Watching a certain bald guy slaughtering Greater Daemons of Chaos like pigs in the Warp, Guilliman, for reasons unknown, suddenly felt a wave of self-doubt.
How does it feel like any random guy Father sends over these days is way more awesome than me? If Father had stuff like this during the Great Crusade—how could fighting those xenos have been so much trouble?
"BOOM!"
Magnus was sent flying straight back into the realspace universe with a single punch. Meanwhile, without physical bodies to anchor them, the nine Greater Daemons dissolved back into the Warp once more.
By now, Magnus's chest was battered and warped out of shape. Even with the blessings of Chaos, he wouldn't be able to recover anytime soon!
In truth, Magnus was already dead; he had been defeated.
His soul no longer belonged to Tzeentch anyway—Caleb simply wanted him to finish delivering his last words.
"Damn you—Guilliman! You really are an ambitious bastard after all!"
"You calculated all of this from the start, didn't you? You knew all along that the High Lords would strike at you!"
"Coming here this time, you probably intended to use this super-human to wipe out those High Lords along the way!"
"But what a pity, what a bloody pity! Your ambitious grand design will never succeed!"
"The Architect of Fate won't let you succeed, and Father won't let you succeed either!"
Listening to his dear brother's erratic monologue, Guilliman was left in a state of utter, mind-boggling confusion.
How on earth am I 'ambitious'?
I just came back to work overtime, and I still get called ambitious? What a curse!
As expected, traitors really do lose their minds. Now that Maggie has fallen to Chaos, his brain is utterly beyond saving!
Ring-a-ling—
Saitama glanced at the time and saw it was 6:00 PM. Quitting time.
Overtime? Not happening. Not in a million years.
Right now, Saitama was only thinking about his multi-trillion subsidy coupons, planning to head over to a massive supermarket to do a haul.
"Boss, I'm off the clock!"
"Call me again if you need anything!"
[Saitama has completed his single punch. Recalling piece.]
"Huh?"
Staring at the model in his hands, Caleb was utterly dumbfounded.
Does One-Punch Man literally only get one punch?
Though that one punch definitely decides the match, this really isn't as practical to use as something like the Void Dragon!
Too lazy to voice his complaints, Caleb could only silently put the piece away.
Still, that single punch from One-Punch Man was admittedly insane—one hit directly erased all 99 of Magnus's lives.
In reality, Magnus was currently in a capturable state.
Caleb just wanted to let Guilliman and Magnus have a little chat first.
"Cough, cough, cough—"
Magnus didn't understand why, even though he was already dead, his soul was somehow stuck in realspace.
By all logic, he should have returned to the Warp by now. Yet strangely, his soul remained trapped in realspace, and his psychic energy wasn't returning either!
"Magnus!"
Guilliman raised the Emperor's Sword, stepping slowly toward Magnus.
The Emperor's Sword radiated a blinding glare, wrapped in roaring, blazing flames. Merely glancing at it was enough to burn a daemon's soul.
"The Cursed Sword (The Emperor's Sword)!"
"That deadbeat dad actually gave you something like that?"
"Hahaha—damn it, so that cursed bastard actually prefers daughters!"
"What an utter irony, what a joke!"
Even though Magnus could no longer move, the mocking taunts from his mouth refused to stop.
All three of his eyes throbbed with intense pain—he could no longer see the so-called future, nor could he see the past.
It was as if his past and future had both been set in stone, devoid of any possible change. His only end was total erasure, to be completely taken captive by the Cursed One.
"Where are your sons?"
The sudden question instantly drove Magnus into frenzy.
Clutching his face, he stared at Guilliman with pure hatred.
"Did you do that on purpose, you piece of shit?!"
"Flexing that you have so many sons?"
"Right, right, who could possibly compare to your numbers?"
"Right now, half the Space Marines in the entire galaxy are your descendants—you certainly have the right to be proud~"
Faced with his impending demise, Magnus assumed this was Guilliman mocking him. How could he have imagined that Guilliman was simply asking out of plain curiosity?
"No, I was merely curious," Guilliman said flatly.
"I remember you saying you wanted to find a way out for your sons. I wonder if your path saved them?"
Magnus was reaching his absolute limit. Who treads directly on someone's softest spot and stomps on it repeatedly like this?
This damned Guilliman was not only wildly ambitious, but also an insufferable jerk!
He was already annoying back during the Great Crusade, but now his frequency of being a jerk had spiked even higher. Hearing him speak just two sentences was enough to drive anyone mad.
"Sons? I have plenty! They are already immortal, stepping into eternity alongside me!"
"Your sons perish every single moment, while mine have achieved everlasting life!"
Guilliman didn't answer. He simply scooped up a handful of sand from the ground and tossed it into the air.
Well, in truth, those grains of sand were Magnus's sons.
Guilliman just didn't know it yet, idly scattering the man's children into the wind.
"What a pity," Guilliman remarked.
"To resort to such desperate means just for your own ends?"
"I suppose you no longer consider yourself human anyway. Very well, it's time to send you on your way."
"You bastard! You bastard!"
"Put my sons down! Put my sorcerers down!"
As Guilliman brought his sword down, Caleb's ability activated once again.
[Congratulations to the Host for activating the Hand of the Sacred Number. Primarch Magnus has been captured. You may designate a chess piece as Magnus, and it will inherit Magnus's stats.]
"Awesome, it's Magic Maggie!" Caleb was thrilled.
He couldn't even help shouting out loud—the deep, resonant boom of his voice knocked the coffee off his desk.
Primarch/Primaris Astartes voice boxes were simply too loud; there was no helping it.
Most people might not realize what this meant, but Caleb could put it this way: having Magic Maggie was effectively equivalent to getting an Emperor Trial Pass.
From now on, the Golden Throne could be taken in shifts by the Emperor, Malcador, and Maggie.
Though the Emperor would still bear the brunt of it, at least He'd finally get a chance to take a break.
[Caleb : Guilliman, time to wipe out the Six-Lord Alliance!]
[You know what to do, right? Tell me your thoughts~]
[Guilliman: I feel... we should still take a long-term view. Even though they orchestrated this assassination plot due to Tzeentch's scheme,]
[I believe we can still use political means to beat them into line. That's the only way to make them behave obediently.]
[Caleb : Daughter, if it's inconvenient for you to kill, just say it outright.]
[Use your brain a little. You don't necessarily have to get your own hands dirty.]
"Hmm?"
Guilliman was quite curious—did his Father possess some extraordinarily brilliant political finesse?
Though according to what old Maggie used to say, his old man didn't seem to have much political finesse at all.
[Caleb : Let the Orks guard the realm's gate; let the Stealers die for the state~]
After uttering that simple sentence, Caleb cut off the communication.
Right now, there was still a Hive Queen being raised aboard the Macragge's Honour. If Guilliman was brain-dead enough not to get the hint, he was truly beyond saving.
Guilliman froze for a moment, then sank into deep thought.
Naturally, he wasn't pondering the feasibility of the plan—he was already diving straight into deep operational details!
"Genius!" Guilliman slammed his left fist heavily into his right palm.
That single point of guidance from Father was like a sudden illumination; his train of thought cleared instantly, and the path opened wide before him.
There were indeed matters inconvenient to handle oneself—so why not leave them to the xenos?
As long as those guys were bitten to death by Genestealers, wouldn't it be completely reasonable?
And so, Guilliman made his way into the interior of the Macragge's Honour, issuing a critically important command to the Hive Queen hiding inside the ship:
"Produce some assassination units immediately and wipe out every single one of those damned High Lords for me!"
"Assassinate them precisely according to these coordinates! Leave no survivors!"
Guilliman didn't just provide coordinates; he supplied a long, detailed hit list as well.
At this point, Caleb felt an overwhelming urge to stick a mustache on Guilliman—that way, the vibe would be completely authentic.
"Understood, Lord Regent!"
The Hive Queen began using biomass within the ship to spawn large quantities of elite units.
These were specialized assassin units like Lictors and Mawlocs.
If these things were placed on a tabletop, they'd probably be priced the same as a Dreadnought.
And so, just as the meme foretold, the Genestealers truly began to die for the state.
A massive swarm of bugs belonging to Guilliman began spreading through the lower levels of the Hive Spire.
As the sensory networks of these bugs expanded throughout Terra's interior, the Inquisition and the Officio Assassinorum rapidly found themselves out of a job.
Every High Lord and official involved in the conspiracy was systematically assassinated.
Simultaneously, the Chaos cultists hiding in the underhive were given a complete purge by Guilliman along the way.
Their corpses weren't wasted either, turning directly into biomass for the Genestealer Cults.
Meanwhile, those Genestealer Cults had long fallen under the sway of that massive Hive Queen.
At this point, Guilliman had actually managed to control the grassroots level of the underhive society through the bugs.
This was something even Guilliman himself would have struggled to achieve before—after all, many parts of Warhammer 40k still relied on classical aristocratic rule.
"Bugs are surprisingly useful!"
Looking over the rational, completely emotionless political report, Guilliman, for some reason, felt that certain bugs could even be assigned as Commissars.
Ah, these bugs that knew nothing except eating worked far better than certain damned humans ever could.
Perhaps he could even have the Hive Queen spawn a few bugs with actual brains—as long as they were properly hypnotized to believe they were human and dedicated to serving humanity, that would be more than enough.
Guilliman's actions felt like adding the next missing piece to Sanguinius's puzzle. By purging his political enemies, the ambitious Guilliman finally seized absolute control over the Imperium's government.
However, Guilliman had clearly forgotten one thing—or rather, he failed to notice it entirely.
And that was the fact that his old man was still getting elbowed right in the backside by Chaos.
"My Lord!" Malcador's mouth twitched slightly as he spoke to the Emperor in his aged voice, "It seems your daughter has forgotten about you entirely!"
"She's currently focusing all her energy on the economy and has no idea your backside is being violently elbowed by Chaos."
[The Emperor: And what could she do anyway? Her combat ability isn't even as good as that bald guy's!]
[If only we could trick that bald guy over here. A single punch from him... would probably let Me stand up and stretch My bones for a bit!]
[Malcador: My Lord, you're getting up there in age, stop fantasizing about such things!]
[If there's even a chance for you to move a bit on the Golden Throne right now, we should thank the heavens—]
Perhaps Malcador's jinx took effect.
Right at that moment, Caleb happened to be tallying up the mission rewards.
[Mission Success: Acquired Guilliman's Warp Essence. Additionally, reinforcements from the Indomitus Crusade will be granted in upcoming battles.]
[You may now alter the Emperor's physical form, allowing Him to sit upon the Golden Throne in a new body!]
The moment the words faded, the grey-skinned little loli in Caleb's hand was deployed down onto the board.
After all, the mission on Guilliman's side was complete—the reinforcements for the Indomitus Crusade and Guilliman's Warp essence were both secured!
"Sigh—"
Looking at the corpse on the Golden Throne, even Malcador couldn't help but feel a wave of emotional sorrow.
Having calculated the upcoming political roadmap, Malcador planned to continue assisting the Lord Regent.
The upcoming Indomitus Crusade would very likely center around Guilliman and Sanguinius.
As long as the faith from other parts of the Imperium could be gathered onto Sanguinius, the Emperor would hopefully be prevented from becoming the Dark King anytime soon.
"By the way, Malcador!"
Originally, the Emperor just wanted to call out to Malcador, but the subconscious opening of His mouth made Him realize—He could actually speak!
The grey-skinned little loli used her delicate palms to cover her own mouth.
At the very same time—Malcador turned his head and saw the Emperor, who had transformed into a grey-skinned little loli.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk!"
Malcador let out a few soft tsks, then snorted, unable to hold back a burst of laughter.
"My Lord, now is hardly the time to play around with this sort of thing!"
"Transforming into this state means your rear end isn't big enough anymore—if you can't block the Chaos daemons beneath your seat, Terra is finished!"
Sitting on the Golden Throne, the Loli Emperor first pulled out a bronze mirror to take a look at Himself.
Immediately after—the Loli Emperor nearly jumped up in sheer panic!
[The Emperor: Malcador, you harbor ill intentions! Speak, did you use some kind of psychic sorcery?!]
[You bastard, actually making Me turn into this state! When My daughters walk in later, how am I supposed to face them?!]
Seeing those tiny, delicate feet about to touch down onto the floor—Malcador waved his hand, directly summoning a full company of Grey Knights.
Malcador slapped the Grey Knight Grand Master on the back of his head.
Then he commanded the Grand Master, "Quickly, use the 'Terminus Decree' to pin His Majesty back down!"
"Understood!"
The Grey Knights moved with extreme swiftness, efficiently pinning the Emperor back down in three quick moves.
From an outsider's perspective, it looked entirely like several muscular, mean-looking metal-clad bald men laying rough hands on a soft, cute, and clueless dark-skinned loli.
Their actions were rough, their demeanor violent—completely devoid of respect, completely devoid of gentleness.
"Traitors! What do you think you're doing?! Unhand the Emperor! Damn it, the Grey Knights have fallen to treason entirely!"
"They actually laid their filthy hands on the Emperor and turned Him into... this!"
An enraged Custodian led a full company of troops, charging directly at the Grey Knights.
Their speed was blistering, leaving afterimages trailing behind them as they sprinted.
"Huh?"
The Grey Knight Grand Master looked toward Malcador, wanting him to say something to clarify.
But Malcador merely shrugged his shoulders silently, looking as if he had no control over what was about to happen.
"BOOM!"
Just as a bolt shell from the Custodian's spear was about to blow the Grey Knights' heads off, Malcador made a slight gesture with his hand, using psychic force to telepathically teleport all the Grey Knights away.
"Bastards! Damn it, we fell into a trap!"
"How could this happen? How did the Emperor turn into this state? Damned Chaos traitors!"
Malcador cast a brief glance over the chaos, then casually turned invisible and slipped away.
Right now, the Custodes didn't even know he was back, and he had no intention of letting them know anytime soon.
"Quickly, inform the Lord Regent—the Grey Knights have turned traitor!"
"It seems they've sided with the Inquisition! We must capture these wretched traitors!"
A magnificent misunderstanding was born once again.
The Grey Knights inexplicably found themselves holding a massive, terrifying blame-hat.
One second ago, the Grey Knights were the stalwart pillars of the Imperium; the next second—this group of unfortunates had become imperial traitors.
By the time the Custodes delivered the news to Guilliman, everything was long over.
Guilliman arrived at the Imperial Palace on Terra, taking a look at the Emperor, who had now turned into a "mother."
[The Emperor: I am not a god, I am mute. I am not a god, I am mute!]
[I must act majestic. I absolutely cannot admit I am their mother! This must be one of Malcador's pranks, yes, it's all his joke!]
Regarding the Emperor's internal thoughts, Malcador, hiding in the shadows, could only twitch his lips and smirk softly.
If I had possessed this power back in the day, I would have turned the Emperor into a mother long ago.
After all, if He were a mother, the kids definitely wouldn't have grown up with so many psychological issues.
"Whoa! Father turned into Mother!"
"Wait, why isn't Mom speaking? Is it because She's never been a mother before and doesn't know how a mother is supposed to talk?"
[The Emperor: FUCK!!!]
For some unknown reason, a certain She-Wolf of Rome just wanted to shed silent tears.
Oh no, that dog Guilliman actually guessed it right.
Ever since ancient Greek times, She really never had a mother.
And She had already killed that cheap father of Hers, too.
The Emperor said nothing, silently raising a massive, psychic-infused slap.
Today, She was going to thoroughly discipline Guilliman's beat-worthy mouth!