Guilliman and Lorgar's Sparring Match

With one Exterminatus order after another, the entire Solomon Star System was razed.

The expeditionary fleet destroyed more than a dozen planets. The star at the center of the Star System was ignited, then dissipated.

The banner of the great Emperor was planted in that blasphemous Star System.

"Congratulations, great Primarch."

"You led our Legion to victory, my lord Primarch!"

Unlike the excited Chapter Master Rockefeller, Lorgar remained deep in thought.

Lorgar looked at Rockefeller and said slowly, "This was only an insignificant victory, Rockefeller."

"Among the countless stars are innumerable enemies of the Emperor and mankind. Our task is to wipe them from existence."

At his words, the Word Bearers officers around him grew even more excited. They were thrilled to serve a Primarch so powerful and capable of leading them.

"My lord, what is our next mission?" asked William Seras, Chapter Master of the Third Chapter, eagerly.

"Replenish our ammunition, regroup the fleet, then press on," Lorgar replied with a smile.

"Guilliman has arrived, my lord."

Just then, the shuttle carrying the Primarch from Macragge's Honour arrived aboard the Law of Faith once more. This time, it brought good news.

"Lorgar."

A smile Guilliman could not quite suppress broke across his composed face. Seeing Lorgar there to greet him personally in the hangar only heightened his excitement.

This Primarch brother of mine is far more normal than the others—in how he treats his brothers, how he conducts himself, even how his Legion fights.

He doesn't blow enemies apart with a pile of bizarre contraptions. He doesn't spend every day acting like a stone and ignoring everyone. He doesn't constantly insult his brothers, or charge around like a dog with a pack of pups at his heels.

My brother is so approachable. So... human?

He's a little obsessive about dealing with heretics and Xenos, but otherwise he's remarkably normal.

In truth, Lorgar had plans of his own.

I don't have some damn system or overwhelming combat power. All I can do is protect the Emperor at all costs.

The Emperor accounts for nearly sixty percent of the Imperium of Man's fighting strength. Space Marines, the Astra Militarum, the PDF, Titans, and everything else make up only about forty percent.

The Emperor is the Imperium's linchpin. I must make as many of my conquered worlds as possible worship him, strengthening him until he can stand against the Four Gods. That is my plan.

Uniting humanity and teaching it to defend itself matters too. But damn it, gods are real in the Warhammer World. Prayer really can grant divine power. Science alone won't cut it.

The Omnissiah has practically sewn up the whole field of science. Even the Necrons look like clowns beside him. Science has its uses, but now isn't the time for it.

Without faith, even the mightiest war machine can be corrupted by Chaos. Even the strongest augmented soldiers can fall to Chaos.

What I can do is strengthen the faith of the Star Systems my Legion conquers and make them the vanguard against Chaos.

In short: unite humanity through faith and keep it from corruption and damnation.

Make the Four Gods of the Warp and every enemy of humanity answer for themselves!

"Guilliman, I have a request," Lorgar said, looking at him.

"What is it, Lorgar?"

"Let's fight one-on-one. Just you and me."

Guilliman: ...

After a moment's thought, Guilliman agreed.

They chose the Legion Duel Arena aboard the Word Bearers' Gloriana-class Battleship, the Law of Faith.

Both set aside their own weapons and stood in the center of the arena, each holding a sword and shield.

Chapter Master Rockefeller served as referee, though it hardly mattered. The Primarchs moved faster than a nanosecond, and almost none of the Space Marines present could follow them.

"Come, brother."

Lorgar watched Guilliman eagerly. Every fight was a chance to improve, and facing his brother would teach him far more than fighting lesser opponents.

Roboute Guilliman adjusted the straps on his vambrace. Precise geometric patterns glimmered along the edge of his Macraggian Round Shield.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this, Lorgar?"

"Aren't you afraid I'll knock you out of the arena and embarrass you in front of your Legion?"

As he spoke, Guilliman settled into a fighting stance. Every movement followed the textbook form laid out in the Macragge Military Manual, every angle mechanically optimal.

"Come on!"

Their first clash began with the hum of Power Gladii.

Guilliman thrust straight for the blind spot above Lorgar's shield, but Lorgar snapped the shield upward and knocked the blade aside with its lower edge.

Lorgar's parry turned like a ritual dance. His sword tip traced a bright silver arc through a gap in Guilliman's guard, barely missing the Ultramarines Primarch's neck armour.

"Your sword speaks," Guilliman said, stepping back half a pace to reset his attack. His Power Armour's servos made a faint sound as they adjusted. "It tells me where you'll strike next."

"Then I hope you read it carefully."

Lorgar raised his sword and charged again.

Guilliman quickly raised his shield. The instant they met, both lifted their shields almost together, and the crash echoed through the arena.

Caught off guard, Guilliman had no choice but to pull back.

"Do you see?" Lorgar murmured as they passed. His blade scraped sparks from the edge of Guilliman's shield. "You're calculating the angle of my sword, while I'm reading what you intend to do."

Guilliman answered with three thrusts in succession, a classic Macragge Swordsmanship combination.

Lorgar caught the third strike on the inside of his shield and deftly bled off its force. Guilliman had to retreat two steps, but immediately swung his gladius again.

The fight entered a new phase.

Guilliman adjusted his tactics. His mind recorded Lorgar's fighting patterns like a computer.

At the fifteenth second, he correctly anticipated Lorgar's prayer-like charge and slammed his shield squarely into his brother's breastplate.

But the Word Bearers Primarch spun with the force of the impact, then pulled away to look for an opening.

"Remarkable adaptability," Lorgar said with a breathless laugh, showing a genuine smile for the first time. "You're incorporating my fighting style into your tactics."

Guilliman did not answer. His entire mind was absorbed in calculating attack and defence.

Lorgar was thinking too. Guilliman truly was formidable—slightly better than him with a sword, at least. Decades of fighting during the Great Crusade had forged that skill, and the intensity of those battles far surpassed anything on Colchis.

"Come on."

Without a word between them, both Primarchs resolved to settle the match with the next blow.

They charged together. Their shields collided with a crash like two starships striking each other.

Guilliman's sword drove toward Lorgar's neck, while the Word Bearers Primarch's blade closed in on Guilliman's heart.

An instant later, the contest was decided. Both blades reached their opponent's vital point almost at once.

Clang!

Rockefeller struck the great bell to end the fight. The Primarchs' match had been decided within thirty seconds of its start.