I'm in Warhammer, please don't praise Doraemon

Chapter 707 Guilliman: Here we go again?
Guilliman stared blankly at Mortalian, not understanding how Mortalian had arrived at this conclusion.
According to Guilliman, the numbers displayed by these six dice can be pieced together into hundreds, if not thousands, of different interpretations.
Mortarian interprets the numbers 9, 7, 6, 9, 6, ∞ as representing Magnus being thrown into the Well of Eternity by Tzeentch and molded into a weapon to attack Guilliman.
Guilliman's number can also be interpreted as nine representing Tzeentch, seven representing Nurgle, and nine, seven, six, and nine representing Tzeentch and Nurgle 69.
Six represents Slaanesh, and adding ∞ signifies that Slaanesh draws infinite power from the six nines of Tzeentch and Nurgle.

This explanation makes perfect sense!

Although he felt in his heart that Motalian was just making a forced explanation, Guilliman dared not slack off in his actions.

Although numerology is a science, Guilliman has personally verified its effectiveness.

Guilliman quickly issued orders to the fleet via communications, instructing them to prepare for war.
But Mortarian, who was opposite him, shook his head slightly.

“It’s too late,” said the Lord of Dark Clouds. Guilliman noticed a hint of horror on Mortalian’s face.
It was as if this master of numerology had witnessed something utterly terrifying.
Wailing,
The Makurag Glory began to wail.
The mechs attached to the ship began to convulse and scream uncontrollably. Communications became chaotic, and disordered wails, screams, and more roars powerful enough to tear apart the mortal mind emanated from them.
Guilliman heard distorted sounds, sounds that seemed to come from a more distant world.
“This is a warning. The rebellion from Altramar has occurred, and Guilliman has betrayed the Emperor of Men.” Guilliman recognized the voice; it was the voice of his son, Hill.

"Blood! Blood! Blood! Fresh blood! The blood angels are coming!! The horde of ghouls is coming!!" Screams and shrill roars filled the background, interspersed with maniacal laughter that sounded very much like that of Saint Gillespie.

"Lord of secrets and lies! Ryan! My son! You once led us to slay the beasts, but now why have you become a beast yourself?" It was Luther's voice, followed by the howl of a beast, exactly like Ryan's.

“I must immediately remind my father, Ryan El Johnson, that the Emperor’s firstborn son has been corrupted by the malice of Chaos! Rune Priest, cooperate with me to send a message to Terra!” It was Ruth’s voice, filled with anxiety. Then Guilliman seemed to hear something crack, the Emperor’s roar, and Ruth’s hurried apology.

"Although our empire has collapsed, although unspeakable terror has descended upon us, although reason and order have left the universe, leaving only cruelty and madness, we are still here." It sounded like Luo Jia's voice, but his voice was...
"You ask me why the Emperor is a woman? And the Primarch is a woman too? This goes back to the first instance of homosexuality in humankind. The Slaanesh in this dimension are very strong. The Slaanesh transcended time and influenced the past, causing the Emperor's uncle not to kill the Emperor's father, but instead to rape the Emperor's father in a wheat field. The Emperor witnessed this and awakened the feminine side within him." The voice resembled that of Saint Gillespie, but it was a woman's voice. Zhou Yun's bewildered exclamation came from the other end.

What the hell is all this?!

A powerful psychic surge swept through Guilliman's will. He saw a series of fragmented images, some related to the sounds he had just heard, others seemingly from more distant worlds. Various sounds and scenes, a mixture of despair and joy, mingled together, painting Guilliman's vision in a dazzling display.
He stumbled back a few steps and fell heavily to the ground, his memory becoming fragmented.
He saw himself tear Sanguiles' throat apart, saw Corax, bathed in blood, launch an assassination attempt on him, and saw his spirit connected with millions of Ultramarines.
Those memories didn't belong to him, yet they felt as if he had personally experienced them. These memories were like a viscous liquid, constantly devouring Guilliman's will.
"Guilliman!" A chilling roar seemed to come from another distant world, followed by a gust of foul wind—

Snapped! ! !
The pain on his face roused Guilliman, and his vision gradually cleared.

Mortarian slowly withdrew the slap he had just delivered to Guilliman's face.

"Are you awake?" Mortarian asked.

Guilliman felt the gas around him dissipating, and he was horrified to discover that one side of the Macragge's Glory had been torn apart in the recent shockwave, exposing his office to a vacuum.

"Oh no! My helmet! I—"

Snapped!
Mortarian slapped Guilliman across the other side of his face.

"You are the Primarch, you can survive without breathing, your skin is strong enough to withstand the vacuum, and your organs can survive in the void. Why are you looking for a helmet? It seems you are still not clear-headed."

Guilliman was still somewhat bewildered, but he noticed that he seemed to be able to breathe without the helmet.

Is this the effect of some kind of numerology?
Guilliman noticed that some branches were floating around Mortalian, with orange-yellow cysts hanging from them, and these cysts were slowly gathering together.

Guilliman turned to look at the still intact command panel, where thousands upon thousands of energy runes were flashing incessantly, and tens of thousands of signals were being extinguished like sparks in the night sky. But eventually, the starlight died down, leaving only a great sun swirling around.
On the command panel, only a massive, sharp, and glaring energy reaction remained.

"What happened?" Guilliman roared at Mortalian, assuming that the thinning air around them would reduce the efficiency of sound transmission.

"Why are you yelling so loudly?" Mortarian yelled back.

"The thin air will affect sound transmission. This place is about to become a vacuum. Put on your helmets and use the communication system—"

"We are Primarchs, and Primarchs can speak in a vacuum!"

Guilliman paused for a moment.

"Why?" he asked.

“Because we are Primarchs! Guilliman, what’s your extraordinary mind thinking all day long? Eldar secretary?” Mortarion said, observing the vesicles on the branches in front of him.

“Even Primarchs cannot ignore the laws of physics!” Guilliman continued.

“Shut up, do you understand materialism or do I?” Mortarian cursed.

Guilliman remained silent, shook his head, and put the helmet on his head first.

"What exactly happened?" he questioned again.

Mortarian turned his head and saw that Guilliman was still wearing his helmet. His already gloomy face twisted even more.
"Shouldn't you be more experienced than me?"

Mortarian sneered and said to Guilliman:
"You've been through similar things, have you already forgotten?"

Similar things,
Guilliman felt a sharp pain in his throat, and memories he didn't want to recall flooded his mind.

Nine hours, 3,200 of our warships, and 6,000 of the Vengeance Souls.

Every time he recalled that scene, Guilliman doubted if it was a hallucination. Even when Dorn questioned him about why he hadn't arrived in Terra within nine hours as promised, he didn't dare reveal what he had seen; it was too unbelievable. "See for yourself," Mortalian gestured for Guilliman to walk towards the breach in the Makrag's Glory.

Guilliman's throat tightened, but he walked over anyway.

He finally understood why Zhou Yun had gathered such a massive amount of void power on the border of this tiny Titanium Empire.

This fleet was never meant to fight the Tau people; its purpose was to fight against something that had just appeared in the void.

Magnus,

But it wasn't just Magnus,
Thousands of Magnus, perhaps more, two or three thousand? Four or five thousand? Perhaps even tens of thousands of Magnus.
The crimson giants varied slightly in appearance; some had all their eyes, some had only one eye, some were completely blind, some wore armor, some were covered in fur, and some wore silk. Among them was even a female Magnus.

These Magnus bodies interlocked and overlapped, forming a massive, crimson ball of flesh. Their heads, torsos, and arms extended like individual hairs, and their eyes and mouths constantly emitted intense, shimmering psychic energy, resembling a supernova.

The Imperial fleet and the Deathguard fleet were clashing with that terrifying being all around.
But compared to Magnus, these massive voidships are as fragile as toys.

In a single instant, several void ships were snapped in half.
“Those possibilities that shouldn’t have become reality, or those parallel worlds, have all converged in this vicinity.”

“Magnus is that point of intersection; this is probably the power of the Well of Eternity.”

Mortalian, standing behind Guilliman, said:

"I cannot live in a vacuum, brother."

"Are you ready to deal with six thousand Magnus?"

Thor had no idea how to describe the battle unfolding before his eyes.
Not only because the two sides in this battle were moving faster than the limits of Astartes' naked eye could perceive, but also because the battle was so bizarre.
Every time Fugen and Fugrim collided, they seemed to be stuck together, indistinguishable from each other.
With each collision, the two become more and more similar.

It's not a change in appearance, but a deeper change.

Each time he fought Fugen, leaving a small wound on Fugen's body, it was as if Fugen had drunk Fugen's blood and swallowed something of Fugen's essence. Gradually, traces of the former Purple Phoenix could be seen on his own body.
Fugen was the same; every time he wounded Forgrim, every time he fought Forgrim, it was as if he were devouring Forgrim's body. His figure became increasingly alluring, and his sword increasingly deadly.

The two of them seemed to be glued together on an even deeper level.
In another brief exchange, the Forgebreaker slammed into Fulgrim's massive serpent tail, blood and flesh splattering everywhere. Half of the serpent's tail was torn apart by the scorching furnace fire, snapped off, and flung aside.
Fulgrim let out a piercing scream as the twisted blade slashed towards Fulgrim's head. Fulgrim swung his Forgebreaker warhammer to block the blow.
But the Flame Sword drew a strange arc in the air. Fugen tried to dodge, but the wound he had just inflicted on his body was throbbing with pain. The poison from Slaanesh was writhing inside him, slowing his movements by a moment.

The flaming sword cleaved down, severing Fugen's arm from his shoulder.

But Fugen seized a fleeting opportunity, swinging the Brokensmith's Warhammer with one hand and smashing it down on the arm of Fugorim that held the twisted blade.
Fugrim's arm snapped and broke, and the twisted blade fell to the ground.

Fugen took the opportunity to retreat, briefly creating distance between himself and Fugrim.

Only then did he have the opportunity to see the injuries he had sustained.
One arm was broken, the purple and gold armor was almost completely destroyed, and his body was covered with countless knife marks, whip marks, and claw marks. Blood flowed uncontrollably from his body, and various kinds of Slaanesh poison were also corroding his body.

But Fugen actually seemed to enjoy the sensory impact of these wounds.
At the same time, Fugen could clearly feel that he had indeed consumed something from Fugorim's body.
It was the things he ate that allowed him to persevere in his fight with Fugen, and it was also those things that made Fugen begin to enjoy the pain.

Forgrim also suffered serious injuries; half of his tail was smashed, an arm was twisted, and his body was covered in bruises and burns. However, overall, he was in better condition than Forgrim.

Logically, Fugen should have fled.

As long as we drag this out until Zhou Yun defeats the insectoid will...
But Fugen found himself unable to make the effort to escape.
He could sense it.
In the warp, he and Forgrim were no longer so clearly distinguishable; the two were almost intertwined.

The essence of a Primarch is the Primarch itself; it cannot be divided or taken away.
Fugen remembered what Caul had once said.
The more of Forgrim's essence is accepted, the stronger the bond between Forgrim and Forgrim becomes, and the more difficult it is to separate them.

At this moment, Fugen was no longer able to resist this trend.

Either he kills Forgrim, or Forgrim kills him.

There are no other options left.
Fogrem slightly raised his body.

The makeup on his face had long since melted away under the scorching heat of the furnace, revealing his original appearance.
That tall, pale, slender, and handsome face...
Those exaggerated and distorted expressions were gone, and Fulgrim looked down at Fulgrim with a noble and dignified gaze.

Forgrim influences Fuggen, and Fuggen in turn influences Forgrim.

Fogrem no longer viewed the battle as a game.

After ten thousand years, this purple phoenix has finally come to regard a battle as a battle of honor once again.

The two collided again.

(End of this chapter)