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Chapter 110: Don't Think About Clocking Off Just Yet
🕑 Added 2025-08-25 14:53:00 +0000 UTCChapter 110: Don't Think About Clocking Off Just Yet
The crowd was still cheering, the hymns still being sung.
In the plaza, the golden sunlight bathed the two golden-armored giants, as if draping them in a holy radiance.
Dante and Karna clasped hands. The moment instantly became the focus of the entire event. Countless pict-artists beside the Ecclesiarchy priests raised their canvases, eagerly using their brushes to record this sacred meeting. Their strokes were swift, trying to forever capture this moment of solemnity and glory.
Romulus stood to the side, watching. He had wanted to go forward, but Arthur had grabbed his arm. Looking back... Romulus's gaze swept over the cheering populace, his mind working. High Marshal Helbrecht had mentioned more than once that it was best to leave social matters to the sons of Sanguinius. Because of Lord Guilliman's Codex, the relationship between Baal and Ultramar—the two Primarch homeworlds at the south and north of the Ultima Segmentum—had always been a bit delicate.
In this situation, his own appearance might indeed make the atmosphere awkward. In that case, it was better to let Karna and Dante handle the meeting. He trusted that his partner could handle it all properly.
After all, the Ultramarines' reputation among the Blood Angels wasn't exactly stellar...
Karna stood before Dante, his crimson-gold armor gleaming in the sunlight. Dante's gaze, from behind the faceplate of his golden helm, was fixed on Karna, his eyes filled with a complex mixture of expectation and emotion.
Meeting Dante's fervent gaze, Karna spoke slowly, his lowered voice audible only to the sons of Sanguinius.
"I am not the reincarnation of Sanguinius."
The fervor in Dante's eyes immediately faded, replaced by a complex emotion. As the noble Blood Angels, they had always upheld the teachings of Sanguinius, striving to be paragons of nobility and grace. However, fate was cruel. Even for a parent Chapter like the Blood Angels, after the death of Sanguinius, they could not completely suppress the ever-thickening scent of blood in their souls. It was the sweet smell of rotting flesh, emanating from the wound that had been crudely torn open by Horus, a wound that the Great Angel's sacrifice had only managed to scar over. It was a scent that could drive the four carrion vultures of the Warp mad.
"I think we still need some time to get to know each other. It won't be too late to make a decision then, will it?" Karna's tone was calm and composed, as if to soothe the impulse in Dante's heart. This calmness and rationality quickly brought Dante back from his earlier fervor, and also made him breathe a sigh of relief. He realized that his actions just now had almost put both of them on the spot.
"Yes, my Lord. It should be so," Dante replied in a low voice, a hint of fear in his tone. He recalled the incident in the Blood Angels' history when someone had pretended to be the reincarnation of Sanguinius. The turmoil had almost led to a schism within the Chapter. If not for the decisive action of the Sanguinary Priests and the then-Chapter Master's instinct that something was wrong, the entire Chapter might have fallen to a plot woven by a Tzeentchian daemon.
And it had happened more than once. These intermittent historical events made Dante extremely wary of any talk related to the reincarnation of Sanguinius. So, the moment Karna had spoken, he had already understood his intention.
But in front of this lord... Dante's gaze fell on Karna again. His pale hair and silver-blue eyes were exceptionally unique under the sun, as if he were some kind of transcendent being. The Blood Angels' history had no record of such a unique appearance. A trace of doubt and curiosity arose in Dante's heart. He tried to find any flaw in Karna, but even with his centuries of experience, he could not, even with the man's own hint, shake off the influence of his charisma. It was as if Karna was shrouded in an invisible barrier, making it difficult to see his true nature.
"The trials we face in becoming an Angel are never the end, Dante."
A low, cold voice from behind broke Dante's train of thought. He turned his head and looked at the man who had emerged from a hidden corridor. The man wore a suit of blackened power armor, his white hair flowing, his entire being exuding a transcendent aura, like a ghost stepping out of the shadows.
"Mephiston?!" Dante's voice was filled with surprise, almost disbelief. This guy actually came out of his Librarium? Dante had held no hope when he had sent the summons.
Not just him, even the transmigrators were shocked by Mephiston's appearance. They exchanged a look, their eyes full of confusion. In their memory, Mephiston should still be called Calistarius at this time, and his great feat of overcoming the Black Rage and changing his name should have happened during the Third War for Armageddon in 998.M41. But now, all of this was two hundred years early.
Ramesses instinctively looked up, his gaze sweeping over the angel statue on the high platform. He noticed a phantom, winged figure standing on the statue's shoulder. The figure gave him a slight wave.
Ramesses's pupils contracted slightly, then he relaxed.
"The Sanguinor, huh... well, that explains it." The Sanguinor. His specific origin was unknown, but he was likely related to Sanguinius. He could be considered the E-Daemon the Emperor had sent to the Blood Angels. It was probably the Emperor, meddling again because of the transmigrators.
"The blood that flows in our veins has made us endure too much scrutiny, lies, and deceit," Mephiston said, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. Everyone he looked at, except for the transmigrators, felt an invisible pressure, as if they were facing a dark beast that was deeply suppressing its rage.
Mephiston's gaze finally landed on Karna, his tone carrying a hint of scrutiny and vigilance. "But you, my Lord, I truly cannot see if there are lies in your words. Forgive me, the events of the past six months have forced me to re-examine this world."
"I can feel it. The shadow that is constantly approaching from beyond the galaxy. You have come for this."
His words were like a sharp blade, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. Mephiston's arrival had undoubtedly provided everyone with an out. His appearance skillfully changed the subject and eased the awkwardness of the situation.
Dante let out a breath, a sense of relief in his heart for Mephiston's timely arrival. He nodded to the Chief Librarian, then turned to the crowd and said, "Please, follow me, everyone."
Dante had regained his composure. With the authority and poise of a Chapter Master, he strode towards the Fortress-Monastery of the Angels, the Arx Angelicum, his steps steady and powerful. Mephiston followed behind him, his black figure like a silent shadow, a stark contrast to Dante's golden armor.
The transmigrators exchanged a look and then followed. Their hearts were still filled with questions, but they knew this was not the time to ask.
The cheers in the plaza gradually faded, but the melody of the hymns still lingered in the air. The golden sunlight shone on everyone, as if draping them in a holy radiance. Dante led them through a long corridor, towards the depths of the Arx Angelicum.
High above, on the shoulder of the angel statue, the phantom, winged figure still stood, its gaze following the departing group. Ramesses looked back once, his mind working.
The decor of the Arx Angelicum, built up over ten thousand years, was magnificent. On the way to the council chamber, after the Sanguinary Priests had taken the gene-seed samples of the thirteen Crimson Paladins, Dante was patiently recounting the Chapter's history for the elders who had been away for ten thousand years.
Sarpedon looked out of the magnificent viewport at the crimson land. He noticed something was missing.
"Where is Arkh?"
Arkh, the Angel's City. The city that had housed the Blood Angels Legion during the Great Crusade, a place where over a hundred thousand Blood Angels and countless mortals had lived and interacted.
"It has been buried by the sands," Dante said, a look of embarrassment on his face as he was introducing the history on a relief carving. "After the Blood Angels were split into Chapters, we no longer had the ability to maintain the city's facilities and had to seal it away." After ten thousand years, the population of Baal was even smaller than when Sanguinius had first arrived, only able to maintain a loose tribal system.
"This damned Codex Astartes!" Sarpedon's grip was so tight that his power glaive creaked.
"Indeed!" At Sarpedon's side, Drakus, the commander of the Invictarus Suzerain, nodded sincerely. He held back the Nemesis Chapter Master, who, despite also treating the Codex's restrictions as a joke, still wanted to say a word for his own Primarch. Although he was an Ultramarine, and a man of the Second Founding, and had supported Lord Guilliman's decision to break the Legions at the time, to see the Chapters of M41 still treating the Codex like a holy scripture was truly unbearable. The Ultramarines were supposed to be constantly changing to adapt to the difficulties they faced. They should never have been shackled by a so-called "holy book."
Ten thousand years. He didn't know whether to criticize the modern men for their inflexibility or to marvel at Lord Guilliman's wisdom, that something written ten thousand years ago could still be used today.
Drakus sighed inwardly. It was a pity he and Thiel had been put on ice during the fight against the Daemon Primarch Fulgrim. Otherwise, if he had known Lord Guilliman had entered a stasis field, he would have definitely requested an audience with Lord Dorn and had the Codex revised.
With Sarpedon taking the lead, the surrounding Crimson Paladins also began to discuss the matter with the Invictarus Suzerains. The Crimson Paladins criticized the Codex and slandered Lord Guilliman for not participating in the Siege of Terra but still presiding over the breaking of the Legions and reaping the fruits of victory. The Invictarus Suzerains ignored the emotional slander, agreed with the criticism, and proposed theoretical solutions.
The younger Astartes around them didn't dare to make a sound. Only the transmigrators, the Black Templars, and the Nemesis Chapter silently committed the solutions to memory.
And Dante, silently leading the group forward, realized with a sense of despair that he probably couldn't count on this elder, Sarpedon, to handle the Chapter's future affairs either.
(End of Chapter)
