The heavy thud of their boots gradually faded away as they exited the Hall of Truth.
The forty alabaster pillars stood in silent vigil under the filtered light. The statue of the Emperor remained utterly still, gazing down at the empty room.
Guilliman sat alone on his throne, his icy blue eyes staring out into the void. His gaze drifted through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, looking far into the distance. Staring into the unseen sea of stars.
Looking straight toward a planet named Aurelian IV.
"Crimson Dawn..."
His murmurs echoed in the empty hall, carrying a trace of scrutiny, a hint of curiosity, and an... indescribable sense of anticipation.
"Is it you?" Guilliman whispered to the shadows. "Those civilians suddenly driven to study, those strangers throwing money around... Are they spies you sent? Or... beings just like you? If you really did send them... then what is your endgame? Are you trying to infiltrate my Macragge? Or earn my trust? Or is there something you want from me?"
His lips slowly curled into a cold smile.
"Interesting."
"Demetrian Titus... you deceived Sanguinius," Guilliman said, slowly clenching his fist as his cobalt power gauntlet emitted a faint mechanical hum. "But Sanguinius is no fool. The reason he didn't immediately dwell on the discrepancies and expose you on the spot must be because... you helped him. You helped him fight warp heretics. You helped him save his sons. So, what exactly are you? Enemies? Friends? Or... some kind of existence even I cannot comprehend?"
He walked back to the throne and slowly sat down.
Sunlight washed over him, gilding his armor in a golden halo that made him look like a god descended to the mortal plane.
"Sanguinius will arrive in a month. When that time comes, everything will be revealed."
--
Meanwhile, in the Laeran System.
The former battlefield was now nothing but a stretch of silent void. The wreckage of warships drifting in orbit had been completely cleared away, and the shattered floating orbital platforms had sunk into the deep oceans.
Only that azure planet continued its quiet rotation, as if nothing had ever happened. But what had occurred here would never be forgotten.
Laeran was utterly empty. Not a single Laer survived. And no humans remained stationed there. Only a few floating coral platforms were left behind.
The 28th Expeditionary Fleet had resumed its march.
The massive armada arranged itself into a flawless formation in the void. The engines of countless warships ignited simultaneously, their blue plasma trails drawing streaks hundreds of kilometers long through the darkness.
They were accelerating. Heading toward a new battlefield. Heading toward the next system in need of purification.
At the center of the armada, the twenty-kilometer-long purple and gold flagship stood out brilliantly.
The Pride of the Emperor.
On the command deck of the Heliopolis.
Fulgrim sat upon the main throne, his purple and gold artificer armor gleaming magnificently under the lights. His long white hair cascaded neatly down his back, and a faint smile graced his flawless face.
In his right hand, he held the Blade of the Laer.
A pinkish-purple light swirled across the blade, reflecting in his eyes, which had already begun to take on a strange, unnatural luster.
Below the throne stood Eidolon and Julius Kaesoron, shoulder to shoulder. A similar, bizarre light danced across the faces of both commanders. They stared at the sword in their father's hand, their eyes brimming with obsession and adoration.
Because it was all simply too perfect.
"Father," Eidolon took a step forward, slamming his right fist against his breastplate. "Lord Ferrus Manus of the Iron Hands Legion has sent a request for aid."
Fulgrim's eyes lit up slightly.
Ferrus. His best brother.
"Speak."
"Lord Ferrus's 52nd Expeditionary Fleet has encountered a civilization calling itself the Diasporex," Eidolon reported, pausing slightly as if carefully weighing his words. "It is a democratic alliance comprised of both humans and xenos. They live on ancient starships, drifting through space. The Iron Hands have been engaged in battle with them for months. But... the xenos are proving difficult to handle. They are far too skilled at naval warfare, easily evading most of the 52nd Fleet's attacks and managing to cripple several Iron Hands cruisers. Because of this, Lord Ferrus Manus has sent us a distress signal."
A brief silence fell over the command deck.
Fulgrim lowered his head, gazing at the Blade of the Laer. The pinkish-purple glow danced in his eyes, merging with the swirling aura of the blade.
His original plan was to head to another system and continue the crusade. But now... his brother was asking for help.
The man who had forged the Fireblade for him. The man who had sweat over the anvil. The man who had said, We will surely become our father's brightest, most perfect sons.
He needed him right now.
Fulgrim looked up. A trace of complex emotion flashed through those violet eyes. It was incredibly faint, gone in a flash. But it was there. Deep within pupils already tainted by that pinkish-purple light, a sliver of the old Fulgrim still remained.
"Have the Astropaths transmit a reply immediately," Fulgrim declared, standing up as his purple cape snapped sharply behind him. "We accept the Iron Hands' request. Previously, my dearest brother sent his First Captain to aid me. Now, it is time for our Emperor's Children to return the favor."
He drew the Blade of the Laer.
The pinkish-purple light erupted across the bridge, washing everyone's faces in an eerie glow.
"My sons! We deploy!" Fulgrim's voice pitched higher, laced with an indescribable fanaticism. "We ride to the aid of our dearest brother legion, and my most beloved brother! Wherever the blade of the Emperor's Children points, all xenos shall be subjected to the most perfect purification! For the Imperium! For perfection!"
Eidolon and Julius Kaesoron slammed their fists against their breastplates simultaneously, the metallic crash ringing through the bridge.
Their eyes were glued to the sword in their father's hand. Fixated on that swirling pinkish-purple light. Obsessed with that perfect... temptation.
"For the Imperium! For the Emperor's Children! For perfection!" both voices rang out in unison, carrying the exact same obsession and fanatic fervor.
Across the Heliopolis, all the officers of the Emperor's Children roared in agreement. The deafening shockwave shook the deck, echoing through the bridge for a long time.
Fulgrim sheathed the Blade of the Laer and turned to look at the starry void outside the viewport. The cosmos was vast and boundless, countless stars twinkling in the dark.
He didn't know that this reunion would be the very last time they fought side by side.
He only knew...
Wherever the Emperor's Children aimed their blades.
Perfection would inevitably fall.
The 28th Expeditionary Fleet began to turn. The massive tide of steel carved an elegant arc through the void, accelerating toward the coordinates of the Iron Hands Legion. The purple and gold flagship led the charge, the double-headed aquila on its prow blazing brilliantly in the starlight.
--
Deep within the warp, far beyond the reach of mortal eyes.
At the very core of the Palace of Pleasure.
Slaanesh leaned back upon the throne, those eyes that reflected the entire galaxy narrowing slightly.
"Go, my Phoenix," Slaanesh purred, a bewitching smile curving upon Its lips. "Go and reunite with your brother. And then... bring your closest brother with you. Fall into the embrace of the Dark Prince together. Experience the ultimate pleasure of the Dark Prince together. Become the Dark Prince's pets, together."