Long, sharp bone spurs plunged deep into flesh. Scarlet thorns pierced through his palm and emerged from the back of his hand. As the Primarch exerted himself with a faint tremble, they rose and fell as though alive, breathing.
Blood gushed from the wound in streams, only to be absorbed by the scarlet longsword in an instant.
The Shepherd of the Luna Wolves trembled, his eyes bloodshot as he clung desperately to the sword—
The other Emperor-Tzeentch hybrid loomed like a small mountain. The Shepherd of the Luna Wolves had no choice but to stand in an absurd pose atop the armrest of the Golden Throne, pressed against those two masses of undulating flesh. The chest wound Guilliman had pierced lay against that ominous monster, and unbearable agony bored in through the wound, gnawing at his soul.
Such pain was enough to kill someone outright, or plunge even a powerful Primarch into unconsciousness. Yet the Shepherd of the Luna Wolves merely gripped the sword tighter, straining with both arms as if pulling it out were the sole purpose of his life.
Vast Psychic Power surged out with the slight tremble of the blade, nearly blasting the Shepherd of the Luna Wolves away. The psychic sea roared, and the blue monsters obeying Guilliman's orders were swept off their feet and hurled into the bottomless distance.
[You'll die too if you do this!!!]
Guilliman roared with a twisted expression. The Primarch could no longer stop the Shepherd of the Luna Wolves. Surging Psychic Power crashed toward the traitor from ten thousand years ago, powerful enough not only to send a Primarch flying, but to wear away every strand of the Primarch's golden hair before blowing it off.
Beside Guilliman, The Emperor could no longer keep his footing either. His black hair streaked