"Your unhesitating human impulse saved this mortal."
The Emperor's face was expressionless. He pointed a golden light into the mortal's body, then looked down at his son with a scrutinizing gaze: "It also made me re-examine your existence."
"Sanguinius."
The thirsting water flowed from the mortal's body, and life filled his shriveled form. The Emperor dispelled death, granting him a new lease on life.
Sanguinius remained kneeling, understanding that his father was testing his character with the life of a mortal.
If he had shown even a hint of hesitation, the Emperor would not have wavered in unleashing a thunderous judgment upon the faith of this planet.
"What if I hadn't saved him?" The angel looked up, his beautiful face gazing at his father, hoping for an answer to an alternative possibility.
"He is a kind and good person." The Emperor lowered his finger, pointing at the mortal in his son's arms. His voice was like a majestic heavenly power, infinitely authoritative yet cold and merciless: "If he had died, a void of faith would have been buried with a truly good heart."
"You saved him, proving that beneath your seemingly holy mutated exterior, a flicker of humanity still exists, earning you a chance to justify yourself."
The Emperor made no attempt to hide his feelings, nor did he consider Sanguinius's emotions. His cold words were filled with disgust.
When Sanguinius had made his prophecy, the Emperor had already used his psychic abilities to learn everything about his son.
He could not tolerate that his son, whom he had held such high hopes for, had grown unholy organs on his body.
Those pure white wings were too dazzling, a blasphemy against the imperial truth, and a direct manifestation of the Warp's essence.
What troubled the Emperor even more was that he saw through his son's twisted exterior to a sincere heart, whose act of saving someone shone with human brilliance.
Had Sanguinius hesitated, failing to save the mortal's life, the Emperor would have acted without hesitation, erasing his son's twisted form and reshaping him at an opportune moment.
But the truth was, Sanguinius did not hesitate; he risked danger to save the mortal, proving his noble soul.
In the Emperor's eyes, the mutated form and the shining inner self contradicted each other, appearing on his son.
Such a contradiction, entwined with the Emperor's own conflicting emotions, brought a bitter taste to his mouth. The Emperor didn't know how to—
"His appearance is not something he can decide."
The atmosphere was terrifyingly stiff. As the scorching desert grew cold due to the father and son's standoff, a low voice broke the silence from the side.
Blazkowicz stood from a third-person perspective, an outsider offering a relatively impartial opinion.
"Get up first." He walked to the kneeling angel, extending a hand from beneath his cloak. His black eyes, under the hood, looked at the beautiful face and said: "You are not wrong. Many things are not for you to decide, and this is not the place to talk."
Sanguinius glanced at the large hand before him, his cerulean eyes trembling as he looked up at the expressionless, rugged face beneath the hood.
He knew deeply that a relatively fair statement, heard by the Emperor at this very moment, would undoubtedly be a serious bias.
Clap~
Two hands clasped together. Sanguinius felt the warmth of the friendly hand, pulling himself up from the scorching sand.
The Emperor glanced at the pure white wings, shook his robes in displeasure, and turned to walk in the direction Sanguinius had come from.
Blazkowicz nodded at Sanguinius, signaling him to leave first, as he had other matters to attend to.
Due to the Emperor's displeasure, Sanguinius dared not fly. He held the unconscious mortal and followed behind him, one after the other, walking towards the Blood tribe's settlement.
Seeing the two depart, Blazkowicz crouched beside the thirsting water and sent landing coordinates to his voidship.
Such conscious technological constructs possessed extremely high research value. Collecting samples and deciphering their functional structure might prove useful one day.
As the shuttle descended, Blazkowicz stood up and left, unhurriedly catching up with the two who had left ahead of him.
The Blood Tribe's settlement. Disordered buildings, constructed from ancient ruins, were encircled by walls and situated on a massive rock. The buildings had a scorched yellow hue, bearing witness to the marks left by the scorching sun and sandstorms over the years.
Looking along the heat-distorted horizon, many people stood at the settlement's gate, clad in radiation suits, their subtle movements filled with anxiety.
They were waiting for Sanguinius to return.
In the past, such a situation had never occurred; the angel had left without a word, weapon in hand, as if going to an appointment from which there was no return.
The Blood tribe waited for a long time, until the star set. The angel's departure was like the night, shrouding the hearts of his followers.
But it was strange; today's star seemed to set very slowly. It lingered on the edge of the undulating barren dunes, reluctant to descend further.
Was it an illusion, as if the star had turned golden and was approaching the settlement?
The mortals polished their protective goggles, widened their eyes in disbelief, and then knelt before the golden sun.
A colossal figure slowly approached, radiating golden light. From the face of that magnificent being, people saw perfection and hope, and hot tears streamed down their faces.
The angel they had hoped for, with folded wings, walked alongside him. His white wings were tinged with gold, and he carried a sleeping mortal in his arms.
Witnessing this sacred scene, the crowd could no longer suppress their feelings of salvation. They prostrated themselves, their choked sobs tearing at their throats, and they wept loudly.
They worshipped, they repented, they yearned for salvation.
"Faith is so fragile." The Emperor's gaze was cold, his expression indifferent. His words were indistinguishable between a reprimand and a whisper: "They worship you, but upon encountering another image that better fits their expectations, they immediately change their object of worship."
Sanguinius remained silent, his beautiful face showing neither sorrow nor joy. He did not refute the Emperor's words.
People's worship had always been like this, like an abyss of desire, never-ending and without bottom, constantly pushing boundaries, seeking something more sacred and beautiful.
Nor did he blame the Blood tribe for shifting their worship. In the galaxy, no one could resist the Emperor's radiance.
"I accept faith, not for religious rule."
Amidst the people's weeping worship, Sanguinius spoke for the first time about the faith on Baal Secundus, explaining why faith existed.
His voice was clear, like a trickling spring: "To defeat the enemy, I must unite the people. A truly existing idol is more real and practical than any dogma."
"I set an example, using myself to establish a noble goal for mortals."
As Sanguinius spoke, a hint of struggle appeared on his beautiful, desirable face. Then he sighed and asked, "Father—are you not the same?"
At these words, the Emperor stopped. Everyone's heart suddenly paused, an invisible force grasping their throats and hearts.
He slowly turned his head, golden light casting from his eyes.
On this issue, Sanguinius did not back down, looking up to meet his father's gaze without the slightest retreat.
The air instantly solidified. A single question pulled back the Emperor's veil of pretense.
He strictly forbade faith and rejected religion, resisting personal worship and idolization, yet he himself used the same methods to constantly gather people's hearts.
This question had always existed: the Emperor, who opposed faith, was the object of worship for the entire Imperium of Man.
The sound of shoes crunching on gravel broke the standoff abruptly.
Glancing at the two wide-eyed individuals, Blazkowicz pointed to the Blood tribe's settlement and said, "Aren't you going to go in and sit down?"
The Emperor ignored him, lowering his head to look at Sanguinius, stating unequivocally: "I will destroy your faith."
There was no room for discussion in his tone. The Emperor, in order to eliminate faith, mercilessly delivered his judgment.
Sanguinius did not condemn his father's cruelty, nor did he defend himself. He merely gently set down the mortal in his arms.
Walking before the Emperor, he drew the longsword from his waist. He spread his wings, shielding the Blood tribe's settlement behind him, and said with even greater determination: "I cannot stop you, nor can I defeat you, but I will continue to protect them."
"Don't you understand?" Facing such stubbornness, the Emperor's voice involuntarily rose: "Faith is a slow poison. After you use it, the backlash will be even fiercer!"
"Without external enemies, faith will slowly decay, then be reshaped and distorted, ultimately destroying everything built upon it."
"Of course I understand!" Sanguinius's expression was firm and unyielding, his longsword held before him. "That's why I will never abandon them."
"Though mortals are very fragile, becoming base to survive, when they kneel before me, an undeniable responsibility falls upon my shoulders."
"In this world riddled with radiation, the faith you despise is everything mortals possess besides their lives. Apart from faith, they have nothing."
"They have not forsaken me, and I will never fail them."
"If you wish to remove faith, I can teach them to face themselves, but I will never allow you to destroy them, unless you step over my corpse."
His clear words fell, resounding powerfully, his blue eyes unwavering under the gaze of the Emperor.
"Good!!!"
Such responsibility and resolve! The Emperor couldn't help but cheer in his heart.
Yet, this most brilliant human responsibility and noble virtue appeared in a mutated body.
He could easily imagine how the mortals of the Imperium of Man would worship and how their faith would reach a climax if this radiant and beautiful image were revealed to them.
"Good!!!"
Compared to the Emperor's conflicted heart, Blazkowicz Novick cheered loudly, praising without reservation: "Not being misled by the superficiality of faith, but instead being able to view it correctly and shoulder the expectations as a responsibility—this sense of responsibility is truly extraordinary."
He turned to the Emperor and asked, "Or are you saying you want your son to be a traitor who abandons mortals and forsakes his place of upbringing?"
Traitor! Heretic!
Two incredibly malicious words, far more severe than faith, struck the Emperor's mind like a heavy punch, making him somewhat dizzy.
His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, raising his gaze to stare at the pair of dazzling white wings.
As Blazkowicz said, Sanguinius's external physiological characteristics were not something he could control.
It was Erda, the Primarch's mother; she was seduced by Chaos, betrayed him and the Imperium of Man, and opened the psychic barrier.
When the Chaos Gods snatched away his sons, they must have tampered with them, leading to the appearance of physical mutations.
Yet, even with just a brief interaction, Sanguinius's conduct was excellent, his sincere heart radiating human brilliance, far surpassing that of other Primarchs.
The Emperor was caught between love and aversion for Sanguinius; he loved the innocent heart but detested the mutated form.
He glanced at Blazkowicz, then his gaze returned to Sanguinius, who stood in front, and finally settled on the mortals behind his son.
"Alas—" After weighing the pros and cons, the Emperor shook his head helplessly, knowing he couldn't change his son's determination.
A hint of joy finally appeared in Sanguinius's firm eyes; his father's sigh meant that the people of Baal Secundus could live.
He relaxed his stance, preparing to thank the Emperor for his benevolence, but then saw the Emperor raise his hand and shoot a beam of psychic light at him.
Everything happened too fast; the mortals hadn't even had time to react when a brilliant light erupted around the Emperor, and he vanished with Sanguinius.
Blazkowicz looked up at space; a golden light streaked across the night as the Emperor used psychic teleportation to take his son away.
He retracted his gaze, looked at the bewildered mortals, and shook his head helplessly. The Emperor departed gracefully with the light, leaving him to handle the aftermath.
"You don't have to worry; Sanguinius will return."
After reassuring the startled mortals, Blazkowicz summoned a shuttle to pick him up and head to the Emperor's Dream.
He was a little worried that a conflicted father and son, entangled in love and hate, might have other clashes, leading to further conflict.
When Blazkowicz stepped into the glittering palace, the Emperor sat on the throne, Sanguinius knelt below, and an Imperial official was reading out an agreement.
Blazkowicz stood at the doorway, listened for a moment, and a smile played on his lips.
The agreement was very brief, perhaps moved by Sanguinius's kindness in protecting his people, or perhaps by the Emperor's conflicted love.
The Emperor granted the Baal system autonomy.
From then on, the Baal system would be under the jurisdiction of the Angel, and Imperial ships would not be allowed to enter the Baal system without the Angel's permission.
The people of Baal could worship the Angel; the imperial truth would not be forcibly imposed.
It was clear that the Emperor also wanted to see how far the Angel could go, and whether he could prove everything he said through his actions.
As the price for high autonomy, Sanguinius needed to restrain his people, ensuring that the primitive Angel worship remained on Baal and did not spread into the Imperium.
Blazkowicz could tell that the Emperor had put some thought into this brief agreement.
The autonomy, seemingly permissive, was in fact a constraint, constantly reminding the Angel not to forget his promises to the people in front of the Emperor.
Should Sanguinius ever falter, the Imperium's punitive fleet would arrive.
To restrict faith, Imperial warships were not allowed to come, and without much contact, faith would naturally not spread.
An autonomy agreement was, in fact, a cage for faith, a sharp knife pressed against Sanguinius's back, keeping him constantly vigilant.
At the end of the agreement, the high-hatted diplomat looked up and chanted in a sharp voice: "This agreement is signed by the Emperor—the Emperor—and his son Sanguinius; may the binding force of this autonomy agreement endure forever."
He then turned, holding the agreement scroll, and bowed slightly to Blazkowicz, continuing to chant: "Witnessed by the Lord of the Stars—Blazkowicz Novick; may the justice of this agreement never waver."
Blazkowicz frowned slightly, not expecting this matter to involve him.
After the Emperor and Sanguinius finished signing, the diplomat carefully presented the parchment scroll to him, holding it high, and offered him a quill pen. He did not hesitate, picked up the pen, and wrote his name, thereby endorsing the agreement.
The diplomat carefully rolled up the parchment scroll, perfumed it with an incense burner, placed it in a sleeve, and respectfully returned it to the Emperor.
"Thus, the matter here is concluded."
The Emperor nodded with satisfaction, placing the scroll in a leather box beside the throne, then said to the Angel, who was kneeling on one knee: "Rise, Sanguinius."
"I need you to return with me to Terra, take command of the Ninth Legion, and unleash your talents in the Great Crusade."
Sanguinius rose from the obsidian floor and nodded, obeying his father's command without any defiance, not even asking to bid farewell to his people. It was evident that the Emperor did not wish to stay in the Baal system for another moment.
"Brother." Blazkowicz stepped forward, took the Angel's arm, and gazed at this extraordinarily beautiful brother.
His golden hair was as smooth as silk, flowing down his back, with sideburns hanging over his chest. His eyes were as clear as sapphires, set in deep sockets, radiating a reassuring light.
His nose bridge was as prominent as a peak, his thin lips rosy, and his face was of perfect proportion, as if sculpted by a master artist, complemented by a gentle gaze and a resolute demeanor. No one could fail to marvel at his beauty.
Compared to Fulgrim's aggressive, flamboyant beauty, the Angel's beauty was genderless, a pure, admirable beauty.
Blazkowicz felt a touch of melancholy; if Sanguinius had no wings, in the Emperor's eyes, he would be the perfect son.
Both in character and appearance, he would be deeply loved by the Emperor.
"Brother." Sanguinius responded warmly, opening his arms for an embrace that surprised Blazkowicz.
He knew that this robust, extraordinarily heroic-looking brother had spoken up to help him during his meeting with his father.
Blazkowicz embraced Sanguinius in return, saying in a very low voice: "The Ninth Legion will surprise you. Their spirits are severely tormented. I cannot overly shape other Legions; everything is up to you."
"As you said on the surface, teach them to face themselves, to break free from past pain and torment."
"Thank you for the information." Sanguinius's eyes narrowed slightly; his brother's special warning naturally registered with him.
Blazkowicz patted his brother's broad back, "They have suffered many injustices. If you need to clear their name, you can contact me; I will not hesitate."
Sanguinius said nothing, just nodded and released the embrace, his eyes filled with gratitude.
Currently, he didn't know how his Legions were doing, but from his brother's words, he felt that the Legion had significant problems and was unwelcome by other Legions.
"We part ways here."
"Today's parting is for future reunion." Sanguinius showed no reluctance, only a hearty laugh.
After bidding farewell to his brother, Blazkowicz turned to the Emperor and said, "I need to return to the Halo Stars to prepare my Legion and enhance its combat strength."
"They are coming back!"
The Emperor naturally knew who "they" were. He nodded with an equally solemn expression: "The War Council has already begun preparing for war."
Sanguinius listened from the side, not asking any questions, but noting the information in his heart.
Enemies that made the Emperor look serious were the great enemies of the entire Imperium of Man. He couldn't participate in that now; preparing his Legion was the first priority.
If one day he could join the fight, then he would truly be helping his father and brother.
"If you need help, you can come to the Nur Stars." Blazkowicz waved goodbye to Sanguinius, making another promise.
"If needed, I will seek you out." Sanguinius returned the solemnity, his beautiful face very grave, accepting this kindness.
Blazkowicz smiled, turned, and left. Having reunited with his brother, it was time for him to return to the Nur Stars.
Just as Sanguinius watched his brother leave the bridge, a strange light flared in the void outside the Emperor's Dream's viewport!
His psychic talent was extraordinary, and he naturally felt the dense spatial fluctuations in the sector.
The star-studded void was twisted, and an extremely vast fleet emerged from the Warp, returning to the Real Universe.
Various warships of all sizes continuously arrived; based on the Warp fluctuations, the fleet likely consisted of thousands of warships.
"Sorry, I came to Baal without your permission." Blazkowicz, who had been leaving, turned back, a smiling apology on his face.
The Emperor straightened his face, feigning anger as he replied, "Haha, don't let it happen again son!"