Another thread of fate
Terra
The uncanny light of the eternal sun poured down from the heavens and fell upon the royal court. The ruler bowed his head in thought, a faint smile forever resting on his lips.
Mortarion... had gone back to Barbarus.
Guilliman said lightly, absently stroking the hilt of his sword. A radiance even more chaotic than the Warp flowed through his eyes. No one knew what Roboute Guilliman had remade himself into over the ten thousand years he had governed the Imperium—so that he might govern this vast Imperium.
In a certain sense, when it came to dealing with the colossal entity known as the "Imperium," no one was more dutiful than Guilliman.
No, one, at, all.
Guilliman did not blink. Before the ruler drew his sword, he had already considered everything with utmost care. A ruler of the Imperium could not act rashly; otherwise, it would be blasphemy against the office of ruler.
Ah.
Guilliman raised a hand, leaving it suspended in midair.
In this regard, the Imperium's previous ruler had clearly been less qualified than Roboute Guilliman. Thus, he had failed and been imprisoned in the high hall, keeping company with his enemies day after day.
But... Guilliman lowered his gaze. His long, curling golden lashes trembled as the light fell upon him. Another thread of fate... he pondered, searching through vague fragments of memory obscured by countless twists and turns for the fate of another world.
Underking...
Guilliman unconsciously spoke that unfamiliar High Gothic word aloud. The unfamiliarity intrigued him. It was the greatest variable in that branch—the anchor point that had allowed their thread of fate to emerge.
It was precisely to erase the Underking completely that Tzeentch, the Lord of Change, had descended from that thread of fate, successfully becoming the