Ferrus Manus

His new head was fully formed.

That face is exactly the same as it was ten thousand years ago.

But in those eyes, there was more weariness, more anger, more...

The complexities of brothers reuniting.

"Guilliman."

He spoke:

"We... we're such a tragic couple."

Guilliman paused for a moment:

"What?"

Ferrus Manus's lips curled up slightly, a bitter smile:

"You were nearly killed by Fulgrim's sword, which pierced your throat. I was decapitated by Fulgrim's sword and died instantly."

He paused:

"We both got screwed over by that guy."

Guilliman fell silent.

He remembered that day.

I remembered that purple figure, that sword gleaming with pink light, and the excruciating pain that pierced my throat.

If he didn't have Law of Eternity, if he hadn't received timely treatment—

He will die too.

Like Ferrus Manus.

"But now, I'm back."

Ferrus Manus continued, a hint of emotion in his voice:

"Although in this way."

He looked at his hands, the flesh and blood formed from golden Psionic Energy:

"A member of the Bound Legion. The identity of the dead. The power of the living."

He looked at Guilliman:

"Do you think I can be resurrected?"

Guilliman looked at him and remained silent for a moment.

Then he said:

"Able."

Ferrus Manus's eyes lit up.

"Real?"

Guilliman nodded:

"When I get back, I'll condense an Law of Eternity and throw it to you."

A glint flashed in his eyes:

"Your Iron Hands ' bastards, they should still have your corpse with them, right?"

Ferrus Manus's expression turned strange.

"My body..."

He murmured:

"That..."

Guilliman looked at him:

"What's wrong?"

Ferrus Manus sighed:

"It was smashed by Vulkan."

Guilliman was stunned.

"What?"

Ferrus Manus began to recount the story he didn't know.

It turns out that the warriors of the Iron Hands did not bury him after his death.

They turned him into a living dead.

A mechanical head was fitted onto his corpse, and various modifications were used to keep him "alive."

That's no longer Ferrus Manus.

It was just a monster disguised as Ferrus Manus.

Vulkan, the Lord of Drakes known for his benevolence, was furious upon learning of this.

He charged into the Iron Hands's fortress and smashed the undead to pieces with a single blow.

"Even that kind-hearted person has moments of anger."

Ferrus Manus said with a wry smile:

"Even though it was my own body that was smashed, I don't blame him at all."

He looked at Guilliman:

"Those bastards really deserved to be beaten."

Guilliman fell silent.

He thought of Vulkan's always smiling face, his care for humanity, and his respect for life.

That could drive someone like that crazy.

Those bastards from the Iron Hands are really something.

"Wait for me to come back."

Guilliman said:

"I'll search your treasure trove."

Ferrus Manus looked at him:

"Search for what?"

Guilliman laughed:

"Search your genetic sample. If I can find a pure one, I can resurrect you."

Ferrus Manus's eyes lit up.

"Good."

He said:

"I'm waiting for you."

He reached out his hand.

Guilliman took his hand.

Two hands, clasped together.

A living Primarch.

A dead Primarch.

At this moment, in this eerie green four-dimensional space, under the watchful eyes of countless Bound Legion warriors—

The brothers are reunited.

"Attack, my brother!"

Ferrus Manus said that the voice carried a raging fire:

"Attack!"

He raised his hammer and pointed it at the Necrons fleet fleeing through the void.

Pointing to the eerie green figure standing on the bridge.

Pointing to Trazyn.

"For those who are still alive in the Milky Way!"

Guilliman also raised his sword.

That golden light illuminated the entire four-dimensional space.

It illuminated the burning warriors of the Bound Legion.

It illuminated the fleeing Trazyn.

It illuminated that--

The impending, real war.

"Attack!"

Guilliman roared:

"For the Emperor! For humanity! For--"

He looked at Ferrus Manus:

"For my brothers!"

A golden frenzy surged once more.

Towards that void.

Towards the enemy.

Towards that--

The eternal battlefield.

A golden frenzy swept over Trazyn's flagship.

The enormous Necrons warship trembled wildly in the void like a wounded beast.

Its shields had been torn apart by the impact of the Bound Legion, its armor was being scorched by golden flames, and violent explosions were coming from inside it.

Guilliman was the first to rush into the ship.

His Emperor's Sword burned in his hand, and with each swing, hordes of Necron Warriors fell.

Those once invincible Necron Overlord were like paper before him; with a flash of golden sword light, their Living Metal bodies crumbled into fragments.

Ferrus Manus followed closely behind, his hammer smashing everything in his path—walls, equipment, and even the Necrons that tried to resist.

His roar echoed throughout the ship, a voice filled with rage that had been building up for ten thousand years.

The warriors of the Bound Legion surged in like a tide, their golden flames igniting the eerie green warship.

Those precious artifacts, collected over 65 million years, those exhibits carefully preserved by Trazyn, were reduced to ashes in the flames.

"Trazyn!"

Guilliman's roar echoed throughout the entire warship:

"Come out!"

There was no response.

Only more Necron Warriors poured out from all corners, trying to stop their advance.

Guilliman swept his sword out, and the golden light of the blade sliced an entire squad of Necron Warriors in half at the waist.

He's running away.

Ferrus Manus said, his eyes looking towards the bridge, "I could feel his energy signal moving towards the stern."

A cold smile crept across Guilliman's lips.

"Run? Where can he run to?"

He continued his charge forward.

Along the way, they passed through countless exhibition halls.

Some exhibition halls feature complete battlefields—a battlefield stretching for tens of kilometers, where countless soldiers are frozen in the moment of battle.

Imperium soldiers, Chaos traitors, and alien races whose names are unknown.

Fear, anger, and despair were frozen on the faces of those soldiers; their weapons were frozen in the moment of their swing; their blood congealed in mid-air.

Some exhibition halls contain specimens of various creatures—from ordinary wild animals to enormous Tyranids, Eldar warriors, and Orks war leaders.

Each one is preserved in Stasis Field, lifelike.

The creatures' eyes were still open, as if they might wake from their slumber at any moment.

Some exhibition halls contain relics from various civilizations—books, weapons, works of art, and mysterious devices whose purpose is unknown.