Primarchs' Debate

The Word Bearers, who had intended to launch a surprise attack, found themselves in a passive situation.

Bolter rounds fired from the towers pierced windows and walls, precisely targeting the helmets of the Word Bearers. The advantage of height amplified the power of the rounds and made the Word Bearers' counterattack even more disadvantageous.

Being at a higher elevation was a natural advantage.

However, the inside of the towers was not a safe haven. The Word Bearers' retaliatory bolter rounds could also breach the not-so-thick barriers.

Shattered metal and flames consumed the lives of the two mortals who had volunteered, their bodies exploding into blood mist, leaving only finger-sized remnants of flesh behind.

Their corpses were even thrown by the impact, along with the floor, into the lower levels, buried together with concrete and steel.

Facing weapons capable of killing Adeptus Astartes, mortals were too fragile. Even a glancing blow would likely result in death.

The adjutant Serraton witnessed all of this. He had no time to mourn the mortals, only to steadily retreat with his battle-brothers, gradually widening the distance.

The overall structure of the towers was continuously damaged by the bolter attacks. Soon, they began to tilt with a screech. When the internal metal structures and external supports could no longer bear the strain, the entire tower collapsed with a roar.

Smoke and dust dispersed, and the figures of the Ultramarines had already vanished into the ruins.

Were they buried? Or had they escaped?

The Word Bearer officer continuously scanned the ruins, his helmet's auxiliary system also searching for traces of the enemy.

Next to Ventanus lay a wounded battle-brother. His legs had been hit by bolter rounds, and his power armor could not protect him, leaving his lower and upper legs reduced to slag. But he was still alive, his powerful hemostatic capabilities slowing the loss of life.

"It's up to you now, Brother."

The response was a storm of missile thunder. Hundreds of micro-missiles were launched from the side of the battlefield. The Iron Hands' support arrived precisely at the coordinates they had provided.

The fission of atoms released immense energy. Dense nuclear missiles detonated within the Word Bearers' positions. Even these highly dangerous Adeptus Astartes were completely vaporized in the explosive flames with little ability to resist.

This was completely unequal firepower. Under the saturation bombing of the missile barrage, even a small Titan would risk severe damage.

And these were precisely what the Iron Hands excelled at.

Willand, still covered in smoke, led his warriors onto the battlefield. They laughed heartily. The satisfaction of revenge slightly quelled their anger, but it was not enough.

They needed to utterly destroy the damned traitors and drown the traitor's master, Loka, in his own blood.

The battle in space was even more brutal.

The Word Bearer fleet appeared continuously on the outskirts of near-Earth orbit. They had traveled a long distance, their engines and weapon arrays already preheated, while half of the Ultramarines' warships were still in a state of engine shutdown.

This meant it would be an unequal slaughter.

The False Emperor turned its broadside towards the docked starships. Rounds of bombardment, carrying their fury, descended upon the lambs to the slaughter.

Each salvo killed an opponent. They had no power, their Void Shields could not be activated, and they couldn't even retaliate.

The Sacred Salamander was hit and its hull was torn apart.

Guilliman witnessed all of this.

He stood on the bridge, continuously recording the fleet's losses and recovery status. Many warships were being destroyed by the enemy, but they were also delaying the enemy's advance, buying time for their comrades.

Faster! Faster!

The Primarch roared in his heart, but on the surface, only increasing calm and sternness were displayed.

Communication was re-established, initiated by Loka's flagship.

Guilliman chose to accept the communication. Light bloomed again, and Loka's somewhat illusory figure appeared before him, while the figures of his offspring were difficult to find.

Loka's head was bowed, his eyes sunken deep, his entire face seemingly shrouded in a mysterious darkness.

"You damned beast! How could I have mistakenly believed you would change? You won't. You'll just bite a few more times like a stray dog!"

Before Loka could speak, Guilliman's angry reprimand came through.

"My brother, I thought you would say something about a misunderstanding, or make useless requests for a ceasefire." Loka was somewhat surprised by Guilliman's reaction. He knew his brother possessed a compassion that could be called weak, and even felt guilt towards him.

Weakness and guilt meant there were loopholes in the mind, and loopholes contained opportunities for betrayal.

Someone like Lion El'Jonson would never expose his weakness.

"Stop acting so abstract. You released the Chaos Junk Code, you created the chaos, you declared war on me! You are the one burning Kaos, and my people are dying."

"I only regret not putting more effort into burning that damned cesspool of a city. Your stinking statues and scriptures should have been destroyed more thoroughly. I even gave those Colchis people seven days to evacuate."

Guilliman's reaction stunned Loka. According to the trajectory of the Empyrean, Roboute should have been unaware of all this. What made him realize the truth so early?

"You spineless insect, you chose to abandon the Emperor, you chose betrayal. Your former barking loyalty and faith were nothing but stinking excrement. Who have you found as your new master now?"

Knowing that the other party had already betrayed him, Roboute vented a portion of his pent-up rage through insults, showing no grace or consideration for the other party.

"Loka, you have no faith at all. You are just a loyal dog for power, you pathetic maggot! Father should have fed you to Russ and let you die early!"

"How dare you insult my faith!"

This high-intensity output made the bald Primarch feel a surge of anger, especially Guilliman's insult to his faith, which infuriated him. His original intention to toy with the opponent vanished completely.

He was supposed to be the one in the dominant position, humiliating Guilliman from on high and venting the hatred of the Perfect City upon him.

But why did it turn into him being berated by Guilliman and even becoming enraged and defensive?

This was completely different from what Loka had envisioned and predicted.

He was even prepared to say, when Guilliman tried to soften him with brotherhood and oppress him with the Emperor's Name: "I am an orphan," to utterly slap this battle-brother and the Emperor in the face. To prove his absolute loyalty to the Empyrean.

"Roboute, you will soon understand that Kaos is a sacrifice, the beginning of a new universe, the dawn of a fairer order, and the Galaxy will be reborn."

"And our Father will surely fall from his throne, he will die, because you are foolish and stubborn, the Empyrean will never extend an olive branch to you."

"The Imperium is finished, the Galaxy is burning, and our Father's dream will also come to an end."

New book, seeking votes, collections, and comments~