Chapter Thirty-Five: The Primordial Demon

A few days after the conclusion of the battle on Macragge, within the Hera Fortress, three Primarchs were discussing their plans for the aftermath.

Macragge was in need of reconstruction, the people of the Imperium required reassurance, and the chaos assaults on the worlds surrounding Macragge had yet to cease—all these matters still awaited resolution.

At that moment, a mortal governor approached Guilliman, proposing a victory parade on Macragge, and suggested spreading news of the Primarchs’ return throughout the Imperium.

Considering the propaganda value, Guilliman agreed.

“As expected,” Wang Ming thought as he looked at the fawning mortal governor before him. The plot was unfolding exactly as it had in the book.

This mortal governor, a secret devotee of the Chaos Gods, had indeed made the proposal to Guilliman.

Wang Ming placed a heavy hand on the governor’s shoulder. The Primarch’s immense strength bore down so forcefully that the man’s upper body buckled under the pressure.

Even so, Wang Ming had restrained himself; otherwise, the mortal would have been crushed to death on the spot, Chaos God’s blessing or not.

“A fine suggestion,” Wang Ming said, beaming at the governor while affirming his idea. “A victory parade at this time would stabilize the people, and its value as propaganda is immense. In this age of faith in the Emperor, nothing can inspire more hope than the return of His divine sons.”

The governor struggled under the crushing weight on his shoulders, forcing a smile as he looked up at Wang Ming.

“But this proposal,” Wang Ming’s tone shifted abruptly, “comes from a traitor to Chaos.” He tightened his grip, crushing the governor’s upper body and pinning him to the ground.

At that moment, the Grand Master of the Grey Knights, long concealed in the shadows, stepped forward. The moment his blessed armor touched the governor, the man’s body was revealed to be corrupted by Chaos.

His flesh, twisted by the powers of the Dark Gods, was exposed for all to see.

Guilliman, seeing the grotesque transformation, raised the Emperor’s Sword to strike him down. But at that instant, a talisman on the creature’s body emitted a voice all too familiar to him.

“At long last, we meet again. It’s been ten thousand years, my dear brother Roboute Guilliman.”

That languid voice was one Guilliman could never forget. Its owner was the very architect of his millennia-long slumber, the one who had grievously wounded him ten thousand years ago—Fulgrim, now a Daemon Prince.

Fulgrim, too, heard his own voice echoing from the corrupted creature. He glared at the abomination before him.

The “Blade of Fire” was drawn, and Fulgrim strode toward the monster.

“My, my, isn’t this myself? One of Fabius’s little projects?” The daemonic Fulgrim immediately recognized the clone Primarch as Fulgrim advanced.

“I am not you, you abominable traitor!” Fulgrim shouted at his daemonic counterpart, rage burning in his eyes.

“That’s true enough; after all, you’re just another of my clones,” the daemon replied indifferently, unconcerned by such distinctions.

“In a sense, we are the same. Leave this wretched human Empire behind, and come indulge in endless ecstasy with me.” The daemon Primarch tried to tempt Fulgrim.

“I swear to kill you, to atone for your crimes against the Imperium of Man!” Fulgrim declared, resolved to redeem himself through the traitor’s death.

Though the cloned Fulgrim had not committed the crimes of the daemonic original, he possessed all of his memories.

Those memories filled him with deep guilt toward the Imperium and his father. He vowed to prove his loyalty through the death of the Daemon Primarch.

A tense silence fell—until Wang Ming coughed, drawing everyone’s attention to himself.

“Who are you?” the daemon demanded, unfamiliar with this newly appeared Primarch.

Wang Ming gave no answer. He simply raised his golden greatsword, rushed to the twisted creature’s side, and cleaved it in two, ending Fulgrim’s seductive voice once and for all.

The daemon’s voice had been unbearably loud, filled with temptation and promises of endless pleasure; it made Wang Ming’s head ache.