He Wasn't Ambitious-He Was Chosen by Fate!

"I'm sorry, sir."

Huron's voice rang out clearly, devoid of any gentleness, only steely directness remaining:

"My loyalty has long been sworn to my Gene-Father, Lord Robert Guilliman, and to the one and only Holy Emperor to whom he is loyal."

I cannot, and will not, kneel and pledge allegiance to you personally.

Duke Mengsk's face instantly darkened, and his fake smile vanished without a trace.

He felt that his authority had been blatantly challenged.

"Presumptuous!"

He shouted sharply, raising his scepter and this time, instead of tapping it lightly, he slammed it down angrily on Huron's shoulder armor, making a dull thud.

Look carefully!

We are the High Lords of Terra, personally appointed by the Holy Emperor! We are the agents of the Imperium Will!

Countless Chapter and countless worlds have to act according to our wishes!

"You, and the Chapter behind you, do you really want to be deprived of even the most basic Promethium and ammunition supplies in the future?!"

The corridor was deathly silent, save for the Duke's heavy breathing.

The other High Lords and servants behind him turned pale, looking uneasily at Huron and the silent, mountain-like giants behind him.

Huron fell silent again.

This silence was longer and heavier than before, as if weighing something or suppressing something.

Just as Duke Mengsk thought he had intimidated his opponent and his arrogant expression returned, Huron spoke, his voice deep:

"Of course I don't want that, sir."

Resources dried up, Chapter dwindling... for any Chapter, that's a despair enough to shake the very foundations of their faith.

"Good that you understand!" The Duke snorted, his tone softening slightly, feeling that he had regained control. "In this Imperium, faith is the most important thing."

The most correct way to practice faith is to obey us—the embodiment of the Emperor's will!

Instead of blindly following some... newly returned Primarch.

Think about it, how many examples of Primarch have there been throughout history?

He seemed to think he had found the perfect angle to strike, his voice laced with seduction and threat. "That Guilliman... who knows what he's got up after sleeping for millennia?"

Look at his actions—dictatorial, abandoning his army to descend alone, and now he's sending you to 'protect' us... Doesn't this seem like he's trying to win people over and consolidate his personal authority?

If you ask me, judging from his current behavior, he is the Imperium's greatest potential threat; he's an ambitious man...

"Thump!!!"

A loud bang interrupted the Duke's words.

Huron abruptly slammed the heavy, still-immense power sword in his hand, hilt down, onto the polished marble floor!

The hard ground cracked instantly, and spiderweb-like cracks spread out.

Duke Mengsk was so startled that he stumbled and almost fell, but was quickly caught by the servants behind him.

He was both shocked and furious, pointing at Huron, his finger trembling. "You!"

What do you want to do?!

Ultramarines! Do you believe I'll impeach you to Guilliman right now?!

I am High Lords! One of the supreme rulers!

Huron slowly turned his head, and the red light from his eyepiece seemed to brighten slightly.

His voice suddenly became unusually calm, even carrying a strange gentleness:

"Please calm down, sir."

I just... accidentally dropped it.

He paused, and under the Duke's bewildered gaze, continued in that gentle tone:

"To express my sincerest apologies, I am willing to remove my helmet."

As you know, for us soldiers, removing our helmets to face others when not in combat is the highest form of respect and trust.

Before Duke Mengsk could respond—perhaps he was already somewhat bewildered by this sudden "courtesy" —Huron raised his hands and grasped the sides of his helmet.

"Snap."

The crisp sound of the airtight lock being released rang out.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the heavy blue and gold helmet was slowly removed.

Beneath the helmet was a face with sharp features, weathered yet still resolute.

His short, black hair clung tightly to his scalp, and his eyes, sharp as a hawk's, were a deep blue. At this moment, he was calmly, even with a hint of pity, gazing at Duke Mengsk before him.

The duke paused for a moment.

This face... he seemed to have seen a vague outline of it long ago in a top-secret wanted poster, or in an illustration of a military briefing about a rebel Chapter.

An extremely ominous premonition, like a cold, venomous snake, suddenly coiled around his heart.

Huron looked at him, and the cold curve of his lips finally became fully revealed—a smile devoid of any genuine joy.

"There is one thing you are right about, sir."

His voice, no longer concealed, echoed clearly in the deathly silent hallway, each word as cold as an icicle:

"My father, Robert Guilliman, will take over the rule of the Imperium."

He will lead humanity towards a new order, sweeping away decay and rebuilding glory.

He stepped forward, the heavy footsteps of his Power Armour sounding like a death knell.

"But this is by no means the ambitious thing you describe—"

Huron easily lifted the power greatsword in his hand with one arm. The force field generator on the blade, which had not yet been activated, began to emit a low hum, and blue-white arcs of electricity danced on the blade.

"He is the true, ordained rightful heir!"

"I believe the Holy Emperor would be delighted to let his most outstanding son rule the Imperium!"

"So... for the sake of my father's peace and quiet, you should die..."

In the instant Duke Mengsk's pupils dilated suddenly, and while the terrified screams of the surrounding High Lords and servants were still stuck in their throats, Huron's roar exploded like thunder:

"For Robert Guilliman!!!"

A flash of sword light.

There was no fancy trajectory, only a simple, swift arc full of absolute power.

Duke Mengsk's large head, filled with astonishment and unuttered curses, was severed from his neck.

It tumbled several times in the air before falling with a "plop" onto the smooth, mirror-like floor, which now reflected a crimson hue.

The headless corpse stood frozen in place for a moment before slowly collapsing forward, gushing blood.

Huron flicked away non-existent beads of blood from the blade.

His azure eyes swept over the High Lords and servants before him, who were frozen in place, their faces drained of color, some slumped on the ground, others trembling in fear.

He raised his hand, pointing to the head on the ground, his voice even carrying a shrill, almost screaming quality:

"Oh my god! The evil demons have harmed the holy High Lords! Come quickly and kill all the demons in this tower!"

"The High Lords died heroically for the Imperium! Collect their bodies carefully, not a single one can be missing. Father will be examining... ugh, paying his respects later!"

"Oh my god, it's an evil demon! Brothers! Grab the Chainsword!"

"Fool, why are you taking the new one? Take the old one! Preferably the kind where the blade is completely worn out!"

"Thanks for the reminder, bro. Cutting flesh with a dull knife can be really satisfying, hehehe~"

The members of Astral Claws were eager to get started and quickly poured into the hall of the Imperium's highest power.

There are over 2,000 of them, and even with these High Lords among them... there aren't enough to go around. We need to quickly grab a few and kill them!

If they're too late, they'll all be dead, hehehe!