My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 414: Angron Makes His Grand Entrance
These past few days, Angron had lived with a faint, persistent unease.
The Astronomican had gone dark. The ships of the World Eaters were battered by warp turbulence, but thanks to Captain Sarrin's command, they had not suffered excessive losses.
Angron paused. Subconsciously, he pressed a hand to the corner of his eye. He still remembered that sensation—the feeling as if his entire soul were burning, trembling, mourning.
—What in the world was that?
Angron pondered. The inactive Nails embedded in his skull reflected the light, docile and silent.
—Someone important to him had met with misfortune.
That was what Angron thought. He trusted his instincts; this too was a gift the Emperor had granted him.
But who could it be?
Could it be the Emperor? After all, the Astronomican had gone out.
Angron did not believe he would feel such sorrow for the Emperor.
So who, then?
As he thought, he realized he already had an answer forming in his mind.
—Hades.
Angron's thoughts shuddered. He recalled the strange disturbances in the galaxy and the warp these past days. The corner of his mouth twitched in disbelief, like a bitter smile.
He remembered that figure charging out of the blood mist, carrying him without hesitation and running through the encirclement of a red-skinned monster.
Yes!
Angron thought—if such a warrior were to have his blazing life extinguished, then fitting of his station, worthy to be buried with him and to mourn him, would be the entire galaxy itself.
Whether he had succeeded or failed, Hades was a true warrior!
If Hades had succeeded, Angron would celebrate his return. If Hades had failed, Angron would complete the mission he had left unfinished.
At that thought, Angron shook his head with a smile.
Right now, he did not even know what had truly happened. It was too early to think so far ahead.
Perhaps he would soon witness the Imperium bestowing honors upon Hades.
Static crackled through the communications channel.
They had arrived.
Macragge, Angron thought. He had heard of it—the realm of his brother with the name Roboute Guilliman. He had never met him, yet he felt familiar with Guilliman, as though they had met long ago.
Hades had harbored an almost obsessive yearning for Macragge.
Angron realized he felt a measure of curiosity toward the world.
Moreover, had Macragge's warp coordinates not suddenly flared to life, the World Eaters would never have found this place.
Now, Macragge's warp projection was like a miniature Astronomican, casting its light toward other star systems.
Fortunately, Angron and Mortarion were not Primarchs sensitive to politics—or perhaps they had noticed this as well, but simply did not care.
If it had been someone like Horus, he might already have felt displeasure at the blazing Pharos beacon within Ultramar.
The Pharos beacon shone brilliantly, drawing the gaze of every being.
Within the churning chaos of the warp, a slow, lingering gaze fixed itself upon Ultramar with keen interest.
A low whisper murmured:
"The three have gathered. Fate folds back upon itself, interweaving overlapping shores, stepping toward the correct path."
"He has already been defeated. This is fate's mockery of Him. What He salvaged, what He altered, will all return to the proper course."
. . .
Port of Macragge.
"Angron, brother."
Angron naturally extended his hand and clasped Guilliman's. The gladiator's grip was broad and warm.
Angron laughed heartily. Stepping forward, he skillfully patted Guilliman's back and pulled him into a brief embrace. He felt Guilliman's rigid posture before releasing him.
Guilliman was far less stiff than Mortarion had been.
Grinning, Angron slapped Guilliman's pauldrons and casually glanced at Macragge's azure sky and spotless streets.
He regarded it all with indifference. After all, aside from the gladiator pits, the streets of Nuceria had once looked much the same.
The good news was that under Guilliman's leadership, Macragge had nothing like an arena, there's no oppressive structures of that kind.
Angron smiled and said loudly,
"Thank you for your efforts, brother. Because of that damned warp business, we arrived a little late."
Guilliman blinked sharply and turned to look at Angron, as if this newly met brother had just been struck across the face.
"I am Roboute Guilliman, brother. Welcome to Macragge."
Only then did Guilliman deliver his greeting.
"You were already very swift. To be honest, I did not expect the World Eaters to arrive so soon."
He relaxed into a smile. Perhaps even Guilliman himself did not realize it, but Angron made him feel at ease—like an old acquaintance he had known for years.
Angron let out a booming laugh. He glanced at the ships docked in the harbor—besides the gleaming azure hulls, there were also the muted, somber tones of bone-white and green interspersed among them.
"But it seems we weren't the first to arrive?"
Guilliman paused almost imperceptibly. Angron noticed.
With a smile, Guilliman extended his hand.
"Mortarion of the Fourteenth Legion, the Death Guard, is also here. Though they may depart at any time."
Angron considered this.
"Then Hades is here as well?" He asked it casually.
And then Angron saw Guilliman freeze completely. Slowly—very slowly—Guilliman turned his head, his eyes filled with confusion and puzzlement.
"No, my brother Angron. Hades is not on Macragge."
Guilliman parted his lips and drew in a breath, as though confirming something important.
"You… you know Hades as well?"
Angron burst into laughter and clapped Guilliman heavily on the shoulder plate, nearly making him stumble.
"A true warrior makes friends far and wide!"
Angron declared loudly, leaning closer.
"Brother, surely you don't think you were the only one to notice that unique Blank?"
Guilliman ran through it briefly in his mind. In truth, much like with Dantioch, it was often indeed Guilliman alone who noticed the talents within other Legions—and afterward remembered them, always waiting for the day they might wish to come to Macragge.
Guilliman smiled and quietly attempted to put a little distance between himself and Angron. Angron allowed it without concern.
The Red Angel stood with his hands on his hips. Even while speaking with Guilliman, he energetically surveyed the culture and cityscape of Macragge, as if intending to commit it all to memory.
"I agree with you," Guilliman said.
"Talent is scarce wherever you go, let alone talent that possesses a noble character."
He recalled his pleasant conversation with Hades. In this vast galaxy, few people valued the feelings of others as much as Guilliman did—
They did not wish to treat "humanity in the broad sense" as a mere resource or instrument of power. Even if, as rulers, they were sometimes forced to calculate in such terms, their starting point remained the same: a better life—for every individual.
That was why Guilliman so fervently, so desperately, hoped it would be Hades.
Most Space Marines had certain… habits of disrespect toward civilians. Even the Salamanders carried a subtle air of condescension, though it's very faint.
But Hades had once enthusiastically praised a roadside food stall on Macragge and declared that he absolutely had to try it.
Guilliman believed he would struggle to ever hear another warrior say such a thing—so approachable, so sincere.
What a pity.
It was not Hades.
Once again, Guilliman let out a silent lament.
"Oh… my brother, what is Mortarion doing?"
Angron's abrupt question broke Guilliman's train of thought. Guilliman sighed inwardly.
"He is touring Macragge," he replied.
"I had hoped to accompany him, but I still have official duties to attend to, so I sent my sons to escort him instead."
Guilliman fell silent for a moment. There was a faint edge of gritted teeth in his tone.
"He did not propose inspecting Macragge's defenses, he appears to be wandering about out of boredom. I cannot understand his behavior."
Angron gave a distracted grunt in response. The Red Angel was gazing into the distance now, a strange light flickering in his eyes.
Even in his current state—not yet fully recovered—Angron could still feel it… an intense surge of emotion.
That direction… was it… Mortarion?
"I can understand the Lord of Death's behavior," Angron said, as if recalling something amusing.
"I met Mortarion once. It seems he, too, has been unable to forget Macragge."
"But—"
Angron paused.
"Should we go take a look, Guilliman? It seems there's some kind of disturbance over there in your Macragge."
He turned his head and saw an expression of helplessness and distaste flicker across Guilliman's face.
"Mortarion?" the Lord of Macragge asked cautiously.
Then Guilliman saw the confirmation in Angron's eyes.
Mortarion?!
. . .
In a civilian district some distance from the harbor, a tall, gaunt, ghostlike figure stood in the middle of the street.
Behind him, the crowd pressed together, murmuring and gasping in hushed tones.
Mortarion lowered his gaze, staring silently at the snack stall before him.
The vendor looked on the verge of tears. The mortal cast pleading glances at the Ultramarines standing behind the Lord of Death, but the warriors who were normally so reassuring now seemed painfully small at Mortarion's side.
Perhaps only Lord Guilliman himself could stand on equal footing with such a giant.
At last—perhaps because Mortarion had remained silent for far too long, causing a traffic jam and attracting an ever-growing crowd—the unfortunate Ultramarine beside him stepped forward cautiously.
"…My lord?"
He ventured the question.
Mortarion raised a hand, stopping him from speaking further.
He pointed at several of Macragge's local specialty foods laid out on the stall.
"I'll take this. And this. And this."
The mortal before him reacted as though granted a reprieve from execution, immediately preparing the items at top speed.
Garro stepped forward from Mortarion's side. The veteran accepted the thin pancake-like sweets decorated with cute animal designs.
Mortarion turned his head and looked at the Ultramarine who had spoken earlier.
"You pay. Double. Then go to Guilliman for reimbursement. Tell him this is his treat."
"… "
"If he refuses, then tell him this is his treat for Hades."
Mortarion said it without the slightest change in expression.
<+>
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