wouldn't have shattered the entire Magnus's Blade!
That can only be the forces of the material world!
But in the hundreds of millions of years that have passed, such an amazing existence has never been born in the entire universe!
Why did it suddenly come into being? This is even more chaotic Warp!