I Live

"Bang—Crack!"

A sickening metallic twisting and cracking sound rang out.

Malum's sturdy white tactical helmet showed clear dents and cracks on the front.

He was struck head-on by a battering ram, completely unable to resist the brute force that was so brutal and unreasonable. His feet left the ground, and he flew backward!

"Crash--Boom!"

He crashed through half of the broken wall, landing awkwardly amidst dust and rubble, tumbling several times before finally coming to a stop.

This small area of the battlefield fell silent instantly.

Several nearby soldiers turned around in astonishment, looking at the direction of the sudden eruption and the dust that rose up.

Malum lay in the rubble, completely dazed for a few seconds.

The damage alarm on the Power Armour blared sharply in my ears, and the visor display flickered with cracks and gibberish.

He shook his slightly dizzy head and subconsciously raised his hand to touch the chin area of his helmet.

That was the point where the fist struck directly; the armor was clearly deformed and caved inwards, clinging tightly to his skin.

It hurts... it really hurts!

Even for a seasoned Space Marines, despite the cushioning effect of his Power Armour, this punch still gave him a long-lost, bone-piercing impact.

But what shocked and baffled him even more was the source of that punch.

How could an "ordinary" Ultramarines, who had just been confirmed dead and had never even undergone the Primaris forging surgery, possibly throw such a punch?

Malum's logic was running wildly, trying to find explanations from tactical databases and physiological knowledge.

This level of power is close to or even surpasses that of some company commanders who have received special enhancements!

Moreover, the Psionic Energy fluctuations accompanying that punch... though crude and untamed, were exceptionally pure and powerful, faintly carrying a trace of... a familiar feeling that filled him with awe?

He braced himself against the ground and stood up somewhat unsteadily, his Power Armour joints emitting a slight protesting sound.

Dust trickled down from the gaps in the armor.

He raised his head and looked through the cracks in his mask towards the direction of the ice coffin.

The broken coffin lid was completely pried open from the inside.

A tall, robust figure, enveloped in faint blue-gold steam, stepped somewhat stiffly out of the coffin.

It was indeed Titus.

He looked down at his tightly clenched fist, which seemed to contain boundless power.

He looked up at Malum, whom he had punched away, and his face was instantly filled with shock and apology.

"I'm... sorry, bro!"

Titus's voice was somewhat hoarse, yet full of energy, not at all like that of someone who was near death or had just died.

He hurried towards Malum, at a loss for what to do:

"I just... lost control of my emotions, my mind was a mess, and I felt like I had inexhaustible energy... I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

Malum did not answer immediately, but instead scrutinized Titus carefully, as if studying a rare tactical specimen.

He saw a blazing, newborn flame burning in Titus's eyes, and a faint glimmer of light passing beneath his skin.

The life force field emanating from his body was incredibly powerful, and... the residual aura of Psionic Energy...

To be able to stand up as if nothing happened after taking such a punch...

Titus watched as Malum quickly regained his footing, seemingly unharmed except for some damage to his helmet. He couldn't help but marvel at this guy... truly impressive!

Absolutely durable!

Malum moved his neck, making a soft click, and finally spoke. His voice came through the broken visor, somewhat muffled, but unusually calm:

No need to apologize, brother.

That punch... can't hurt me.

He paused, as if organizing his thoughts, then pointed at Titus, his tone conveying a knowing "You really don't know anything":

"It seems you have no idea what happened to you, or what the current Ultramarines like..."

Titus nodded blankly.

Malum pointed to the sky, then to the deep blue figures that crisscrossed the battlefield and even flew through the air:

"Soon, once things have calmed down a bit here, I will take you back to the ' Macragge's Glory '."

"Belisarius Cawl, along with the Techmarine within the Chapter, will perform... an 'upgrade' for you."

He specifically used the word "upgrade" rather than a simple "reconstruction surgery".

"The Ultramarines of today is not the same as the one you remember from your time in the Inquisition's dark cell."

Malum's voice carried a heartfelt, almost pious pride as he puffed out his chest, as if to display the gleaming Ultramar emblem on his breastplate.

"We are stronger, we have new goals, we... have regained the stars that guide us!"

Our Primarch, Lord Robert Guilliman, has returned, and is more powerful than ever before!

To help Titus understand more clearly, Malum raised his arm and pointed firmly to the highest point in the center of the battlefield.

There, seemingly independent of this bloody inferno, a blue-gold figure floated silently.

He made no violent movements, only occasionally waving his hand or looking into the distance, and hundreds or thousands of Tyranids would silently turn into dust.

The airspace where he was located seemed to have become an absolute no-go zone.

Any Tyranids unit, whether it charges on the ground or swoops down from the air, will disintegrate the moment it enters a certain invisible area.

He alone attracted and bore the brunt of nearly half of the Tyranids attacks on the battlefield, yet he did so as if he were strolling leisurely.

"Behold," Malum's voice was filled with awe, "The great Lord Guilliman, who triumphed over millennia of slumber and the traps of the Warp."

He returned and led us to restore the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, cleansing the traitors and Xenos;

He led us across the stars, back to the Holy Terra, and to reclaim the Imperium power under the Emperor's glory!

What you see now is just the tip of the iceberg of his power.

His gaze shifted from Guilliman's figure to Titus, and he said in a deep voice, "You will soon understand what all this signifies, brother."

soon.

Only by truly standing beside that great man, bathed in his will and radiance, can you truly appreciate... how great he is.

He brought us not only strength, but also... hope and an undeniable future.

When Malum said these words, he unconsciously adopted a solemn, prayerful tone, as if mentioning the Primarch's name itself was a sacred ritual.

Titus listened quietly, feeling the warm and powerful pulse of energy surging within him along with the new life.

He remembered that warm, blue-gold light.

I recalled that towering figure, that kind yet domineering tone, and the sacred blue-gold blood that flowed into my "body"...

So... that wasn't a dream after death... that really was... the Primarch himself... his father... he...

A surge of hot tears welled up in his eyes, and Titus felt an unprecedented sense of belonging and honor, almost bringing him to tears again.