"Is this the model of Sanguinius you made?"
Inside the club, Caleb stared at the buxom, full-figured Sanguinius model and fell into a moment of stunned silence.
Hashida's artistic skills were genuinely something else — the model captured an absolutely stunning figure while still radiating nobility.
The golden armor added a dash of heroic spirit, and the blood-red gemstone was perfectly in line with Sanguinius's own aesthetic.
"Magnificent. Truly magnificent!"
"This is a work worthy of being cast in resin!"
"Hashida, you truly are chosen by the God of Lewd Arts — such an exquisite masterpiece! You are the true Prince of Degenerate Craftsmen!"
After just a few seconds of staring, Caleb was already heaping praise on the Sanguinius model. The fact that Hashida had finished it in less than a day was nothing short of impressive.
"Heh heh!" Hashida chuckled, then led Caleb over to his computer and pulled up the 3D model of Sanguinius on screen.
"Hey now!"
"Bro, you know what I'm like — if I were just making the chess piece itself, it wouldn't have taken nearly that long!"
"But I also built a stage to go with the poseable model!"
"Take a look — see how Sanguinius looks when you slot her onto this stage!"
Caleb looked closely and saw a golden stage with a small socket hole in the center.
Obviously, the hole was designed so Sanguinius could be inserted and displayed standing upright.
And with just a few simple adjustments to the limb joints, Sanguinius could be posed as a pop idol ready to perform.
Every piece of nonsense they'd rambled about in the club — this guy had clearly taken it all to heart.
"Oh my — !"
Admiring this near-perfect chess piece, the grand "Sanguinius Debut Plan" now had a real shot at success!
Hashida had even crafted a concert stage for her — and now, with the Warp Apotheosis technology, it was truly possible for Sanguinius to step into the Emperor's place and become the true Lord of Mankind!
"Yes, yes, yes!"
"Hashida!"
"I am extremely satisfied with this model!"
"Looks like I can go ahead and pay you the final installment. I happen to have business back home — I won't trouble everyone any further!"
"Alright!" Hashida waved him off and prepared to leave.
Though before Caleb headed out, Hashida couldn't resist one last quip.
"If only I were the God of Lore and Lewd, I could try making genderbent models of all the other Primarchs. Wouldn't that be something!"
"Ha — I actually think you're onto something there."
Caleb answered with a half-hearted reply, though honestly speaking, it wasn't entirely out of the question.
Who knew — maybe one day it could lead to the Chaos Gods getting knocked off their thrones in the strangest possible way.
Those units that never get a seat at the table were genuinely tricky to deal with.
Driving back home, the countdown to the next battle was only a few hours away.
Caleb had originally worried that the genderbent Sanguinius might not be ready in time for this engagement — but now it was clear there was no problem at all.
"You are Sanguinius. You are the son of the Emperor!"
"You will lead the Blood Angels back onto the righteous path!"
"Let the Blood Angels Legion honor the glory of the Imperium!"
[Player designation successful. Deploying Sanguinius!]
[Note: Due to the catastrophic nature of Sanguinius's death, all stat values have been severely diminished.]
[The current Sanguinius chess piece operates at 1/3 of its original combat effectiveness.]
[Warp Essence is incomplete — fragment collection required to restore full capability!]
[Warp Skill — Holy Blood: The true Angel carries sacred blood. Any child who drinks of it shall become a true Angel.]
[Currently fully suppresses the Black Rage and the Red Thirst. Further effects will be unlocked as Warp Essence fragments are collected!]
[Current Objective: Have Sanguinius liberate Baal.]
[This engagement's enemies: Traitor Legions, Hive Fleet, Necrons, Aeldari.]
[This campaign will far exceed Apocalypse-level classification. Host receives a bonus of 5,000 deployment points.]
[Current Deployment Points: 15,000!]
[Naval Deployment Points: 20,000!]
"What the hell?!"
Caleb was staggered by the sheer scale of the engagement. This was almost certainly the Battle of Baal!
Come to think of it, the Battle of Baal had raged all the way from before the Great Rift tore open to well after — a conflict that spanned ages.
This campaign would likely be fought across multiple phases with different objectives in between.
But once Sanguinius was deployed, there was a good chance she'd be fighting on her home world for years on end.
The chessboard's view shifted, cutting to the surface of a planet.
Red dust swirled and rose in the wind. The crimson world held not a trace of life — the very air reeked of rust and iron.
Scarlet grit and sand subjected the inhabitants to an extraordinarily hostile existence.
Much of the wilderness beyond the hive cities could only be survived by mutants.
In an environment this savage, there were almost no pureblooded humans capable of enduring it.
"For the honour of the Blood Angels — never forsaking the blood of Sanguinius!"
There, amid the endless ocean of red sand, Astartes in their crimson power armour charged through the dunes, chainswords roaring, cutting down every enemy in their path.
They dispatched stragglers with masterful precision, driving the accursed Dark Eldar back into whatever hole they'd crawled out of.
But at that moment — the Aeldari raiders falling back toward a webway portal did not immediately enter it.
Instead, their Haemonculus stood waiting at the threshold, as if baiting the Blood Angels to rush headlong into a trap.
"Forward! Kill them all! These filthy xenos dare defile our sacred soil!"
"The hallowed halls of the Sanguinor shall not suffer thieves!"
A large number of pursuers had joined the chase, including many members of the Sanguinary Guard.
Clad in golden armour, bearing pristine white wings, the jump packs on their backs were no ordinary models — these were true flight-capable propulsion systems, lifting them entirely off the ground.
"Damned thieves — they dare steal the sacred sarcophagus of Lord Sanguinius!"
"I will tear you to pieces. Your blood will repay this outrage!"
Several of the fastest Blood Angels warriors had already closed to within striking range of the Dark Eldar. Chainswords revving with a thunderous roar, they raised their blades high and brought them down in crushing diagonal sweeps!
BANG!
Suddenly, a colossal Wraithlord emerged slowly from the webway portal. The moment it stepped through, it crushed several Astartes underfoot, then swept its spirit blade in a wide arc, cutting down a swathe of supporting infantry.
"Good. Our mission is complete. Get this thing out of here now!"
"According to the prophecy of our Spiritseer, the one within this sarcophagus will rise again before long!"
"He may pose a grave threat to our kind — perhaps even bring ruin upon us entirely!"
"We must seal him away. At any cost — seal him away!"
So commanded the Spiritseer leading the raid. Their original plan had been to haul the sarcophagus and its occupant back through the portal.
What none of them had anticipated was that "before long" meant right now.
"Insolent xenos!"
"You would steal the body of our Primarch? You'll have to go through me first!"
From orbit above, a great mass of Sanguinary Guard descended in a combat drop!
Their armour was resplendent beyond measure — white wings sweeping magnificently against gleaming gold plate.
Artificer armour was standard issue across the entire elite squad.
Every warrior wore the Death Mask — the blood-tear visage that concealed all expression beneath its surface.
None could know what lay behind those masks.
And that went for Dante as well.
"You think you can defeat our Wraithknights?"
"Even bringing down a single Wraith Lord would be a struggle for the likes of you — what makes you think you can win here?"
Standing beside the Spiritseer were three Wraith Lords.
A unit smaller than a Wraithknight, but far more capable in practice than any standard Dreadnought variant.
Their movements held not a trace of the lumbering heaviness one might expect — towering frames several metres tall, yet executing motions on the battlefield with the fluid grace of a waltz.
Vast numbers of Blood Angels warriors had already fallen into the grip of the Black Rage and the Red Thirst, driven there by the xenos' audacious theft.
While entering this state multiplied the melee combat capability of ordinary warriors several times over, it also stripped the battlefield of all discipline.
"Hmph. A rabble of berserkers."
Watching the one called Dante charge recklessly toward her position, the Spiritseer had no intention of engaging personally. She would let her three Wraith Lords deal with him.
What she had not remotely expected was that this warrior's movements were blindingly fast — in fewer than three breaths, he had dismantled all three Wraith Lords entirely.
In one hand a power axe, in the other a bolt pistol, he moved with a speed and lethality that even the finest Bladesingers could only watch in reluctant admiration.
"You are impressive."
"If you weren't such a scrawny little thing, I might even respect you."
"But it makes no difference. You cannot stop us."
"Our Spiritseer must take this future calamity back with us and seal it away."
"It will bring catastrophe upon us. The prophecy is clear."
"A prophecy?"
Dante raised his bolt pistol to end the Spiritseer's life.
But the moment his arm came up, several more Wraith Lords — equipped with Wraithcannons — swept onto the battlefield!
Units once considered a rare sight were appearing in the hands of these Aeldari as if they were completely expendable.
Even Dante could feel the weight of their resolve. These damned long-ears were willing to throw everything they had to take Sanguinius's remains.
The battle descended into brutal, grinding close-quarters chaos. Over a hundred sons of Sanguinius fell in the struggle against the xenos.
Every time they sacrificed enormously to bring down one Wraith construct, two or more would emerge to replace it.
The Aeldari were scattering these walker-constructs like they cost nothing.
This was something that simply should not have been possible, once upon a time.
"First Company — advance! Hold the xenos on all flanks — I'm going in to reclaim the Primarch's remains!"
"I will not allow Sanguinius's bloodline to suffer this dishonour!"
"I will bring his body back!"
"As you command — never forsaking the blood of Sanguinius!"
The elite strike team surged forward immediately. At the same moment, Dante grabbed a fistful of melta bombs and charged directly at the nearest Wraithknight.
Dante had wanted to clock off for a very long time. For years he had kept his death-wish strictly in check — but now that the Primarch's very remains were about to be stolen, he didn't have the patience to hold back any longer.
"These people are absolutely insane!"
Watching Dante sprint toward his Wraithknight with arms full of explosives, even the Spiritseer couldn't suppress a grimace.
Blood Angels warriors were either throwing themselves forward in the grip of the Black Rage, or pulling stunts like Dante's — barreling in with bombs clutched to their chests.
It only deepened their conviction that the relic inside that sarcophagus had to be sealed away.
And it left them wondering — why exactly was the Spiritseer so frightened of a corpse?
BOOM.
With a deafening explosion, another Aeldari walker was permanently removed from the equation.
The towering frame toppled slowly, and the wraithbone within the Wraithknight groaned and cracked with a chorus of sounds.
Dante's final death charge had counted for something.
But the cost had been catastrophic.
Dante, barely anything left of him, tumbled onto the surface of the sarcophagus.
The explosion had taken his legs. Both of them.
He could feel his internal organs failing rapidly — his primary heart had stopped completely, his secondary heart was badly damaged.
The nineteen superhuman organs granted to him through the implantation surgeries — eight of them had been obliterated outright by the blast.
His body was hollow. The heat of the explosion still gnawed at what remained.
"Lord Dante!"
The entire Sanguinary Guard erupted into frenzy, desperate to save their commander — the living legend of the Imperium.
But what lay before them was that legend, balanced on the knife's edge between life and death.
The Dark Eldar raid had come too suddenly. The Blood Angels had had no time to mass their forces.
What remained of Dante lay on his back, staring up at the sky.
In this era, only a few years separated them from the bells that would toll in the 42nd Millennium.
"Great Sanguinius — glorious gene-father — let me clock off."
"I'm tired. I only want to be at your side. Grant me this one wish. Just this one wish."
Everything before him began to blur.
Dante almost believed he could feel himself drifting toward the Golden Throne.
But just as he thought the end had come —
Something yanked him back, hard.
[Sanguinius: Don't go anywhere, my good child — you still have overtime to work!]
[Mama can't survive without you, sweetheart — you have to wake up!]
"What the —!" Dante's eyes snapped wide open to find his head resting on an angel's lap.
Sanguinius loomed above him, putting on a very theatrical performance of tearful distress.
The Primarch's craftily manipulative side was on full display in this moment.
[Caleb: Sanguinius, have you no shame?!]
[You were already awake the whole time, and you waited until your child thought he was finally going to get his rest before you rescued him!]
[The man has worked for over 1,600 years. He's exhausted — it's unkind to play tricks on your children like that!]
[Sanguinius: You make a fair point… but Father, you turned me into a woman when you resurrected me, didn't you? That's rather a trick in itself, wouldn't you say?]
[I'm fully aware Father had ways of bringing me back as I was.]
[I'm simply treating my children the same way you treated me. No harm done!]
"…Hmm."
Among all the Primarchs, precious few could banter with the Emperor and get away with it.
But the fact that Sanguinius — with that personality — had spent so long at the Emperor's side and become the universally beloved elder sister figure of the Legions was clearly not without reason.
Her words sounded perfectly pleasant on the surface. But when she was scheming behind the scenes, the blindsiding was absolutely lethal.
Sanguinius pricked her finger and let a few drops of fresh blood fall to Dante's lips.
What followed was miraculous — under the influence of the holy blood, Dante's wounds began to stabilize.
At the same time, Caleb deployed a supply of universal remedies that brought Dante back to full condition entirely.
"Dante, darling — get up! Mama's come to see you!"
"If you close your eyes and go to my Father's place right now, I'll never speak to you again."
"You don't want to miss Mama's good morning kiss, do you?"
"What the — what just happened?!" Dante opened his eyes to find the face of an extraordinarily beautiful woman filling his vision.
Pristine white wings spread out around them, shielding them from the battlefield entirely — those warm, feathered wings seeming almost deliberately arranged to preserve a small bubble of privacy.
"Sanguinius — you — are you truly the Primarch?"
"…You're alive."
"This means — this means I can finally go in peace!"
"I'm so tired, Mama. I've been holding on for so long. I really can't do it anymore. I want to clock off. I can't take another shift, I can't —"
Dante tried to close his eyes and expire right then and there.
But the devious Sanguinius frantically pried his eyelids open with her fingers, refusing to let her beloved child die peacefully while in full sight of his goal.
The two of them remained locked in this ridiculous standoff for a full five minutes before Dante, utterly unable to die no matter how hard he tried, finally sat up with a long, mournful sigh.
"Lord Sanguinius…"
"Was what you said earlier… real?"
"If I keep working overtime… do I really get a good morning kiss?"
"Ahh… ha… ha…" Faced with the earnest, guileless sincerity in her child's eyes, Sanguinius looked upward awkwardly, kneeling on the ground with a thoroughly sheepish smile.
It seemed she had once again outsmarted herself.
Let's hope that her child's Primarch-worship didn't somehow transform into an entirely different kind of fixation.