"Father? Guilliman, did you just call me that?" Zeke raised a finger to his own chest. "Hold on. That's slander! I'm not even married; where did such a large son like you come from?"
Facing Guilliman's bewildered cry, Zeke vehemently denied the title.
Guilliman, now restored and feeling a colossal surge of multi-fold increased power coursing through his body, finally focused his gaze on Zeke.
In the first moment of clarity, he knew: this was not the Emperor. His true father would never be this irreverent.
In the next moment, he registered the Custodes regiment standing in disciplined formation beside Zeke. The sight chilled him. The entire Custodes Regiment was here.
If not the Emperor, who else could command such a force? Guilliman's mind stalled; the golden armor was an unambiguous sign of their loyalty.
Sensing the Primarch's visual confirmation, Zeke quickly waved a hand. "Don't go around calling people father. I am not your progenitor. Though the Emperor and I are acquainted, it's incorrect for you to use that title. These are my Custodes, the Dominion's elite, not the Emperor's own. Do you understand?"
"Your father asked me to come to your aid. He personally sought me out and tasked me with your rescue." Zeke offered this detail to salvage the Emperor's dignity, smoothing over the complexity of the father-son bond.
Guilliman's brows furrowed. No one dared address the Emperor with such casual familiarity, let alone refer to him with a flippant moniker. Yet, if this person was truly an old associate of his father, and could command an entire Legio Custodes-level force... how preposterous was this reality?
"My father… he personally came to find you?" Guilliman's voice was deep, laced with barely concealed emotion.
"Yes, he was very anxious," Zeke replied, picking his ear. "He said, and I quote, 'My foolish son is about to be screwed over, go help him'—verbatim."
Guilliman's expression hardened, attempting to reconcile that crude language with the serene figure he remembered. Could the Emperor truly speak that way? Seek aid so actively? Yet, Zeke's expression was entirely natural, treating the statement as a mundane request from an old friend.
"My father… can he now leave the Golden Throne?"
"If he were truly freed from his bondage on the Throne, why would he send you to me instead of coming himself?" Guilliman pressed, cutting to the heart of his anxiety.
That question was not Guilliman's alone; every Imperial soldier present strained to hear the answer. Could the Emperor be released from the Throne?
Zeke regretfully crushed their hope. "No, I'm sorry. He remains tethered. The Golden Throne still binds him, which is precisely why I am here and not him. Making this trip is quite taxing for me."
He quickly offered a sliver of hope: "But it will be soon. I intend to go to Terra myself. Within the next two centuries, I will ensure he can finally rise."
"The Emperor and I were engaged in a joint campaign in the Warp, so when you were in danger, he asked me to pull you out."
"I've pulled you out, and I've given you a boost. That pure energy I injected into you comes from the essence of a Greater Daemon. With that boost, your recovery will accelerate rapidly."
As he spoke, Zeke motioned, and Belisarius Cawl floated over to the Primarch's side.
"To be honest, even without my intervention, you would have been revived. This Archmagos of the Mechanicus, who held his promise, had already created the Archmagos' Blessing capable of saving you.
If you have anyone to thank, thank him. He truly fulfilled his ancient agreement."
Zeke spoke no further. He turned and, with his Custodes following, vanished instantly, reappearing inside his flagship. He decided to leave the scene to the reunited Imperial Army, the Ultramarines, Archmagos Cawl, and Guilliman. He had completed his primary objective.
Zeke's attention now shifted entirely to the Greater Daemonic entities. He had just used the power from a dead one to strengthen Guilliman, proving that converting their pure energy was feasible.
Could this be the solution to my power crisis?
The energy supplied by Weiss and others was nearly depleted. While still formidable, he was currently a paper tiger—powerful but susceptible to a prolonged engagement. He felt deeply insecure about his reserves.
Rather than relying on the distant, unknown communication channel or requesting more resources from the Terran Dominion, Zeke was drawn to what he could exploit now. The entities from those captured ships—using the essence of Greater Daemons as batteries to recharge himself, that was a compelling prospect.