"I am Titus," a resolute voice rang out from Titus.
The inscriptions on the ruined wall seemed to possess an indomitable power, like unyielding rocks in a sandstorm, like enduring courage, like a sturdy city wall, like a bright orange-yellow lighthouse.
This low wall shielded Titus from the rolling yellow sands that would destroy one's existence, strip away one's spirit, leaving only anger and killing intent, and it also reawakened Titus' spirit, which had been eroded to tatters.
He remembered who he was.
He is DeMetrian Titus, an Ultramarines, an Astartes, an Emperor's Death Angel, and a member of the Doraemon Battle Group.
"I will keep my mind pure, my body strong, untainted by doubt, uncorrupted by self-aggrandizement. I will be a bright star in the firmament of war, a Death Angel, exterminating the enemies of humanity with resolute wings, for a thousand years and another thousand years, until the end of eternity and the demise of mortal flesh."
Titus recited the scripture loudly, protecting his mind with holy texts and solidifying his understanding.
He looked at the three heads staring at him.
'Leandros' doubted him, 'Slavaks' judged him, 'Calgar' abandoned him.
These were not the real three; these were reflections in his heart, lingering images from his century of imprisonment in the Inquisition.
Those doubts, those questions, those self-inflicted torments entanglement around Titus, repeatedly questioning Titus' loyalty, judging Titus' mind, slowing his steps in serving the Emperor, preventing his steel body from becoming a strong wall to protect humanity.
Even if tainted by doubt, will you still fight for humanity?
Even if judged a traitor, will you still fight for the Imperium?
Even if abandoned and forgotten by your Battle Group, will you still fight for the Emperor?
Be angry! Shouldn't you be angry in the face of these slanders?
Use your rage to destroy everything, use your rage to get revenge on those who betrayed you.
Say: Blood for the Blood God!
Say: Skulls for the Skull Throne!
Titus' only response was a cold refusal.
"I am the Emperor's finest warrior. I dedicate myself to humanity. My rage belongs only to the Emperor."
"I am iron will and body. I am immune to doubt, plague, bloodlust, and pride. Nothing can corrupt me."
"I am a fortress against fear. I am a defender of humanity. I am a Space Marine. I am an Astartes."
"I fear nothing!"
The three heads staring fixedly at him let out sharp cries, shattering into pieces in the yellow sand and disappearing with a crash.
Titus fearlessly raised his head and looked at the firmament where the rolling red sun hung.
The shadow of the Blood God was reflected in the sky, its eyes full of wrath, brighter than a star, staring fixedly at Titus.
The Blood God was angered by Titus' refusal, but the Blood God also swore to eventually corrupt Titus.
Even for eight centuries and another eight centuries, eight millennia and another eight millennia, Titus would never be able to leave this yellow sand until he accepted the Blood God's wrath and became the Blood God's vessel.
"I am Titus," Titus said defiantly, standing by the low wall.
The Blood God's enraged figure vanished from the sky, but Titus remained trapped in the yellow sand.
He was clearly determined to completely trap Titus.
Titus looked at the high wall covered in scratches.
A Primarch—Rogal Dorn—had once fallen into the same predicament as Titus.
Rogal Dorn had carved every escape plan he could think of onto this wall, one after another, all the plans Titus could or couldn't imagine were carved there.
But these plans were all rejected by Rogal Dorn one by one; none could escape this yellow sand.
However, Rogal Dorn eventually left. Saint Doraemon had mentioned this before.
But even Saint Doraemon couldn't clearly explain how Dorn left here.
The wall didn't even record the method Dorn used to finally leave, but there was a way, it was possible to leave here.
Hope remained.
Titus slowly thought, pondering ways to escape from here.
Maybe there was never a way to escape from here. A voice suddenly rose from the depths of Titus' heart, seemingly wanting to awaken the fear within Titus.
"I fear nothing," Titus said firmly.
Perhaps you will eventually fall here, turn to dust, wasting the body the Emperor gave you. The voice suddenly sounded again, still carrying an aura that could evoke fear in one's heart.
"I fear nothing." Titus did not feel fear or the urge to retreat.
Even if you can leave, perhaps everything is already too late. You were absent at the most crucial moment, leading to tragic consequences. The chilling voice continued.
"I fear nothing." Titus did not flinch from the voice.
The voice fell silent, seemingly satisfied with Titus' reaction.
Titus suddenly felt a cold and terrifying aura behind him.
His spirit wavered slightly; the aura gave him a bone-chilling sensation.
He had only felt this feeling from Primarchs, from Guilliman and Sanguinius.
Titus sharply turned his head, finding the desert before him had grown dim, the daylight obscured by shadow.
A vortex of blue and gold unfurled before Titus, surging like a tide, roaring like a flood, powerful and terrifying.
"Father?!" Titus exclaimed with instinctive joy, looking at the blue and gold spreading like an oil painting before him.
Blue and gold are the representative colors of Roboute Guilliman, the image of the Ultramarines Primarch.
Titus almost thought his genetic father had come to save him.
But as soon as the words left his lips, Titus noticed something was off.
This... the blue in this blue and gold was not like the Ultramarines' Ultramarine blue; it was deeper, closer to the color of midnight.
The gold was also different; it wasn't dazzling enough, but rather dim, like the twilight before night's end.
Gradually, the blue and gold vortex took shape, no longer flowing, settling down, and transforming into a human figure.
A cloak sewn from human skin stirred up a shadow, midnight blue and dark gold power armor emitted a cold gleam, bats spread their crimson wings on the armor, and the tall figure briefly obscured the sun, momentarily shielding him and Titus from the gaze from above the firmament.
The embodiment of cold, pallor, and terror stood before Titus.
He slightly lowered his pale head beneath his messy white hair, staring at Titus with a pair of light-colored eyes filled with madness and fear.
Titus prayed to his genetic father, Roboute Guilliman.
But the one who answered him... was Konrad Curze.