Promise Fulfilled

Guilliman lowered his head and looked at the boy, who had nearly collapsed at his feet yet still maintained a charging stance.

The boy was covered in blood, his little face deathly pale, his body trembling constantly from exhaustion and pain.

Yet in those eyes still burned faint but unyielding golden flames.

"What a brave child..."

Guilliman's voice was soft, as though he were speaking to himself—or as though he were crossing the ages to speak to some distant figure:

"It was precisely because countless souls like yours still shone and struggled throughout the Milky Way... that he could once sigh, 'Hope yet remains.'"

He had indeed arrived a step too late.

The most awe-inspiring sight—the golden light of the Emperor's blessing soaring into the sky to contend with the Warp god's projection—had already faded.

All he had seen was a child wielding a strange lightsaber and astonishing courage, fighting a desperate, magnificent battle against the minions of Chaos.

That alone was enough to move him.

In Guilliman's eyes, this scarred child with bright eyes was a miracle in himself, an uncut gem.

He released his grip, letting the chainsword wreckage fall like scrap iron.

Then, toward the nearly stunned Kai, he slowly and solemnly extended the massive hand that had just crushed a daemon's weapon.

His palm faced upward, open in invitation rather than oppression.

"Child."

Guilliman's voice became clear and powerful, reaching straight into Kai's soul:

"Do you want to obtain... the true power needed to fight these heretics and protect what you cherish?"

Kai raised his head blankly, his gaze traveling up that blue, massive, beautiful arm and past the broad shoulder.

At last, he met a pair of azure eyes as clear as Macragge's purest seas.

There was no pity in those eyes, only undisguised appreciation, recognition, and a... gentle expectation like that of an elder.

"Who... who are you?"

Kai's voice was dry and trembling, almost too faint to hear.

The presence before him possessed an authority far beyond those Chaos giants, yet strangely, it did not frighten him.

All he felt was an urge, rising from the depths of his bloodline, to fall to his knees in worship.

At that question, Guilliman smiled.

It was not the smile of a god looking down from on high. Instead, it carried a trace of something indescribably human—easygoing and humorous.

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering an interesting answer, then spoke clearly in a rich voice like a cello:

"Me?"

"Just a... son of God who acts on a whim."

He paused, watching the confusion and shock deepen in the boy's eyes, his smile widening.

Only then did he continue in a formal tone that still retained a certain casualness:

"Roboute Guilliman.

The God-Emperor's thirteenth son, the only surviving Primarch, lord of the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, King of Macragge."

"Here, I salute your courage, fearless child."

Roboute Guilliman?!

The God-Emperor's son?!

A Primarch?!

The King of Macragge?!

Those titles existed only in distant legends, vague prayers, and the epics his teachers occasionally mentioned.

They exploded like thunder in Kai's confused, exhausted mind!

His eyes widened, his mouth fell slightly open, and for a moment, he even forgot to breathe.

This blue giant, four meters tall and as perfect as a classical god's statue... was the ruler of this vast star region.

The Emperor's legendary blood son, a living legend?!

Seeing the turbulent shock in the boy's eyes, Guilliman merely smiled in understanding.

He knew how overwhelming such a revelation was for a child.

But there were more urgent matters to attend to.

Those warm blue eyes, like a springtime sea, froze instantly when they turned toward the remaining Chaos Space Marines!

The gentle sapphire became a polar abyss roaring with ice storms!

Boundless killing intent erupted from him like a tangible wave of freezing cold!

Even the air seemed to congeal beneath that icy fury!

There was no roar, no bellow.

Guilliman merely took one simple step forward.

Then he threw a punch!

Fast!

Indescribably fast!

The eye could barely follow the path of that blue gauntlet!

Heavy!

Inexpressibly heavy!

It was as though the weight of an entire planet had been condensed into that fist!

The Chaos Space Marine nearest to him did not even have time to block or evade.

He could only watch helplessly as the heavy ceramite armor over his chest, blessed by Chaos, became like a sheet of cheap parchment.

And was—pierced through by that massive fist clad in blue armor!

Not smashed apart. Pierced through!

The fist punched through armor and body without resistance, emerging from his back!

The hand clenched, crushing the still-beating heart.

Expressionless, Guilliman casually raised the Chaos Space Marine impaled on his arm as though lifting a scarecrow.

Then he gave his arm a light shake and sweep—

"Riiip—!"

Amid a scalp-prickling tearing sound, the Chaos Space Marine was brutally cut in half at the waist from the chest down!

Foul blood, shattered organs, and twisted mechanical parts sprayed outward together, forming a rain of crimson mist!

The blood mist slowly descended. Some splashed across Guilliman's smooth azure shoulder plates and ran downward, adding further cold majesty to his war-god-like bearing.

He slowly withdrew his arm and shook off the filth clinging to it.

His icy gaze swept over the remaining Chaos Space Marines one by one, as precise as a scanning beam, while they stood briefly stunned by the horrifying sight.

His voice rang out, not loud, yet like the pronouncement of an ultimate law.

Carrying the unquestionable authority of a Primarch and his deepest loathing for traitors, it echoed across the deathly silent fields:

"Now."

"Meet your deaths."

"Heretics."

Guilliman's battlefield was a completely one-sided Slaughter.

He charged into the remaining Chaos Space Marines, his movements simple and efficient, without a trace of waste.

With one punch, the struck Chaos Space Marine became like a ceramic jar struck head-on by a battering ram.

His heavy breastplate, along with the flesh and bones beneath it, instantly caved in and burst apart.

His entire body flew backward, dead before he hit the ground.

With a side kick, the fierce wind raised by his leg armor snapped another enemy cleanly in half at the waist.

The break was smooth as a mirror before being covered in spurting foul blood and organs.

He casually seized the sword-bearing arm of a Chaos Space Marine attempting to ambush him from behind and gave it a slight twist, warping the metal.

The crisp crack of shattering bones blended with the warrior's scream.

Then that body became an improvised weapon, swung in a full circle and smashed into two other enemies.

All three became limp heaps of metal and mangled flesh.

Powerful.

Inexpressibly powerful.

A crushing strength beyond mortal comprehension.

Before this Primarch, these Chaos Space Marines who struck terror into Imperial armies and set worlds ablaze—

Were fundamentally no different from toddling children or lambs awaiting slaughter.

For the first time, fear appeared with such clarity in the minds of these Chaos Space Marines, minds filled with madness.

They began to retreat. Some even tried to turn and flee toward the landing craft.

But Guilliman would not allow it.

Every attack precisely claimed another traitor's life.

He was fulfilling his sentence—death was their only destination.

Meanwhile, far from this blood-soaked rice field, another ritual even more blasphemous and insane was underway in the hall of a relatively intact noble castle beside the ruins of the Planetary Governor's mansion.

At the center of the hall, where crystal chandeliers had once hung and exquisite carpets had once been laid, now stood a horrifying "work of art."

A conical tower built entirely from human skulls.