Lox quickly sent word of Sevatar's arrival to each of the primarchs. Every gene-primarch on Terra hurried over as soon as they received the signal.
Before this, Lox had already told them that Curze had seen the error of his ways. Naturally, the loyal primarchs were shocked and furious.
On one hand, they believed that no traitor should be forgiven. Their actions had inflicted grievous harm upon the Imperium. They could turn back from their mistakes, but what about the humans and warriors who had died?
Could their lives and sacrifices simply be written off?
But on the other hand, they had to admit that at a time like this, having a brother return to the Imperium and stab Horus in the back would undoubtedly be an unexpected advantage.
The primarchs did not agree with one another. Every side had its own views and opinions.
Six gene-primarchs gathered on Ganymede. Even Vulkan, who had been guarding the Golden Throne, had come here.
The Lord of Drakes held the Hand of the Emperor, the Talisman of Seven Hammers set at its peak. Not once had he loosened his grip on this divine weapon capable of completely detonating the Golden Throne.
When the black giant entered the conference chamber, the other primarch brothers all turned their eyes toward him.
There was none of the anger or hatred the primarchs had expected on Vulkan's resolute face. Instead, he was exceptionally calm.
Without question, the one who bore the deepest hatred for Curze was Vulkan, the Lord of Drakes.
Ever since this good-tempered primarch had been knocked unconscious and captured by tactical nuclear weapons on Isstvan V, he had endured relentless torment at the hands of the crazed Night Haunter.
Impaling, decapitation, flaying alive, promethium burning, chemical poison corrosion, even being thrown into the