Which Regent Is This?

"Is this thing... a mortal?"

Ji Liman stared at the powerful figure and muttered to himself.

Then he noticed the text beneath the regent's image:

[Anchored target: Regent of the Viltrum Empire, Thragg Canterbury.]

"The Viltrum Empire? Regent Thragg? What world is this..."

Before Ji Liman's question could fully form, the anchored image within the system suddenly erupted with endless golden-red light!

The tall, imposing man in the image actually stepped out of the illusion, turning from phantom into reality!

His dignified yet calm gaze swept across Ji Liman's consciousness, and he gave a slight nod.

"My ideals, my ambitions, my dream of conquering the Milky Way and restoring the Viltrum Empire to its former glory!"

"I leave them all to you!"

Thragg's domineering voice echoed throughout the entire space of consciousness.

Then he strode forward, his entire body transforming into countless points of light containing immense power and knowledge.

Like a raging torrent, they surged toward Ji Liman and merged into the not-yet-fully-formed body of Guilliman!

"Boom—!"

In that instant, an enormous flood of memories, knowledge, skills, and instincts—

the entire history of a "Viltrum Empire" ruled by absolute force and possessing a rather oddly developed tech tree—poured into Ji Liman's perception like a tidal wave.

He "saw" Regent Thragg's life, filled with iron and fire, conquest and rule.

After the brief impact, Ji Liman's consciousness—or rather, the consciousness of the man about to become Guilliman—was not overwhelmed. Instead, an indescribable realization and wild joy rose within him!

Deep within his consciousness, the corners of his mouth seemed to curl into a reckless grin.

This is... looking pretty damn secure!

The system's voice rang out clearly one final time, carrying a faint sense of farewell:

[Anchoring fusion complete! Welcome to the Warhammer Universe!

Go become the strongest regent! Son of the God-King, Lord of Macragge, Primarch of the Ultramarines Legion, Roboute Guilliman!]

Light devoured everything, and Chaos began to recede.

A soul burdened for ten thousand years, now filled with entirely new possibilities and unknown power, was plummeting toward that dark and hopeless forty-first millennium!

Macragge, the sacred resting place of the Primarch.

The air was so heavy it seemed solid, as though every breath struggled against the weight of ten thousand years.

Calgar, Chapter Master of the Ultramarines Chapter, knelt on one knee like a blue monolith before the Tomb of Fate that held his gene-father, Roboute Guilliman.

His gaze, like the sight of a boltgun, remained fixed on Yvraine, representative of the Eldar Reaper Host, and the ominous Cronesword in her hand.

"I'll say it one last time, xenos," Calgar said in a low, dangerous voice, suppressing towering rage. "Step away from the Primarch.

"I will never allow your blasphemous blade to touch my father's body!"

At his side, the Marshal of the Black Templars and the Grand Master of the Grey Knights said nothing, but their silent stances and the faint psychic ripples emanating from them had already made their position clear.

—they stood with Calgar and were deeply distrustful of Yvraine.

Yvraine's exquisite face remained placid, though a trace of helplessness and resolve lay hidden deep in her eyes.

"This is a bargain between the Emperor and the Laughing God, Chapter Master Calgar.

"I do not know all the details, but Guilliman's resurrection must rely on the power of Ynnead, the God of Death. Only the power of death can cleanse the poison of Fulgrim's Daemon Sword and allow him to truly return."

"This is indeed the Emperor's will."

The Living Saint Celestine floated in midair, bathed in warm, sacred golden radiance. Her voice carried unquestionable authority:

"Chapter Master Calgar, heed the decree left by the Primarch ten thousand years ago.

"The Thirteenth Son, Lord of Macragge and the Five Hundred Worlds, Guilliman, is humanity's last hope!

"We must seize every possibility!"

"I understand! Living Saint, I understand Lord Guilliman's importance!"

Calgar abruptly rose to his feet, his power armor grinding heavily. "But you expect me to believe that—to let this xenos witch plunge her sword into my Primarch's body?

"Do you think that's possible?

"I swear upon the honor of a Chapter Master: as long as I still draw breath, I will never allow this to happen before my eyes!"

His fists clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

The atmosphere was tense as drawn blades, and the rift within the Loyalists was on the verge of igniting into conflict.

Just then, the Chief Librarian, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward. Blue psychic flames flickered in his eyes, and his face looked weary and weathered from peering into the future.

"Chapter Master," he said earnestly, almost pleadingly, "please believe in the prophecy I saw.

"I saw it... our Primarch will awaken!

"He will rise again and lead us back to greatness!

"Calgar, give us this chance. Give humanity this chance to become great once more!

"Think of it—what a brilliant future awaits the Imperium if a Primarch leads us!"

Calgar's face twisted as duty and emotion warred within him.

Duty and Loyalty would not allow him to yield, yet the Librarian's words and the Living Saint's authority shook his resolve.

He closed his eyes in pain and drew a deep breath, as though exhausting all his strength. "...Look again, Chief Librarian.

"Use your psychic power. Look once more upon that vision of the future.

"I want you to truly convince me... but my duty, my bloodline, they are screaming that no xenos may touch the Primarch!"

"Fine! I'll look one more time! I've already seen it countless times, and every time, that majestic figure stands tall amidst the sea of stars!"

The Chief Librarian roared, driving his psychic power to its limits. The blue flames in his eyes blazed fiercely as he tried to capture those fragments of a certain future.

Yet the next second, the resolve and anticipation on his face froze instantly, replaced by utter shock and bewilderment.

He saw...

The Primarch clad in the Armor of Fate did indeed rise to his feet.

But instead of reaching for the sacred sword close at hand, the symbol of the Emperor's will, he unleashed a roar that shook the universe, and his violent power blasted straight through the sanctuary's dome!

Like a human cannonball, he crashed into the Chaos fleet and, with his bare hands... gripped the prow of a starship!

The meticulously crafted Armor of Fate, the crystallization of humanity's technology, shattered and peeled away layer by layer like fragile pottery beneath the impact of his utterly terrifying strength!

And beneath the armor was the Primarch's unprecedented body—absurdly powerful, magnificently built, and blazing all over with golden light as fierce as the sun!