So much time had passed since the quest was received that Datch worried there might not even be a quest to revive the Archangel! As always, he spoke to himself while browsing the details of the item rewards.
[Item: Super Voice Changer]
Effect: Can record and perfectly mimic the voice of any target, with no race restrictions. The imitation is so real it's indistinguishable from the original.
[Comments: "Wow, I'm such a dainty princess!" —from a 1.8-meter-tall man using the voice changer.]
"The Voice Changer keeps leading me to the path of becoming a shinigami-grade school kid."
"For now, keep it. You never know when you'll need to infiltrate somewhere."
Datch closed the interface, looked up at the unfinished Sanguinius bathed in light, and spoke.
"Understood. I accept this job."
The Archangel nodded lightly, casting a gaze of approval toward Datch.
"Glory to you, noble nameless one."
After those words, the Archangel and the holy Sanguinor beside him slowly faded away like golden dust dissolving in sunlight.
Now there are two tasks I must complete, Datch thought.
"The first is to assist Dante in resolving the differences between the subgroups, convincing them to accept both the modified Baal and the original cast."
"The second task is the revival of the Archangel. I have a feeling these two missions might coincide."
"But... if Sanguinius is resurrected, why wouldn't his sons recognize him as their father?"
Datch pondered his mission completion strategies. Suddenly, the game minimap fluctuated—a new map of Baal appeared. Compared to before, the underground areas had become labyrinthine and complex: secret dungeons trapping terrifying xenos and chaotic creatures, ancient forgotten ruins, abnormal psyonic nodes. Remnants of countless ages were interwoven into the underground of Planet Baal.
A golden exclamation mark highlighted a single location—a vast tomb where Sanguinius's remains lay. The minimap auto-planned a route straight there.
...
Flashback: At the End of the Siege of Terra
Sanguinius and the Emperor boarded the Vengeful Spirit together. But the Four Gods tricked him, and Sanguinius was teleported alone to confront Horus. Horus demanded that Sanguinius kneel and submit—if he obeyed, Horus would spare his life. Sanguinius refused and attacked. Empowered by the Four Gods, Horus ultimately shattered Sanguinius, whose soul was devoured by the four Chaos entities.
After the war, Raldoron, the Blood Angels' First Captain, boarded the Vengeful Spirit. Sanguinius' shattered remains were brought back to Baal and placed in a static field, where they remain to this day.
…
"The plan is easy. First, repair the body, then use the Resurrection Coin," Datch said, snapping his fingers and moving forward.
Passing a group of mechanics carrying supply crates, he kicked one over. Sheer chaos: precision parts and tools spilled across the floor—resources meant to maintain Arx Angelicum.
Servants and workers stared in disbelief, unable to comprehend his actions. Datch chuckled at their reactions and, ignoring the frowning guards trailing behind him, pressed on, following the minimap. He alone talked to himself in the air, gestured wildly, or kicked other people's boxes for fun. Confused but obedient, the guards followed in silence, like golden shadows bound by a court order.
Arriving at the Seraphim Mountain Area, Datch saw a tall black tower belonging to the Blood Angels' intelligence division, piercing the vast sky like a sword.
The entrance to the underground tomb was at the base of the black tower, guarded by the think tank. Datch strode boldly toward the heavy doors but was stopped by a guard.
"Honorable Nameless One,"
said Josehelius, the Blood Angels' military advisor for the area. Wearing golden-red power armor and a large tome strapped to his waist, he spoke with due respect but brooked no argument.
"This is sacred ground. Please do not enter without permission. Remain where you are."
Datch tried to step around, but another guard quietly blocked his path—and again, no matter which direction he tried.
To unlock the Blood Tomb map, certain conditions must be met, Datch realized. From experience, he knew Warhammer Universe, like other games, had an affinity system. Hidden shops, quests, and storylines required high enough relationship values.
Looks like my affinity with the Blood Angels isn't high enough yet, he thought bitterly. If this were Ultramarines territory, I could probably just stroll in. Dammit, I saved Baal and they still hate me—can't even visit the ancestral tombs! Fine. Ignore me now; once I revive the Archangel, you'll be begging me for favors. Maybe I'll slander him daily until he abandons you all…
Seething, Datch punched the air. Josehelius frowned at the abstract, helmeted figure before him—if this stranger hadn't contributed to Baal, he'd have thrown him out by now. Who wears such a weird helmet? And with so many secrets in the think tank and tomb, who would let just anyone enter?
Datch, growing impatient, drew a Hypno Panpipe from his inventory. Too lazy to grind affinity. Let's try another way—this is the beauty of open-world games. No single solution!
"Nameless one, please understand—this is chapter sanctum. You must go elsewhere—"
Before Josehelius finished, Datch brought the panpipes to his lips and played a mesmerizing, sleep-inducing tune. Josehelius and the two guards swayed, eyelids drooping as a wave of irresistible drowsiness overtook them. With a soft stumble, they fell into a deep slumber.
"Done." Datch holstered his flute, shoved open the heavy rune-engraved door, and entered the think tank tower.
Inside, ancient candlesticks and glowing crystals lined dim hallways. Every think tank member or Blood Angel guard he met along the way was overcome by the haunting flute melody and collapsed, asleep. Datch, calm and cheerful, played his lullaby as if on a leisurely stroll. The guards behind him stood agape. Is he really just breaking in like this? they wondered. This is the Blood Angels' sacred think tank, final resting place of their chapter heroes, full of other team members—you cause any trouble, this whole place might explode!
The accompanying Custodes instantly reported this emergency to the Primarch and the Custodes.
Hearing the news, Guilliman and Carken's expressions immediately turned grim—they rushed for the think tank temple.
At this time, arguments over the modifications of Baal and its original warriors were at a fever pitch. If news now spread of an unknown figure intruding upon the Blood Angels' tomb, the repercussions would be unimaginable.
Dante received word and was dismayed; he ordered a media blackout and—together with Orpheo, Corbulo, and the highest-ranking Blood Angels—raced for the tomb.
…
With the hypnotic panpipes' help, Datch's infiltration was smooth. Seven or eight Blood Slaves clad in red armor and wielding magic spears fell into slumber. Datch reached another grand door, adorned with gold and bloodstone, and entered—skipping into the enormous Hall of the Nine Heavens.
Inside, soaring bookshelves held countless rare tomes and paranormal scrolls. In the center, a gigantic angel statue stood out—a small star, more than ten meters in diameter, was embedded in its chest, endlessly burning. This star radiated terrifying heat and white-hot light, turning the statue's chest a searing red.
The statue's right hand rested lightly atop the pommel of a greatsword, while the left extended forward, supporting three spinning crystal obelisks glowing with dreamlike crimson halos.
"I'll pluck the stars from the sky for you, the moon, the sun shall rise for you… My little angel, I could never love you enough…"
Datch hummed a catchy tune from the forum community, gazing up at the dazzling orb.
The star in the angel's chest was a compressed real star—a gift from the Emperor to the Archangel. The Emperor's power was truly terrifying.
Datch ambled through the temple and, after a while, finally entered the underground tomb. The atmosphere turned frigid and solemn. The air was thick with stone, incense, and the dust of ages. Tombs and niches stretched out in all directions—thousands of Blood Angels who had died for the Imperium rested here.
Datch showed little reverence for any spirit here. He moved quickly, eyes fixed on the brightest minimap marker at the deepest part of the tomb. Along the way, every watchman or guard who heard his flute fell into deep sleep, not waking until Dante and his party arrived.
Sanguinius's resting place was a sight beyond human measure: all bathed in a gentle, rhythmic glow, as if hymns filled the air. At the dome's apex, a massive blood-red gem carved like an Eye of Terra gazed down, as if the Emperor himself watched over the sleeping angels.
Instead of a traditional sarcophagus, a perfect sphere of liquid gold hovered gently mid-air, softly rippling. An invisible static forcefield surrounded it, held aloft by a stone base and pillars. Within the golden sphere was a faint, immense humanoid figure.
Scars and burns still marred the floor and walls—signs of some unknown invasion and struggle.
Dante, Mephiston, Corbulo, and the others charged into the tomb—and what they saw filled them with terror. The nameless man was standing before a control panel, manipulating something with intense focus. The stagnant energy field containing his father's remains flickered weakly, unstable.
"Stop! STOP!" Dante cried, rarely showing such fear and pleading. "Please, don't do this!"
"HALT!" Orpheo thundered, a burst of psychic energy erupting from his body. Crackling power filled the air, his eyes aglow with preternatural light.
Corbulo and other high-ranking Blood Angels instinctively raised their bolters at Datch. Since traitor Fabius Bile had infiltrated the tomb last, they'd become aware that many sought the Archangel's genetic legacy. Even the Tyranids' assault on Baal had partly aimed at stealing the Primarch's gene-seed.
"Drop your weapon," ordered Carken, halberd glowing. He placed himself between Datch and the Blood Angels, his golden armor dazzling under the sacred light. Custodes swiftly formed a defensive line.
"The Nameless One acts by His Majesty's will. None may attack or interfere with him!" Carken's voice rang with cold, ironclad authority.
"He's desecrating our holy father, source of our gene-seed!" Corbulo snarled at Carken, his eyes bloodshot. "Do you intend to oppose the Blood Angels? This is treason!"
Carken refused to back down. "Are you the traitor here?"
Dante turned suddenly to Guilliman, emotion, anguish, and desperation in his eyes.
"Please, Lord Regent, stop him. Do not let this sacrilege continue. Your brother sleeps within the golden coffin; the Archangel gave his all for the Imperium. He must not be defiled."
Guilliman was powerless. He stepped forward, shouting tentatively at Datch.
"Nameless one, halt! By the name of the Regent, I order you to cease and desist!"
Yet, Datch was unmoved—he didn't even look at Guilliman or acknowledge the tense Blood Angels or Custodes.
At that moment, his entire focus was on the control panel in front of him.
As the last wave of energy pulsed through, the static field vanished completely. The suspended golden sphere was released—it poured down like molten sunlight, flowing over the altar with melodious whispers.
From its center, the broken, ancient form—scarred by catastrophic wounds from ten millennia ago—descended quietly onto the cold stone dais.
Unanchored, the golden coffin could not hold Sanguinius's body together. It slowly fell apart, like building blocks scattered across the ground. Horus's brutality was almost unimaginable; the Archangel's form was in pieces.
Witnessing this, Mephisto and the other psykers burned with psychic energy, their eyes blazing brightly—they would never allow desecration of the sacred remains.
Custodes, led by Carken, stood ready, halberds in hand.
In this critical moment—
"STOP."
A calm, graceful voice of supreme authority rang directly in all hearts. A radiant light appeared, and Sanguinor, with wings upon his back, descended from the mural like an angel, appearing before Dante, Mephiston, and the others, his very presence a palpable pressure.
In an instant, the abnormal fire Mephiston conjured vanished. All the Blood Angels subconsciously lowered their guns.
"This is the will of the Archangel," said Sanguinor, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before settling on Dante. "It is not sacrilege."
The crowd was stunned into silence at Sanguinor's appearance and declaration.
Datch walked up to Sanguinius's wrecked body, reached into his robe, and took out a small, glowing gold hammer. He gently knocked it against the ruined form. Instantly, a clear, ringing sound—like the song of all things reborn—echoed.
From the point of contact, waves of golden light flowed outward, racing over every inch of the shattered corpse. Miraculously, wounds rapidly healed, broken bones rejoined, scorched skin regained its luster and resilience, and the ruined face reformed—golden hair returning to its former sheen.
In an instant, the perfect, resilient, classically beautiful body of Sanguinius lay as if in peaceful slumber.
Dante and the others were speechless, hardly remembering to breathe. Truly, he was the beloved and handsome Archangel.
Datch nodded in satisfaction, retrieving from his inventory an elaborately rune-engraved antique-looking Resurrection Coin. He placed it gently on Sanguinius's smooth brow, then removed his helmet—revealing a face so commanding and wild it shocked everyone: the Lion King, Lion El'Jonson, First Legion Commander.
In utter amazement, everyone watched Datch, now bearing the Lion King's visage. He straightened, solemnly channeling energy into his posture, and spoke the long-awaited words in a voice of gravity and authority.
"Once more, the glory of the Second Imperium shall shine across the galaxy!"
"ARISE!"
Guilliman's eyes shot open in utter despair. The Second Imperium—a dark chapter in history.
The Resurrection Coin gently floated off the floor, releasing a pure, all-encompassing light. Waves of immense energy swept the tomb, leaving all present dazed.
The Coin's power transcended all law—natural or supernatural, even the threads of destiny. It ignored the constraints of causality and—
In an instant, fragments of Sanguinius's soul scattered across the galaxy were drawn together by invisible force, slicing through the void at impossible speed toward Baal.
…
In a hidden Chaos sanctuary, a crystal statue of Sanguinius stood—not a monument, but an artifact of torment, sealing his most excruciating yet unyielding echoes in death. Even this statue held a fragment of his soul.
As the Resurrection Coin's power rippled across the galaxy, the long-dormant effigy shone like a supernova. A surge of energy overloaded warp systems everywhere—ships shook, alarms sounded, explosions and demonic howls blended in chaos.
In the midst of Abaddon's outraged, furious roar, the statue exploded into a pure ray of light that pierced the hull and was gone, leaving only a melted, sanctified hole behind.
The irresistible force invaded even the realms of the gods. Within Slaanesh's palace, a sad, exquisite melody was abruptly silenced by the sacred notes. Nurgle's garden's fragile peace was burned away by the pure light. The shifting crystals in Tzeentch's labyrinth shattered. The endless slaughter of Khorne's arena froze under a breath of mercy.
Fragments broke free from their shackles, racing toward Baal. The Chaos Gods tried to stop them but were blocked by an even greater power and could only watch helplessly as the fragments escaped. Their wrath and shock unleashed a warp storm that raged through the immaterium, destroying countless ships like leaves in the wind.
Most furious of all was Khorne, who nearly rose from his brass throne when the fragment left him.
Even the Emperor's palace was struck. A fragment held by the Emperor's hand quivered, broke free from His realm, and shot toward Baal.
…
At Baal's great tomb, soul fragments poured in from every corner of the galaxy, merging into Sanguinius's body, shining with ever-brightening light. Each fragment returned made the aura more holy, more majestic.
Sanguinius's body slowly levitated. The wings Horus had broken suddenly unfurled. As all watched, breathless, the Primarch's eyelids—down for millennia—trembled … then opened.
A presence like no other stormed through the chamber, overwhelming all.
At that moment returned:
The great Emperor of the Second Imperium, the Archangel; King of Light, King of Baal, Lord of Hosts, Supreme Grand Master of the Blood Angels Ninth Legion: Sanguinius!
"The Primarch… the Primarch…"
Dante, a legend who'd fought countless battles, was the first to kneel, bowing low and trembling, shoulders shaking.
Next came Mephisto and the host of angelic descendants—everyone, moved to tears, knelt with the deepest reverence. Armor clanged against the floor; the chamber brimmed with ecstasy, awe, and blinding bliss.
Sanguinius lightly set his feet down, disguised his deeper feelings behind flawless poise. He was about to speak—a word to comfort his children, or perhaps a sigh to announce his return.
Suddenly, Datch—still bearing Lion El'Jonson's stern visage—raised his arm and shouted:
"Let all rejoice! The Great Emperor of the Second Imperium has returned to the loyal Imperium!"
"..."
The newly resurrected Sanguinius actually staggered from shock at these words. He turned in disbelief, staring at Datch in Lion El'Jonson's form.
"Your Majesty, welcome back. The loyal generals and regents have awaited your return for so long. Let us join hands to forge a new age of glory together once more."
Datch recited his lines with utmost seriousness.
Standing beside him, Guilliman looked utterly devastated. So tired. Let this world end already.