"Who are you? How are you here?"
Roboute Guilliman's words were filled with both suspicion and surprise.
His mind was not yet clear; after ten thousand years, his consciousness had only just regained control of his body, and he had just returned from a true death, his physical body reshaped in the material universe, but his consciousness and soul had not yet adapted to his new form.
The superhuman mind forged by the Human Emperor had not yet fully revived.
But Roboute Guilliman's instincts still allowed him to vaguely identify the figure hidden beneath the flaxen robes.
It was an existence deeply connected to him, a brother by blood, an existence that should have vanished, a brother who had died because of Guilliman's failure.
Roboute Guilliman's emotions hoped that the person before him was indeed that brother, but his rationality warned him that this could be an illusion, a conspiracy, a trick of Chaos.
Especially since beside him stood that being with an amused smile on his lips, seemingly mortal in appearance but possessing a strong Warp nature.
Alexander, Doraemon. Through his connection with that being, Roboute Guilliman knew that name.
It was he who had killed him, purged Fulgrim's corruption, and brought him back from death.
That was undoubtedly an existence tainted by the Warp!
"Such sad and chilling words."
The figure in the flaxen robes slowly spoke:
"Do you not recognize me, Roboute Guilliman?"
Then, the voice from the flaxen robes paused slightly: "Or rather, brother?"
This address echoed through the sanctuary, and everyone who heard it turned their gazes in surprise.
Reyna felt she had already endured too many shocks today, but when that word rang out, her nerves still twinged from the impact, and her mind went blank.
Only one could address a Primarch as 'brother'—
Roboute Guilliman and the flaxen-robed figure continued to slaughter the Black Legion.
A teardrop-shaped spear and the Emperor's Sword, burning with bright flames, intertwined in the sanctuary.
Both the spear and the sword moved at speeds that surpassed what mortal eyes could follow.
Reyna couldn't even feel like she was on a battlefield; she felt she stood in a myth.
All the corpses, pain, and sorrow were merely footnotes to this grand moment; everything else seemed to fade into insignificance, leaving only the flaxen-robed figure and Roboute Guilliman in the sanctuary.
Suddenly, Reyna realized something.
She had seen that spear, she had seen that spear a thousand times.
In the churches of Ashford, in the carvings of the hive city, in the hands of the towering stone statue standing beside the One-Eye tavern in the Lower Nest.
That was, that was—
Reyna remembered that Alexander had awakened Roboute Guilliman, and that Alexander had gone to Baal before meeting them.
Everything connected at this moment, and Reyna herself was part of it.
She wept tears of joy, her face streaming with them uncontrollably.
"Praise Saint Doraemon!"
Reyna shouted at the top of her lungs:
"Praise Saint Doraemon! Praise the Emperor! Praise Sanguinius! Praise Roboute Guilliman!"
"What a miracle! We are with the son of the God-Emperor!"
"Exactly!" Greyfax heard Reyna's voice, and she shouted with equally excited tones: "It's true! This is a real miracle!"
Celestine in the sky nodded frequently, a smile on her lips, singing a holy hymn.
"But it shouldn't be!"
The Emperor's Sword in Roboute Guilliman's hand roared, splitting the power armor of a Black Legion Terminator as if cutting butter:
"I saw it with my own eyes! Dorn showed me your corpse! It was shattered like that!"
"You were truly dead! How is this possible!"
Listening to Roboute Guilliman's bewildered voice, the flaxen-robed figure's mouth twitched, then curved into a mischievous smile.
"Aren't you the same? Look at your own body!"
He shouted to Guilliman:
"Look at us both, think of our second—"
"No!"
Roboute Guilliman let out a frantic cry.
He instantly cut down the Black Legion surrounding him, then leaped in two or three steps to the side of the flaxen-robed figure, stirring up a nearly frenzied hurricane.
The figure's robes billowed in the wind, silently unraveling and floating high into the air of the battlefield.
The air fell silent in an instant, not only in the material universe but also in the Warp.
Countless beings let out astonished roars.
Because the golden hair covered with silver chains was exposed to the air, and pristine white wings slowly unfurled in the dusty air of the sanctuary, the setting sun casting its light upon the figure, making him appear like an immaculate Archangel fallen into the battlefield.
No, that was the Archangel himself.
Sanguinius smiled:
"I said, think of our second life, think of what we will bring to the Imperium for the second time?"
"Why are you in such a hurry?"
Looking at the pristine white wings and listening to Sanguinius' words, Guilliman's expression shifted from stunned to delighted, from excited to exultant.
No matter how many years had passed, no matter the current state of humanity, at least he was not alone; the most perfect of his brothers was with him.
Not just Guilliman, but all the loyalists present, at the sight of that figure, felt an immense power surge from within their hearts.
Yes, no matter how desperate this galaxy was, as long as that one stood by humanity, there was still hope.
Sanguinius left Roboute Guilliman, who was still trying to recover his superhuman intellect, and, flapping his wings, flew into the air, raising his voice to shout:
"Humanity, we have returned!"
"In the name of Doraemon! In the name of the Emperor!"
"I, Sanguinius, son of the Emperor, and my brother Roboute Guilliman, shall once again bring hope, enlightenment, and reason back to you!"
"Let the silence of Chaos return behind the veil of reality; the material universe belongs only to humanity!"
As he spoke, Sanguinius' gaze pierced directly through the veil of reality, looking at the beings peeking at this place.
The reappearance of two Primarchs in the material universe created ripples that swept through the entire Warp.
The Blood God let out a low battle roar; his armies had reassembled, eighty-eight legions of Khorne daemons loudly chanted the name of Khorne, sacrificing blood, skulls, and slaughter to their master. The Blood God yearned for the skulls of two Primarchs, and Khorne's apostles swore to claim them.
Tzeentch uttered nine hundred ninety-nine riddles, presenting ninety-nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine futures. In this myriad of futures, shattered like mirrors, the Lord of Change chose his most favored one, and his Lords of Change would carry out the Lord of Change's will, leading the two Primarchs to their destined roles; everything was according to plan.
The God of Hunger let out a lewd laugh, licking his lips, crawling with desire upon the veil between reality and the Warp, attempting to taste the Archangel's beautiful body, while his apostles lay upon his voluptuous form, promising the God of Hunger with six hundred sixty-six kinds of love words that the two Primarchs would join their joyous feast.
In Nurgle's Garden, the Great Unclean Ones shook their bellies, filled with festering cysts, and danced seventy-seven kinds of ritual dances for life and rain with the tiny nurglings. They opened their mouths wide, spewed maggots, and laughed joyously. The two Primarchs had returned! Two as yet undefiled Primarchs had returned! Lonely and pitiful little Mortarion had company! Without Nurgle's command, Nurgle's apostles would do everything in their power to facilitate the "reconciliation" between the three brothers.
The Gods extended their profane tentacles, and those who served the Gods also began their actions.
Khârn stood in the shadow of the Vengeful Spirit, watching the blasphemous sorcerers decapitate nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine sacrifices at precisely the right moment. Great Despoiler Abaddon's broken body lay on the throne, observing the ritual's progress.
The Great Despoiler had learned the truth from Khârn's mouth, knowing that the resurrected Primarchs were Sanguinius and Roboute Guilliman. To counter these two demigods, Abaddon chose to "utilize" the power of the Dark Gods.
But in Khârn's eyes, Abaddon was merely being used by the Gods. Nine sharp cries rang out, and two bird heads emerged from the darkness. The Chief Greater Daemon of the Lord of Change, Lord of Fate, Kairos Fateweaver, descended upon the Vengeful Spirit with nine Lords of Change.
Khârn silently watched all this. The Blood God and the Lord of Change had a long-standing enmity, and the Blood God's apostles also despised such vile sorcery, but Khârn did not act. The Blood God allowed him to kill freely; he now killed for no one but for hatred and himself.
Thinking this, Khârn pulled down the flesh-hood that half-covered his head, and a twisted, broken, grotesque face emerged from inside the hood.
That face was like a twisted daemon, and also like his former brother, Angron.
"Let them hunt the Primarchs; all we want is his head... Erebus."
Khârn nodded slightly, but to hunt Erebus' skull, he also had to go to Ultramar to find that being.
In Slaanesh's palace, Fulgrim enjoyed the pleasure brought by the fifth old crone sword. Maggot-like, greasy Slaanesh daemons crawled on his body, easing the fright he had just received. Fulgrim's forked tongue licked his lips. He swore not only to bring back the two Primarchs but also to introduce Slaanesh's corruption into the body of that blue, round being.
The surface of the plague Planet was permeated with a foul yellow poisonous mist; decay spread across an entire planet. The Death Guard arrayed themselves in the decay, and they would bring this decay to the Imperium. Mortarion had already foreseen that moment; numerology had shown him the future: Roboute Guilliman would fall beneath his scythe.
Magnus, meanwhile, laughed heartily on the Sorcerer Planet. Sorcery, divination, and fate interpreted the true future for him. He had seen through all possibilities, uttering blasphemous incantations that transformed into crystalline flying insects, soaring towards the Thousand Sons Legion, who had become puppets, to gather the materials needed to weave fate for him.
Sanguinius saw all of this in an instant, but Roboute Guilliman was not yet aware of these dark and blasphemous Warp matters, nor did he know that traitors, like coiled venomous vipers, had quietly set their sights on him and his brothers.
This once most rational Primarch now stood in the midst of the battlefield.
There was no despair or darkness in his heart; he was still immersed in the joy of having a brother with him.
So much so that the grim reality of humanity still facing traitors, Chaos, and war ten thousand years later did not cast a shadow over his heart.
Roboute Guilliman quickly exercised his innate leadership, organizing and commanding the Grey Knights' Third Brotherhood, the Ultramarines' First Company, and the one thousand Blood Angels brought by Alexander, turning them into sharp scalpels, piercing into his formerly designed Hera Fortress to excise the invading Chaos traitors within.
However, the Blood Angels caused Roboute Guilliman a slight Confuse.
He noticed that the Ultramarines still operated according to the codex astartes, but the Blood Angels were different.
"They come from different Chapters."
Roboute Guilliman diverted a little of his attention and posed the question to Sanguinius beside him. He began to try and gather information about this era.
Of course, through observation, he had also discovered some facts.
First, he roughly knew that this was the fortieth millennium of humanity; he had been asleep for a full ten thousand years.
But he also simultaneously discovered some oddities: the Ultramarines' equipment hadn't changed much, even seemed to have regressed a bit, while the Blood Angels were using some strange technological constructs, but those were clearly not from the Imperium, but from that Saint Doraemon?
Another point was that his codex astartes seemed to have been in effect for a full ten thousand years, which gave him an uneasy feeling.
"A Chapter-sized force composed of different Chapters, this does not conform to the codex astartes I established," he said, looking at Sanguinius.
"That smelly, long-winded mess that tried to break my Legion into pieces and turn them all into red Ultramarines toilet paper?"
Sanguinius raised his eyebrows slightly, saying almost mercilessly to Guilliman:
"I abolished it."
Roboute Guilliman was not angered by Sanguinius' words.
If his codex had been in effect for ten thousand years, it must have become some kind of dogmatic, almost religious text, no longer suitable for the needs of reality, and its abolition was appropriate.
Roboute Guilliman felt a touch of sadness.
"Ten thousand years, how hidebound must they be to cling to the sanctuary for ten thousand years?"
"How could our once rational and enlightened Imperium of Man become so rigid, almost like something a nation ruled by religion would do... You must have encountered resistance, too? A dogmatic code is difficult to abolish even for its creator; they must have thought you ambitious, right?"
"No, not at all, because I have that authority." Sanguinius shook his head slightly: "Before our Father boarded the Vengeful Spirit, he designated me as his heir. This is also recorded in the Adeptus Ministorum's texts, and I even have my own exclusive religious holiday."
As the words fell, Sanguinius began to observe Roboute Guilliman's reaction with interest.
"Oh, Dorn told me about that, which is very convenient—wait a minute?? What Adeptus Ministorum???"
"Where did the Imperium get an Adeptus Ministorum??? Did Lorgar come back???"
Roboute Guilliman seemed to realize something, his expression shifting from bewildered to shocked, then from shocked to twisted and angry.
Watching this scene, even Alexander, standing not far away, couldn't help but laugh out loud, shouting to Roboute Guilliman:
"Don't be afraid, Lord Guilliman, I believe you will surely protect our Imperium of Man."
"We are filled with devout believers who have faith in the Emperor and the Primarchs, constantly executing heretics who deny you and the Imperium as gods with auto-da-fés. In an Imperium with flying baby corpses in the sky, you will surely protect it, right?"
"I believe that the extremely inefficient administrative system, the High Lord Council full of internal strife, the Astra Militarum and Imperial Navy at odds with each other, the extremely zealous and fanatical Inquisition, the superstitious and ignorant populace, the highly autonomous Adeptus Mechanicus, the Adeptus Ministorum that controls the entire spiritual world of the Imperium, the Custodes who have been shut-ins for ten thousand years, and the soon-to-be-damaged Golden Throne will not hinder your progress, right?"