2nd Primarch

After Guilliman fell, the entire battlefield was plunged into a strange silence. An overwhelming sadness surged through the hearts of every Imperial soldier.

The demons erupted into cheers, their unholy cries celebrating the fall of a loyal Primarch.

Kane stood frozen, mouth agape, still reaching out as if to dissuade Guilliman, though no words escaped his lips.

Gray was paralyzed with disbelief. Watching his genetic father collapse, feeling the connection between their shared genes weaken with every passing moment, a profound sense of unreality overwhelmed him.

The Ultramarines surged forward in a desperate, suicidal attempt to save their Primarch.

Their power armor was torn apart by a storm of bullets and sorcerous energy. Broken bodies were cast onto the blood-soaked battlefield.

A dreadnought toppled backward, its pilot slain by soul-piercing spells, leaving even the machine spirit within shattered.

Chaos Daemons jeered and launched a counterattack. The Imperial forces suffered horrific casualties. Space Marines, Skitarii, Titans, and Astra Militarum fought valiantly, each a link in a chain of sacrifice to protect their fallen Primarch.

Explosions tore through the demonic ranks, obliterating blasphemous hordes, yet the relentless advance of the three great Daemons seemed unstoppable.

Even the Eldar joined the fray. Eveline and her forces rushed to defend Guilliman. Harlequin dancers wove through the Chaos ranks, their elegant movements cloaked in deadly precision. Howling Banshees appeared like specters, leaving trails of blood and destruction in their wake.

Despite their valiant efforts, mortal strength was no match for the might of the Daemons.

The loyal Imperial soldiers built a wall of flesh and blood around Guilliman, delaying the Daemons' advance at great cost.

The Keeper of Secrets slaughtered effortlessly, its claws tearing apart the brave Astartes and Astra Militarum who dared to stand in its path.

Fulgrim, eager to ensure Guilliman's demise, carved through the defenses with his demigod strength, forging a path to his fallen brother.

The Fate Weaver's spells consumed countless souls, leaving devastation in their wake.

Under the combined might of the three great Daemons and their hordes, the Imperium's forces seemed powerless. Guilliman's fate appeared sealed.

But their sacrifices had bought precious moments.

A crimson flame blazed across the distant horizon, scorching the air as it closed in.

As Fulgrim raised his poisoned rapier for the final blow, a thunderous roar split the battlefield.

"FULGRIM!!!"

The voice carried immense power, shaking the ground and tearing through the air like a storm. It resonated with such fury that nearby Daemons burst into flames, while Ultramarines were thrown aside like leaves in a gale.

Chaos forces froze in terror. None had anticipated Dukel's arrival so soon.

Fulgrim's blade trembled as it neared Guilliman, only to be caught mid-strike by an iron grip.

Soul fire coursed along the blade, consuming the Daemon inhabiting it. The Slaanesh Daemon within—responsible for luring Fulgrim into depravity—howled in agony as it faced eternal torment.

Crack!

Under Fulgrim's disbelieving gaze, the weapon shattered in Dukel's grasp, its screams echoing across the battlefield and terrifying the Chaos forces.

Fulgrim's confidence crumbled. Casting aside the remnants of his blade, he turned and fled. The Fate Weaver had already vanished.

The Keeper of Secrets, slower to react, charged Dukel but was met with devastating force. Dukel seized the Daemon by its grotesque head and slammed it into the ground, the earth shuddering under the impact.

Ignoring the fleeing Fulgrim and the now-retreating Chaos forces, Dukel turned to his fallen brother. Gently, he lifted Guilliman, examining the hideous wound on his neck. Poison seeped through the injury, a lethal concoction that even a Primarch's physiology struggled against.

An indescribable sadness filled Dukel's heart as he poured psychic energy into Guilliman's battered body.

"Give up, Dukel. He's beyond saving," came Magnus's voice. There was no malice in his tone, only a grim acknowledgment of reality.

"Shut up," Dukel snapped. "Don't break our deal, Magnus. Don't make me lose respect for you."

Magnus sighed, his glowing eyes betraying a flicker of pity. "Can't you see, brother? His wounds aren't just physical. His soul is fractured. This balance, fragile as it was, is gone. Fulgrim's poison shattered it. Guilliman's time has run out."

Dukel remained silent, his resolve unshaken.

Placing one hand on Guilliman and the other on Magnus's bald head, Dukel activated a potent life-transfer technique. Pure vitality flowed into Guilliman's body, mending his wounds with astonishing speed.

"Damn you, Dukel! I've already told you everything I know!" Magnus protested.

"I don't like your tone, brother," Dukel retorted coolly.

Summoning his personal guard, Dukel gave clear instructions.

"Take Guilliman to the emergency room. Keep him under constant psychic protection."

As he spoke, a squad of elite warriors arrived with a stretcher. Carefully, they carried Guilliman away, ensuring the Regent remained shielded as the battle raged on.