"The Master has granted me rebirth. I am now stronger, more… beautiful. I am pleasure, I am pain, I am eternal evolution!" Fulgrim unfurled his massive daemonic wings and let out a manic peal of laughter.
The moment the words left his lips, Fulgrim shot toward Sanguinius like a bolt of violet lightning. The blasphemous Blade of Laer carved an arc through the air, aimed precisely at Sanguinius's heart.
Sanguinius gave a cold snort.
With his spear in one hand and his sword in the other, he met Fulgrim's charge without a hint of fear, and the two brothers clashed in a ferocious battle.
Angel and daemon began their deadly game in the sky. A streak of purple light and a streak of white light became two points of luminescence, colliding endlessly against the heavens.
This Great Angel, however, was far stronger than the one from the original timeline.
When Axis had met with Sanguinius, Guilliman, and the others, he had specially given Sanguinius four Fruits of the Tree of Might which he had cultivated. Sanguinius had already consumed all four of them.
Now, the Great Angel's life energy was immeasurably powerful, and his physical body had reached the limit that the material universe could withstand without a qualitative leap. The terrifying influence of this life energy was even causing him to dimly awaken to his own Warp-based nature.
This awakening only made Sanguinius stronger.
A sanguine glint flashed in Sanguinius's eyes.
The Angel's graceful fighting style shifted, becoming wild and savage, even carrying a hint of bloodlust. Sanguinius felt his body thrum with a terrible excitement. The thirst for blood flickered in his gaze as two sharp fangs extended from the corners of his mouth. Just like his afflicted sons, something was terribly wrong with Sanguinius.
His long golden hair had turned a deep blood-red, his eyes were now completely crimson orbs, and his fingernails had sharpened into vicious talons. His complexion had grown even paler.
"Look, brother! This is your true form. It is exquisite," Fulgrim said with a mocking smile, "Oh, Sanguinius, Sanguinius. You fancy yourself a noble archangel, yet your sons are a brood of vampires. Did you think this was a curse from the gods of the Warp?"
Fulgrim continued his taunts. "No, no, you are wrong, Sanguinius! It is you who cursed your sons. It is the curse within your very bloodline, the essence of your being in the Warp. This is the real you. The Blood Angel, or rather, Sanguinius, the Sire of all Vampires."
"Be silent, Fulgrim." Sanguinius said calmly, "You shall be torn apart!", his voice turning rough and guttural by the end.
Ever since consuming the Fruits of the Tree of Might, he had felt his body and soul changing, as if they were becoming something different. At this moment, Sanguinius's appearance was profoundly disturbing. But because the two were dueling high above the battlefield, the soldiers below had not noticed their primarch's transformation.
"You are a noble archangel, that is true. But have you read the ancient scriptures? The ones our Father had destroyed? There is a very interesting story within them," Fulgrim said, weaving his tale while parrying Sanguinius's relentless attacks.
"Legend says that a benevolent archangel descended to the mortal world to protect and guide humanity, bringing his goodness and light with him. But human greed exceeded his imagination, and in time, even the archangel himself was corrupted. He saw mankind's depravity, filth, gluttony, greed, evil, pride, and envy. These negative emotions caused the angel to fall, transforming him into a bloodthirsty monster."
Fulgrim recounted a piece of history the Emperor had sought to erase. "He feasted on human blood, craving it above all else. That fallen angel, the origin of the vampire legend, that is you, my brother."
The Primarchs were, in essence, demigods of the Warp, and Sanguinius was that very same fallen angel.
He was typically a noble Great Angel, but once drawn into the heart of battle, his bloodlust would turn him feral. Now, that trait within him had truly, finally, awakened.
Fulgrim's words had a definite effect on Sanguinius. A crimson light began to envelop his once-pristine white wings. The angelic pinions turned into a pair of blood-red wings. At this moment, Sanguinius had fully become the Blood Angel, appearing as the veritable Sire of Vampires.
"Look at yourself now, Sanguinius! You and I, we are the ones they call daemons. Is it so difficult to accept your true face?"
The reply Fulgrim received was a guttural, bloodthirsty roar. Sanguinius became a shadow of blood, appearing instantly before the Daemon Primarch. A razor-sharp claw tore through Fulgrim's chest, ripping out his heart.
With a wet, tearing sound, the purple daemon exploded in the sky, but Fulgrim's laughter echoed all around Sanguinius.
"Hahaha! Let the mortals see you now! My dear brother, will they still believe you are their noble Great Angel? You and those sons of yours are all cut from the same cloth. You are all vampires, craving the taste of blood!"
Down below, some of the uncomprehending mortals were still cheering wildly, celebrating Sanguinius's victory. The Blood Angels, however, wore grim expressions. Some of them even began to turn their thirsty gazes upon the mortal soldiers. The awakening of their Father stirred the most primal urges encoded within their very genes.
So, their Father was just like them. The Red Thirst truly did come from him.
Some of the Blood Angels were already on the verge of losing control, but others maintained their reason. Most of these were members of the Legion's Librarius. With their formidable psychic strength, these Librarians were able to suppress the burgeoning bloodlust in their hearts. They calmly formed a perimeter, surrounding their brothers whose eyes were turning red and fangs were sprouting from their mouths.
"Calm yourselves, my brothers. Control the desire for blood. Do not let this emotion master you," one Librarian commanded, "The rest of you, restrain those who are about to fall. I will go and aid our Father."
Among the Blood Angels stood another figure with pure white wings. This was Sanguinor, a being created by Axis from a Saibaman seed, the blood of Sanguinius, and Blood Angel gene-seed.
This angel, whose appearance was strikingly similar to Sanguinius, also soared into the sky, rushing towards his sire. Sanguinor possessed the power of Ki, a power that grew stronger through his own training.
After consuming the Fruits of the Tree of Might, his Ki had become even more immense. In terms of pure destructive force, he was now even stronger than Sanguinius.
Upon reaching the heights, a brilliant crimson-white light erupted from Sanguinor. The terrifying Ki energy instantly vaporized the lingering purple energies around them, forcefully banishing the Daemon Prince back into the depths of the Warp.
Just as Sanguinius was on the brink of losing control, about to dive into the masses of mortals below to drink their blood, Sanguinor caught him in a powerful embrace. A surge of potent life energy flowed into his primarch's body, temporarily suppressing the bloodthirsty rage.
Sanguinor used his own large, white wings to shield his Father, hiding Sanguinius's vampiric form from the mortal soldiers below.
"Calm yourself, Father! Return to us! Do not be controlled by this thirst for blood," Sanguinor pleaded, ceaselessly calling his primarch's name in an attempt to bring the Great Angel back to his senses. The energy of his Ki did indeed have an effect; under its purifying influence, Sanguinius regained a sliver of clarity.
"Sanguinius!" Vulkan struggled to get up, his movements slowed by the excruciating pain in his chest and the severe damage to his power armor.
Just then, Angron let out another furious roar. Dragging his massive chain-axe, he charged toward the momentarily disarmed Vulkan like an out-of-control war engine.
Vulkan's expression hardened.
He could only force himself to meet the even more frenzied Daemon Primarch empty-handed. His massive fist crashed towards Angron's head. The two primarchs were once again locked in a brutal melee.
The dull thuds of flesh meeting flesh echoed across the field. With his immense strength and skill, Vulkan managed to parry Angron's colossal axe strikes with his burning iron fists. But every collision sent a fresh wave of agony through his chest wound. At this point, Vulkan was fighting on sheer willpower alone. The blood-fire from Angron's attacks scorched his fists, bringing a bone-deep, searing pain.
From the high platform of the Imperial Palace's command center, Rogal Dorn, Ferrus Manus, and Corax watched with utter horror. The situation had taken a drastic turn for the worse.
Sanguinius had been ensnared by the fallen Fulgrim, transformed into a bloodthirsty fiend.
Vulkan was gravely wounded, without a weapon, and being violently overwhelmed by Angron. He could fall at any moment.
"We cannot help what is happening in the sky. We can only trust that Blood Angel named Sanguinor," Dorn said, his voice taut, "Jaghatai, Ferrus, you two go and help Vulkan. Corax and I will hold the command post."
The two Primarchs nodded and departed from the command center, making their way toward the lord of the Salamanders.
But just as they were about to reach Vulkan, a green figure and a blue one blocked their path. The newcomers were Mortarion, Primarch of the Death Guard, and the Primarch of the 11th Legion.
"Where are you going, my brothers? Your opponents are us," Mortarion sneered, brandishing his enormous scythe.
"Come, play with me, Ferrus Manus," the Primarch of the 11th Legion said, his focus set on the primarch.
The traitor primarchs were finally making their move. In the sky above, a gargantuan vessel descended upon Holy Terra. The entire sky over the Throneworld was plunged into an abrupt, oppressive darkness. The clamor of the battlefield seemed to mute. The mad slaughter of soldiers, the roaring of hell-beasts, and even the titanic struggle between Vulkan and Angron paused for a split second.
"That is… the Vengeful Spirit…" Rogal Dorn's voice was heavier than ever before, carrying with it a trace of ever imperceptible despair.
Warmaster Horus Lupercal had finally arrived on the battlefield.
However, the Vengeful Spirit merely hung silently in the sky above Terra. The Warmaster seemed to have no intention of personally joining the fray just yet.
The faces of all the loyalists turned grim. They seemed to understand that no more reinforcements would be coming. The final battle was about to begin. Horus was sending a signal to the Emperor, the signal for their final confrontation.
Deep within the Imperial Palace on Holy Terra, the Emperor had, at some unknown point, regained his lucidity.
The darkness that had been influencing him seemed to have receded into hiding. In that moment, the Emperor felt the call of his destiny.
The final hour had come.
This was his fate.
"Magnus, I must leave for a while. The Golden Throne and the Webway are in your hands," the Emperor declared.
"Father! You may go without worry. I am here. I promise that the Golden Throne will face no issues before you return," Magnus replied with a long sigh.
Having sat on the Golden Throne for several years now, he had come to understand many things, including the hardships his father had endured. This was the best, the only way to protect Axis, humanity's hope, and the entire human race.
The Emperor nodded and immediately summoned his Custodian Guard.
"Send my command. Let Malcador present himself before me," the Emperor ordered.
Although Magnus could operate the Golden Throne and protect the Webway alone, the Emperor wanted to be certain. He intended for Malcador to be ready. If any problem arose in the Webway, Malcador would have to intervene at once and join Magnus upon the Golden Throne, temporarily taking his place.
Malcador, who was handling communications, received the Emperor's summons and went to the Golden Throne without hesitation.
He was ready. The two old friends looked at each other. Few words were needed. They simply nodded, a silent understanding passing between them.
"You may go without worry, Neoth."
The Emperor nodded, then gave the order to summon Rogal Dorn.
Just at that moment, a spatial fluctuation far more violent than any before, one that seemed to threaten to tear the very planet apart, erupted from the direction of the Webway entrance.
A light more brilliant and immense than the arrival of the Vengeful Spirit, a light filled with hope, pierced through the dark mist shrouding Terra.
A colossal warship of a design never seen before, its entire hull gleaming with the light of dawn, brutally tore open the veil between reality and the Warp. It descended upon the skies of Holy Terra with an unparalleled sense of pressure and pure power. On its enormous hull, golden patterns flowed like rivers of stars, and its unique prow, shaped like a great eagle with spread wings, shone resplendently in the dim sky.
This time, Solus Prime had not appeared in its spherical state but had directly transformed into its star-destroyer mode.
"It is Solus Prime!" Rogal Dorn's voice was filled with incredulous excitement and the profound hope of one snatched from the jaws of defeat.
Axis and his son had finally arrived.
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ps?