Deep within the God-Emperor's consciousness, those familiar scenes receded like a tide, finally settling and freezing into stillness. All that remained were those purely divine eyes, gazing down upon all living beings with utter indifference.
He no longer thought. He no longer hesitated. Only the instinct to devour all humanity remained.
At His will, even more vast and terrifying divine power spread outward uncontrollably. It not only enveloped the entire Imperial Palace of Terra, but even distorted the celestial phenomena of reality itself.
Through the shattered dome, they could see the sun's radiance being consumed by invisible darkness, rapidly dimming until it became a black sun surrounded by an ominous black-gold halo.
The light it cast no longer brought warmth. Instead, it carried a chilling cold that drained away life force.
The entire planet, and even the star regions farther beyond, seemed to have fallen into an apocalyptic silence and despair.
Within the throne room, Guilliman knelt on one knee, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. Blood dripped through his fingers, yet he felt no pain at all.
Victory had clearly been within reach. He had clearly already planned the Imperium's future. To have it end like this filled him with utter unwillingness.
Angron, Fulgrim, and the other primarchs, along with the Imperium's high-ranking officials, all looked ashen.
The flame of hope had been extinguished.
The God-Emperor's gaze swept over the Hilling Empire members sprawled on the ground or barely managing to remain upright.
In His eyes, they were nothing more than irritating flies. He had not originally intended to act against such meaningless beings, but they had already become an obstacle.
He slowly raised His hand, black-gold energy beginning to gather as He prepared to turn those irritating flies into part of Himself