Chapter 108: Dante: I'm so envious, I just want to clock out.
Baal, Arx Angelicum.
Dante stood on the high walls, his gaze fixed on the crusade fleet that was transitioning into the star system. The magnificent military force shimmered with a cold light in the void, like a steel ocean slowly pouring into this region of space. A faint smile touched the lips of the weary, ancient warrior as he watched the scene.
It was a smile mixed with complex emotions: a yearning for and envy of glory, and a helplessness in the face of fate.
Like every Space Marine who sought death and glory, Dante, who had served for nearly eight hundred years, a Chapter Master who had led the Blood Angels for longer than his own Primarch, had always longed for his own glorious death.
However, fate always seemed to enjoy playing one joke after another on him.
As the friends and seniors at his side departed one by one, he remained steadfast in his position as Chapter Master, guarding the Blood Angels century after century.
There seemed to be no end to this future.
"My Lord, I must take my leave," the Sanguinary Priest from the Flesh Tearers Chapter said in a low voice. He had just received a communication from the fleet and knew that a sacred meeting was about to take place. He instinctively wanted to avoid it. His voice was tinged with fatigue, his eyes revealing a deep worry for the future.
"You may accompany me," Dante said gently, his voice low and calm, as if trying to soothe the other's anxiety.
"There is no need, my Lord. They still require my administration," the Sanguinary Priest said, shaking his head. He gave a firm salute and turned to leave. His figure seemed heavy and lonely, for he carried the fate of his entire Chapter on his shoulders.
The Flesh Tearers Chapter was beset by a concentrated outbreak of the Red Thirst and the Black Rage. The warriors were continuously being lost to the thirst for blood from their genetic instincts and the fury of the Warp's influence. For the future of his Chapter, he had been forced to bring the Chapter's four remaining companies here to seek the aid of their Primogenitor.
However, the result was not ideal. The Blood Angels themselves had no good solution for the curse upon them. The examples of Dante and Mephiston were of no reference value; not everyone possessed their willpower and talent to resist their genetic instincts and the influence of the Warp.
"Sigh—"
Dante let out a long sigh, looking back at the empty golden corridor. The walls on both sides were inlaid with statues of Sanguinius, the golden light casting his lonely figure on the floor.
The long-term suppression of the desires that came from his Sanguinary instincts had weakened Dante's body and withered his spirit. He even felt exhausted when dealing with Chapter affairs much of the time.
He walked to the end of the corridor and accepted the golden helmet from a chapter serf, hiding his aged face beneath the wrath of Sanguinius. The weight of the golden helm pressed down on his head, as if the fate of the entire Chapter was pressing down on his shoulders.
"Have Mephiston come to me," Dante commanded in a low voice.
The Sanguinary Guard hesitated for a moment, but out of respect for Dante, he still seriously accepted the task. "Yes, Lord Dante," he replied in a low voice, then turned and left.
Mephiston, Chief Librarian of the Blood Angels. His high status was matched only by his terrible reputation. More than once, battle-brothers had sought an audience with Dante to demand the execution of the Chief Librarian who had returned from the Black Rage. There were even members who had tried to go rogue while on missions with him.
No one knew what the Chief Librarian had seen in that black rage, but Dante instinctively felt that Mephiston's death would drag the Chapter into an abyss. Yet he could not tell this to those around him. A Chapter Master who believed in so-called "revelations"... if the problem-children below him knew, who knows what kind of chaos would ensue.
A rare look of bitterness appeared on Dante's face, hidden behind the golden mask. He took a deep breath, suppressing the worries in his heart.
The decay of his body and the decline of his energy were naturally accompanied by a decline in his control over the Chapter. Although they all respected him as their Chapter Master, there were always those who acted on their own.
In a certain moment, he so wished he could have a helper. He dared not hope for a successor to the Chapter, but even just a single son of the Angel, besides himself, who could take up the burden in the Blood Angels' time of crisis, would have been enough. However, in the long centuries, he had not even had a single companion with whom he could share the pressure.
"..."
Pushing aside the melancholy in his heart, Dante looked up at the sky. A massive transport fleet was slowly descending, its huge shadow covering the ceremonial plaza. On the plaza, the warriors of the Blood Angels had already assembled, their ranks neat, waiting for the arrival of the envoys.
Dante strode towards the plaza, his golden armor shining brightly in the sun.
Duty compelled him. It was time to welcome the envoys.
"It has been ten thousand years," Sepatus said, looking at the planet below. The Crimson Paladin's grip on his power glaive tightened slightly, a hint of melancholy in his voice. "It is no different from ten thousand years ago."
Sanguinius had always believed that things would get better. He had planted vineyards on Baal, hoping that in the future, this planet could, like a garden world, fill the endless red with its own emerald and azure. But after ten thousand years, in an age where the Primarch had long since departed, this planet was still the same. It had never changed.
The salt-farmers still struggled in the harsh environment. The various tribes that worshipped the Angel Sanguinius still fought among themselves on Baal and its moons for survival.
Without a doubt, these countless scenes from reality seemed to prove that his Primarch had been wrong.
Things had not gotten better.
Ten thousand years ago, the Blood Angels, under the leadership of their Primarch, had been like an invincible sword, sweeping across the galaxy, guarding the future of humanity. And now, although the warriors were still loyal, still brave, they seemed to have lost some core strength, had become isolated and helpless, their steps heavy.
His gaze swept over the faces of the warriors, trying to find a glimmer of hope in their eyes. However, all he saw was fatigue, confusion, and uncertainty about the future.
A pang of sorrow rose in Sepatus's heart. He knew that these warriors were still holding on, still fighting, but what they faced was a world far crueler than the one ten thousand years ago.
"Perhaps, we were truly wrong," Sepatus whispered to himself, his voice almost drowned out by the mechanical hum of the bridge. His hand slowly released the hilt of his power glaive, his fingertips gently tracing the patterns on the blade, as if seeking some comfort. However, his heart still felt empty, as if he had lost something important.
Without their Primarch, everything seemed to be getting worse.
"No," a voice said at his side. Karna was stroking the viewport, looking at the deep red earth. "It has already begun to change."
"..."
"Why the long face?" Karna placed a fruit platter in front of Sepatus. "Try some."
His tone was lazy, but in Sepatus's ears, it held a note of unrefusable authority. And—looking at that face, bathed in a glorious light, like a son of the sun, Sepatus did not want to refuse. So he reached out and took a dark grape, placing it in his mouth.
"Is it sweet?"
"It is sweet." Sepatus could not lie.
"In the future, Baal will produce these fruits. Industry will gradually replace the heavy labor. The salt-farmers will no longer have to worry about their livelihood. The tribes will no longer need to plunder for survival. Azure and emerald will gradually cover this barren red."
Anyway, Karna couldn't understand the logic of population management in this universe. You have the technology, you have the people, why do you have to make life so hard? A harsh environment does, relatively speaking, produce higher quality soldiers, but to make it harsh for the sake of being harsh was a bit absurd. It wasn't like the quality of the Ultramarines' soldiers was any worse, and in the 30k era, many of their heroes came directly from the good families of Ultramar.
The transmigrators had always felt that the recruitment mechanisms of most Chapters were abstract to a certain degree, purely tragic for the sake of being tragic.
"The sons of the Angel should not have to live like this. They also have the right to strive for a better future."
Ramesses's research results were in. The "Black Rage channel" he had could indeed be mixed into the Warp-connection of the other Blood Angels, adding a controllable valve to the boundless outpouring of grief for Sanguinius's death that afflicted his sons. Sepatus and the others, who could freely control the Black Rage, were the best proof of this. And with the influence of the Black Rage suppressed, it became much easier for the Blood Angels to control their Red Thirst. They no longer had to bear the double pressure of these two flaws.
Sepatus was stunned. He thought of the miracle of his own return from death, the connection that had isolated the desire in his heart, and then he thought of the lords who spread the light of humanity like the sun. This made him step out, just slightly, from the grief of his Primarch's passing. A hint of hope entered his voice.
"Yes, Lord Karna. We will. Just like ten thousand years ago."
"The Blood Angels welcome your arrival, High Marshal Helbrecht, and War-Host Master Aelon Laseus..."
Dante personally came to the spaceport to welcome this great crusade fleet. He looked at the leaders of the Chapters, at the fully equipped honor guards behind them, as if they were ready to step onto a battlefield at any moment. He couldn't help but imagine how wonderful it would be if he were one of them.
"Thank you for welcoming us personally, Lord Dante," Helbrecht said, using a respectful title out of deference to the aged warrior.
"The Arx Angelicum will shine brighter for your arrival."
Dante did not immediately lead them inside, but chose to exchange pleasantries. He had keenly noticed that the transport Helbrecht had disembarked from was not docked at the main position. In the very center of the landing pad were several Stormbirds, which had just landed, their Chapter insignia scrubbed clean.
This was a breach of protocol. Could there be a presence even more noble than the leader of a Founding Chapter?
"Are you ready?" Romulus asked, looking at the Blood Angels, who still seemed to be struggling.
Unlike the Invictarus Suzerains, who were philosophical about the state of modern Ultramar—after all, although Greater Ultramar had been broken up, the standard of living in their home system was still the highest in the entire galaxy, and the prosperity of Macragge had continued to this day—these Blood Angels had suffered a considerable shock after seeing the state of modern Baal. If Karna hadn't shared his Black Rage channel with them, they probably would have succumbed to the flaw.
"We are ready."
The ramp of the transport slowly opened. Sepatus took a deep breath, suppressing the emotions in his heart. He knew he could not stop here. No matter what the future held, he had to keep moving forward. For the ideals of his Primarch and the lords, for the glory of the Blood Angels, for the people who were still struggling.
Following in Karna's footsteps, he strode towards the ramp, his steps firm and heavy. The twelve Crimson Paladins followed close behind, their armor shining brightly in the sun.
Under the cheers of countless Imperial high commanders, the Crimson Paladins, who had been absent from the galaxy for ten thousand years, once again set foot on this familiar land.
?
Dante, who had been looking straight ahead, froze.
(End of Chapter)