"Do you know what you're saying, you foolish mortal?" Cherubael looked at the Primarch before him and refused without hesitation.
"You are the Anathema's son, but you have no right to command me.
You are merely the leader of mortals, while I am a noble daemon prince."
"I will show some mercy and allow you to make a deal with me.
As long as you can prepare enough offerings, I can tell you some information."
"Don't treat me like those foolish sorcerers who exchange vast offerings for meager knowledge and still feel grateful to you.
The only offering I can give you is the chance to survive, Cherubael."
Guilliman looked at the daemon host before him, infinite power surging within the Primarch's body.
As news of his awakening spread, every civilian who learned of it cheered his name, anticipating the salvation he would bring.
These beliefs granted him infinite power.
Human will is enough to change the warp; this is an undeniable fact.
Otherwise, the Gods wouldn't choose those Chaos cultists to help them interfere with the material universe.
The eldar once theorized that if humanity were to go extinct, Chaos would quickly disappear from the galaxy as well.
It is clear what position humanity occupies in the galactic warp domain.
And now, Guilliman was gathering the power of human belief.
"Your arrogance surpasses that of your father, son of the Anathema.
You cannot harm me; I am a daemon prince, an eternal and undying existence.
Everything in the world will decay with the passage of time, but daemons will not.
I am eternal."
Cherubael's arrogant voice rang out.
"I can foresee everything; this is the talent of my kind.
Do you want to know your future fate, son of the Anathema?
Do you want to obtain everything you desire?
Make a deal with me; I will fulfill all your requests, as long as you can pay a sufficient price."
Eisenhorn stood to the side, silently observing everything.
He didn't know if this was right or wrong.
Guilliman was attempting to walk a dark path.
He didn't know if this great Primarch had been corrupted by Chaos during his long slumber.
He hoped his choice was correct.
Otherwise, a corrupted Primarch would be the final straw to break the Imperium's back.
Eisenhorn was ready with incantations at any moment; if Cherubael lost control, he would suppress the daemon again.
"You will pay for your stubbornness, daemon."
Guilliman smiled.
"You know, I have a traitor brother.
He is known as the Midnight Haunter.
His Legion is notorious for its cruelty.
He likes to seek out people's fears and weaknesses, then amplify them, and amplify them again, until the enemy is completely broken.
Before, I disliked his methods greatly.
Now, I've had a bit of a change of heart."
"When people face an enemy they absolutely detest, any means of retaliation is permissible.
I've been recalling my brother's methods, contemplating whether his tortures could be applied to you.
During this time, I've been guessing what daemons fear.
It wasn't until the last battle that I understood.
Daemons fear eternal oblivion.
You fear your essence being completely erased, as that would prevent you from resurrecting in the warp."
"You won't get any information from me, son of the Anathema!
I have never feared threats.
You control my true name, yet you cannot make me yield.
You don't have the ability to do what you say.
At most, you can only banish me back to the warp or imprison me!" Cherubael shrieked.
Guilliman placed his hand on the hilt of the Emperor's Sword.
"I certainly can't annihilate you, but someone can."
The power of command had made Guilliman stronger.
He also wielded the power of the Emperor's Sword with greater ease.
Following Guilliman's will, golden light illuminated the majestic and powerful body of the Primarch.
Making him appear increasingly brilliant and dazzling, as if enveloped in golden light.
The Emperor's power also surged, projecting across the stars into this dark dungeon.
Cherubael twisted uneasily, fear appearing on its distorted face.
The Emperor was the curse of the many daemons in the warp; he would end everything.
Even the Chaos Gods could not destroy the Emperor, only find a way to imprison him on the Golden Throne.
Under the combined power of Guilliman and the Emperor, the dungeon became unprecedentedly sacred.
The Emperor's shrine also emitted light, making the Banisher Priests and Manifestors even more excited as they chanted the Emperor's prayers and hymns.
The other daemon hosts and forbidden objects in the dungeon were all trembling.
The roaring sounds fell silent, and the eerie whispers disappeared.
The struggling daemon hosts were also unprecedentedly quiet.
Eisenhorn felt a vast and mighty will descend.
He knew the Primarch was wielding his father's power to try and pressure the daemon prince.
"Submit to me, or I will utterly shatter your essence, sending you into eternal oblivion."
Guilliman's voice was not loud, but it was full of majesty.
"You can't..." Cherubael struggled desperately, resisting that will, but before it could finish speaking, an iron fist smashed over.
The air was torn apart, and the thick chains instantly tensed from the immense impact.
The daemon host where Cherubael resided was punched against the wall, making a heavy thud.
The Emperor's Sword was drawn by Guilliman, golden flames rising along the hilt.
The sword tip pointed at Cherubael.
"You can refuse one more time, and I will turn you into nothing, daemon.
There are other daemons here; surely one will be willing to serve me."
"I have already foreseen your pathetic fate, son of the Anathema.
You will inevitably walk the path of corruption, just like us."
Cherubael looked at the sword tip, not daring to challenge the Primarch's patience any further.
"Are you very confident in your ability to foresee?" Guilliman's face showed mockery.
"You are just a bunch of lowly monkeys.
You will never comprehend the subtlety and perfection of the threads of fate, while I have long foreseen everything," Cherubael said.
"Well then, guess which part of you I will attack first?"
"This is a clumsy game; you don't intend for me to win."
"I just want to know how perfect your perfect foresight is.
Can you foresee what will happen next?"
Guilliman casually sliced off one of the daemon host's ears.
The golden flames burned the daemon's essence, causing Cherubael to let out a piercing scream.
"It seems daemons also feel pain when their essence is harmed."
Guilliman sliced off the daemon host's other ear.
This time the movement was slow, the golden flames spreading, but not burning the daemon host completely; they were only searing the wound.
Cherubael's scream became even more shrill.
Guilliman was very patient, slicing the daemon host's body little by little.
The original soul of the body had long since died; only the will of the daemon prince remained inside.
Only the daemon prince was suffering.
"You win, son of the Anathema.
What do you want to know?"
Cherubael finally chose to yield.
Daemons are difficult to harm with material weapons; the destruction of the physical body cannot harm their essence.
But the golden longsword in Guilliman's hand could.
The sword contained the power of the Anathema.
With each of Guilliman's cuts, damage was inflicted upon Cherubael's daemon essence.
That was an incomparable pain.
Even if Cherubael escaped back to the warp later, the scars left by this sword would never heal, bringing Cherubael a burning pain every moment.
"I want to know information about my traitor brothers, and what they are doing now?" Guilliman put away the Emperor's Sword and asked.
"I do not operate in the warp; I have been imprisoned in the material universe for hundreds of years," Cherubael said.
"Are there any daemons who know, then?
And how should I summon them?" Guilliman looked at Cherubael.
"You're asking one daemon to betray another?"