Chapter 723: Getting up in a Bad Mood

Broken memories came flooding in like a tide, and Guilliman's slow and dull mind was filled with scenes of desperate battles with Fulgrim.

The last moment he was enduring the blade cutting his throat, the vicious curse spreading throughout his body, and worrying about the pain of the empire's future.

Now he found himself in a rather unfamiliar hall, and in front of him was... Perturabo.

There were no complicated cables and parts plugged into his head, and there was no cold air of resentment and dissatisfaction in his eyes.

This strangeness made Guilliman, who had just woken up, stunned for a while, and then the special perception between the Primarchs confirmed that the person in front of him was indeed Perturabo.

His brother - Perturabo!

The traitor who besieged Terra - Perturabo!

The man who threw himself into chaos - Perturabo!

Anger suddenly surged from Guilliman's body, and his offspring also felt the anger of the Gene Father.

The Hand of Domination slammed into Perturabo's face. This attack that could smash a Space Marine to pieces only broke Perturabo's nose.

Perturabo took a few steps back after being hit hard. Fulgrim on the side rushed over, hoping to stop Guilliman temporarily.

"Folgen?" Guilliman saw Fulgrim, and he was quite surprised at Fulgrim's mortal body. In his several encounters with Fulgrim, this phoenix completely controlled by Slaanesh was a disgusting space eel.

Is this his brother?

Guilliman didn't know, but judging from the demon runes on Fulgrim's arm, he could only define what was happening in front of him as a fantasy killing game woven by Slaanesh and Fulgrim.

The Hand of Domination fired at Fulgrim, and these explosive bombs from the Great Crusade period could still work stably.

Fulgrim was forced back by the explosive bombs, his plain armor was pierced, and many bruises were left on his body.

"Guilliman! Wait!" Dorn stood in front of Fulgrim with a chainsaw sword. He took off his helmet, revealing an old face that had been baptized by ten thousand years.

Guilliman was stunned. He had some impression of Dorn's black armor. It was an organization called the Black Templar by Dorn.

"Dorn, they are traitors." Guilliman said.

"Guilliman, it's ten thousand years later."

Guilliman was stunned by Dorn's words. His brain was working at high speed, quickly digesting all the information provided to him by Dorn's words, the surrounding scenes, and broken memories.

Ten thousand years later?

Ten thousand years later?

After asking himself twice, Guilliman's heart, which was shrouded in the fire of revenge, was suddenly gripped by the fear of the unknown.

What would happen in ten thousand years? If he was unconscious for such a long time, who would command the Ultramarines? Who would stop the Chaos traitors' vicious offensive?

He had too many government affairs that were not completed, and too many documents that only left a draft.

He could only use the most pessimistic thoughts to speculate the deformities and mutations of his documents over the past ten thousand years, and pray that the Empire would not become the horrible ruins of the Great Heresy.

"Primarch. Is it really you?" Calgar's voice attracted Guilliman's attention.

The Ultramarines' Gene Master cast a scrutinizing look. He was very familiar with Calgar's weapon, which Guilliman had taken from a Chaos Champion.

Apart from that, he felt that everything Calgar had was dazzling.

Although the exaggerated and gorgeous armor had some cracks and scars, it still could not cover up its former glory.

The golden sky eagle decorations were all over the armor, which made Guilliman begin to wonder when the Ultramarines would receive this honor bestowed by the Emperor himself.

The wax seal with the difficult scriptures sealed on the armor reminded Guilliman of Lorgar's Word Bearers.

These things could only make Guilliman's thinking more confused, and he could not use his previous experience to make an accurate analysis.

The calmer Guilliman was, the more he was overwhelmed by fear and confusion.

Finally, Dorn left the chainsword in place, took a few steps forward, and used his voice to calm Guilliman down temporarily.

"You have many questions, and we have many answers. Let's explain everything here."

Looking at Dorn, Perturabo, and Fulgrim, all Guilliman could do was put down his fists and nodded heavily.

"You all go out first, let me talk to my brothers."

Guilliman ordered Calgar and other heirs to leave the throne room in an unquestionable tone. The Chapter Master absolutely obeyed Guilliman's orders and retreated with his battle brothers like a tide.

They stood guard at the door and knelt in unison. Although no one spoke, their bodies were trembling slightly because of excitement.

Macragge's unquestionable master is back!

Although there are still many questions that confuse the Ultramarines, such as Fulgrim, Perturabo, the Eldar witch, etc., they still maintain absolute calmness and loyalty. They will never step into the throne room before Guilliman gives new orders.

"Now, let's talk, brothers." Guilliman looked at the three brothers who were unfamiliar to him with a complicated expression.

The question-and-answer session lasted for a long time. Guilliman got all the information he could get in half a week. In the next half a week, he tried to accept the reality of the Empire in mental pain.

Guilliman initially tried to use every bit of affinity and cunning as a politician to create an optimistic atmosphere that could accept everything, and let the three hesitant Primarchs say more information in laughter.

He could still hide the emotional fluctuations caused by his words. The more he knew, the more his face was shrouded in despair.

"We," Guilliman said, his voice a little strange due to compassion and pain, "What have we become? Our ideals and efforts have all come to nothing."

Guilliman sat slumped on the throne, covering his face, and moans came out through his armor.

"At least we're back, and we have a chance to fix our mistakes," Perturabo reassured Guilliman.

"It was you who smashed it all, and now it's you who are shouting to fix it all!" Guilliman roared uncontrollably, but he knew that doing so would not solve the problem.

Finally he apologized to Perturabo, regained his composure, and walked forward under the gaze of the Emperor's sacred portrait.

The door to the throne room is open, and the insect swarm on the planet has been compressed to a block. A simple thunderstorm bombardment by the fleet can eliminate all the insects.

The huge square outside the throne room was filled with people, and troops who had been honored in battle stood in squares.

The Lamenters, Black Templars, Ultramarines, Thirty-Seventh Regiment, Ultramar Auxiliary Army, and the citizens of Macragge have been waiting here for a long time.

Guilliman stood at the front, while the other three Primarchs were slightly behind.

"The Second Empire will definitely prosper." Perturabo said softly.

Guilliman's steps seemed a little stiff because of these words.