Roboute Guilliman felt as if he had just woken from a very long dream. In a daze, he sensed chaos all around him.
The roar of bolters, the cries of battle, the howls of wolves, strange wails of grief—a cacophony of sounds intertwined.
Guilliman slowly opened his eyes. He found himself seated in an open-air palace.
(The roof had, in fact, been blown off by Zhou Ye and his forces...)
He took the Emperor's Sword that rested on his lap and slowly stood. Before him was a scene of utter chaos.
His own sons were fighting alongside Dark Angels who had, for some reason, painted their armor green; the Space Wolves, with whom he'd had a good relationship; the Iron Hands; the Imperial Fists; the Black Templars; and...
...unfamiliar Astartes in black-and-gold armor that was exceptionally well-crafted, their stature significantly taller than the rest, fighting alongside Grey Knights who radiated a golden light.
His gaze swept over a tide of daemons. Guilliman let out a deep sigh.
A powerful musical score began to play. Even amidst the war, three Ultramarines had produced saxophones from somewhere and were blowing into them with frenzied passion. For some reason, everyone present—except for the newly awakened Guilliman himself—felt a strange sense of déjà vu watching the trio.
"The war is not yet over. I must not have slept for long," Guilliman mused aloud. "It seems the scattered Chapters have reformed into new Legions to fight the heretic. Good. Very good."
"..."
As Guilliman's words fell, a strange silence descended upon the grand hall.
Hearing his Primarch speak, Calgar opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. Guilliman, however, paid him no mind for the moment and slowly walked forward.
He then witnessed a truly spectacular sight. In the distance, two hundred-meter-tall Titans were engaged in a brutal, artless melee. Even from here, he could hear the utterly gleeful laughter of the dog-headed one echoing from the Warp.
In another direction, a contingent of black-armored warriors, led by four Custodians, cut through the daemonic tide like a razor-sharp blade. At their destination, three colossal figures were locked in close combat.
Seeing those three, Guilliman's pupils constricted.
Fulgrim. Angron. And a brother he did not recognize, clad in black armor with a golden sword. It was obvious that the warriors carving through the daemonic host were this brother's Honour Guard.
The Emperor's Sword in his hand ignited with furious flames. At the sight of the blade and its searing fire, the entire daemonic army let out a piercing shriek. In an instant, the daemons who had been barely holding their ground against the charge of Zhou Ye's Grey Knights broke and fled. After all, to be killed by Zhou Ye's Grey Knights meant there was a small chance of resurrection. More importantly, those Grey Knights had been in the inner circle, protecting the reviving Guilliman, not on the absolute front line.
Now, seeing that weapon, the daemons went mad with terror.
The daemons directly in front of Guilliman routed completely. He paid them no heed, transforming into a blue whirlwind and charging towards the heart of the battle.
"Father, wait for us!!!"
The Smurfs let out sharp cries. Lost in the glory of their gene-father's return, they hadn't reacted in time. Now they could only watch as their Primarch charged head-on through the daemon tide, straight for the three brawling Primarchs.
Calgar abandoned his command post, leading his First Company veterans in a desperate sprint to catch up.
But for some reason, everyone present felt a sense of disorientation. This scene, this exact moment... it felt as if it had just happened.
---o---
Meanwhile, in orbit above Macragge.
BOOM. BOOM.
Massive explosions rocked the void. Although Abaddon had fled and Zhou Ye was too busy with the battle below to bother with the coward, there were still Chaos vessels remaining. A fierce war was raging in space.
The reason Zhou Ye was so confident was because the space battle was being handled by someone else.
Konrad Curze.
Zhou Ye was almost speechless at the Night Haunter's frontline combat prowess. The memory of him fighting three Bloodthirsters at his gates was still vivid. Zhou Ye knew he was capable of direct confrontation, but special operations suited him better. Zhou Ye had initially wanted a force specializing in such tactics and had his eye on the Raven Guard. But then Curze had, by some twist of fate, delivered himself to his doorstep. So Zhou Ye had simply drawn a large vial of his blood and created the Night Lords.
Now, Konrad Curze was personally leading five hundred of his new sons in a series of relentless boarding actions. Under his direct command, the Chaos fleet was quickly thrown into disarray. Even Khârn the Betrayer, Champion of Khorne, was taken out by a surprise attack and sent back to the Warp, though Khorne would obviously not let him stay dead for long.
Of course, it wasn't just Curze. Zhou Ye's Dreadnoughts had all remained in orbit, leading their own Honour Guard units in boarding actions. The already weak and bickering fleets of Slaanesh and Khorne were being turned into spectacular fireworks above Macragge.
Then...
"Knights of the Night, we require your assistance. A group of Chaos traitors are slaughtering civilians. We've found several victims who have been disemboweled but were kept alive and are still screaming."
A voice came over the comms, causing the Knights of the Night to pause their assault.
"This is surely the work of the fallen Primarchs and their hounds. Our brothers are engaged with the main daemonic army and cannot spare the manpower. We need your support."
"It is our unshirkable duty! The fallen Primarch and his filthy sons are ours to deal with!!!"
Upon hearing the request for aid, the Knights of the Night immediately activated their teleporters, completely failing to notice their leader, Konrad Curze, whose body had gone rigid, his eyes darting back and forth in panic.
In the instant he was frozen in thought, his several hundred sons had already teleported back and were rapidly entering their drop pods.
"Wait, all of you!!!"
By the time Curze snapped out of it, the ship's hold was empty. He was all alone. From the battle barge nearby, he could see a stream of drop pods hurtling towards the planet.
Curze let out a piercing shriek of his own. He smashed through the bulkhead of the ship and simply jumped, a freefall from orbit, chasing after the cluster of drop pods. The friction with the atmosphere heated his armor until it glowed cherry-red, but it didn't slow him down in the slightest. The space battle was over anyway; he'd already taken out Khârn. The victory was secured. The weak and impoverished forces of Chaos stood no chance against the main fleet of Trailblaze.
---o---
Down on Macragge, Zhou Ye was fighting two Primarchs at once. He wasn't using any fancy tricks, simply relying on his Nurgle-esque regenerative abilities to trade blows with Angron while precisely parrying Fulgrim's attacks.
On the Brass Throne in the Warp, you could have started a band. Khorne's entire realm was filled with the Blood God's laughter. He loved this kind of battle. A true man fought head-on. Whether it was the possessed Angron trading blows, or the two super-massive Emperor Titans beating the hell out of each other, it all brought Khorne immense pleasure.
Zhou Ye, however, ignored Khorne's cheering.
First, one could not underestimate the Khorne-possessed Angron. The very ground beneath their feet was cracking and splintering. This was the being who had once split a planet in two with a single axe-blow; every strike was deadly serious. Zhou Ye not only had to fight Angron, he had to protect Macragge itself, using his own power to reverse gravity and negate the terrible force of their impacts. Even so, the ground beneath them was steadily breaking apart.
Second was Fulgrim. The Phoenician seemed to be holding back, but that only made Zhou Ye more cautious. He had no idea what schemes the serpent was plotting. For now, all he could do was hold his shield in one hand and his sword in the other. The shield was to block Fulgrim—that bastard's blades were poisoned, and while Zhou Ye wasn't afraid of it, he'd rather not get hit. His other hand was busy clashing with the possessed Angron. He needed to weaken the blessings on him to a certain point before trying anything else.
But it was Fulgrim who made him most uneasy. What was he planning...
"Traitor!!!"
Just then, a great blue-armored figure became a whirlwind, charging at Fulgrim with a flaming golden sword.
"My dear Guilliman! I never thought you'd actually wake up!!!"
Seeing Guilliman, Fulgrim fell into a strange, violent rage. His greatest pride, the thing that earned him the most favor with Slaanesh, was his battle record: he had personally struck down two of his brothers. While Ferrus Manus's death had sent him into a bizarre spiral, the felling of Guilliman was a point of pride. Now, that accomplishment was undone.
This threw Fulgrim into a fury. He abandoned his fight with Zhou Ye and charged angrily at Guilliman.
"Holy shit, impressive!"
Zhou Ye glanced at Guilliman, who was charging forward like a god, and gave him a mental thumbs-up. This was the perfect opportunity to deal with Angron. The Blood God's blessings on this guy were just too rich; Zhou Ye's mouth was watering. He was determined to cash in on this.
He tossed his shield aside, gripped his sword with both hands, and instantly crashed into Angron, knocking both of his weapons aside. Grabbing Angron by his two Butcher's Nails, Zhou Ye shot into the air, his body flashing with light.
"Simulacrum: Black Hole!!!"
In an instant, a massive black hole materialized behind them as Zhou Ye began to furiously kick Angron in the face.
---o---
"Guilliman, my brother! Come, throw yourself into the embrace of the Prince of Pleasure! Join me in eternal bliss!!!"
Fulgrim's four swords struck at Guilliman from exceptionally clever angles. Ten thousand years ago, he had been arrogant, choosing not to use his daemonic power, and was nearly chopped to bits by Guilliman. This time, he made no such mistake, coming at him with his full strength. Though he currently looked like a debauched wreck, his combat ability was actually greater than it had been ten thousand years ago. It was only due to the peculiar nature of Slaanesh's followers that they tended to falter in strange ways. But now, truly serious and enraged, he was fighting with a level of skill that had reached its peak—a level he hadn't even used against Zhou Ye.
However...
"Your face truly disgusts me. How little time has passed, and yet you have fallen so far?" Guilliman said with undisguised revulsion. Angron was one thing; in his eyes, he was little more than a beast. But Fulgrim's current aged and twisted visage was repulsive. The last time he had seen him, though his form was distorted, he had undeniably been handsome. What was this thing before him now? The horror of Slaanesh was absolute.
"My brother, do you truly not know?" Fulgrim paused, as if realizing something.
"?"
"Hahaha, Guilliman! You've been asleep for ten thousand years! Ten! Thousand! Years! Do you have any idea what the Imperium of Man has become in that time? Ahahaha! The Imperium now believes in Lorgar! That fool Lorgar's creed! Hahahaha!!!"
"!!!"
Guilliman froze. A cold sweat broke out across his body as his mind raced, trying to analyze what could have happened.
"Guilliman, oh, Guilliman, don't you know? Not long after you fell, all our brothers left the Imperium! And so the Imperium has crawled through darkness for ten thousand years!!!"
"..."
Guilliman was stunned. He understood. An Imperium managed solely by mortals, without the guidance of a single Primarch, for ten thousand years... ten thousand whole years. How many problems would fester? What would the Imperium have become? And what terrible reaction would occur if they had embraced Lorgar's damnable words?
And in that moment of distraction...
SQUELCH.
In the next instant, his chest was pierced through. The tremendous force sent him flying backward.
He was caught by a squad of small, black constructs. Without a moment's hesitation, they lifted him and scampered off.