The brutal truth froze Leman Russ mid-roar. Ten thousand years? That's what Guilliman said? He'd been gone ten thousand years?
"Impossible! You won't fool me! I set out to find the fruit of the Tree of Life for Father—less than 200 years in total. I haven't been away from my sons that long," Russ protested.
He knew how long he'd been gone. After entering the Eye of Terror, he spent decades to find that life-world, then a little over a hundred years there!
Under 200 years total. How could ten thousand years have passed? He hadn't plunged into the Warp's sea of souls nor been lost there.
Impossible! Ten thousand years? Guilliman was trying to confuse him!
"No need to lie, Russ. That planet has serious issues. Didn't you notice?
Because of the Tree of Life, time on that world flows extremely fast—one minute equals over ten days outside. A hundred years becomes over ten thousand," Rhodes said.
"And who are you? You're not my brother—you're not one of Father's creations," Russ said, eyeing the unfamiliar Rhodes.
This guy was strong.
Though only as tall as a baseline Primaris, he'd floored Russ in one blow—stronger than Horus in his Death God-enhanced state.
Back then, after Horus accepted the Four's gifts, Russ believed he could kill him with the Spear of Russ. From then, he considered himself equal to Horus—even Chaos-empowered.
Unbeknownst to him, Chaos-blessed Horus's power had already approached the Emperor.
"Rhodes is a new-era Primarch. A lot has happened—and he's not the only one. You have to adapt to the new age!
It's been ten thousand years since you left for the Tree of Life. The Imperium has changed utterly.
If you don't believe me, I'll take you to Father and let him tell you himself," Guilliman said.
He knew he couldn't convince the stubborn wolf. Best leave it to Father.
Though the Emperor was at a critical stage stripping the Chaos godhood, he could spare a moment to handle a rash son.
"Don't lie, Guilliman. Father couldn't speak. For centuries he sat on the Throne, slowly dying. Otherwise I wouldn't have set out to find the Tree of Life," Russ said.
After Father ascended the Throne, Russ thought, given his might, he'd recover after some time, then lead the Great Crusade again.
But a hundred years passed—no movement. His life-signs weakened, even signs of decay appeared.
Russ couldn't believe it—his immortal father, the undying Emperor, decaying?
And the decay worsened. According to Rune Priests and some Mechanicus adepts, after the duel with Horus, the Emperor was in a near-death state. The Throne's field sustained him.
Proud Russ couldn't accept it. Two hundred years after the Ascension, he led his Wolves to find the fabled Tree of Life.
He hoped to use the legendary tree to save his father. Before leaving, he joked with his sons: when the Wolf Time came, he would return.
That phrase was meant to keep them from searching for him, because Wolf Time means the end of the world—the final battle.
He feared an accident would keep him from returning to his gene-sons.
It went fairly well—he found the Tree of Life, landed, and held the planet for a little over a hundred years!
Then this random guy showed up, knocked him out, brought him back to Holy Terra, and told him ten thousand years had passed!
"Father doesn't need saving by you. Rhodes has done much these years. Father's body has begun to recover.
We all believe he'll one day rise from the Golden Throne and continue the fight for mankind," Guilliman said.
There had been doubts before, but the Emperor's recovery was tangible—especially since Magnus returned. Hope grew, not despair.
"If it's true, take me to Father. I promise I won't cause trouble," Russ said.
Maybe Guilliman wasn't lying. From his displayed power—and Rhodes's—they could easily obliterate him. Since when could Guilliman bind him with a single move?
Could ten thousand years truly have passed, and he'd become the weakest of all Primarchs?
"Hahaha! I'll let you out. Russ, you'll understand when you see Father. Frankly, you are the weakest among the Primarchs right now," Guilliman said.
Indeed. After fusing with cosmic beasts and awakening their God-Souls, Primarchs now walked the material universe as deities.
Russ snorted, stood, and followed Rhodes and Guilliman down to the lower vaults, where he saw the Emperor stripping a Chaos godhood.
Beside him were unfamiliar figures: one radiating light, one life, one darkness.
On the Throne, the Emperor was gaunt and frail, but no longer corpse-like. He raised a hand, manifesting a diamond crystal into reality.
At his side sat a man Russ found unbelievable: the traitor Magnus.
They glared and snorted at each other. Magnus felt he owed the Primarchs, Father, and the Imperium.
But not this dumb wolf—not the husky. "Husky" was a word Rhodes had taught him.
It meant a brainless, silly canine—tailor-made for Leman Russ.
"You damned traitor—how are you here? Who allowed you into this sacred place?" Russ roared.
"I'm here by Father's order—to help him sit the Golden Throne. Unlike you, dumb wolf, who only ruins things.
You framed me, destroyed my home, slaughtered innocents. Later, you had a chance to kill Horus and end the Heresy, but you softened.
Then you were counter-killed by Horus—what brotherly love! You didn't give me a chance to explain back then. You just killed me," Magnus snarled.
For this dumb wolf alone, Magnus showed no mercy. They were eternal nemeses.
Russ was at a loss. The Burning of Prospero was one of his few stains.
Had he listened and not been so rash, perhaps tragedy could have been avoided and Magnus wouldn't have turned.
But wait—wasn't Magnus a traitor? Why was he back helping Father on the Throne?
"Stupid space husky, here's the truth: Father sent me as an undercover agent to Chaos. He preserved my strongest soul shard.
It was kept by successive Grand Masters of the Grey Knights. Decades ago, I completed the mission.
I returned with vast daemon intel, came back to reality and the Imperium as a Primarch again. You're a joke," Magnus mocked.
Mocking this guy felt so good. For Russ, Magnus never held back.
"You—what did you say?" Russ could hardly believe his ears.
If true—if Magnus was undercover—what did that make Russ? A clown?
"Enough, Magnus. Both of you—less of this. It's all past. I don't blame you, nor Russ.
You are loyal Primarchs of the Imperium now, nothing more," the Emperor sighed.
Honestly, could they let him strip the Chaos godhood in peace?
Rhodes kept creating distractions: purifying Corax, retrieving Jaghatai, now Russ.
Magnus showed guilt to all Primarchs—except Russ. Those two not fighting already showed regard for the Emperor's presence.
If not for that, Magnus would have leapt down to slap Russ flat.
"I understand, Father. I won't stoop to this dumb wolf's level," Magnus huffed, satisfied after a good round of mockery.
Once the stripping finished and the Emperor could leave the Throne for a rest, he'd teach that dumb wolf a lesson with spells.
"Father! Are you alright? What are you doing?" Russ asked.
"As you see, I'm stripping a Chaos god's godhood. Here's the situation… So all Primarchs must return to guard the Imperium. We must not let Chaos thwart our plan," the Emperor explained everything to Russ.
"I understand, Father. Since you summoned me at this crucial time, I won't disappoint you. I will fight for the Imperium again.
I'll return to Fenris, lead my wolves to war, let the wild wolf's name resound across the galaxy, and crush the Imperium's enemies," Russ said.
"I trust you, Russ. Now go. I must focus. Unless it's vital, don't disturb me again, Guilliman," the Emperor said.
Guilliman nodded, and he and Rhodes escorted Russ back up to the upper palace. There, Russ saw an old acquaintance: the deceased Imperial Regent, Malcador.
"Regent Malcador—you're alive? How were you resurrected?" During the Siege of Terra, Malcador had replaced the Emperor on the Throne for less than a day, exhausting his life and soul.
"Welcome back, Russ. I was resurrected because of Rhodes. One of his special creations possesses the Law of Death.
When that law leveled up to the maximum, it could resurrect one person unconditionally. I was chosen," Malcador said.
"I see. Welcome back, Regent," Russ nodded.
"Russ, it's not just Magnus and Malcador. There's someone else you won't expect—or two. Guess who?" Guilliman teased.
"Spit it out. I'm not interested in your word games," Russ snapped.
You took me to Father but didn't tell me about Magnus—just to see me embarrassed? Fine—you got your laugh. Don't expect a friendly face.
"Ahem. Fine, dumb wolf, I'll tell you.
Horus is back too. Like you, he's an Imperial Primarch now.
Also Lion El'Jonson, Sanguinius, Vulkan, Jaghatai Khan, Corvus Corax, Rogal Dorn—all the brothers are back," Guilliman said with a smile.
"What did you say? Horus??"