Upon seeing that Guilliman had finally awakened, his brothers immediately surged forward, pushing Yvraine to the side. The hall, which had just been undergoing a "resurrection ritual," was now filled with an indescribable emotion.
Guilliman's gaze swept over the familiar yet unfamiliar faces before him. When his eyes landed on Perturabo and Konrad Curze, his instinct almost made him reach for the emperors sword.
However, his fingers had barely twitched before he froze—
Dorn actually stood beside Perturabo, their figures like an unbreakable fortress;
Lion, looking older than he remembered, allowed Konrad Curze to stand quietly behind him without showing any hint of wariness; Konrad Curze even held an unfamiliar, yet very familiar, blonde shota in his arms.
Chagatai had a red-haired alien clinging to him, looking utterly helpless... And that familiar red figure... Guilliman's gaze trembled slightly. From his perspective, half of Magnus's face rested quietly in front of Russ (Russ was pushing a wheelchair), his expression calm and devoid of hostility.
Everything was completely at odds with the scenes in his memory, or perhaps... too dreamlike.
Guilliman's Adam's apple bobbed slightly, and a complex emotion welled up in his chest. He opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to ask something, but the words ultimately turned into a low sigh.
His eyes were slightly red, with what seemed like tears glistening, and he spoke in a low, hoarse voice:
"brothers... I had a nightmare."
He slowly looked around at his brothers, with a hint of apprehension and testing in his eyes, as if fearing that this scene was merely an illusory bubble: "I dreamed we were slaughtering each other... dreamed that half of our brothers betrayed Father..."
He did not continue, as if uttering one more word would turn that nightmare into reality, shattering the beauty before him.
The air solidified for a moment. Everyone instinctively held their breath, and even Cawl's mechanical tendrils, operating the instruments, paused for an instant.
Magnus lowered his head... Konrad Curze instinctively hid his body behind Lion, and Sanguinius instinctively touched Konrad Curze's smooth, black long hair, as if it had been treated with conditioner.
Perturabo's expression subtly changed. He gave a light cough and turned his face away, seemingly trying to hide something.
Chagatai, meanwhile, crossed his arms, raised an eyebrow, and a faint smile played on his lips as he muttered under his breath: "Are you sure that was just a nightmare?"
Russ grinned, reaching out to pat Magnus's shoulder... or more accurately, pat Magnus's wheelchair:
"Hey, Guilliman, don't think about those things for now... Look at us, aren't we doing well now? How are you? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?"
"...This armor on me... it's a bit tight... a bit uncomfortable," Guilliman took a deep breath, instinctively twisting in the chair... but he now felt an indescribable emotion filling his chest.
His gaze slowly swept over these familiar yet unfamiliar brothers, and finally, he said softly: "I... thought I had lost you."
An indescribable emotion surged in the air. Although no one immediately responded, the silence itself was already the deepest form of expression.
At this moment, Lion, like an elder brother and father, slowly spoke, his voice deep and steady, like the tolling of a bell piercing through time, striking everyone's heart—
"Guilliman, that wasn't a dream..."
Those few short words were more suffocating than any raging storm.
Guilliman's pupils constricted slightly, and his fingers, gripping the armrest, trembled involuntarily. His breathing seemed to freeze at that moment, the emotions churning in his chest surging like a tide, yet frozen and inexpressible as if by frost.
He slowly raised his head, his gaze falling on Lion's face, trying to find a hint of sarcasm in his elder brother's expression, even a tiny sign that could overturn that statement. However, Lion's expression was incredibly serious, his eyes as deep as the night sky, reflecting centuries of sorrow and silence.
The surrounding air seemed to become incredibly heavy, pressing down on everyone's heart. The brothers' expressions varied, yet not one of them refuted him—no denial, no comfort.
Perturabo stood there in silence, his gaze cast into the distance, as if unwilling to recall the storms of the past;
Konrad Curze's body shrank slightly, his black long hair falling over his shoulders, his fingers instinctively clutching Lion's cloak, as if seeking some sense of security;
Sanguinius sighed softly, gently patting Konrad Curze's shoulder, his golden hair shimmering slightly in the light and shadow, but his eyes held an indescribable sadness.
Chagatai crossed his arms, leaning against the side, a faint smile still on his lips, but that smile no longer held its usual carefree air; instead, it contained a complex meaning.
Russ stood silently behind Magnus, his hands firmly gripping the wheelchair's armrests, and Magnus... he still had his head bowed, his single eye hidden in the shadow of his red long hair, no one able to discern his current expression.
Guilliman's Adam's apple bobbed slightly, his fingertips clenched into fists, something in his chest seemed to be slowly crumbling. He took a deep breath and whispered—
"...So, that was real."
His voice held disbelief, weariness, and an indelible pain.
"The Crusade is over... Horus... really betrayed us..."
The moment these words fell, the air seemed to freeze completely, even the faint hum of mechanical instruments operating felt distant and blurry.
Guilliman closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, as if using all his strength to accept this cruel reality. After a long while, he opened his eyes, his gaze slowly sweeping over his brothers present, finally landing on Lion, his voice low and firm—
"Then, what now?... Are we still fighting?"
This time, it was Dorn who answered him. His voice was like forged steel, firm and steady: "The fight has never ceased."
The next second, Guilliman erupted from the chair, grabbing the emperors sword in front of him. This sudden burst of power made the surrounding brothers slightly stunned.
The emperors sword cut a fiery arc through the air, a faint glow dancing on its blade, as if responding to its new master. Guilliman's gaze was incredibly firm, the bewilderment in his eyes gone, replaced by a burning will... the resolve belonging to the 'Avenging Son'.
In an instant, fury blazed within Guilliman's chest. He abruptly stood up, his hand gripping the emperors sword like an iron vice, and fierce flames leaped along the blade, reflecting the uncontrollable anger and grief in his eyes.
"Die, traitor!!"
Accompanied by a thunderous roar, he suddenly swung his sword, the blade cutting through the air, carrying soul-scorching wrath, aimed directly at Konrad Curze behind Lion!
Flames danced on the blade, reflecting his resolute killing intent. The air, under this strike, seemed to ignite instantly, emitting a sharp wail!
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