See? we did complete the goal in a single day.
--
The more Guilliman listened to these words, the more he felt sothing was off.
He rembered how, during their discussion just now, Sanguinius had frequently asked for information about Zeke.
Guilliman’s super-brain told him the truth: Sanguinius was trying to poach his guy.
Because of celestial factors, living conditions on Baal were extrely harsh—red fog that eternally blotted out the sun, and rivers flowing with toxic sludge.
Sanguinius had landed on Baal as an infant and knew its detrints deeply. But precisely because of this, he knew better than anyone that if soone could change all this...
Guilliman abruptly raised his head. "What do you an by that?"
He squeezed past Sanguinius, strode up to Zeke, and put on a solemn expression.
"Zeke, I know everything you have done. The Imperium will never forget your contributions, and its doors will always be open to you."
"I have a pickaxe. I don’t need doors." Zeke pulled out his Netherite Pickaxe.
"Guilliman," Sanguinius’s voice remained gentle. "I am rely expressing my gratitude."
"Expressing gratitude doesn’t require asking so many questions." Guilliman didn’t even turn his head. "I know you, brother."
The world knew the Great Angel Sanguinius to be gentle and amiable, like a spring breeze brushing the face.
But few knew that Sanguinius was actually a very shrewd and calculating person, much like his father, the Emperor. He just hid it too deeply, playing the role of perfection too well.
Sanguinius’s favorite pasti was to mutter complaints in his heart and secretly gossip about the other Primarchs behind their backs.
"You’re overthinking it."
"I am not overthinking it."
Human relationships are just like this: when you are too far apart, you miss each other; when you are too close, you get annoyed.
Just like a college student coming ho for the holidays—treated like a rare, endangered animal by their mother on the first day, and directly treated like a pest on the second day.
The two Primarchs, who had just been embracing like brothers, began to bicker.
However, rather than calling it an argunt, Zeke felt it was more of a nding of their relationship. Zeke pulled them apart. "If you guys act like this, how are we supposed to have proper conversations when we establish Imperium Secundus in the future?"
The air went dead silent.
Both of them turned their heads simultaneously and glared at Zeke. "Can we please not bring up Imperium Secundus again?!"
They spoke in unison. Guilliman’s voice was agitated and hurried, while Sanguinius was much more reserved, though his eyes still revealed an intense emotion he couldn’t hide.
Zeke backed up repeatedly. "Okay, okay, okay, I’ll stop talking about it."
Why are you guys getting so worked up over it? After getting acquainted with Zeke, Sanguinius turned to Dante. He hadn’t expected that right after dragging Dante back to the world of the living to work overti, he himself would be dragged back as well.
This was sowhat awkward. Sanguinius utilized a Primarch’s powerful self-control to manage his facial expressions perfectly.
His own sons were one of the few things Sanguinius truly cared about. From the mouths of Dante and phiston, Sanguinius learned of the Blood Angels’ current situation.
The good news was that the Red Thirst and Black Rage had been cured. The bad news was that the Blood Angels themselves had also almost been "cured"—only a scant few hundred n remained.
The even worse news was that although the Tyranids had retreated, they had only retreated from the single planet of Baal.
The entire Red Scar sector was still swarming with Tyranids, and worlds driven to the brink of despair were everywhere.
"This is also why I am here." Guilliman stood behind Sanguinius.
"I want to use Baal as a hub, radiating outwards to the entire sector to resolve the Tyranid problem as quickly as possible. Regarding the issue of the Blood Angels’ troop strength, I have also brought Primaris Space Marines."
Dante raised his head. "The integration of Primaris Space Marines is far more difficult than imagined. So Blood Angels utterly despise this practice; they believe it is a pollution of the Blood Angels’ gene-seed."
"I need your help." Guilliman looked at Sanguinius. "With you here, the rollout of the Primaris Space Marines will go much more smoothly. They might not believe , but they cannot distrust their own Gene-Father."
"Rest assured, Guilliman, I will handle it." Sanguinius helped Dante up.
"That is truly wonderful." Guilliman wore an expression of relief.
"Since the Primarch has agreed to let Primaris Space Marines join the Blood Angels..."
Dante took a step forward, crushing his hesitation underfoot. "...Then, as Chapter Master, I must lead by example. I request to undergo the surgery to cross the Rubicon Primaris!"
The Primaris modification placed an imnse burden on the body. The older the warrior, the greater the risk, and Dante was already fifteen hundred years old.
As a veteran of a thousand battles, the probability of Dante surviving the Primaris surgery was not high.
Beside him, a dark red figure stepped forward.
phiston didn’t say a word. He rely stood beside Dante, raised his head, and looked at Guilliman.
The aning in those eyes couldn’t be clearer: he wanted it too.
Guilliman looked at the two n before him.
They were already the cream of the crop among the Blood Angels. If they underwent the Primaris Space Marine surgery, they could basically be called the absolute strongest warriors below the Primarchs themselves.
"You two..." Guilliman began. "You should be clear about the risks of the Primaris surgery..."
It was at this mont that Guilliman rembered: Zeke seed to have a much more convenient thod.
"Primaris Space Marine modification is outdated. I have sothing much more convenient right here." Zeke pulled out the Chest Cavity Opener he hadn’t used in a long ti.
During his days on Terra, he had originally intended to discuss the "MC-fication" of Space Marines with Archmagos Cawl, but then he received the distress ssage from Baal and hurried over.
"Besides the newly added organs of the Primaris Marines, I can also give you a few extra options."
He reached his other hand into his backpack and dug around.
Between Zeke’s five fingers and four finger webs—except for the last gap which held two spawn eggs—he pinched a strangely colored egg-shaped object in each, gathering them in front of Dante.
He raised his hand and lined the eggs up in a row, looking like an old grandpa selling secret martial arts manuals at a street stall.
From left to right, they were: Creeper Egg, Skeleton Egg, Iron Golem Egg, Warden Egg, and Wither Egg.
The crafting recipe was simple: mob drops combined with Tyranid biomass.
Dante looked at the egg-shaped objects in Zeke’s hand. His intuition told him that this choice would change his entire life.
"What are these?" Sanguinius asked Guilliman. Guilliman introduced Sanguinius to Zeke’s open-chest surgery.
"A surgery capable of granting Space Marines bizarre abilities. Archmagos Cawl has already proven its safety."
When Sanguinius heard that their physical appearance would undergo slight changes, his face twitched.
"It’s fine," Zeke said. "If you don’t get used to it, I can just rip the organs back out, and we can pretend nothing ever happened."
"I choose the first one." phiston’s choice was surprisingly fast.
"Are you sure? With all due respect, this thing is called a Creeper. It’s a bit unstable, so I don’t really recomnd it."
Zeke didn’t know what use a Creeper’s organs would have, but that didn’t stop him from guessing it definitely had sothing to do with self-destruction.
phiston already possessed incredibly powerful psychic energy. Add a self-destruct function to that, and wouldn’t he turn into a humanoid psychic nuclear bomb?
"No need, I’ll take this one!" phiston stared at the verdant green Creeper egg. His psychic senses told him that this thing was incredibly compatible with him.
"Alright, you’ve got guts!" Zeke praised. Since you aren’t afraid, then what do I have to be afraid of?
--
Next Goal = 2000.
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