Can't Take It Anymore!

This is fucking--

This is intolerable!

Lion took a deep breath and then suddenly accelerated.

His speed instantly doubled, so fast that he almost didn't recognize himself.

His sword light was even sharper, his shield strikes even more ferocious, and every move he made carried the sharpness of that proud lion from ten thousand years ago.

He caught up with the Blood Angels.

Then, he surpassed him.

The Blood Angels stared wide-eyed in disbelief at the green figure that had suddenly overtaken it, at the figure hacking and slashing wildly—

"Holy crap, that's the Primarch?!"

He exclaimed in surprise.

The next second, Lion had already charged deeper into the battlefield, into more enemies, and into an even more frenzied battlefield.

Behind them, came the roar of the Blood Angels:

"Brothers! The Primarch is charging ahead! We can't afford to lose to him!"

"Charge!!"

"For the Blood of Sanguinius!!"

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

Countless red figures accelerated simultaneously, like burning meteors, following Lion as they rushed towards the deeper, darker, and more frenzied depths—

hell.

Deep within the Ark of Omen.

Lion has completely let go.

With each swing of his sword, hordes of enemies fell.

With each of his shield strikes, countless bones shattered.

Each of his charges left endless fear in the hearts of the Chaos Traitors.

He had lost count of how many enemies he had killed.

One hundred?

One thousand?

Ten thousand?

unimportant.

The important thing is --

Cool.

That's fucking awesome.

This was even more exhilarating than the Great Crusade!

He recalled the years of the Great Crusade, the days when he led the First Legion to sweep across the stars.

Back then, they were strong, fierce, and capable fighters.

But back then, they had to be tactic, disciplined, coordinated, obey the Emperor's orders, and proceed step by step.

Nothing's ever been this enjoyable before.

Where was this level of freedom back then?

It's never been like this before --

Cut it however you want?!

Hahahaha--

Lion laughed wildly and cleaved a Chaos Terminator in two with a single sword strike.

The Terminator's thick armor was like paper under his sword, and its powerful Power Weapon were like toys in front of him.

Come on! Again!

He roared and charged towards more enemies.

Behind him, fifty Dark Angels also went berserk.

They watched their Gene-Father go mad, watched those red lunatics go mad, watched the Psionic Energy storms of those Grey Knights go mad—

They've gone mad too.

"For the Lion!!"

"For the First Legion!!"

"Kill! Kill! Kill!!"

Their sword light intertwined into a net of death, their roars converged into a thunderous war song, and in the eyes of the Chaos Traitor, their figures were the embodiment of Ynnead.

Not far away, a red figure suddenly darted across the corridor, moving with lightning speed.

Wherever his sword flashed, it simultaneously carved out passages in the walls, floors, and ceilings.

Those passages were like shortcuts in a maze, like escape routes in hell, like—

One road after another leads to deeper and deeper.

As Lion looked at the passageways and the Blood Angels frantically clearing the way, a strange feeling suddenly welled up in his heart.

That feeling is called--

envious.

He also wanted to fly.

He also longs to soar freely through the universe.

He also wished he could be like those Blood Angels, going wherever he wanted and charging however he pleased.

But he couldn't.

He is the First Primarch, the Lion, the Gene-Father of the Dark Angels.

He can't fly.

He can never fly.

But at this moment, he suddenly wanted to ask Guilliman a question:

Robert, you've taken away all my love!

Why should your offspring be able to fly?

Why can the descendants of Sanguinius fly?

Why can they all soar through the universe like angels, while I have to obediently walk by land, along the bridge, and through corridors?

Why?!

Lion's heart was roaring.

But on the surface, he was still hacking and slashing wildly.

Because he knew that now was not the time to dwell on this.

The most important thing now is--

Slay all the enemies in front of you.

Slaughter all this Chaos scum.

He killed everything that dared to stand in his way.

As for flying?

We'll talk about it later.

After this battle, he was determined to find Guilliman and find out exactly what that "secret" was.

As long as it can fly.

As long as I can fly like those Blood Angels.

He'll agree to any condition!

Lion made a silent vow in his heart.

Meanwhile, in distant Terra, beside the Golden Throne, Guilliman suddenly sneezed.

He rubbed his nose and looked towards the Imperium Nihilus with some confusion.

Who's talking about me?

He was talking to himself.

The next second, he continued to bury himself in official business, muttering to himself:

"Never mind, it's definitely a good thing anyway."

In Warp.

Tzeentch's Crystal Labyrinth.

This great Chaos deity is currently banging his head against the wall in a frenzy.

Thump.

Thump!

Thump!!!

The sound was so loud that the entire maze trembled.

Countless Tzeentch Daemon covered their ears in agony, some even banging their heads against the walls, trying to drown out the wails of their gods with a louder sound.

But that didn't work.

Because Tzeentch's wails could be heard throughout the entire Warp.

"Is this even reasonable?!"

He cried out, tears streaming down his face, splashing onto his beloved crystals, which hissed and corroded with his tears.

"Does this even conform to change?!"

He pointed to the image reflected in the crystal.

That was the battlefield inside the Ark of Omen; that was Lion hacking and slashing wildly; that was the Blood Angels flying madly; that was the Grey Knights unleashing a storm of Psionic Energy.

"The Blood Angels! That's the Blood Angels! The offspring of Sanguinius! The Blood Angels renowned for its elegance and artistry!"

"What are they doing now?! They're flying! They're hacking away like crazy! They're shouting something like 'Blood sacrifice to the God-Emperor, Guilliman!'"

"Is this even reasonable?! Does this even conform to change?!"

Tzeentch's voice grew higher and higher, sharper and sharper, finally turning into a piercing scream:

"This is absolutely insane!"

He crashed headfirst into the crystal wall, creating a huge crater.

His distorted face was reflected in the pit.

Countless Tzeentch Daemon gazed at that face, at the face that had once filled them with fear, worship, and the face from which they had willingly offered their souls.

At that moment, her face was covered only with tears.

Only snot.

Only an expression of utter despair.

The demons clutched their ears in agony, shaking their heads frantically, trying to banish the terrifying wails from their minds.

They even hoped that Tzeentch would play some kind of prank on them.

Even the most vicious, cruel, and excruciating pranks.

It's better than hearing this terrifying psionic Psionic Energy!

But Tzeentch was too preoccupied with them to care.

He just kept banging his head against the wall frantically, howling hysterically, frantically—