San—Sanguinius?
Utter terror gripped the hearts of all the Thousand Sons sorcerers.
The veterans who had survived the Siege of Terra felt their pupils shrink even more. As Astartes heroes who had lived through the Great Crusade and the Horus Heresy, the Thousand Sons legion had participated in the Siege of Terra under Horus's command and had directly clashed with the Blood Angels' Librarians.
No one entertained even a shred of doubt regarding Sanguinius' magnificent grandeur.
This Primarch, renowned for his martial prowess even among his gene-brothers, had broken through right before them in a manner that could only be described as a furious, descending wrath of a king. Anyone would have paled in terror.
Including Ahzek Ahriman, all the Thousand Sons sorcerers looked up in horror. At this moment, maintaining their telekinesic kine-shields was utterly pointless.
At the same time, the Great Angel standing before them slowly unfurled his white wings. His presence was breathtaking, and his pale golden eyes swept over everything.
His gaze calmly passed across the Thousand Sons array, those pale golden pupils reflecting the blue-and-gold armor.
Witnessing this scene, the Chaos Astartes no longer held onto the slightest hope of it being an illusion.
Those eyes belonged to him beyond a shadow of a doubt!
Sanguinius was smiling.
"Oh brother, my brother."
His voice wasn't loud, yet it precisely pierced through all the roaring din of the battlefield.
Sanguinius took a step forward, his massive frame as light and nimble as a falling feather. His pure white wings spread slightly, carving a near-sacred arc through the air.
"Why do you not come out to face me?"
The Thousand Sons retreated once more.
Their staves remained held high, psychic sparks dancing at the tips, but not a single one dared to launch an attack.
Right at that moment, the air beside Sanguinius was suddenly torn open.
An eerie green light seeped out from the void, like a curtain being slashed by an invisible blade—the signal that a Necron teleportation device had been activated.
A few of the Thousand Sons instinctively raised their hands, wanting to disrupt the teleportation. However, they regrettably discovered that this place contained absolutely zero Warp elements; their efforts were entirely useless.
The first person rushed out.
Then a second, a third, a tenth, a hundredth.
Green rifts blossomed one after another around Sanguinius. Desperate to save their savior, the Blood Angels surged out instantly. Clad in glorious power armor, wielding boltuns and chainswords, the fire of a near-fanatical faith burned within their eyes.
The Triple Celestial Sphere formation.
The Sanguinary Guard.
Echelons and designations that once existed only in the ancient battle histories of the Blood Angels descended once again upon the scorched earth of Cadia.
They wore glorious armor, their blades and guns sharp and fierce, their eyes locked dead onto the enemies before them—forming a stark contrast with the blue-and-gold armor of the opposing Thousand Sons legion.
Sanguinius' wings trembled imperceptibly behind him, each slight quiver stirring up a faint current of air that blew away the fine grit on the ground.
His gaze moved past the Thousand Sons' defensive line, falling upon the massive figure slowly emerging from the depths of the command center.
"You really haven't changed a bit, Sanguinius."
The voice came from deep within the command headquarters.
Magnus stepped out from the rear.
He was far too massive.
The Daemon Primarch's physical form had completely transcended the scale of mortals. His crimson skin was branded with countless glowing runes, and his single remaining eye stared fixedly at Sanguinius.
The days when Magnus and Sanguinius stood side by side had ended ten thousand years ago, but when he saw that pure white figure, a corner deep within his soul still twitched.
"You really picked a terrible time to arrive."
Tossing his sudden stray thoughts aside, Magnus spoke, taking a step forward as a dangerous light flashed in his cyclopean eye.
"Was it not good to slumber away in a quiet death? Why must you come to disrupt our operations?"
His gaze swept over Sanguinius' shoulder, looking at the Blood Angels who stood ready for battle, a mocking curve hooking the corner of his mouth.
"You should be the one who understands this best—our Father's Imperium is a mistake built upon lies. Having lived until now, you ought to understand better than anyone how hollow those creeds truly are. How long are you going to remain stubborn, Sanguinius? Just when will you truly realize this fact?"
These sharp, biting words immediately provoked a strong reaction within the Blood Angels array, earning a chorus of suddenly raised weapons acting as a defiant response.
"What a coincidence, I happen to have a different view on that."
Sanguinius was clearly not provoked. He merely spoke in a lighthearted tone, "The thought that after ten thousand years, I can still exchange pleasantries with my brothers just like Leman Russ used to do fills me with energy."
His smile remained as brilliant as ever.
Magnus narrowed his single eye dangerously, the Daemon Primarch's mouth twitching slightly.
"If you are simply trying to anger me—then congratulations, you have succeeded."
He chuckled, then shifted the conversation: "However, I forgive you."
Sanguinius raised an eyebrow with interest, a flash of surprise crossing those golden eyes.
"Oh?"
This reaction was very un-Magnus-like.
"Because soon, with my help, you will see clearly exactly how many lies our good dear old 'Dad' told us!"
Magnus roared.
A gleam of ecstatic radiance flashed in his eye.
This was truly heaven-sent aid!
What an exquisite gift, what a perfect coincidence!
The plan he had originally crafted, a plan that required countless steps to set in motion, had now leaped right in front of him in a completely dramatic fashion, well within his grasp!
How could this not make Magnus ecstatic?
His plotting behind the scenes of that so-called "False Angel Rebellion" was by no means out of pure kindness to help Sanguinius resurrect!
What he had been waiting for was this exact moment.
Magnus laughed out loud, his staff striking down as blinding light erupted from his single eye.
A maddening ecstasy surged across his twisted face, his smile stretching to a near-unnatural angle.
Magnus began to chant.
Blue psychic energy cascaded out from around his body, rocketing into the sky and dyeing the firmament above the entire battlefield a sickly color.
The malevolent power of Chaos answered his call. Rifts to the Warp tore open and closed in the air, and twisted reality looked like a melting mirror.
Anyone with a modicum of common sense could recognize what this was.
This was a Daemon Prince ascension ritual!
Magnus excitedly stared at what might be the greatest masterpiece of his career.
As long as he successfully completed the incantation, and once Sanguinius witnessed the modifications the Changer of Ways had made to his soul shards and triggered those hidden dangers one by one, this most noble existence among the brothers would turn into a magnificent creature just like them—right before everyone's eyes, under the gaze of his own gene-sons.
When that time came, he too would realize just how fragile the creeds he held onto truly were!
Magnus was immersed in his own fantasy, but his single eye soon widened abruptly, and his expression gradually turned blank.
Wait, what was going on?
Sanguinius stood where he was, completely motionless.
He tilted his head slightly, a hint of genuine concern showing in his expression.
"Brother, why isn't this working?" Sanguinius asked with a face full of concern.
"Do you want to try reading it again?"
Magnus: "..."
The Daemon Primarch's lips twitched, but no sound came out.
It was a good thing his skin was naturally crimson, as it made it difficult for others to tell that his face was currently undergoing a rapid shift in temperature.