The sun of Macragge shone its scorching, dazzling light upon the pure gold crown, caressing every tiny, intricate micro-carving on its surface, and the brilliant golden light reflected from it bathed Limit Avenue and the surrounding buildings, enveloping the entire marble platform, along with the Greater Daemon disguised as Guilliman, within its glow.
The mortals on the nearby marble buildings let out a gasp of surprise.
The brilliant golden light swept over them, reflecting on the walls, and the light and shadow flowed continuously as if projecting the scenes micro-carved on the golden crown onto them.
In the constantly flowing radiance, both mortals and Astartes saw various scenes filled with honor:
The victory of a Great Crusade, a duel worthy of historical remembrance, the coronation of a great Emperor, the dawn of a new era, the subjugation of a thousand planets.
All the honor, glory, and power in this world seemed to be carved onto that crown; whoever wore it would become the master of these honors.
People marveled at the exquisite craftsmanship of the crown, at its beauty, and at the honorable scenes it displayed.
Wear him!
This hope was born from the depths of all beings' hearts; they did not desire to wear it themselves, but rather wished for Roboute Guilliman to wear it.
After all, such a crown, such honor, was only worthy of Roboute Guilliman.
Wear him!
Such an expectation formed ripples of emotion, stirring up waves in the Warp.
But no one noticed that amidst these ripples were the slithering sounds of snakes and lewd laughter.
Wear him!
The crown itself spoke thus:
"Only you are worthy to wear me, Roboute Guilliman!"
"The Emperor's most perfect son! The ruler of humanity! The embodiment of honor!"
"Wear me! Wear me! I will bring all honor and glory to you!"
The dazzling golden light seemed to transform into slender snakes extending from the crown, coiling around the Greater Daemon's hands little by little, tempting him to pick up the crown.
Wear him! Wear him! Wear him! Wear him! Wear him!
Ten thousand people yearned in unison, a hundred thousand people yearned in unison, a million people yearned in unison, ten million people yearned in unison.
Such yearning was so strong that it was even enough to instinctively compel a Primarch to act.
Perhaps those Primarchs with clear perception of the Warp might have noticed, but Guilliman could not.
The obscene giant snake of the Warp wriggled its body, emitting a creaking laugh.
He watched as Guilliman reached out and picked up the Crown of Glory.
He saw Guilliman slowly place the crown upon his golden hair.
He saw the golden light on the crown flash and seep into Guilliman's mind.
He let out a sharp cheer, burrowing into Guilliman's consciousness along with the crown.
Sylandri Shadowseer was about to vomit; she felt her internal organs twisted into a knot, no longer in their proper places.
To prevent a lack of time, her Harlequin brothers and sisters went to Commorragh to find a Haemonculus to remove the Lockheart Scarab from her body.
A Haemonculus!
The most disgusting, brutal, insane, and sadistic cockroaches, scumbags, and perverts in the entire galaxy!
The ancestors of these dark scumbags were the most debauched, deranged, and pleasure-seeking madmen of the Aeldari Imperium in those days.
These people were obsessed with torture, loved to appreciate the wails of blood and flesh, reveled in pain and fear, and were also masters of flesh shaping.
That Haemonculus indeed demonstrated astonishing skill, removing the Necron nanite Lockheart Scarab in just a few minutes.
However, the process, upon recollection, still made Sylandri Shadowseer shiver.
Her body was almost disassembled into pieces! Torn apart alive, and then reassembled by the Haemonculus!
What made Sylandri Shadowseer most uncomfortable was that after the assembly, there were still extra parts!
She clearly saw that after the Haemonculus reassembled her body, there were still several pieces of flesh, organs, and glands left over!
This absolutely had to be a problem!
Sylandri Shadowseer wanted to protest, but her weakened body made even speaking difficult, so she could only let the Harlequins carry her, swiftly moving through the cities of Macragge.
She was taken to a city built in a narrow mountain range, a city much more dilapidated than Magna Macragge city.
There was little pure white marble, almost all of it was rough granite stacked together, and the city also contained barbaric-looking tombs, temples, and halls.
"Ilium," Sylandri Shadowseer whispered the city's name.
Ten thousand years ago, this was a barbarian settlement on Macragge, the last land on Macragge to be conquered, and once a base for those opposing Guilliman's adoptive father, King Konor.
In later days, it also became a stronghold for Konrad Curze's rampage.
Recently, traces of the plague God's followers have also been found here.
To use a phrase from Boss Alexander, it was a place of abundant talent.
"What are we doing here?" Sylandri Shadowseer asked weakly.
"Actually, there's also a Webway entrance on Macragge, hidden beneath this city of Ilium."
"It's just that at the time, to avoid exposing it to humans, and because this city was then occupied by the Black Legion, the Laughing God guided us to another exit."
The Harlequins carried Sylandri Shadowseer into Ilium.
"That's enough!"
The bruised and battered Harlequin Avatar shouted at Dark Jester, whose half-body was burned by a melta weapon.
Alexander's marksmanship truly opened the eyes of the two Harlequins.
Both Harlequins were avatars of the Laughing God, and their physical agility had long surpassed the limits that the material universe could contain.
With their bare bodies alone, they could easily weave through bullets and would never be hit.
But Alexander could fire without missing, every bullet precisely landing on Dark Jester's body.
It was truly fortunate that Dark Jester had endured a large amount of Slaanesh's corruption and blessings, effectively making her an avatar of Slaanesh on earth, otherwise, in the face of Alexander's almost guaranteed-hit melta pistol barrage, an ordinary Harlequin without armor would have probably been burned to ashes long ago.
And the Harlequin Avatar was not having an easy time either; he was assigned Roboute Guilliman as his opponent, a Primarch whose figure was completely hidden.
Even he, as an avatar of the Laughing God, could not withstand the suddenly appearing Ultramar iron fist.
And Guilliman deliberately aimed for his face, leaving him bruised and battered.
The Harlequin Avatar had had enough.
However, Dark Jester's behavior became increasingly strange; she would involuntarily let out pleasurable moans when hit by the melta pistol, as if enjoying the sensation.
Moreover, her expression became increasingly frenzied, and the Harlequin Avatar felt a slight unease.
To counter Alexander, Cegorach had specifically chosen this Dark Jester, who was on the verge of madness.
The closer she was to madness, the closer she was to Slaanesh, and thus the more powerful she became. This Dark Jester's power had even surpassed many Slaanesh daemons.
But looking at it now, if they dragged it on any longer, Dark Jester's condition might not be very good.
For some reason, why did it feel like Slaanesh's gaze towards Macragge was so intense now?
At this moment, Sylandri Shadowseer had retreated to the Webway gate, and they also needed to escape.
The Emperor's Sword, burning with unquenchable bright flames, illuminated the dark corridor covered with spirit bones, heavily striking the retreating Harlequin Avatar.
Dark Jester let out a sharp cry, her figure twisting and turning in the darkness, actually briefly keeping up with Roboute Guilliman's movements.
Two sharp blades crossed, blocking one of Roboute Guilliman's sword strikes in front of the Harlequin Avatar.
But it was only limited to blocking this one strike.
Guilliman knew Alexander's purpose; since the Aeldari had started to retreat, it meant Sylandri Shadowseer had already escaped.
Then he could also exert a little more strength.
Dark Jester let out a wail; her entire body was ignited by the unquenchable bright flames from the Emperor's Psyker power, and a gash of blood marked her chest.
No one saw when Guilliman had actually swung the second sword.
Even the Harlequin Avatar, the Laughing God's avatar, didn't see it; in fact, while he was still thinking about what had happened, Guilliman's attack was already upon him.
The Harlequin Avatar only felt a hurricane arriving before him, followed by a heavy steel fist striking his chest, a twisting of internal organs, and his entire body was sent flying backward, crashing heavily against the bulkhead, even distorting and shattering the spirit bones covering the bulkhead.
"Destroy this entire cargo ship!!!" the Harlequin Avatar roared, enduring the pain.
This was their prepared plan; if they ultimately couldn't escape, they would directly destroy the entire cargo ship.
Even the Human Death God and the Primarch would surely find it difficult to operate in a vacuum.
At that time, Dark Jester, the Bonesinger, and the Harlequin Avatar, who had prepared measures for the vacuum in advance, could seize the opportunity to escape.
As if hearing the Harlequin Avatar's command, the spirit bones interspersed within the ship began to grow and reconstruct, instantly gushing out from the bulkhead, like tree branches interlacing in the corridor.
"Yes, just like that! Destroy the entire cargo ship — — — — — — Pfft! What are you doing!"
Before the Harlequin Avatar could finish speaking, spirit bones suddenly pierced through his body, pinning him firmly to the bulkhead.
Not only him, Dark Jester also received the same treatment; the spirit bones seemed to have been subverted, one by one piercing into her flesh, causing Dark Jester to emit sounds of pleasurable moans.
The Harlequin Avatar stared blankly at this scene.
He found that his communication with the Bonesinger had been cut off, only hearing a tragic scream from the Bonesinger's side at the very end.
"I just thought about it for a moment..."
Alexander, standing amidst the cluster of spirit bones, scratched his head and smiled at the Harlequin Avatar:
"You said, are spirit bones also considered a type of mechanical construct?"
"Well, since they are mechanical constructs, then I thought spirit bones must have power and the machine spirit, right?"
The Harlequin Avatar looked utterly bewildered.
********
He saw it,
That magnificent future,
That future full of honor,
Alexander's will inside the Greater Daemon saw it,
The galaxy was being reconquered, countless people knelt at his feet,
He saw it, the galaxy, the entire galaxy filled with hope because of him,
Countless Astartes assembled at his command, on a scale so vast, larger than at any time in the past, far exceeding the size of legions,
These massive legions were united under a single command, shouting his name, bringing civilization and enlightenment to the entire galaxy,
This was his honor!
And so, a new Expedition began,
From Macragge to Terra, from Terra to Baal, from Baal to every corner of the galaxy,
His power was so immense that it struck fear into all specters and daemons,
The Tyranids were destroyed in their hunger, the Eldar completely embraced death, the head of the last Ork was severed by him, the Tau Imperium vanished with the wind, and the Leagues of Votann begged to be readmitted as humans,
This was his honor!
So many people were saved by him, so many gained hope because of him, so many planets were reborn because of him,
Billions upon billions of Imperial citizens shouted his name, praised his prestige, and offered him their reverence,
Innumerable streets, cities, continents, oceans, planets, stars, star systems, and even entire sectors were renamed, bearing his name,
This was his honor!
Even the Gods of Chaos felt fear of him,
Whether it was the Blood God's axe, Slaanesh's whip, Nurgle's plague, or Tzeentch's schemes, all dissipated before him,
Like the curses of sewer maggots, vanishing before the majestic and sacred Emperor,
This was also his honor!
No one was greater than him, no one was more sacred than him, no one was more worthy to be the ruler of humanity,
His towering statues were erected, his Macragge noble-like face gazing at the stars—the stars of humanity, no, his stars—
Billions upon billions of people shouted his name with reverence,
Not reverence born of fear, threats, or ignorance, but reverence born of hope, reason, and salvation,
They were grateful to their savior and ruler,
Roboute Guilliman,
They praised this name thirteen times a day.
And Alexander blinked lightly, calmly watching this scene,
What did praising Guilliman have to do with him? Why was he here? What was he doing here?
Oh, right, he seemed to be here... Alexander's gaze began to search silently.
In the Warp, Fulgrim writhed his massive body, cackling as he wove an illusion, an illusion he had specially prepared for his brother, one he had painstakingly crafted with all his understanding of Guilliman,
Guilliman was the most arrogant one, more arrogant than anyone, more presumptuous than anyone,
Deep down, he also longed for honor and wished to be revered, but he detested reverence born of ignorance, religious superstition, fear, threats, and deceit,
He only accepted reverence born of reason, not emotional impulse, but a heartfelt reverence after a clear understanding of everything,
Guilliman only accepted this kind of reverence and this kind of honor deep down,
What an arrogant and conceited idea... Fulgrim had always been curious about what kind of ending such an arrogant and conceited Guilliman truly yearned for in his unfathomable heart,
After much thought, Fulgrim could only conceive of one possibility.
He continuously wove images, attempting to make Guilliman sink into them,
But the situation was a bit unexpected for him,
Guilliman's heart surprisingly didn't show a hint of honor or any intention of sinking into this illusion,
This made Fulgrim feel confused and curious,
But he dared not delve too deeply into Guilliman's consciousness, as this might make him aware,
Could it be that these current images were not enough to make Guilliman succumb?
Did the honor he craved far exceed what Fulgrim displayed?
Yes, it must be so,
He was like this ten thousand years ago,
Always arrogant, always ambitious, always with a sense of superiority.
What he truly craved must be—
Alexander stood before the Terra Imperial Palace, pure gold steps extending endlessly beneath his feet, each step carved with a great and honorable moment from human history,
From the first lighting of fire, the first war, the birth of a religion, Homo sapiens triumphing over Neanderthals, to the first starship soaring among the stars, the glory of the Golden Age, the Emperor's appearance, the grandeur of the Great Crusade...
But these moments had all become stepping stones beneath his feet, imperceptible embellishments to his honor,
No honor in human history could compare to his honor,
His achievements surpassed everything in the material and immaterial universe,
He rightfully should step upon this staircase made of humanity, ascend to that position that should inherently belong to him,
Ascending— Alexander looked up, following the pure gold steps, and saw at the end of the steps the magnificent Golden Throne.
The Emperor's corpse had been removed, humanity willingly leaving this position for him, an inheritance he had earned,
Fulgrim noticed Guilliman frozen in place, feeling the ripples in his heart,
Finally, this is what you crave,
Fulgrim impatiently entangled Guilliman's consciousness, extending his corrupted fangs towards him,
Yes, this is what you deserve,
Go on, sit down, no one deserves to sit there more than you—
But Fulgrim was still too impatient,
If he had been a little more patient, he would have noticed that the emotions stirring in the heart of this "Guilliman" were not excitement or honor,
But terror, disgust, and dread; his gaze towards the Golden Throne was like looking at the most painful torture device in the galaxy.
"Whoever wants to sit on this Golden Throne can sit on it, don't you dare fucking come to me!"
Alexander took a step back with deep disdain, and the illusion around him shattered like glass,
Hidden beneath the illusion, Fulgrim, who was coiled around Alexander, also let out a sharp roar,
Intense pain was assailing his body,
Blood continuously overflowed from Fulgrim's serpentine eyes,
He saw on Guilliman's body, behind him—
Behind him overlapped that blue, round figure, that unknown Warp entity that had once purged his corruption,
In Fulgrim's eyes, the skin on Guilliman's body peeled away layer by layer like clay, revealing his original appearance,
It was a human with a buzz cut, a round face, and a physique as sturdy as a tiger—
"You're not Guilliman!" Fulgrim writhed his massive body, retreating in terror,
He could feel the immense power that was being squeezed within that figure's body,
This was the Greater Daemon of that blue Warp entity, the power of the blue Warp was surging through his body—
Fulgrim let out a sharp wail, wanting to escape Alexander's consciousness,
But he was too impatient, and had fallen too deep.
Alexander looked at the terrified Fulgrim, at the daemon Primarch that was a mixture of worm, slug, moray eel, and snake; the once handsome face carved by the Emperor's genetic technology was now corroded by debauchery, drugs, and depravity into an elongated, twisted, wrinkled, pale face, hidden beneath wisps of bone-like white hair.
Where was there even a trace of the former Imperial Purple Phoenix?
Alexander couldn't help but let out a sigh, then involuntarily said:
"Fulgrim, don't you recognize your uncle? uncle even held you when you were little!"
"Look at what you've become now? uncle is truly heartbroken."
"uncle asks for nothing, uncle only hopes that you stop playing with daemons, and stop taking those inexplicable potions."
"Look, your cloaca is so big it could fit the Emperor's Dream, and also, stop bothering others in the Warp, uncle saw in a prophecy that big headshots of you twenty-one brothers and your father are flying all over the Warp, who did you piss off again?"
"Your old crone sword that you stabbed yourself with, your dad washed it for you and put it on your bed, don't throw it around anymore. Alas, in the ten thousand years you've been fallen to Chaos, this family has become riddled with holes, your father worries you'll be bullied by Slaanesh, he's so worried he's become a dried corpse."
"The blessing you received a while ago, your dad actually had Slaanesh give it to you, he was afraid you wouldn't get enough to eat in the Warp, alas, your dad is still harsh in words but kind at heart."
"Tomorrow there's a Warp storm, don't mess around with daemons, look how thin you are, your neck has marks from the Dark Prince's collar, having sex addiction flare-ups every day in the Warp, your brother Guilliman is being tormented to the point of mental exhaustion by you."
"You were so well-behaved when you were little, you would help your dad with the Great Crusade, how did you become like this now? Fulgrim, tell uncle, is it because you saw something bad in the Warp? Is it because of the Warp?"
As he spoke, Alexander walked towards Fulgrim,
He felt as if he was overlapping with his reflection in the Warp, which seemed to be due to Fulgrim's invasion of his mind, awakening his Warp essence's instinctive protection,
Alexander almost felt his body dissolving little by little, allowing a larger self to gradually unfold, and he couldn't help but extend his round hand towards Fulgrim,
"Why aren't you answering uncle, Fulgrim? How did you become a Slaanesh daemon Primarch? The people of Chemos worked so hard to raise you, why did you have to become a Slaanesh daemon Primarch?"
Fulgrim had no idea what Alexander was doing, he just looked in terror at the blue figure getting closer and closer to him, his entire body curled into a ball, constantly trembling,
"It's all the Warp's fault, ah, in a couple of days your dad will be free after he burns to death on the Golden Throne, go back to the Terra Imperial Palace to see him, don't make him too sad, uncle will give you some blessings again, then you can bring back some pure Phoenix Guard to make your dad and your uncle happy, don't take them to do lewd things again."
Saying this, Alexander's round hand reached towards Fulgrim.
Fulgrim let out a sharp shriek,
"Don't come over here ahhhhh!!!"