Physical Suppression!

The next second, intense light burst forth from his palm!

The outline of a longsword rapidly solidified and materialized in the golden light.

The sword guard is shaped like Imperial Aquila with outstretched wings, and the blade is broad and heavy, flowing with ancient and sacred runes.

At this moment, a golden flame, as pure as liquid sunlight, swept from the hilt to the tip of the sword, burning silently.

The flames were not dazzling, but they carried an absolute majesty that cleansed all filth and suppressed all falsehood.

The Emperor's Sword.

This Imperium of Man and the power of the father, was held in his hand.

To wield this sword is to be the true heir!

The flames on the sword flickered slightly, reflecting Guilliman's calm blue eyes and illuminating Trajann's pale, blood-stained face.

Guilliman walked up to Trajann's body and casually placed his left foot on a protruding, charred remnant of a the Rock.

He leaned slightly forward and extended his left hand, which was not holding a sword, toward Trajann.

His palms were broad and thick, with distinct knuckles, possessing the power to lift stars, yet at this moment they were simply extended steadily toward a weary warrior.

Trajann looked up at him.

Against the backdrop of the burning battlefield, the Primarch's body stood like a sacred mountain.

The crimson cloak fluttered gently in the breeze filled with the smell of gunpowder and the remnants of Psionic Energy, and the demonic face on its shoulder seemed to roar silently.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment, and a complex emotion flashed in Trajann's eyes.

Humiliated by their own exhaustion, awestruck by the power of the Primarch's arrival, and by a glimmer of hope that had been almost extinguished by long despair.

Without hesitation, he placed his blood-stained, trembling hand, weak with exhaustion, into Guilliman's palm.

The touch was not the coldness of metal as expected, but rather as warm and smooth as jade, yet as solid as a star's core.

A gentle yet irresistible force came, Trajann barely felt the other party exert any force before he was steadily pulled up and stood up again.

The power seemed to carry a strange warmth, instantly dispelling Nurgle lingering cold poison and extreme fatigue within him, almost making him groan aloud.

"Take a break."

Guilliman looked at him, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable command and reassurance, "Rest well, it's not too late to fight again."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the ravaged palace courtyard, his voice rising slightly, a declaration addressed not only to Trajann, but also to all the loyal souls still fighting:

"Now, I've got everything covered."

Having said that, he released his grip, held the blazing Emperor's Sword, and turned away without hesitation.

His gaze fell upon the depths of the battlefield, where the Chaos clamor was at its most intense, and the blasphemous light of the Greater Daemon was most dazzling.

That was his territory at that moment.

After ten thousand years Terra, what Guilliman saw on Terra was a burning sky, collapsing megastructures, flowing blood and scattered corpses.

This was completely different from his memory, and even from the orderly scene in Macragge.

But the feeling of unfamiliarity lasted only a moment.

A deeper, almost instinctive familiarity and composure emerged from the depths of his soul.

Ruins?

This is just the most ordinary scenery.

An aura of destruction pervades?

This is what war should taste like.

As he walked through the area, his posture showed no sign of tension or discomfort; rather, he resembled a king inspecting his territory, which had just been battered by a storm and was in dire need of rebuilding.

He was meant to fight amidst the ruins.

This was precisely the Emperor's original intention in designing them.

The will of a king often signifies the collapse of the old order and the annihilation of powerful enemies; even the most magnificent palaces can be reduced to dust in the flames of war.

The devastation of Terra before our eyes is merely another manifestation of the eternal truth of the universe.

Now, he has returned not merely to his hometown, but to the environment he knows best and that best inspires his true nature—the stage of war and destruction.

The essence of the Son of War is roaring!

Fighting!

Fighting!

Fighting!

After devouring the Great Unclean One "Grom Faser," he was perfectly integrating the pure and vast Warp Essence into it.

Unlike the pure rage and destructive desire of the previously absorbed Bloodthirster Skarbrand, and also unlike the cunning wisdom and fragments of Destiny of the Tzeentch the Greater Daemon Carlos.

This Great Unclean One brings with it an overwhelming and terrifying vitality and a profound understanding of the corruption of matter.

The positive aspects of these qualities include the tenacious, almost limitless resilience of life and a certain control over the material cycle.

Each Greater Daemon is the crystallization of its respective Chaos Gods's realm, possessing unique "characteristics".

To devour them is to plunder these characteristics.

Guilliman did not accept everything indiscriminately; he selectively absorbed and transformed it, discarding the corruption and madness, leaving only pure "power" and "knowledge".

He prefers this kind of positive reinforcement.

His gaze swept across the battlefield, locking onto a few of the most prominent blasphemous lights.

There dwell even more Greater Daemon — Khorne, Tzeentch, Slaanesh ... Their very existence is a series of moving calamities.

A thought, almost arrogant yet seemingly self-evident due to his strength, flashed through his mind:

"What a wonderful 'hunting ground'... If I were to slaughter and absorb all the Greater Daemon roaming this place... how much would my power grow?"

Perhaps... I truly have the qualifications to wield my sword directly at the true forms of those four Chaos Gods?

This thought made his blood feel like it was on fire.

As if in response to his boiling fighting spirit, the "heart" inside Guilliman's chest cavity, which had been enhanced countless times and had long surpassed the realm of mortals and even Primarch, was now activated.

Or rather, the Emperor Engine —began to emit a deep and majestic roar.

Thump!

Thump!

Thump!

This sound is not a vibration in the physical sense, but a resonance of a higher-dimensional law.

Centered on Guilliman, invisible ripples spread in all directions.

Wherever the ripples passed, the physical constants of the Realspace became more stable, and the Whisper and erosion of the Warp were forcibly repelled and suppressed.

This is the ultimate gift he redeemed from the "Strongest Regent System," originating from the Invincible Universe—the essential power of the Immortal: the Eternal Law.

This power allowed him to transcend mere energy strength, attaining a status similar to that of ancient C'tan in the Material Universe.

He is one of the embodiments and controllers of the laws of matter.

At this moment, the Terra he stands on is a realm of the Material Universe!

This is his absolute home turf.

Not far away, a Bloodthirster, who was wielding a giant flaming axe and cleaving a squad of Imperial Guard remnants along with their cover, suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Its Chaos consciousness, filled with bloodlust and the fury of war, suddenly felt an unprecedented sense of weakness and suffocation.