Is That All?

Guilliman entered the cabin.

His figure appeared even taller with the added Power Armour, almost touching the top of the compartment.

He wasn't wearing a helmet, but the expression on his face, which looked exactly the same as it had ten thousand years ago, was completely different.

He lacked the enthusiasm of an idealist, but possessed a bottomless indifference, and a temperament that Magnus could hardly describe accurately.

It's like having experienced things far beyond the comprehension of ordinary people, and having seen through everything with a detached indifference.

"I think I've given you too much time, brother."

Guilliman opened his mouth.

The voice was calm, without anger, sarcasm, or even a sense of judgment.

That was just a statement, as indifferent as reporting the weather.

Magnus twitched the corners of his mouth, trying to make a smile, but his facial muscles were stiff, resulting in only a distorted expression.

"You've already given me a chance,"

He said, his voice hoarse, "I've accepted it, brother."

"I am a prisoner."

He took a deep breath, avoided Guilliman's gaze with his one eye, and looked at the ground.

"Having failed like me, how could I possibly have the nerve to swear allegiance to our father again?"

He gave a wry smile.

"Do what you're supposed to do, tie me back to the Golden Throne. That's all I'm good for now."

Magnus looked up, this time with a complex look in his eyes—not for himself, but for Guilliman's achievement.

"Your children... are far more powerful than I imagined."

They have all inherited your newfound power.

Each of them possesses strength far exceeding that of the Adeptus Custodes, and is even beginning to rival that of the Primarch.

He recalled the scenes from the battlefield.

Those warriors in blue armor fought in a way that transcended the realm of Space Marines.

It wasn't tactics, it wasn't skill, it was an absolute crushing defeat.

Vitruum's Smart Atoms enhanced the Ultramarines.

This allows them to fly, possess invulnerable skin, and have the ability to evolve infinitely in battle.

Their arm strength all reached 1,000 tons, and each of them could single-handedly take down 1,000 Space Marines.

That translates to roughly each person being able to handle 2 to 3 Adeptus Custodes.

During the Siege of Terra ten thousand years ago, a single Adeptus Custodes killed 243 of Sons of Horus were attempting to storm the Imperial Palace.

Now, after countless battles and continuous mastery of their own powers, the Ultramarines...

Originating from the Smart Atoms power of the Viltrumites in Invincible, their bodies are growing at an astonishing rate.

In the future, they only need to be given a few hundred or a few thousand years... and each of them will possess the power to sweep away an entire planet.

Silence fell over the cabin.

Guilliman did not respond immediately.

He simply looked at Magnus, his blue eyes as deep as an icy pool, revealing no emotion.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice carrying a certain emotion for the first time.

disappointment.

So you've resigned yourself to your fate.

It's not a question.

That is the conclusion.

"I gave you so many opportunities and so much time to think."

The final conclusion was that 'you are a prisoner'.

Is that all you've come up with?

Guilliman shook his head slightly, his cloak swaying gently with the movement, and dark red embers flickered in the eye sockets of the demon head on his shoulder.

How tragic, my brother.

I used to think you were an idiot, but you should at least have basic common sense.

He sighed.

The weight carried in that sigh seemed to crush Magnus's already fragile spine.

"The former Red Devils, the former Lord of Dawn, are you now content to be nothing more than a power bank for the Golden Throne?"

Don't you want to lead your descendants to continue conquering the stars?

Guilliman took a step forward.

Just one step, but the atmosphere in the entire cabin suddenly became tense.

"Little brother, you've disappointed me so much."

The disappointment in those eyes was so naked, so undisguised, that Magnus felt a pang of physical pain.

It hurt more than when Guilliman's fist shattered his ribs.

Guilliman coldly assessed the dejected Primarch before him.

The Primarch are all a bunch of fragile little kids.

That now seems to be true.

This kind of guy is really incapable of taking on important responsibilities.

Guilliman now faces only two choices:

First, kill Magnus, devour his Warp Essence, and quantify that immense Psionic Energy for your own use.

This would greatly enhance his power, especially when fighting against the Chaos Gods.

Second, keep him, imprison him, bind him back to the Golden Throne, and help the Emperor recharge.

The Golden Throne now requires more and more fuel, and the Emperor's burden is growing heavier. A Primarch- level "battery" will be a precious resource.

The Son of War nature within him was helping Guilliman think.

That's another dimension of wisdom, always able to provide the optimal solution, based on pure logic and efficiency.

At this moment, the Son of War's calculations leaned towards the first option: kill, devour, enhance.

This is the most efficient option.

But just as Guilliman was about to make a decision—

A sudden change occurred.

The light inside the cabin remained unchanged, and the air remained still, but something indescribable by the laws of physics descended.

A golden light appeared out of thin air.

It did not originate from any light source, but rather "emerged" directly from the void, like ripples spreading across the surface of water.

The light was warm and majestic, carrying a familiar aura that made Magnus's heart stop.

Golden light gathered around Guilliman, slowly outlining a blurry silhouette.

A tall figure, similar in size to the Primarch, yet emanating a terrifying power far surpassing that of any Warp being.

Emperor.

Or rather, a projection of the Emperor's consciousness.

The golden figure raised its hand—a simple, slow movement that seemed to expend enormous energy—and gently patted Guilliman's shoulder.

Then, the golden light turned to Magnus, stretched out a hand, pointed to the red-skinned Primarch sitting blankly on the ground, then turned to itself and pointed to its chest.

Then, the figure slowly shook its head.

The actions are simple, but the meaning is clear.

Guilliman looked at his father's projection, a hint of helplessness on his face.

This is a space where only he and the Emperor can be alone—not a physical space, but a realm isolated on a Psionic Energy level.

The Emperor's terrifying Psionic Energy power, accumulated over millennia of faith and bound by the throne, has become an existence that mortals—even demigods—cannot directly be behold.

Just like the original Guilliman, when he first saw the Emperor after waking up, he was almost driven insane by the Whisper of countless alternate personalities.

He couldn't even hear his father's words clearly, only catching fragments and noise.

But things are different now.

Guilliman's physical strength has reached an unbelievable level.

The enhancement derived from Vitruum's Smart Atoms brought his Material Universe entity power to an unprecedented level, even enabling him to suppress the Warp Essence.

This prevents the Emperor's terrifying Psionic Energy power from indiscriminately leaking out, making this communication possible.

Even so, the Emperor was still unable to accurately convey his complete words.

He can only express his intentions through the simplest actions.

"The former emperor of mankind... actually needs to rely on such gestures to convey his meaning?"

Guilliman muttered to himself, his voice filled with complex emotions.

"Father, you've failed me."

But he understood the Emperor's meaning.