This Is Hell

On the battlefield, a Blood Angels finally couldn't hold back any longer. He roared to the sky, the sound exploding in the communication channel, echoing in the void, and reverberating throughout the Warp.

"Kill! Kill! Sacrifice the God-Emperor with your blood, Guilliman!"

In that instant, the entire battlefield fell silent.

All the Blood Angels simultaneously stopped what they were doing and turned to look at the brother who had shouted those words.

Then--

"Yes! A blood sacrifice to the God-Emperor, Guilliman!"

"Blood sacrifice to the God-Emperor! Guilliman!"

"Blood sacrifice to the God-Emperor! Guilliman!"

A thousand Blood Angels roared simultaneously.

That sound wave was powerful enough to tear a planet apart.

In the far reaches of the Warp, on a throne forged from bronze and blood, a terrifying four-armed being is frantically banging its head against the wall.

Thump thump thump thump--

The sound resounded throughout the entire Warp.

Countless Khorne Daemons cowered in the corners, trembling as they watched their god, the once invincible Blood God, now howling like a wounded beast.

"My angel! My angel!!"

Khorne cried his heart out, his tears were blood-red, flowing down and forming a sea of blood at his feet.

"You're my followers! You're here to offer your lives to me, not to offer your lives to that blue-skinned False Emperor!!"

What does that slogan mean?!

Blood sacrifice to the God-Emperor —that's fine, God-Emperor, blood sacrifice, I understand! But what the hell is this Guilliman "?! Give me the skull offering! Give it to me!

"And what is that Spicy Blood Curd?! Why is it served with Sanguinius Meat Sauce?! Where's my blood wine?! Where's my skull throne?!"

Khorne completely broke down.

He rolled wildly on the Brass Throne, banging his head on the ground, pounding his chest with his fists, and howling like a pig being slaughtered.

Behind him, the silhouette of a giant Golden Throne loomed faintly in the distance.

On the toilet, a gaunt figure was laughing wildly, the laughter so loud that it shook the entire Warp.

Emperor:

He laughed like an old man seeing his grandson fighting for the first time.

He was laughing so hard his Delia were showing.

He laughed Khorne he wanted to rush over and fight him in person, but reason told him he couldn't win.

Surrounding the Blood Angels, there was another group of figures.

Grey Knights.

Those Grey Knights, who had been reworked by Magnus, had now completely transformed into another kind of being—no, not a being, but a weapon.

It is the ultimate weapon against Chaos.

They emanated terrifying Psionic Energy, so intense that it distorted the surrounding void.

Their eyes burned with golden flames, flames that were the power of the Emperor, the blessing of Magnus, and the will passed down through millennia by the Grey Knights.

And their fighting style—

He remained silent.

Go all out!

Psionic Energy Storm!

Golden bolts of lightning erupted from their bodies, raging across the surface of the Ark of Omen.

Wherever the lightning struck, traces of Chaos were completely erased, the marks of the Chaos Gods were burned away, and the structure of the Ark of Omen, corroded by Chaos, melted away like ice and snow encountering a raging fire.

Even more terrifying was the effect of those Psionic Energy storms on the Chaos traitors—

A Chaos Space Marines was struck by golden lightning; his body instantly stiffened, and then golden flames simultaneously erupted from his eyes, ears, and mouth.

The flames began to burn from within his body, reducing his soul, his flesh, and every cell within him contaminated by Chaos to ashes.

The entire process takes no more than three seconds.

The Chaos Space Marines didn't even have time to scream before he turned into a handful of black ash and was scattered by the power of the void.

The Grey Knights remained silent.

They simply continued unleashing Psionic Energy storms, continued reaping the Chaos traitors, continued—

"For the Holy Guilliman!"

Suddenly, a Grey Knights roared.

Then, all the Grey Knights began to roar:

"For the Holy Guilliman!!"

"For the Holy Guilliman!!"

"For the Holy Guilliman!!"

The roar intertwined with the Blood Angels ' chant of "Blood sacrifice to the God-Emperor, Guilliman," forming a strange yet stirring war song.

Lion's eyebrows are almost reaching his hairline.

Why is Guilliman being called?

What about Magnus?

Weren't you transformed by Magnus? Didn't he bestow your power upon you? Didn't he make you demon agents?

Why is it Guilliman they're shouting?!

That's so hard to guess.

It's really hard to guess.

Meanwhile, in another corner of the Warp, within that endless Crystal Labyrinth, a being with a bird's head and a human body was frantically banging its head against the wall.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Tzeentch:

"My little horse—my little horse—"

His cries echoed throughout the labyrinth, so piercing that countless Tzeentch Daemon covered their ears in agony, wishing they could commit suicide on the spot.

"You're my Primarch! I gave you power! I gave you rebirth! Why are you working for that blue-skinned guy?!"

"Why is your modified Grey Knights calling out Guilliman's name?! What about mine?! Even just saying 'For Magnus ' would have been better!!"

"And what the hell is that slogan?! Blood sacrifice to the God-Emperor, Guilliman —that makes absolutely no sense!"

"A blood sacrifice for Khorne, a skull offered to Guilliman —what kind of operation is this?! Does this conform to the principles of change?!"

Tzeentch out of his depth.

He ran wildly through the maze, smashing countless crystals and leaving a mess behind.

Deep within his labyrinth, countless crystals reflected the same image—that blue-skinned figure, that face that made him grit his teeth in hatred.

In the image, Guilliman is sitting beside the Golden Throne, leisurely sipping tea, a faint smile playing on his lips.

That smile seemed to say:

Thank you, Little Horse.

This Grey Knights is really useful.

Lion gazed at the battlefield before him, at the Blood Angels roaring "Blood sacrifice to the God-Emperor, Guilliman!", at the Grey Knights shouting "For Holy Guilliman!", at the battle that had utterly degenerated into a one-sided massacre—

He began to question the meaning of life.

He had every reason to suspect that the Blood Angels had betrayed him and sided with Khorne.

Because their fighting style was so much like that of the Khorne Cultist —violent, bloodthirsty, and blinded by rage.

But here's the problem--

Each of those Blood Angels was radiating a golden beam of Psionic Energy.

The pillar of light was pure, sacred, and full of power.

That is the power of the Emperor.

That is absolutely certain, absolutely impossible to forge, and absolutely could not have originated from Chaos.

Light.

Lion raised his head and looked in that distant direction.

There, there is a Golden Throne.

There, a figure sits motionless for millennia.

There, lies his father, whom he has not seen for ten thousand years.

He could almost see that gaunt figure sitting on the Golden Throne, his hands supporting his chin, his eyes fixed on the large screen in front of him—if the Emperor had a large screen.

In those eyes, there was excitement, thrill, and something else—

A frenzy even more intense than Khorne.