With the combined might of Saint Celestine, Master Calgar, Marshal Amaric, Inquisitor Greyfax, and countless loyal Imperial heroes, Guilliman led a devastating counteroffensive against the invading Chaos forces.
Wielding the Emperor's holy sword, he cut through the enemy ranks with ruthless efficiency. Plague Walkers, Horrors, and Daemonettes all fell before his might, their shattered forms littering the battlefield.
Guilliman's power, enhanced by the newly integrated soul, remained undiminished. His resurrection ignited a flame of hope within the hearts of countless loyalists. The god-like figure of the Primarch instilled courage and defiance in them, allowing them to face the horrors of Chaos without flinching.
The morale boost was palpable. Tech-priest Cawl, the Great Sage of the Mechanicum, also joined the fray. Chanting hymns of the Machine God, he unleashed a hail of destructive energy beams from the potent weapons embedded in his spine, obliterating any Chaos warriors foolish enough to attempt flanking him.
The tide of the battle began to turn decisively. The Chaos army, facing a resurgent foe and a reinvigorated Guilliman, was steadily pushed back.
His gaze alone struck fear into the hearts of demons and corrupted warriors. The flaming holy sword became a beacon of hope, carving a swathe of destruction wherever it swung.
Guilliman moved through the battlefield like an unstoppable force, his enemies scattering before him. It wasn't until a colossal Chaos Daemon appeared that his advance was momentarily halted.
This monstrous entity, towering with an ape-like face and immense horns, was clad in ancient power armor adorned with brutal bone spurs. In its hand, a chain-sword crackled with unholy fire, reflecting the daemon's rage.
Its crimson skin rippled with each swing, and its blood-red wings were etched with disturbing symbols. The creature radiated a potent aura of rage, twisting the emotions of everyone on the battlefield, fueling aggression and irritability.
Celestine and the others surged forward to intercept the monstrous entity, but Guilliman intervened, determined to face it himself.
"Well, well," the daemon boomed, its tawny eyes filled with mocking amusement. "Another Primarch graces the battlefield with his presence. A pity the era of the Primarchs has long passed.
The human empire crumbles, and the rotting corpse emperor's whelps will soon join him in oblivion. Nothing can halt the inevitable, child. This universe belongs to the Chaos Gods!"
Guilliman frowned, recognizing the insignia emblazoned on the tattered power armor – a symbol of the World Eaters Chapter.
This warband, once loyal to the Imperium, had fallen prey to treachery, joining the ranks of the damned. Known for their genetic predisposition towards violence, the World Eaters often fell prey to the whispers of Khorne, the Blood God.
The daemon before him was no exception, clearly a former World Eater warrior elevated to a demonic entity.
Holding the Emperor's Sword aloft, Guilliman addressed the traitor with unyielding contempt. "Traitor. Clearly, the thrashing I bestowed upon you ten thousand years ago wasn't sufficient. How dare you crawl out of your warp-infested kennel!"
The fused soul within Guilliman retained the memories of his past, and the sight of these damned traitors ignited a righteous fury within him. He yearned to purge the galaxy of their corruption.
During the glorious days of the Great Crusade, the human empire stood at the precipice of stability. The Emperor's final grand project, the Webway, promised a bright future for humanity – a path towards ascension and dominance among the stars.
But Horus's betrayal, and the subsequent treachery of several other Primarchs, plunged them into an abyss of darkness.
The seeds of Chaos, long sown, festered within the Imperium. Since the Emperor's ascension to the Golden Throne, humanity had endured ten thousand years of relentless struggle in a hostile galaxy.
Their survival came at a heavy cost – the lives and blood of countless brave soldiers. Each passing moment of history was etched with the sacrifices of countless heroes.
The blame for humanity's current predicament rested squarely on the shoulders of these Chaos worshippers. Guilliman, his unwavering gaze fixed on the demon, sought its weakness, determined to end this traitor's existence forever.
He aimed to demonstrate that even seeking refuge in the clutches of a malevolent god offered no true strength - these beings remained pathetic shells of their former selves.
"Empty taunts achieve nothing, Primarch. The age of Primarchs and empires is over. From this point forward, the galaxy shall know only war and bloodshed! The skull of a carrion emperor's Primarch - the greatest offering to my Lord!" The demon snorted, a shower of scorching sparks spewing from its nostrils. The flames licking its body intensified, warping the surrounding space with their immense heat.
"Return to your pathetic master and inform him his rickety throne will become my trophy. One day, I shall sever his oversized head and use it as a plaything!"
Guilliman's eyes remained devoid of fear. The Dominance Template instilled in him absolute confidence in his ability to vanquish this foe. Witnessing their Primarch's unwavering resolve, the hearts of Imperial soldiers and civilians alike swelled with renewed devotion.
This template served as a conduit, transforming the faith of his followers into tangible power. The more fervent their belief, the greater his strength became.
The Primarch's might, coupled with the unwavering faith of his followers, presented a formidable challenge to even a Warp Demon.
Enraged by Guilliman's mockery of the Chaos God it served, the Great Demon unleashed a deafening roar that caused the very ground to tremble and the sky to crackle with thunder.
The demon's power surged, sending shivers of terror down the spines of the Imperial soldiers. Their grip tightened on their laser guns, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.
Conversely, the Chaos forces erupted in a frenzy, howling their praises to the terrifying demon, their hopes rekindled for a swift conquest.
The Great Demon lumbered towards Guilliman with earth-shattering strides. It brandished its colossal sword, its sole purpose to claim Guilliman's skull for a grisly trophy to lay before the Blood God's throne.
"You've spent ten millennia honing your skills within the warp, while I've faced countless foes. Even weakened, a Primarch remains a force to be reckoned with. Prepare yourself for your demise!" The demon roared, its power radiating an aura of raw terror.
With a casual flick of its hand, it effortlessly swatted aside several Baneblade tanks that dared to impede its path.
The colossal blade swung in a powerful arc, aimed squarely at Guilliman. He met the blow head-on with the Emperor's Sword, the clash generating a shockwave that rippled across the battlefield.
The demon roared in fury, creating an opening that Guilliman exploited. He lunged forward, his power fist crackling with blue energy as he unleashed a devastating punch.
A sonic boom echoed as the invisible force of his attack slammed into the demon, sending it sprawling across the ground.
The monstrous creature skidded for a good ten meters before finally coming to a halt, its body crashing into a deactivated laser cannon.
"Is that all you can muster? Ten thousand years of honing your skills seem to have yielded meager results. Let this be a lesson, weakling. True strength comes not from succumbing to the warp, but from facing adversity and overcoming it. Return to your pathetic master, the Blood God Khorne, and tell him to prepare his neck. Soon, his head will adorn my trophy collection!" Guilliman taunted the fallen demon, relishing the opportunity to mock his foe.
Throughout his long and arduous battles against countless evil gods and their minions, Guilliman knew true victory remained elusive. However, when it came to mocking and ridiculing such entities, he was unrivaled.
He reminisced about his past dominance, a time when he was an unstoppable force, a champion celebrated throughout the galaxy.
The risk of retaliation from the Chaos Gods for his taunts was negligible. Bound by universal restrictions, these malevolent beings could not directly enter the real world.
The Emperor himself acted as a barrier, preventing their incursion. Curses and threats were all they could muster, a minor inconvenience compared to the satisfaction of utter humiliation.
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marsolino· Mar 12, 2024
