You Throw a Punch, He Throws One Too!

Dorn fell silent.

Perturabo.

The Primarch of the Iron Warriors.

The archenemy of Imperial Fists.

His arch-enemy.

Ten thousand years ago, they clashed countless times on the battlefield.

He attacked the city, he defended the city.

He conquered, he rebuilt.

He destroys, he repairs.

They are like water and fire, forever incompatible, forever clashing.

Guilliman patted Dorn on the shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You should have a good talk with him when we get back."

"It would be best if I could persuade him to return to the Imperium; if not, I'll have no choice but to euthanize him."

Dorn frowned. "Euthanasia?"

Guilliman nodded, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather. "His Warp Essence is still very important."

If he doesn't want to come back, I'll take him away.

We can't waste it anyway.

Dorn remained silent for a moment.

If they can persuade Perturabo to surrender, the Imperium will gain another Primarch- level combatant.

That would be excellent, of course.

But will Perturabo, that stubborn, inflexible man who's always challenging him, ever give in?

I'll give it a try.

He said.

Guilliman smiled, "Okay."

I trust you."

The Macragge's Honour slowly entered Terra's orbit.

Guilliman stood on the bridge, with Tarasha and Dorn beside him.

Outside the window, the blue planet is slowly rotating.

Its surface is covered with white clouds, blue ocean, and a royal palace that sparkles in the sunlight.

Tarasha's eyes lit up. "That's Terra?"

Guilliman nodded. "Humanity's home planet."

The center of the Imperium.

Your home.

Tarasha smiled, a smile full of anticipation.

She was just a mortal, an ordinary Macragge woman.

She never imagined that one day she would come to Terra, to the heart of the Imperium of Man.

"My father is right there."

Guilliman said softly, "Once we're settled, I'll take you to see him."

Tarasha nodded, a hint of nervousness in her eyes.

Emperor.

Master of Mankind.

The Dark King.

Her son's father.

The warship slowly descended.

Guilliman froze the moment the hatch opened.

A row of people stood in the square of the palace.

Sanguinius stood at the very front, his long golden hair fluttering in the wind, his wings folded behind him, and a gentle smile on his face.

Lion stood beside him, the lion's gaze still sharp, but with a rare hint of gentleness at the corners of his mouth.

Magnus stood behind Lion, his single eye gleaming with wisdom.

Angron stood beside Magnus, a peaceful smile on the face of the Lord of the Red Sands.

And then there's Malcador, that handsome young man who's 1.8 meters tall, standing at the very front of everyone, his hands behind his back, smiling as he watches them.

Guilliman's eyes welled up with tears again.

These brothers, these brothers who were once torn apart, are all standing here now, waiting for him to come home.

Let's go.

He said softly.

Dorn was the first to go out.

He walked very fast, so fast that Guilliman was momentarily stunned.

He walked up to Magnus and, before Magnus could react, punched him in the face.

The punch wasn't very powerful, but it was enough to make Magnus stagger back two steps.

He covered his face, looking at Dorn with a look of grievance in his single eye. "Why did you hit me?"

Dorn did not answer.

He turned around, walked up to Angron, and threw a punch at him in return.

Angron remained motionless, merely staring at Dorn with a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Then, Dorn opened his arms and hugged them both tightly.

His voice was hoarse, a hoarseness carrying a longing of ten thousand years. "Welcome back."

Magnus was stunned.

Angron was also stunned.

Then they all laughed.

Magnus wrapped his arms around Dorn, and Angron reached out and pulled the two of them into his embrace as well.

Lion stood to the side, watching his three brothers huddled together, his lips twitching slightly.

Sanguinius walked over and patted him on the shoulder. "You should go too."

Lion hesitated for a second, then strode over and joined in the hug.

Guilliman stood behind, watching the four brothers embracing each other, and a warm feeling welled up in his heart.

He lowered his head and looked at Tarasha beside him. "Mother, these are my brothers."

Tarasha gazed at those towering figures, those legendary Primarch, those most powerful warriors of the Imperium of Man.

They embraced each other like children reunited after a long separation.

Her eyes welled up with tears.

"Very nice."

She said softly.

Dinner was held in the main hall of the palace.

A long table, covered with a white tablecloth, with golden candlesticks on it.

The table was laden with a variety of delicacies—roasted lamb chops from Macragge, roasted lion from Caliban, dark cuisine from Nostramo, gladiator bread from Korsonia, and mead from Bakka.

Guilliman sat in the main seat, with Tarasha beside him.

Sanguinius sat on the other side of Tarasha, Lion sat on the other side of Guilliman.

Dorn sat next to Lion, followed by Magnus, Angron, and Malcador.

The Primarch sat together like a real family.

Tarasha looked at these tall "children" with eyes full of love.

She picked up a piece of roasted lamb chop and placed it on Sanguinius's plate. "You're too thin, eat more."

Sanguinius paused for a moment, then smiled.

He is the Primarch; he will never lose weight.

But he did not refuse.

He picked up the lamb chop and began to eat it carefully.

Tarasha picked up another piece of roasted lion meat and placed it on Lion's plate. "You look tired, you need to eat more."

Lion's lips twitched.

He's a lion, so why eat roasted lion?

But looking into Tarasha's loving eyes, he said nothing and silently began to eat.

Magnus sat beside him, watching longingly.

Tarasha noticed and placed a piece of dark-colored food on his plate. "I heard you like to study Psionic Energy, you should eat more brain-boosting foods."

Magnus paused for a moment, then smiled like a child, "Thank you, Mom!"

The entire room fell silent for a second.

Then, everyone laughed.

Guilliman laughed the hardest; tears were almost streaming down his face.

Magnus blushed, but he didn't argue. He just lowered his head and silently ate the inedible dish.

Angron reached out and patted him on the shoulder. "You've already called me that, don't be shy."

Magnus glared at him.

Then he laughed too.

Tarasha looked at the children with a heart full of joy.

She was just a mortal, an ordinary Macragge woman.

But at that moment, she felt like the happiest mother in the world.