You Have Other Uses

He walked calmly across the burning land of Baal, as if he were not on a battlefield of corpses and blood, but rather inspecting his own Garden of Nurgle.

There were no dazzling energy bursts or exaggerated Psionic Energy fluctuations around him, only an invisible and absolute "domain".

Any Tyranids enters within a radius of several thousand meters around him, whether it's the lowest-level Termagant or the powerful Tyranid Warrior, will be affected.

Even Gargoyle attempting to swoop down from the air freeze in motion the instant they enter a certain invisible boundary, and then disintegrate without warning.

It wasn't an explosion, nor a meltdown, but rather a collapse like a sandcastle, turning into the finest, homogeneous, lifeless dust, drifting away with the wind.

There was no sound, no light, only a complete and chilling erasure.

He seemed to exist independently of this bloody space-time, yet also seemed to have become the embodiment of the physical laws of this region.

Sublime, great, unapproachable, incomprehensible.

Several Hive Tyrant, attempting a flanking attack, were empowered by their stronger individual will and the direct influence of their Hive Mind.

They barely managed to get within about 100 meters of Guilliman.

But their speed, strength, and Psionic Energy, which they are so proud of, are meaningless here.

Their movements became incredibly sluggish, as if they were struggling in extremely dense glue, and the Psionic Energy shields on their bodies shattered silently like soap bubbles.

Guilliman didn't even look at them; he simply raised one hand casually and clenched it in mid-air.

One of the Hive Tyrant suddenly froze, feeling an irresistible force gripping its entire body.

It's not a physical grasp, but rather like its own "structure" being forcibly fixed and compressed.

It was "lifted" to Guilliman's feet by an invisible hand.

Guilliman then turned his gaze to it; in those azure eyes, there was neither anger nor hatred.

"This is the first time I have formally engaged in battle with your race."

Guilliman spoke, his voice calm yet clearly overwhelming all the noise on the battlefield, echoing directly in the senses of this Hive Tyrant.

"Remember this well."

Use whatever means your biomass network can do, in the last moments before your sensory systems fail, to transmit my 'impression' back.

"Let your 'collective will,' hiding at the edge of the galaxy and greedily devouring, remember what I look like."

He paused, a chilling smile curving his lips.

"Because next, I will find it, find every one of your fleets, every node."

Then, I will personally annihilate you, bit by bit, from the level of the Material Universe.

I assure you, the Hive will be history.

The remaining biological instincts of the Hive Tyrant raged as it screamed wildly.

But it couldn't move; it could only transmit all the terrifying information it sensed about the being before it through its neural cords.

That absolute power to suppress, that control over the essence of matter, that annihilating will beneath calm words.

The Hive Mind was transmitted to the upper levels without reservation.

Sure enough, a cold, vast thought, filled with endless greed and curiosity, flowed in from the "terminal" of the Hive Tyrant, attempting to contact and analyze Guilliman.

"What do you?"

The "voice" of the Hive Mind resounded directly, not in words, but as a direct conceptual shock, filled with a yearning for unknown "superior genes": "A new... species?"

A perfect... sequence!

I... long for it!

Analyze you... devour you... merge with you... your genes... will lead the race... beyond... evolution!!

Guilliman sensed the greedy intent trying to invade his level of existence, and instead of resisting it, he allowed it to "touch" his surface information.

He smiled, a smile that seemed utterly incomprehensible to the Hive Tyrant.

"I?"

Guilliman answered slowly and deliberately, as if giving a formal self-introduction, "I am just a human being."

"Just an ordinary human being who is... slightly special."

He seemed to think for a moment, then added with a hint of amusement, "Of course, if you prefer a more... formal address."

You can also call me 'God of Mankind,' or ' Emperor,' 'King of Ultramar,' 'Lord of Macragge,' 'The Sole Rightful Heir to the Imperium,' 'The Newly Appointed C'tan of the Material Universe '... choose whichever you like.

I have many titles; surely one of them will satisfy your limited vocabulary and simple thought process.

His gaze fell on the monstrous head of the Hive Tyrant, and his eyes suddenly turned cold. "However, you'd better choose quickly."

because..."

Guilliman made a simple "eating" gesture with his free hand.

It opened its mouth and took a bite out of the Hive Tyrant's enormous head, which was covered in thick chitin!

"Crack... Snap..."

A sickening chewing sound rang out.

The chitinous carapace, strong enough to withstand direct hits from explosive bombs, shattered like a fragile biscuit under Guilliman's teeth.

He didn't use his atomic abilities to break it down; instead, like the most primitive predator, he devoured it in the most direct, savage, and symbolic way.

The remaining nerves of the Hive Tyrant frantically transmitted the terrifying sensation of being chewed, crushed, and swallowed.

Its connected Hive Mind also clearly "tasted" the unprecedented fear and humiliation of being "eaten" by a higher-level predator.

Guilliman chewed casually a few times, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed the large mouthful of "food" mixed with carapace fragments and Xenos flesh.

He smacked his lips, a look of assessment on his face.

"The taste... is actually not bad."

He commented, his gaze sweeping over the other Tyranids units still wreaking havoc on the battlefield, a strange glint in his eyes:

"It's a bit fishy, but it's packed with energy, and the texture is... rich and complex."

"It's much better than those hard, crumbly ' Ant-Cow ' canned foods."

He grinned, a smile that, illuminated by the smoke and Psionic Energy glow, carried a chilling... pleasure?

"Very good."

Guilliman murmured to himself, or perhaps to some unseen audience, "Being able to eat... means that, besides being completely annihilated, you greedy devourers might have other 'uses'."

He released his grip, and the headless remains of the Hive Tyrant fell limply to the ground.