[Barr]
[What? What do you feel?]
The thin Primarch slowly stood up, and between Mortarion's lowered hands flowed the dry sand of Baal's blood.
The arid and barren land of Baal is not suitable for farming, and this fact has never changed in ten thousand years.
In the bright sunshine a hundred meters in front of Mortarion was Guilliman negotiating with the personnel on Baal. The crimson cloak of the Imperial Regent fluttered in the wind, and the shining starlight gathered around him, almost making the mortals and Space Marines close to him lose their minds. They subconsciously knelt before Guilliman and surrendered to him.
Behind Guilliman, who shone like the sun, were the remaining two, dark and twisted, huddled in the shadows of the towering buildings.
Hades and Mortarion unanimously decided to push Guilliman into diplomacy, with no other reason.
People were also reluctant to approach them. The Pale Lord was like a white-bone monster crawling out of a tomb, and Hades exuded an aura that made it impossible to look directly at him.
"It's... hard to describe?"
Hades pondered for a moment, then continued to squat and poke the sand with his hands.
The moment Hades entered the atmosphere of Baal, he immediately began surveying using the Black Domain.
He had never seen such a strange psychic field.
The crust of Baal was almost completely covered by golden faith energy. The pure and dazzling light wrapped every gap tightly like an eggshell. For a moment, Hades could only see golden color.
These spiritual energies of faith come from the churches on the surface of Baal. Like capillaries, they flow out from the feet of every believer and are then poured into Baal, coating this large eggshell with a thick layer of gold.
After the initial detection, Hades gathered the black domain, gathering the boundless and sparse black domain like a wasteland. Then he condensed the black domain into long thorns and stabbed downwards.
After becoming almost unimaginably thick, the psychic energy finally began to change.
Yao Jin's psychic energy turned bright red, and then became brighter red. Hades continued to explore downwards - but in order not to alarm the archangel who might be imprisoned in the dungeon and cause unnecessary trouble, Hades stopped going deeper when the chaotic psychic energy almost turned red to black.
"The power of faith forcibly imprisoned the power of corruption, but the two are not incompatible. At a certain depth, the power of faith is slowly transforming into the power of chaos."
Hades raised his head and no longer looked at the ground. He looked at Guilliman in the distance, but his gaze moved further away again, until he reached the skyline.
"Can I say that the sky here is also very chaotic?"
Hades blinked, and the gorgeous sky of Baal was reflected in his black pupils. The psychic field here was too chaotic. A large group of psychic energy suddenly disappeared, and another large group of psychic energy suddenly appeared.
There was absolutely no pattern or predictability, which made Hades a little worried.
But close to the ground, these chaotic spiritual energies were expelled by the power of the church on the ground.
Mortarion shook his head and spoke hoarsely:
[The spiritual energy polarity here is not stable, and conventional methods cannot measure the chaos here.]
The moment they boarded Baal, the two psychic Primarchs present felt uncomfortable at the same time.
It was a strong sense of exclusivity. Baal did not welcome them, no matter which side of Baal they were.
Mortarion glanced casually ahead again and saw the Son of Sanguinius walking angrily towards Guilliman - no, towards Mortarion behind Guilliman.
Amit the Flesh Tearer.
There was also Dante behind him who tried to stop him, but unfortunately Amit's steps were too fast, and Dante looked a little embarrassed, and there was a distance between them.
Mortarion narrowed his eyes, he smelled hatred, the Primarch casually stretched out a hand, and the sickle began to emerge from his palm.
"No way, Lao Mo?"
Hades joked, he seemed to understand what happened, the son of Sanguinius, plus the seal from a thousand years ago, Hades could imagine how many people Mortarion had offended back then.
"Are you really angry with the descendants of other legions?"
[…]
"I just hope he can understand what happened at the time. This is a kind of respect."
Mortarion said lightly, but Guilliman in front of them reacted immediately. The Regent stepped out of the crowd and placed his hand directly on Amit's shoulder armor in a casual and natural gesture, forcing the Flesh Tearer to stop.
Mortarion clicked his tongue.
[Long time no see, Amit, how are you doing recently? ]
Guilliman asked with concern, and asked the people around him to leave for the time being. He seemed not to care at all about the anger burning in the Flesh Tearer's eyes towards Mortarion, and Mortarion who was already holding the scythe behind him.
Amit felt the force gripping his shoulder armor so strong that he could hardly move, but Guilliman's tone was still concerned, and the Space Marine felt a breathless pressure - as if persuading him to obey.
The tongue licked between the teeth and blood oozed out.
He doesn't.
"Very badly, your Excellency."
Amit said maliciously,
"Let the descendants sleep in the bloody soil with their suffering father. I often hear his pain and resentment."
Almost the next moment, a golden light flashed before Amit's eyes, and his intuition told him that he had been seen through, but then everything returned to normal, with only the sound of Dante's embarrassed footsteps behind him.
[I'm sorry for what happened to you.]
Guilliman continued, golden flames igniting in his blue eyes, which made his face suddenly inhuman - Amit believed that the bone worm Mortarion could not emit golden psionics.
[But that is why we are here, I hope you understand.]
Guilliman continued, his eyes shifted to Dante, who had been slow to respond, and his eyes seemed to light up.
[I think you just gave your new generation comrade some history... He doesn't look very good.]
Guilliman whispered, he seemed a little helpless,
[I hope you can live in harmony.]
Amit grinned and looked at Dante. The Blood Angel in full helmet exuded a bloody aura.
"I simply told him how our father was abandoned beneath Baal."
[I think Sanguinius never taught you polite language, or maybe it's because he died too early and didn't have time to teach you.]
Guilliman took a deep breath and stared at Mortarion with a frown.
[Don't say that, Mortarion.]
The Regent looked back and saw a pale and terrifying face. Mortarion's tall and thin body bent down, staring at Amit from above with his eyes unblinking.
Amit's face turned red with anger, his veins were throbbing, and his eyes were bulging, but he was unable to move due to the spiritual pressure of the Pale Lord.
There was a rustling sound of footsteps, and Amit's pupils contracted. In his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of a smiling but pale-faced man in black armor walking past him. Then darkness surged up and enveloped the panting Dante behind him.
"Suspected Black Rage."
A strange voice sounded, was that Pluto? !
Amit wanted to turn back, but Mortarion's psychic power pressed him to the brink of fainting, and white mist spewed out of the gas mask and sprayed onto Amit's face.
"I can't be sure - but it's a similar power."
Hades said, taking back the black domain, and on the edge of Dante's pale golden soul, red and black psychic energy just ignited like a flaming tail.
[You want to tell us... that your master's anger and pain from ten thousand years ago still exist today? ]
Mortarion said hoarsely, hunching his body even more, with Hades in the background trying to comfort Dante who had just recovered from his semi-confused state.
[I think if his offspring is still as bad as you... then he has no chance of being redeemed.]
Amit grinned.
"Are you really going to save him?"
[madness-]
"Time is of the essence. I think you can put reminiscing aside."
Mortarion's words were ruthlessly interrupted. The Primarch stood up in dissatisfaction and turned his head to stare at those arrogant guys with golden light. He hated them.
Valdor's eyes were fixed on Hades, but he did not look at Mortarion.
Mortarion opened his hand.
[how?]
He asked sarcastically,
[We are busy and always have our own tasks, but the Imperial Guards who actually do nothing finally think that time is running out?]
[The matter between Angron and Sanguinius is more important. The World Eaters and the Golden Blood Church have just informed me. We can discuss it after arriving at the church without further delay.]
At this time, the great Guilliman finally jumped out. Before Hades laughed for the first time, Guilliman led everyone out of the reception port with a laugh.
…
"How are you?"
Hades asked. He could see that Dante was exhausted from extreme anger and shock. Hades lowered his voice.
"What did he say to you?"
"I told him the truth."
Amit's voice sounded from Mortarion's left. The time was now eight o'clock in the morning. The Golden Blood Church, with its back to the eternal sun, cast a shadow on them, shrouding everyone in the shadows.
Along the way, teams of the World Eaters escorted them, but due to the battle with Abaddon a thousand years ago, and the fact that the World Eaters had no intention of running a legion, no outstanding individuals had emerged from the Twelfth Legion over the years.
Mortarion sneered.
Directly in front of them, a golden angel relief was looking down at the Primarch from the outer wall of the cathedral. Its eyes were hollow and golden, and it was holding a spear condescendingly.
That was how he viewed Mortarion at the time.
[The truth? Then let me tell you how I watched him scream and bleed under me.]
Mortarion chuckled. Sometimes, he did feel a sense of schadenfreude that was indistinguishable from his grief.
… …
[Terra]
[8:00 AM]
The place was bustling with people.
Led by the Pope of the Ecclesiarchy Sanguinius, with the Imperial Regent Guilliman on the right and the Imperial Commander Angron on the left, the three Primarchs who held up the Empire when it was in dire straits appeared in people's sight.
The hazy golden halo is the veil bestowed by the gods to half cover his face, to bless his perfection so that it does not hurt the world. Hengri has to shyly move away his light in front of him, because he himself is far hotter and warmer than this golden circle.
The gold ornaments and red diamonds occasionally appear and disappear between the fluffy wings, but at this moment they are the green leaves that contrast with the wings. The most dazzling and brilliant blood diamonds are eclipsed by those pure white feathers.
Flawless, just when such a god stands in front of you, you know that he is God, the Son of God.
He is the center of attention.
He is... the sun.
Cheers! Round after round of ecstatic cheers! The cheers from the crowd almost broke through the sky, and some even fainted from excitement when they saw Sanguinius for the first time, or thought that their cloudy eyes had tarnished the angels, and screamed and clicked their eyeballs.
This made the two Primarchs behind Sanguinius almost pale in comparison. In front of the true archangels, the gap between the two Primarchs and him was far greater than that between the Primarchs and mortals.
But Guilliman and Angron had no time to worry about this.
Guilliman maintained a proper smile as he responded to the crowd, and he went over the following speech and process in his mind over and over again. At the same time, he observed his surroundings vigilantly.
Angron frowned, snorted, and looked around as if he was looking for something. His left hand kept hovering over the battle axe at his waist, as if he would draw it out at any moment.
…
[8:30am]
Winding along the steep ridge of the Himalayas, on a high platform, brown vultures hovered above the heads of the densely packed people.
The four major teams of blood red, azure blue, dazzling white and dazzling gold were neatly arranged on the hillside. Noble ministers and devout believers looked up together. Floating cameras and loudspeakers decorated as little angels were flying in front of the rooftop.
Guilliman's speech finally came to an end, and after cheering for who knows how many times, people cheered again.
In the distance, on the top of the pure white mountain that everyone could see, the dazzling golden palace seemed to be covered with a layer of floating gold, and a vague and huge golden outline appeared on the horizon.
"Isn't it time yet?"
Beneath the feet of everyone, amid the sound of rushing water, a restrained voice was heard.
Mortarion gestured for silence. He was now only seventy-seven meters away from the drainage outlet built by the Mechanicus. He saw a hazy light waving on the inflowing water.
[This is not easy and requires our patience.]
The Primarch was stuck in the underground river in a strange posture. Mortarion was so tall that he had to fix himself in a fractured posture.
He heard the people cheering, cheering Sanguinius, cheering Guilliman, cheering Angron, cheering... the God-Emperor.
The Emperor is not a god, but no one admits that. The truth has long been lost in a dark corner, serving reality - but in order to make up for the lies, Mortarion had to make the same mistakes as them.
People are still cheering.
Praising their virtues and achievements, praising their solemn and handsome appearance, praising their whitewashed reality, how come no one, except the Death Guard, has ever expressed such gratitude to Mortarion
Mortarion was confused by this.
This huge and crazy force of faith squeezed everything on Terra, almost making Mortarion breathless. He felt a little depressed and anxious.
The Pale Lord's power does not come from the Emperor, nor is he the same as him. He is simply himself.
He will change history once again.
This time he fights for humanity.
The Pale Lord lowered his eyes and heard the sound of trumpets in the sunlight. Angels climbed onto the platform to greet the cheers of the crowd.
With a slight crackling sound, he grew again, completely releasing his essence. He only had one chance - otherwise the world would be transformed into a kingdom of God on earth.
This time, salvation still comes from darkness.
8:59 AM
The angel was admired by thousands of people, and everyone stood on tiptoe to look up. The saint chosen from among the mortals held up the crown and walked slowly towards the angel.
At the same time, a swarm of moths transformed from bones flew up from under no one's heeding feet.
Wearing the crown, the giant leaped high, the cold wind whistled in the sky, and the angel seemed to hold down the stars.
In Sanguinius's sight, the sky above Terra was magnificent and brilliant, and the sun seemed never to set. The sky of Baal flashed through his golden pupils. It was so beautiful, so pure. The past is always worth recalling.
In a trance, Sanguinius thought he was still standing on Baal, admiring the sunset over Baal alone, letting the strong wind ruffle his wings.
He didn't realize that a tear of blood ranging from bright red to black was flowing out from the corner of his eye, he didn't realize the fangs growing in his mouth, he was just in a trance for a moment.
After the empire was torn apart, the Archangel smiled from the bottom of his heart for the first time.
He missed Baal.
I was very happy at that time.
Then, the sun that almost filled the entire sky turned towards him, revealing its dark side.
(End of this chapter)