Man in Warhammer, starting Primarch

When his own psychic energy began to surge, Dukel knew that this system might have nothing to do with Tzeentch.

After all, whether it is the Four Gods or the Emperor, it is difficult to achieve this without a Primarch being aware of it.

With the help of the system, not only spiritual power but also physical functions had been enhanced to a certain extent.

Although the increase was not that significant, he now had the body of a great Primarch, and every bit of enhancement represented a terrifying change.

Just as Dukel was enjoying his own strengthening, he suddenly sensed a strong energy that was recovering at an extremely fast speed in the subspace.

This was his perception—a ball of blue flame hanging in the warp, as huge and bright as a star.

Although its energy level was not as strong as Dukel's, who had been strengthened by the system, it was still shocking enough.

Compared to the unbridled wildfire in his subspace projection, this ball of blue flame appeared more rational and restrained.

The moment he sensed this powerful spiritual energy, Dukel instinctively felt a sense of closeness and familiarity.

In just a moment, he realized: his brother, the father of the Thirteenth Legion, the king of five hundred worlds, the holy Primarch—Guilliman, had resurrected.

"Guilliman has revived?!"

Dukel was somewhat surprised. Not only was he happy about his brother's revival, but he also used this opportunity to truly understand the point in time he was in.

In the Primarch's memory, he seemed to have had a good relationship with Guilliman in the past.

The original body had a deep love for Guilliman in his heart. In his eyes, Guilliman's personal strength was a little too weak and ranked at the bottom among the Primarch brothers.

Just like a strong elder brother looking at his thinner younger brother, even though Guilliman was also over three meters tall with a muscular body, he was still someone Dukel felt needed careful protection on the battlefield.

Dukel cast him an eager look.

Guilliman, sensing the gaze, looked back rationally.

The two brothers, who had returned from loss of control and death, looked at each other from afar in the warp.

After being separated for tens of thousands of years, perhaps the day of their reunion was not far away.

The subspace is a reflection of the real universe.

Any changes in the real universe will have corresponding impacts on the subspace.

The successive resurrection of Dukel and Guilliman in the physical universe and the surge of powerful psychic energy caused violent shocks in the warp.

This shock was like two huge meteorites falling one after another into the center of the sea of nothingness. As the waves spread, they grew fiercer and finally turned into a raging tsunami.

Countless beings sensed this drastic change.

One by one, the Dark Followers noticed the return of the two Primarchs.

Fulgrim leaned lazily on the Swan Throne, enjoying an endless feast of souls and listening to the whispers of the demon servants, his lips slightly pursed.

He had not taken any action in ten thousand years, but this time he planned to strip off the noble veil of the two Primarchs and bring them to eternal damnation.

Deep in a secret temple, countless demons under Sinlezhi's command stirred the threads of fate. The Fate Weaver selected one possibility it favored and began facilitating its realization. Countless scenarios ensured that the two Primarchs would either betray their cause or be destroyed.

In the filthy plague swamp in the Garden of Nurgle, the messenger flies chattered incessantly about the return of the two Primarchs, and the Great Unclean Ones listened with doting smiles on their faces.

Even the Lord of Plague himself seemed surprised by the two Primarchs, who had yet to be contaminated by the other three gods. The Great Unclean Ones stirred the thick soup of the swamp, concocting gifts worthy of the two demigod Primarchs.

Somewhere in the galaxy, the war between Khorne and the Imperium had ended. Across an entire system, the Champions of Khorne had set 88 worlds ablaze. Khorne's followers, both fierce mortals and tyrannical daemons, bathed in the flames of destruction.

Suddenly, they began to kill each other frantically. A new oracle had arrived, and the final victor among them would have the honor of hunting the two great Primarchs.

Such a significant commotion in the subspace naturally attracted the attention of the loyalists of the human empire in the real universe.

Countless psychic messages were transmitted—to the Progenitor Chapter, the Dark Angels, the Space Wolves, the White Scars, the Black Templars, the Imperial Guard, and the Knight Houses.

These powerful chapters had completely different attitudes toward the two resurrected Primarchs.

They looked at Guilliman with fanaticism and admiration.

Dukel, however, was viewed with scrutiny and fear, as all information about him had been deleted and no records remained.

Dukel bent down and picked up the bloody monomolecular sword on the ground.

At this moment, Dukel was holding a hunter-type chainsword in his right hand and a monomolecular battle knife in his left hand. He felt as formidable as a wizard.

For now, he had two pieces of news—one good and one bad.

The bad news was that all the nearby Imperial legions were likely to support the resurrected Guilliman, leaving Dukel without military assistance.

The good news? He didn't need any support at all.

As he looked toward the distant war, he sensed a powerful presence rapidly approaching, which made his blood boil.

The voice of Sister Efilar came from beside him.

Her voice was pleasant, imbued with a unique heroic spirit.

Although her silver-white power armor was covered with wounds and her face stained with blood, her slender body stood straight, embodying a powerful warrior.

"Praise be to the Emperor for returning the noble Primarch to our side once more," Efilar said sincerely.

On Ophelia VII, a planet known as the second holy land, the battle nuns were different from those on Terra.

Although both groups possessed powerful combat capabilities, the nuns of Ophelia VII were pure fanatics.

Efilar's voice trembled unconsciously as she spoke, overwhelmed by the honor of witnessing a Primarch's return.

"Holy Son of the Emperor, the Empire is in urgent need of your guidance," she said excitedly.

As the two spoke, more and more battle nuns approached, their eyes filled with the same fanaticism and admiration.

The human empire had endured ten thousand years of darkness. Finally, they could follow a Holy Primarch once again.

"Um."

Faced with their fanatical gazes, Dukel was momentarily at a loss. He merely nodded coldly.

But the fighting spirit in his eyes inspired courage in everyone.

Even if he searched the Primarch's memory, Dukel could not find a suitable response to this scenario.

So, holding his weapons, Dukel began walking toward the distant battlefield with a cold expression.

To the warriors watching, every step Dukel took symbolized his hatred for the Chaos Demons and a rage capable of turning the world to ashes.

But for Dukel himself, the thought was simple.

If you don't know what to say, then don't say anything.

"I'll just go on a killing spree!"

(End of chapter)