Chapter Twenty-Six: Get Up and Work Overtime, Guilliman

Wang Ming charged toward Karlga, who was being kicked in a circle. Around him, the psychic spells of the Chaos sorcerers struck his body, causing only minor wounds. Though these psychic attacks couldn't inflict significant harm upon Wang Ming, the pain was undeniable.

Ignoring the psychic barrage, Wang Ming rushed to the Terminators encircling Karlga. Their reactions were swift; abandoning their assault on Karlga, they aimed their explosive bolt guns at Wang Ming and pulled the triggers.

The distance between Wang Ming and the Terminators was nearly face-to-face. At this range, his force field shield could not react in time to the explosive rounds. The bolts struck his power armor directly, detonating upon impact.

It must be said—Wang Ming's power armor was truly resilient. The explosive bolts, which could penetrate a standard MK8 Space Marine power suit, left nothing but blackened blast marks on his ornate armor, failing to inflict any real damage.

In his right hand, Wang Ming wielded a golden power sword, swift as lightning. He sliced through the Terminator before him, splitting the armor as easily as thin paper. With his left hand, he pressed his bolt gun against another Terminator’s helmet and fired—a searing bolt pierced the helmet, detonating within and obliterating the Chaos Space Marine's brain matter.

After Wang Ming slew two Terminators, the others focused their fire entirely upon him. Explosive bolts rained down, but at this distance, Wang Ming's force field shield could respond, causing the storm of bolts to explode harmlessly against the shield, stopping them before they reached him.

Suddenly, the crackling of power weapons echoed behind the Terminators, from the spot where Karlga had been encircled. The disintegrating force field of a power fist tore through the armor of a Terminator’s back, plunging into the chest cavity of the Chaos traitor within.

With a dull crash, the Terminator fell. From behind him rose Karlga, whom the Chaos Terminators had deemed incapacitated. Against all odds, Karlga stood, his power armor battered and scarred with marks from bolts and melee.

Karlga was in terrible shape. His bare face, unprotected by a helmet, was covered in wounds; bright blood streamed from his nostrils, and he could barely stand, swaying as if he might collapse at any moment.

Using his bolt gun, Wang Ming drove back the Terminators surrounding Karlga, then strode to him, grasped his leg, and dragged him in one swift motion back to the Imperial lines, tossing the battered Karlga to the Ultramarines.

With that done, Wang Ming returned to join Fulgrim in holding back the Chaos horde.

At that moment, a multitude of Chaos Dreadclaw Drop Pods crashed onto the ground. From within surged hundreds of Space Marines of the Black Legion—veterans from the days of Horus, each one an elite of the Black Legion.

Streams of wicked bolts spewed from the traitors’ guns, slaughtering the loyal Imperial warriors. Even Wang Ming and Fulgrim, two Primarchs, could not protect every Imperial soldier; casualties mounted by the second.

Loyalists' power armor was shredded by traitor gunfire, their blood staining the ruined floor of the cathedral. Loyal warriors fell everywhere, sacrificing their lives to prove their devotion to the Emperor and the Primarchs.

Time passed, minute by minute, as Wang Ming and Fulgrim strove to shield every loyal warrior.

Saint Celestine soared overhead, swooping down to claim the life of a Chaos Space Marine with every dive.

A crisp mechanical chime sounded from the device encasing Guilliman. The mechanical structure slowly unfolded.

Everyone present paused. Both Imperial and Chaos forces stared in shock at the figure rising atop the dais.

The Imperial side was filled with joy at the sight, while the Chaos traitors were plunged into despair.

The giant rose, gazing down from the dais, the Emperor's sword blazing with holy fire in his hand. He was awakening from his millennia-long nightmare, acclimating to the reality before him.

Though ten thousand years had passed, he still recognized his gene-sons and could distinguish the hated Chaos traitors. Amid the crowd, he saw the one familiar face—the figure who had haunted his nightmare for millennia, the one he had wounded long ago.

The giant stepped down from the dais at once, charging straight toward that person.

With the Emperor's sword burning in his hand, he swung it at the figure. The target made no attempt to dodge, simply gazing quietly at the blade descending upon him.

A metallic clang rang out as a golden greatsword blocked the Emperor's sword before the man's face.

The collision of the two swords produced a crisp, ringing sound, and the impact sent a gust of wind that lifted the hair of the one who was struck.

"Guilliman, he is not that Fulgrim!" Wang Ming explained hastily as he gently redirected the Emperor’s sword away from Fulgrim’s head. "I can't explain everything right now, but he isn’t the Fulgrim who betrayed the Imperium—he is a loyalist." Wang Ming did his best to clarify, and though his words were not entirely clear, Guilliman lowered the Emperor’s sword and gazed silently at the only familiar Fulgrim before him.

This new Primarch was unknown to Guilliman; he was not one of Guilliman’s brothers.

"Blood for the Blood God, skulls for the skull throne!" At that moment, as the three Primarchs studied each other, a Chaos Space Marine leaped forward, wielding a chainsword axe, aiming to strike the Primarchs.

In the name of the Blood God, he sought to offer the Primarchs’ blood as sacrifice. Yet, no matter his zeal, he remained but a Space Marine—far too weak to confront a Primarch.

The Emperor's sword swept through the air, its holy flame tracing a beautiful arc, cleaving the airborne Chaos Marine in half.

As the traitor’s corpse hit the ground, the battle resumed.

With three Primarchs present, the loyal warriors’ morale soared, while the Chaos traitors, terror-stricken, launched desperate attacks against the loyalists.