"Father." Chaos Warmaster Horus Lupercal stood before the Emperor. He chewed on the word *father*, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction at this moment. He had anticipated this for so long; he had craved it for so long. Once, the Emperor was the star, the sun, the essence, the leader, the father—while he was the satellite, the lunar disc, the reflection, the Warmaster, the son. Now that they met again, Horus's inner being had continuously grown, fed by the primordial Four, until he surpassed all his brothers to stand once more before his father.
He desperately desired to see his father's expression, to witness a countenance twisted by agony. He yearned to see his father strip away that visage belonging to an emperor and expose the vulnerability of a mere man. He wanted to kill Sanguinius—to brutally murder Sanguinius and hang him upon a cross, displaying that horrific corpse to the Human Emperor.
But the Emperor showed absolutely no reaction. Not a single ripple of emotion disturbed that face, as though Sanguinius's corpse had completely failed to draw his attention.
This made Horus feel a pang of regret. He hadn't truly wished to kill Sanguinius; he had originally reserved a place by his side for him. If Sanguinius had been willing to submit, he could have...
*Wait.*
Horus looked toward Sanguinius, who was standing right next to the Emperor...
Sanguinius smiled and nodded gently to Horus.
?
Horus blinked. He looked back behind himself, only to find that the cross bearing Sanguinius's remains had vanished at some unknown point, as if the recent experience of brutally murdering Sanguinius was nothing more than an illusion spawned by a dizzy spell in his own mind.
Was it truly a hallucination...?
Horus could no longer tell.
But it didn't matter; all the positions he had meticulously reserved could now be put to full use.
"I am glad to see you, my father, my brother. I have left a place for you by my side. You can be with me, and together we can shape the future—"
Horus's words were cut short by the Emperor's gaze.
*+You killed my son.+*
*+You killed my son... wait?+*
The Emperor stared intently at Roboute Guilliman—or rather, he stared at the primordial Four looming behind Roboute Guilliman, discerning something that differed slightly from his expectations...
They didn't seem to have, nor had they been able to, kill this son of his.
Roboute Guilliman slowly raised his head from his throne of austere marble. A pitch-black Chaos Star encircled his brow like light condensed into solid matter, proclaiming an unparalleled authority.
Standing beside the Emperor, Thiel practically trembled. Even though several years had passed since he last laid eyes upon his genetic father, seeing him again forced Thiel to admit... Roboute Guilliman was far more powerful than he remembered.
The last time Thiel had seen Guilliman was when he was pronounced guilty, condemned to wear a crimson helmet forever to atone for his sins. Guilliman had seemingly intended to personally pronounce his sentence and listen to his confession, but the Primarch had been buried under a mountain of greater labor. The timing of the judgment was pushed back further and further, until he likely canceled the trivial matter of Thiel's sentencing altogether—simply because his energies were consumed by other affairs, and he had forgotten to inform Thiel...
Yet Thiel was always somewhat restless, even bordering on the rebellious. He hadn't been able to resist messing with the weapons Guilliman left in the audience chamber, only for the Primarch to push open the door and walk in at that exact moment...
Guilliman had presumably come to the audience chamber alone to think, to find a solitary space, and to speak with those... divinities. But he had forgotten that Thiel was there waiting for him.
Consequently, at the instant Guilliman pushed open the door, Thiel caught a glimpse of Guilliman's allies and his true state at the time. He saw those four entities of malice; he saw Guilliman's vitality contaminated by them, turning his hair white and leaving him exhausted. Normally, Guilliman merely used the power of those four malicious entities to mask his decrepitude.
Thiel had been terrified by the sight. He couldn't help but ask his father what he had done and what those four horrific things were. Guilliman had snarled at Thiel to get out, telling him that he was taming them... taming those four entities of malice...
Later, Thiel was treated as an untrustworthy member of the Legion and cast down to the surface of Calth to fight a rebellion that shouldn't have existed.
Yet now, Thiel discovered that the aging, exhaustion, and agony from before had vanished from Guilliman entirely. He was incomparably strong and powerful at this moment, his authority saturating his every movement. Every gesture he made felt like that of a true sovereign, rather than a puppet or a tool.
"Thiel."
Roboute Guilliman looked toward Thiel. Thiel felt a surge of surprise; he hadn't expected Guilliman to choose to speak to him first.
"I thank you for your sacrifice, and for your efforts," the dark-blue monarch said.
"...I don't understand." Thiel felt a bitterness rise in his throat, faintly realizing something. "What do you mean by that, sire?"
"Your resistance on Calth helped me immensely," Guilliman continued. "At the time, the Gods did indeed control me to a great extent. They used my fingers to command the rebel Space Marines, intending to use a fratricidal slaughter to sacrifice and consume the loyalists on Calth."
"But they lost to you. Your intellect and your military genius ensured that the rebels under the Gods' command could not destroy you. You hid within the underground conduits of Calth, where even orbital bombardment could not wipe you out. You even managed to stall the entire rebel Legion."
"Particularly your lure of Lion El'Jonson into the labyrinth of the underground tunnels, leaving him temporarily lost within. I must commend you for that move. The Gods could not bear to abandon a Primarch, and it caused them to turn on one another."
"Thus, they had no choice but to return control to me. They understood that only I could defeat you."
"That was the opportunity I used to begin tearing away their control."
The bitterness welling up at the base of Thiel's tongue grew heavier. "You had planned this all along?"
"Yes. I read your tactical analysis report on Astartes fighting Astartes, and I understood you possessed sufficient talent... Calth was also a battlefield I meticulously selected. It possessed numerous ancient underground conduits built to escape the star's periodic radiation, sufficient to evade orbital bombardment. Furthermore, Calth was wealthy enough that its resources could sustain your long-term campaign. The Lion also traveled to the surface battlefield in accordance with my arrangements."
Guilliman explained this to Thiel in a calm, measured tone, like a father explaining a simple magic trick to his son.
Yet Thiel felt only a complex, aching sorrow. "And the price was the tens of thousands of loyal warriors on Calth?"
"Nykona Sharrowkyn, our Raven—he swore an oath to assassinate a rebel Primarch. On that moonless night, he engaged in a sniper duel with Corax. We could neither see their silhouettes nor hear the gunfire, and in the end, we only recovered his headless corpse..."
"He was the finest sniper I have ever known in my life. His needle pierced Corax's left brain and peeled back his skull, but it also exposed his own position... If Corax had not been a Primarch, Sharrowkyn would have already won," Guilliman said softly.
"Zahariel, our Knight—it is said that Caliban held a beast bearing the same name as the Lion, and only he and the Lion himself had ever hunted such a creature. Within the underground labyrinth of Calth, he was hunted by Lion El'Jonson. When we found him, his body had been wiped clean, arrayed in knight's armor, with an archaic pistol placed beside him."
"The Lion said it was the most difficult hunt of his life. After the Lion destroyed his sword and boltgun, Zahariel used the pistol left to him by his mentor to leave a bloody furrow across the Lion's neck. The Lion said he fought well, like a true knight of Caliban," Guilliman continued in a low voice.
"Sigismund, our Champion—his blade was matchless across all the Legions. But after suffering betrayal, he uttered not a single word, falling silent as though shattered. In the end, he led a hundred loyal Imperial Fists to duel Dorn to the death, holding the line for us."
"One of Dorn's arms was left on Calth forever," Guilliman said, his tone bordering on admiration.
"Targutai Yesugei, our Eagle—his eyes could always pierce fate to guide us through perplexity. On a rainy night howling with wild winds and striking thunder, he battled Jaghatai Khan within the storm, and ultimately both vanished together."
"He used his psychic might to banish Jaghatai to the fringes of the galaxy. Not only that, but he used his life to pierce his own soul into the very essence of the Great Khan, purging the curse of the Four Gods for him. He allowed the Eagle of Chogoris to break free from his shackles, ensuring the Four Gods lost a Primarch forever." Guilliman's admiration was now starkly evident.
"Remus Ventanus, your Captain—it was he who stood with me, coordinating, arranging, allocating supplies, excavating new hidden underground paths, and unifying the spirits of the warriors so we could fight against you for so long. In the end, it was his self-sacrifice that allowed me to escape with my life..." Thiel's voice had gone completely hoarse.
"Ventanus, my Fourth Captain. Had this inevitable war not arrived, he would have been the fifth of the Ultramarines' paragons—the Paragon of Calth... If it were only you, I would be vigilant. If you and Ventanus stood together, even I would feel fear."
"Then what of their souls?" Thiel took a step forward, nearly confronting Guilliman face-to-face.
"They shall ultimately be with me. Everyone, each and every one—past, present, and future—shall be with me."
Guilliman looked down at Thiel. "I once foolishly dreamed of a day when I could lay down my burdens and toil alongside you all in the rice fields."
"But I understand now that burdens must always be shouldered. If you do not bear them, someone else must bear them in your stead."
"Therefore, I desire to shoulder all the burdens of the teeming masses. I shall become the living world. Your obsessions, your cravings, your hopes—I shall accept them all in their entirety."
As he spoke, Guilliman's gaze shifted toward Alexander and the Emperor. "Especially you two. I can see how heavy a burden you carry upon your shoulders. These responsibilities originally did not have to belong to you, yet you had no choice but to bear them."
"Now, you may lay down your heavy loads. My order shall take over everything."
"...I don't understand. What do you mean by taking over all responsibilities? What will become of us? What will be left for us to do?" Thiel couldn't help but ask.
Guilliman did not grow angry; he merely lowered his eyes. "You can lay down even the responsibility of thinking. I shall think in your stead, mimicking your thoughts, yet thinking far better than you ever could."
"Thiel, this is the true Codex—all-encompassing, all-present, guiding everything, shaping everything, a new Codex that shall never deviate by a single fraction."
Thiel fell silent, gripped by a dark, creeping terror.
But Guilliman paid Thiel no further attention, as if Thiel were merely a tool he used to articulate his objective.
"But I promise you, just as I once promised you, Doraemon."
"When the construction of everything in this world is complete, when all the problems of this world have been eradicated, and when there can no longer be pain, sorrow, or torment within the galaxy by any means..."
"I shall exhaust the entirety of my intellect to find a method to recreate humanity."
"Does such a method truly exist?" Thiel asked in a low voice.
Thiel suddenly felt that the words he spoke seemed to originate outside his own volition, as if another entity was using his mouth to speak.
"I do not know," Guilliman answered candidly.
Guilliman's gaze swept past the Emperor, landing upon Alexander. "You viewed me as a backup plan, so you surely understand that it is not entirely devoid of hope."
"I have an infinite stretch of time to try. Even if there is only a minuscule grain of probability, before an infinite expanse of time, it becomes an outcome that will inevitably be reached."
"Then why are you unwilling to turn me, this backup plan, into the true plan?"
"If your will and the Emperor's could merge into my form, I believe I would have hope of reaching that outcome at a much faster pace, resurrecting all of humanity."
"Within this new 'Codex,' I have reserved suitable places for you, for the Emperor, and for Horus."
"...Me too?" Horus pointed a bewildered finger at himself.
"Does it *have* to be a Codex?" Alexander asked, rubbing his temples.
"...You actually turned it around to control the Gods? You've sheeted home a regency over the authority of the Chaos Gods?" The Emperor's brow snapped upward, as if only just realizing the truth.
"Your reaction is far too slow. Chaos is not untamable; one simply needs to find the right method, the right balance..." Guilliman smiled slightly. "The Great Game of the Gods has always been chaotic and disordered. I became the host of this game, establishing rules, adjudicating victories and losses, and successfully satisfying the needs of every player. They rely upon me, so they are naturally glad to let me take control."
"Hearing words about controlling Chaos carry this much weight for the first time... I'm a bit unaccustomed to it." The Emperor turned his head to look at Alexander beside him, remarking with a tinge of awe, "How did you cultivate such an apocrypha?"
"If I told you he's entirely natural—that I merely started the thread and barely interfered—would you believe me?" Alexander couldn't help but shrug. The Guilliman before them was indeed a rare curiosity he had accidentally discovered across more than twenty thousand dreamscapes. One needed only to alter the gentlest stroke in history, and Guilliman's timeline would deviate, transforming into this guise.
"What is your consideration?" Guilliman asked softly.
"I still adhere to my original plan," Alexander answered candidly.
"Can you tell me the reason?" Guilliman said, sounding somewhat helpless and weary.
"Even if I fail by adhering to the original plan, would you truly not attempt to resurrect humanity?" Alexander countered.
"No, I still would. Because I swore an oath to you on the honor of King Konor and Lady Euten, I will carry out my vow," Guilliman said, shaking his head.
"Then my adherence to the original plan is clearly the better choice."
"Indeed." Guilliman nodded slightly. "I anticipated this conclusion."
"It is just that, if you could reach a consensus with me, I could conserve far more strength. At the same time, your power would make me unprecedentedly strong, allowing me to smoothly overwhelm that black sun to become the Dark King. I could preserve more resources to use for the future, maintain better control over the Gods, and hold more chips. From a rational perspective, I believe my plan is more secure..."
"...Whereas with your plan, if we end up mutually assured of destruction, allowing the black sun to be born and become the Dark King, or if an accident befalls you at the final step, will it not mean all efforts wasted and absolutely nothing gained? Therefore, I still believe my plan is somewhat better. Even if it fails, we at least won't end up with nothing."
As he spoke, Roboute Guilliman slowly stood up from his marble chair, looming before Alexander and the Emperor. "But... when all is said and done, I merely wished to tell you both one thing."
"You fight for the future of humanity, and that is exceedingly noble. But I, Roboute Guilliman, son of King Konor and Lady Euten, am by no means a base or despicable man."
Alexander nodded slightly, meeting Guilliman's gaze. "I shall also answer you. I refuse you because I believe this suffering world deserves a more fairy-tale ending."
Guilliman smiled. "I understand. Let it be, then."
"Using the martial blades I am least adept with, let us contend."