Warhammer 40k : Starting as a 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 have been enhanced to a certain extent.

Although the increase is not that big, he is now the body of the great Primarch, and every bit of enhancement is a terrifying change.

Just as Duke was enjoying his own strengthening.

Suddenly, he sensed a strong energy that was recovering at an extremely fast speed in the subspace.

This was?

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

Although his energy level is not as good as Dukel who has been strengthened by the system, it is also shocking enough.

Compared to the unbridled wildfire in his subspace projection, this ball of blue flame appeared to be 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 that his brother, the father of the Thirteenth Legion, the king of five hundred worlds, the holy primarch - Guilliman had resurrected.

"Guilliman has been 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 time point 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 he was at the bottom among the Primarch brothers.

Just like a strong elder brother looking at his thin younger brother, even though Guilliman is also over three meters tall and has muscular body, he is still a target that needs to be carefully protected on the battlefield.

Duker cast him an eager look.

Guilliman, sensing the gaze, looked back rationally.

The two brothers who revived 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 reunion is not far away.

The subspace is a reflection of the real universe.

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

The successive resurrection of Durkel 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 the other in the center of the sea of nothingness. As the wave spread, the waves became more and more fierce, 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, listening to the whispers of the demon servants, his lips slightly pursed.

He has not taken any action in ten thousand years, but this time he will strip off the noble veil of the two primarchs and bring them eternal fall.

Deep in the secret temple, countless demons under the command of Tzeentch stirred the threads of fate. The Fate Weaver selected the one he liked and would facilitate its realization. Those countless possibilities would ensure that the two Primarchs would betray 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 would be greatly surprised by the two Primarchs who had not yet been contaminated by the other three gods. Their expressions became even more delighted at this thought, and 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 has ended. Across an entire system, the Champions of Khorne have set 88 worlds ablaze. Khorne's followers, both fierce mortals and tyrannical daemons, have been bathed in the flames of destruction.

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

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

Countless psychic messages were transmitted, the Progenitors Chapter, the Dark Angels, the Space Wolves, the White Scars, the Black Templars, the Astra Militarum, and the Imperial Knights.

These powerful chapters, however, had completely different attitudes towards the two resurrected Primarchs.

They looked at Guilliman with fanaticism and admiration.

Dukel, the original body whose all information had been deleted and even no records were retained, was viewed with scrutiny and fear.

Duker knew all this.

He 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, and he felt as handsome as a wizard.

At the moment, there are two pieces of news for him, one good and one bad.

The bad news is that it is obvious that all the nearby Imperial legions will go to support the resurrected Guilliman, and there is a high probability that he will not receive any military assistance.

The good news is that he doesn't need any support at all!

Looking at the war in the distance.

He sensed that a powerful person was approaching rapidly.

This made his blood boil.

The voice of Sister Efilar came from beside Duker.

Her voice is very nice, with a unique heroic spirit.

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

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

Efilar said sincerely.

Ophelia VII, the nun on the planet known as the second holy land, is very different from the battle nuns on Terra.

Although both possess powerful combat capabilities, the battle nuns on Terra are an organized combat unit; while the nuns on Ophelia VII are a group of pure fanatics.

They are the Emperor's most loyal supporters and have extremely fanatical beliefs.

They also have absolute loyalty and fanaticism towards the emperor's own children.

There was an unconscious tremor in Efilar's voice at this moment. She felt extremely honored to be able to witness the return of a Primarch up close.

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

Efilar said excitedly.

As the two talked, more and more combat nuns came closer, with the same fanaticism and admiration in their eyes.

The human empire has experienced ten thousand years of darkness, and today they can finally follow in the footsteps of the Holy Primarch again.

"Um"

Faced with their fanatical gazes, Dukel was a little overwhelmed for a moment and just nodded coldly.

But the fighting spirit that inadvertently revealed in his eyes can still give courage to everyone.

It gave all the soldiers an inexplicable sense of security.

Dukel really didn't know how to deal with the religious enthusiasm of these nuns, nor did he know what to say at this moment so as not to let them down.

Even if he searched the Primarch's memory, he could not find a template to deal with the current scenario.

So, in the gazes of the nuns and Space Marines, the Emperor's second son, the sacred Primarch, holding a hunter-type chainsaw sword and a monomolecular battle knife in his hands, walked towards the distant battlefield with a cold expression.

In the eyes of the warriors, every step Dukel took forward was filled with hatred towards the Chaos Demons and rage that could turn the world into ashes.

But as the Primarch himself, Dukel's thoughts are very simple.

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

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