Loyal as He Was

Feeling the warmth of his father's embrace and hearing this unreserved trust and plea, Dante's tears flowed even more freely.

He abruptly took a step back, knelt on one knee again, and in the most standard knightly gesture of loyalty, looked up at Sanguinius, his voice choked with emotion yet resolute:

"Certainly!

I will always be the sharpest sword in your hand!

It is the unbreakable backbone of the Blood Angels!

Dante hereby swears that, as long as he has breath, he will shed his last drop of blood for his father, for the Chapter, and for the Imperium!

Sanguinius smiled with relief and helped him up again.

Not far away, Guilliman was with his four "good sons".

Calgar, Kaido, Sicarius, and Titus are lined up in a row.

Like an audience member watching a heartwarming family drama, she wore a satisfied "auntie smile."

I watched with a smile as this deeply moving scene of father and son reunited.

Behind them stood two thousand elite Ultramarines.

Although they maintained their neat formation, the corners of their mouths beneath their masks probably couldn't help but curl upwards.

After all, this was when their Gene-Father, Guilliman, had just awakened from a millennium-long slumber.

When you sweep through armies with invincible might, reclaim Ultramar, and return to Terra.

They too had experienced moments of overwhelming excitement, moments when they felt they wanted to roar to the heavens.

Perhaps... I was even more excited back then?

After all, back then, my father single-handedly broke through the Black Legion's defenses. Just thinking about that scene makes my blood boil!

Welcome back, brother.

Seeing that their reminiscing had come to an end, Guilliman walked briskly and smilingly toward Sanguinius.

Sanguinius turned around upon hearing this, his golden eyes instantly filling with boundless gratitude.

He had so much to say.

Thanks to Guilliman for pulling him back from eternal solitude and nothingness, thanks to him for granting this stronger new life, thanks to him for caring for his offspring, thanks to him...

There are just too many things to say. For a moment, a thousand words were stuck in my chest, and I didn't know where to begin.

Guilliman, however, seemed to read his mind and immediately opened his arms, giving his newly returned brother a solid and powerful bear hug!

"No need for further explanation, brother!"

Guilliman patted Sanguinius hard on the back.

Welcome back!

That's enough.

He loosened his embrace, a bright smile on his face, and added, "Father, and that old man Malcador, they miss you very much."

certainly..."

He pointed to himself, a mischievous glint in his eye, "Me too."

Feeling this unbridled and warm brotherhood.

The last trace of gloom and unease in Sanguinius' heart completely dissipated, leaving only a deep sense of gratitude and relief.

Having a brother like this is truly wonderful...

Guilliman looked at Sanguinius's deeply moved expression, as if he were ready to go to great lengths for him at any moment, and his mind raced with calculations.

This silly brother is soft-hearted and loyal, and he's also good-looking. He's got a divine aura to his name, and he exudes an imperial presence just by standing there. He's more suited to sit in that position than I am.

I've been dealing with this mess for so long, handling all this lousy government affairs every day, my head is about to explode.

You were the emperor of the Second Imperium, so you have experience. Anyway, you just got back, and you can't just watch me work myself to death.

I've taken over this job perfectly. I don't have to worry about those trivial matters of people's livelihood or interstellar diplomacy. All I have to do is lead troops into battle and clear away the Chaos. How easy is that?

Once I've cleaned up the Chaos, I'll find a planet to retire to, drink tea, read newspapers, and occasionally take care of some tough guys.

You're the most suitable person to be the emperor. You'll have both prestige and the respect of the people. I'll be the retired emperor!

Anyway, there's no need to worry about his father. Just give him a more prestigious position, and he can just be a symbol.

This brother just got back, so he'd be too embarrassed to refuse. Besides, this is for the sake of the Imperium of Man, so he can't just turn down the offer.

From now on, we'll be indiscriminately slaughtering everyone in the Imperium political arena!

I'll take care of laughing out loud, and you take care of the rampage and slaughter.

My beloved Emperor Emeritus's wonderful life depends entirely on you, brother!

Sanguinius: The emotion gradually froze... something seems off?

Guilliman: His smile remained genuine, his eyes filled with sincere expectation, but in his heart he had already envisioned a leisurely retirement.

What?

You ask me, if someone becomes a retired emperor, what happens to the Emperor?

Guilliman felt no pressure at all; it was simple!

Let him be the 'Emperor's Wife'!

In the long river of human history, what role hasn't he played?

One more title, no more, no less, just right!

The golden sunrise leaped completely over the horizon of Baal.

May its radiant light shine upon this land that has endured hardship but has finally ushered in the dawn.

It also illuminated the two Primarchs standing side by side before the temple, symbolizing the new Primarch of the Imperium.

A bright smile, but the scheming in her heart could be heard Milky Way.

A radiant being, just returned, not yet fully aware of the situation, but ready to dedicate everything to humanity.

Holy Terra, deep beneath the Royal Palace district.

A special prison surrounded by multiple Stasis Field, physical alloy barriers, and Psionic Energy seals.

The silence here is so heavy it could crush the soul of an ordinary person.

Only the deep hum of the energy field and the occasional slight adjustment sound from the Guardian's Power Armour servo system could prove that time was still passing.

The cell interior was surprisingly spacious, large enough to accommodate prisoners of giant size, but the furnishings were minimal, with only the most basic fixtures.

The walls, floors, and ceilings were all covered with a grayish-white special material that could absorb energy and suppress Psionic Energy; it was cold, lifeless, and devoid of life.

In this oppressive gray-white landscape, a splash of deep red stands out starkly.

That is Cypher, the Primarch of the Dark Angels, son of Lion El'Jonson Eljonsson, now imprisoned here as the "The Fallen".

He wasn't wearing Power Armour, only a simple dark red robe, his long hair was loose, and his face looked gloomy and haggard in the dim light.

Ten thousand years of fleeing, the weight of betrayal, and the fact that he had lost his freedom at this moment were like invisible shackles binding his soul.

He seemed unable to bear the absolute silence, or perhaps he sought solace in the presence of another prisoner, a sense of kinship, or... material for mockery.

His gaze fell on another corner of the cell.

On that enormous, crimson figure, curled up like a wounded beast.

Angron, the Primarch the World Eaters, the Twelfth Primarch, the Butcher of the Red Sands, was unusually quiet at this moment.

Cypher twitched the corners of his mouth, revealing an expression that was hardly a smile, and broke the silence with a deliberately raised voice, tinged with a neurotic "chatting" tone:

Haha... you know what?

"Me? I've been alive since ten thousand years ago, since the Great Crusade and the Horus Heresy, right up until now."

He emphasized the word "alive," his tone carrying a self-deprecating tone and a hint of barely perceptible arrogance, "For so... so long a time, I've always known of your 'existence'."

He leaned slightly forward, as if sharing a secret, even though he knew the other person probably wouldn't care at all.