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Chapter 1076: The Return of the Angel
🕑 Added 2025-01-08 20:00:08 +0000 UTCThe Imperium of Man, the 42nd Millennium, the home of the Blood Angels, Baal.
The entire planet was burning.
The Tyranid fleet, Leviathan, was besieging this ancient yet barren world. This was not a place that should have interested the Tyranid swarm. The planet was covered in deserts, with scarce resources, and perpetually shrouded in red mist. No place was habitable.
Yet, something was clearly attracting the Tyranids. The Hive Mind was desperate to devour this planet. An enormous fleet had gathered, ready to plunder and consume everything to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
The Tyranid swarm had ravaged the galaxy for five centuries, consuming hundreds of planets. The Tyranids devoured everything, including organic matter and even things corrupted into Warp energy by Chaos, absorbing it all. The swarm constantly evolved, with the Hive Mind adapting to enemy weapons, tactics, and traits through genetic mutations and absorbing their genes, creating new armies and strategies. With enough resources, the swarm was endless, while humanity’s strength dwindled every second.
Yet, even in such dark times, heroic men and women of the Imperium took to the battlefield, fighting a desperate struggle. No matter how slim the chances of victory, no matter how vast the swarm, resistance persisted.
Now, the resistance had come to Baal, the homeworld of the Blood Angels Chapter.
Dante, Chapter Master of the Blood Angels, had served the Imperium for 1,500 years. He was perhaps one of the oldest Chapter Masters still alive who had not been entombed in a Dreadnought. Over his long service, his body had been riddled with wounds, and his soul was weary. Yet, in the face of the Leviathan fleet’s threat, the flames of battle and determination burned once more in his chest.
Dante sent out a call to the universe, and almost all the Blood Angels’ successor Chapters responded, rushing to defend Baal, the homeworld of the Blood Angels.
To defend their home, these sons of Sanguinius had exhausted almost all their strength. In the battles for the outer moons, five Chapter Masters had fallen. Then, in the battle for Baal itself, ten entire Chapters had been wiped out.
Now, the last sons of the Blood Angels held their final stronghold in the monastery, where they prepared to make their last stand as the next wave of attacks loomed. Doom seemed to be descending upon the sons of Sanguinius.
---
The entire planet was burning, and the battle raged on. Humanity was making a desperate resistance. How many enemies were there? It was unclear, but every living soul had to fight against ten, a hundred, a thousand times their number in Tyranids.
Chapter Master Dante was still making his last stand, facing a Hive Tyrant alone—this dangerous ultimate bio-weapon was the pinnacle of the Hive Lord’s evolution. These already massive, towering, and fearsome creatures were three times Dante’s height. Its sharp bone swords and symbiotic blades sliced through Dante’s power armor like cloth.
The enemy’s strength was more formidable than any Dante had ever faced. Every part of its body was designed for killing and combat. Different Hive Tyrants corresponded to different bio-weapons, psychic abilities, and combat forms. And this Hive Tyrant before him…
The Blood Angels Chapter Master could feel the sharp bone blades piercing his body, his heart, and his spine. Dante gasped in agony, tasting blood in his mouth.
He was going to die.
But it was not over yet. As the Hive Tyrant’s bone swords and symbiotic blades broke through Dante’s defenses, they also left the Hive Tyrant wide open. Dante mustered his last strength and aimed his inferno pistol at the Hive Tyrant’s face.
“By the blood of Sanguinius, I have served the Imperium and the Emperor for 1,500 years,” Dante said silently. “It is enough. I have given everything, for Sanguinius, for the Emperor, and for the Imperium of Man.”
He pulled the trigger.
I may not be the golden warrior prophesied to stand before the Emperor.
No, certainly not!
The Chapter Master’s body fell onto the barren land of Baal. The red desert opened its arms to welcome its child, even as Baal faced its most desperate hour.
Then, darkness swept over his consciousness, engulfing him.
“Wake up, Dante!” Just as Dante’s consciousness was plummeting, a warm golden light enveloped him. A familiar yet unfamiliar voice echoed in the depths of his mind, pulling him into an embrace. “Wake up, Dante, my greatest son. Open your eyes!”
The warm golden light healed his wounds and soothed his weary soul. The pain seemed to fade. Dante tried to open his eyes, and then his pupils dilated to their limits.
“Father?”
The face of the Angel, filled with warmth and love, appeared before Dante. He was smiling, but tears welled in his eyes. Sanguinius’s face, brimming with vitality, radiated only love, justice, and courage. The Archangel spread his wings, their white feathers so sacred and pure. Sanguinius’s figure shone like the midday sun, and behind him, sunlight bathed the land. The golden sun filled the sky. The Emperor’s salvation had come.
“Father… is this… hell?” Dante’s voice was weak and frail.
“This is the mortal realm,” the Primarch reached out and touched the wounds torn open by the Hive Tyrant. Waves of golden energy surged from the Warp, pouring into Dante’s body. Tears streamed down Sanguinius’s face as he spoke softly, “1,500 years… you’ve suffered, my son.”
“If you truly care for me, let me rest, please? Father?” Dante pleaded with his gene-father. “I’ve given everything.”
“But I must refuse, Dante. In this world, no one can stand aside. No one.” Sanguinius’s face first showed sorrow, but soon, his expression warmed. “Are you ready to fight by my side once more?”
“By your side?” the Chapter Master murmured. “My lord, that’s impossible!”
“I’ve been separated from my father, my brothers, and you, my precious sons,” scalding tears of the Angel fell on Dante’s chest. Sanguinius was crying, but also smiling. “Those were the people I fought alongside, shared pain and laughter with.”
“Shared laughter?” Dante said quietly. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had laughed.
“Betrayal, destruction, fratricide… I fell before Horus, but I’m still fighting!” Sanguinius said softly. The Primarch’s fingers brushed Dante’s face, feeling its contours. “Even if we’re apart, even if I can no longer fight side by side with my father, my brothers, or you, I can always feel that my blood is still with you, fighting together, winning together. We are not alone.”
“Even if we’re apart, we’re still together?” A warm current flowed through the Chapter Master’s body. The Primarch’s power drove away the call of death. Sanguinius reached out his hand, signaling Dante to take it. “Are you ready, my greatest son? Let’s go!”
“Yes!” Long-lost passion and fervor returned. Dante took his gene-father’s hand.
Endless light appeared on the battlefield, illuminating the skies of Baal, lighting up the entire battlefield.
Flames soared, and fire lit up the heavens. A sacred Archangel descended before everyone, his voice booming like a bell.
The Red Grail Blade in one hand, the Spear of Telesto pointed to the sky, a breathtaking, magnificent scene unfolded before all.
The Primarch of the Ninth Legion, Sanguinius, had returned in an unimaginable form. His iconic wings, raised to the heavens, left everyone speechless. Like a Warp storm or a supernova explosion, he struck awe into the hearts of all, even the Tyranids, who momentarily froze.
Our Primarch! He has returned!
He was so sacred, so great, so full of vibrant life!
He had returned! He had come back in Baal’s darkest hour!
The Archangel’s face was no longer sorrowful or smiling. Instead, it was filled with rage and fury, as if an uncontrollable fire of wrath burned within him. All the sons of Sanguinius felt their gene-father’s anger.
Unforgivable!
Sanguinius made the simplest gesture. With a single pointed finger, Chapter Master Dante and his remaining sons obeyed their Primarch’s command without hesitation.
Fight!
The Primarch’s wings spread, and he soared into the sky, then descended at a speed beyond the eye’s ability to follow. The Red Grail Blade flashed like lightning, cleaving a Tyranid Warrior in two.
The slaughter began!
Countless Tyranids charged at Sanguinius.
The first to be bisected was a Ravener, its body neatly sliced in half, purple blood spraying into the sky.
A golden phantom with wings flashed across the battlefield, dodging incoming plasma fire. Wherever he passed, the Tyranids were reduced to minced meat beneath their hardened carapace.
Next were the Acid Beasts, Biovores, and Lictors.
A Hive Tyrant seemed intent on stopping the demigod’s slaughter. Its heavy venom cannon had barely fired before it was severed from its body. But Sanguinius would not ignore this. The Primarch of the Blood Angels knew how much suffering these scum had brought to his home. He closed in swiftly and delivered a decisive counterattack.
The tip of the Spear of Telesto pierced the Hive Tyrant’s skull. The pure mark inscribed by the Emperor himself unleashed a powerful force, instantly vaporizing the Tyrant’s entire head. The headless giant’s body collapsed.
Another Hive Tyrant came to challenge the demigod, but Sanguinius excelled at fighting larger foes. The Primarch moved like lightning. Just before colliding with the Hive Tyrant’s pair of bone swords, which carried a cutting field capable of slicing through any psychic shield or adamantium like air, Sanguinius plummeted downward.
A simple “V” dive and ascent, and the Hive Tyrant’s two reverse-jointed legs were severed. The terrifying beast lost its support and fell like a heavy boulder. Before it could adapt to the new situation, its head was already flying from its neck. The flames on Sanguinius’s Red Grail Blade burned the Hive Tyrant’s corpse until it glowed, sparks flying everywhere.
No Tyranid could stop him. No being could deal with this demigod who had returned from death, at least not here.
The slaughter continued. As Sanguinius single-handedly drew the attention and fire of the entire Tyranid swarm, his sons were also inspired by the sight.
“In the name of the Archangel! For the Emperor! For Sanguinius!”
“We will not dishonor the blood of Sanguinius!”
The warriors who bore the Angel’s blood charged once more.
---
When Guilliman and his expedition fleet arrived at Baal, the battle was already over.
The skies were clear again, with few traces of the Warp storm. Morning had come, and Baal had returned to its natural hues of pink and blue. The Ultramarines were clearly astonished by the scene before them, but with Sanguinius’s appearance, all the Ultramarines were ordered by Captain Sicarius to pay their respects to the (possibly) greatest Primarch.
Even the Honor Guard raised their swords in salute to Sanguinius.
“Welcome, Lord of the Ninth Legion,” Captain Sicarius saluted. “Our master awaits you inside.”
Sanguinius seemed not yet fully emerged from the previous battle. He merely nodded politely, trying to maintain his composure. He recalled the past and couldn’t help but smile self-deprecatingly. He checked his red robe and continued walking forward under the gaze of thousands of Space Marines and dozens of Custodians. There, seated on a pure adamantium throne adorned with hundreds of decorations, was the Imperial Regent, Roboute Guilliman.
“It’s been so, so long, brother.”
“Is it really you? Have you truly returned? You’ve finally come back! Sanguinius, my brother!” Guilliman was so overwhelmed with emotion that he didn’t know what to do. He tossed the Emperor’s Sword aside and hurried down the steps, grasping Sanguinius’s shoulders.
“Roboute, you’re always late. Ten thousand years ago, and ten thousand years later,” Sanguinius smiled, but his words were cutting. “Even better, the Lion didn’t come at all. Good, nothing has changed. What should I call you? Lord Regent? Same as before?”
“Just call me brother,” Guilliman clumsily wiped away his tears. “Sorry, there’s too much to take in. I’m a bit…”
“You should thank Ryan’s efforts, that dark elf Olica’s work, and Fulgrim’s full protection,” Sanguinius smiled. “And the timely support of your close friend, the Triumvirate of the Ynnari.”
Sanguinius recounted his experiences to Guilliman, and the two Primarchs exchanged information.
“Mortarion! That bastard! I’ll capture him myself! But the situation is bad, brother,” Guilliman’s smile faded. “Father has reliable information. Kor Phaeron, Lorgar’s foster father, that lunatic Lucius from Fulgrim’s ranks, and the Daemon Prince Reborn, M’kar, have all secretly infiltrated the world where Ryan, Fulgrim, and Russ are. Besides them, there’s also the Daemon Prince of Nurgle, Mephidast, the Daemon Prince of Slaanesh, Ka’Bandha, and so on.”
“Let’s think carefully about how we can help Ryan, Fulgrim, and Russ,” Sanguinius sighed softly. “But one thing is certain: we can’t go there again.”
“Why?” Guilliman was still puzzled. Sanguinius pointed to the sky.
Baal’s moons, Baal Primus and Baal Secundus, continued their slow waltz around the planet as usual. But Baal Primus was now dead. On its southern hemisphere, the mark of Khorne’s greatest daemon, Ka’Bandha, was clearly visible. The eight Khornate runes, made from the skulls of millions of Tyranids, were etched into the moon’s bright surface.
“This is a challenge! Ka’Bandha and I have a lot of unfinished business!”
“But what worries me more is that Khorne might send that one.”
“That one? You mean the Des—” Guilliman’s expression changed.
“I know Khorne,” Sanguinius nodded. The Primarch of the Blood Angels closed his eyes and said helplessly, “I wonder what Angron is doing now.”
“Perhaps only he can deal with that one.”
