The Archangel's frank and steadfast words seemed to freeze the atmosphere. No one dared to reply right away; they were so shocked that they felt as if something was stuck in their throats.
Dante opened his mouth, but his mind went utterly blank, unable to speak. All the prepared questions, pleas, and even desperate accusations—under Sanguinius' pure and earnest gaze, all of them melted away. Dante had imagined countless cruel scenarios: the Primarch would fall into silence, sigh with helplessness, speak coldly for the good of the Imperium. He never imagined that the Primarch would remake the bond between himself and his descendants in this way.
When the Archangel asked him if he was willing... the legendary warrior who had fought for the Imperium for over 1,500 years could not hold back his tears. His vision blurred, and he could not recall the last time he cried, or why. Now, standing before his Primarch, overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions, he once again experienced the sensation of tears flowing.
"I am," Dante replied, looking up at Sanguinius through tears, his heart raging with irrepressible emotion. "My Lord Archangel, I swear my loyalty to you. No matter the circumstances, whether the road ahead leads to glory or ruin, I will follow you to the ends of my soul."
The other Blood Angels let out barely suppressed shouts, their voices echoing through the corridor. "I swear to follow the Archangel until death!"
Unwavering loyalty erupted across the room: "I will fight for you until the very end!"
In this moment, every doubt and anxiety among the Angelic Sons transformed into a vow of fealty to the father of their genetic line. No matter how dire the situation, they would draw their swords and stand in battle for their Archangel.
Khestrin observed this scene quietly, deep in thought. Guilliman kept his composure but made a mental note: I need to learn how to inspire people from Old Nine.
…
"You are my little angel. I can never spoil you enough~" Datch squatted on the steps outside the think tank tower, humming the tune of a little song he'd made up, his face alive with excitement. The wind brought the fresh scent of grass, wildflowers, and moist earth, stroking his cheek. He lingered to see what might come of his mischief. If the Angelic Sons realized they'd been tricked, they would surely be furious and give chase. Datch loved watching NPCs break down. "Hehehe, enjoy the pain I have given you," he murmured happily.
After a while, the tower's door slowly opened, and a group of Blood Angels emerged. But they did not react as Datch expected. Instead of rage, Dante, Mephiston, and Corbulo led the Blood Angels, all smiling, walking briskly, happiness and relief written across their faces. What puzzled Datch even more was that the Blood Angels noticed him crouching at the threshold. Rather than angry, they all stopped and bowed gratefully in thanks.
Suddenly, a series of dense notifications flashed across Datch's vision like a screen:
[You have gained the favor of Dante, leader of the Blood Angels]
[You have obtained the approval and support of Mephiston, head librarian of the Blood Angels]
[You have earned the thanks and goodwill of Corbulo, Sanguinary High Priest of the Blood Angels]
[....]
A cascade of pop-up notifications continued repeatedly, and Datch frowned in confusion. "What's happening? Why is this happening? Previously, I summoned a Giant of Light to destroy the Tyranid fleet; I summoned weather spirits and Puh Puh to turn Baal from a desert into a garden world. I have never gained this much goodwill from them. But now, I've played a prank, they've all been tricked and reduced to tears, and yet my favorability is skyrocketing? This... makes no sense!"
He wondered just what might have happened while he was away. "Is there a bug in the game, a programming glitch—or a problem with the emotion simulation module?"
Just then, Sanguinius appeared, surrounded by his sons. When he saw that the area beyond the doors was no longer the desolate Desert of his memory—but instead endless emerald grasslands sparkling in the sun and wind—he couldn't help but stop, stunned. It was so lively, beautiful, and peaceful; even at the height of the Great Crusade, he had never possessed anything like this.
The Archangel looked around, noticing Datch still crouching on the steps, looking confused. Sanguinius moved forward and spoke earnestly: "Thank you, Nameless One. For what you have done for Baal, for giving it new life."
But Datch, still suspecting a bug, paid no attention. When Sanguinius extended his hand to thank him further, Datch abruptly stood up and muttered, "I need a new target to see if this really is a bug," and skipped away, completely ignoring the outstretched hand of the Archangel.
Sanguinius' arm froze awkwardly in midair, and his gentle smile stiffened for a moment. He glanced uneasily at his own hand, then in the direction Datch had gone.
Was he... being ignored?
Guilliman and Khestrin, standing off to the side, observed the whole scene, silently cheering inwardly: Yes, this is what we want—maintaining distance and an unapproachable attitude.
…
Arx Angelicum.
Within the bright red assembly hall, representatives of all the Blood Angels sub-chapters gathered again: The Flesh Tearers, Crimson Angels, Blood Drinkers, and others sent their chapter masters or senior officials. The issues of restoring Baal's ecology and fully accepting the Primaris Marines continued to trouble the Angelic Sons. Supporters and opponents alike had no intention of yielding.
Just then, a procession of mechanical cherubim carved in infant forms and adorned with the Blood Angels emblem flew into the solemn hall, beating their wings and announcing in synchronized synthetic voices:
"Welcome, Commander Dante, Supreme Lord of Baal, Lord of the Blood, Guardian of the Blood, the Archangel..."
Though the military and political stances of many present differed, none doubted their reverence for this legendary hero who had acted for centuries. The Astartes rose as one, right fists pounding hard against their left chests, their united roar echoing. When Dante entered, officials and generals present pressed their hands to their breasts in a salute and bowed their heads.
Dante walked in with steady steps, heading straight for the head of the table, signaling for everyone to be seated. Unlike before, he was not wearing his iconic Blood Mask, showing his true face instead—aged, lined with the scars of time and honor. Even for a superhuman Astartes, 1,500 years of service was a very long time. The deep-set eyes and silver hair quietly told of the burdens he bore.
"Gentlemen," Dante's voice was not loud, but rang clear throughout the hall, silencing every whisper.
"I have not gathered you here to listen to endless debate, merely to announce several decisions."
"First: Baal, the homeworld and sacred ground of Sanguinius' sons, is now formally established as the second capital of the Imperium's Dark Side."
"Its ecological transformation and development are strategic necessities for the Imperium, aligning with the Archangel's wishes."
"Second: We shall fully accept and develop the Primaris Space Marine technology, to supplement and strengthen all Blood Angels sub-chapters."
"This decision is in accord with the sub-chapters' future—and has the Archangel's support."
His words instantly stirred the room. Many representatives and group leaders gathered—angry and emotional.
"You think you can set the standard just because you said so?!" Seth, leader of the Flesh Tearers, bellowed, his voice cutting through the agitation. "Dante, you've gone too far! Do you think you're the Emperor? That you can simply command all the Angelic Sons?"
"This is the will of the Archangel," Dante answered calmly, staring at a fuming Seth.
"Absurd!" shouted the chief representative of the Blood Drinkers, slamming his fist on the table. "You are using Sanguinius' name to act like a dictator!"
"You have no right to make this decision for all the warbands!"
"Never! We will not accept this!"
"This is a betrayal of tradition!"
Opposition and doubt surged like waves at Dante, but he remained calm, simply watching them with cool detachment, ignoring their harsh accusations. As Seth and the others pounded tables in fury and accused the Blood Angels of being unworthy, Dante's communicator gave a slight vibration—the message he'd been waiting for.
The Archangel had changed and was on his way to the Council.
Dante rose nonchalantly and made a gesture as if to steady the ground. At this moment, the noisy hall fell silent, everyone staring at him.
"Since you don't trust me," Dante said lightly, his voice tinged with playfulness, "let us hear from the Archangel himself."
Stunned and anxious, Seth and the sub-group leaders looked at one another in confusion. What did he mean?
Before they could respond, the cherubim floating under the dome flapped their wings and wheeled into neat formation. Their voices, solemn and passionate, rang out, echoing through the Crimson Assembly:
"Silence! In the name of the Emperor and the Golden Throne, we welcome the great and holy Archangel, the brightest Angel of Light, King of Baal, Lord of All Angels, Lord of All Armies, Son of the Emperor, Supreme Commander of the Ninth Legion—Lord Sanguinius!"
When the announcement ended, the hall fell silent—so much that a pin drop could be heard. Everyone was frozen in place, unable to believe their own ears. Wide-eyed and gaping, they stared as the grandest doors—engraved with the titanic battle between angels and the Emperor—were pushed open from the outside.
A dazzling radiance flooded in, as if to the sound of a choir, and in the next instant, an impossibly perfect, towering form, enveloped in radiant light, stepped into view. Long, gleaming golden hair, a face of serene beauty and majesty, and white wings slowly folded back on his shoulders—each feather sparkling with holy brilliance. Sanguinius himself had appeared.
"I hope my arrival hasn't startled you," Sanguinius said, his eyes scanning the stunned assembly. His smile was infectious.
"Is this...real?" Seth's lips trembled. Instinctively, he looked to the neighboring Blood Drinkers' representative, who seemed just as dumbfounded. Without thinking, Seth smacked the back of his head.
"Why did you hit me?" The Blood Drinkers' rep clutched his head, turning to Seth in utter bafflement.
"I...I wanted to see if this is real…" Seth stared at his hand, hurting a little—so it wasn't a dream. "Then why not hit yourself?"
"That would hurt."
The little exchange drew little attention. Everyone's heart was utterly occupied by the awe-inspiring Archangel before them.
"Gentlemen, you need not doubt your eyes or senses." At that moment, Dante's proud, excited voice rang out. "Through the miraculous power of the Nameless One, my lord Sanguinius has overcome death and returned in glory. He will fight alongside his brother, Regent Roboute Guilliman, protect the Imperium, and illuminate these dark times."
Finishing, Dante looked at a still-dazed Seth, his tone gentle, but with a hint of cunning. "Chapter Master Seth—the Archangel stands here. If you have anything to say about the previous decision, now is the time... say it to him directly."
Stunned, Seth hesitated, wrestling with himself. The flesh-rending chapter master took a deep breath, pushed aside his still-stunned colleague, and stepped forward to stand before Sanguinius. Looking up at the resplendent figure, his voice cracked and trembled.
"My lord... you…have truly returned?"
"Yes, my child," Sanguinius replied, regarding him with compassion. "I have heard from Dante of you and the Flesh Tearers. You and your warriors are exceptional and steadfast."
The Primarch leaned forward with sincerity. "Gabriel Seth—do you swear to serve me, as your forebear Nassir Amit did, and to continue following the Emperor's will?"
Nassir Amit was the original captain of the Blood Angels' Fifth Company during the Great Crusade, and the first chapter master of the Flesh Tearers. He participated in the Great Crusade, Horus Heresy, and Siege of Terra. Once a brother to Khârn, he cut ties and slew his foe in battle on Terra; Khârn later revived through the Blood God's blessing.
"And you?" Sanguinius looked to the others.
No one raised an objection. All knelt down and swore fealty to the Primarch.
The differences troubling Dante were resolved in an instant, simply by Sanguinius' appearance.
…
Meanwhile, Datch—off searching for a new NPC target—received a mission completion notification:
[Congratulations, Mission Complete! You have helped Dante, the leader of the Blood Angels, resolve the disagreements between sub-chapters.]
[Quest rewards: 1200 XP, 1200 Points, +300 Fame, 1x Random Giant of Light Summon Card]
"Another Summon Card." Datch glanced at the card, the same as before. He wondered: What kind of Giant of Light would be summoned this time? Maybe the Legendary Golden version of the Mysterious Four?
…
With Baal's controversies settled, Sanguinius was formally appointed Regent of the Imperium's Dark Side, with authority to mobilize all army and resources in the Imperium's secret territories to fight the enemies of Mankind. Part of the Crusade fleet was left at Baal, along with numerous Mechanicus forge-ships and resource transports.
They planned to construct new orbital docks around Baal, reinforce the space station network, and establish a major logistics and supply center, turning Baal into a vital fortress and interstellar hub for the Imperium's Dark Side.
After these arrangements, Guilliman took his leave of his brother. He wished to linger at Baal and Sanguinius, but the Imperium needed him—every day's delay meant countless innocents would suffer.
Datch chose not to leave with them, opting to stay at Baal for the time being, which made Guilliman a bit sad. Secretly, he fumed at Sanguinius' underhanded "poaching," and resented the Nameless One's fickle and greedy ways.
Guilliman and the Nameless One fought with his brother, faced Nurgle and Magnus, and overcame countless challenges on the route to Terra. Together, they launched a great and indomitus crusade to drive out the corrupt High Lords and conspiratorial Alpha Legion.
Now, as new figures replaced the old, he didn't even come out to say goodbye when the time came for departure. In the end, Guiliman bore everything alone in silence.
…
Once Guilliman departed, Sanguinius immediately began displaying extraordinary ability as a ruler and coordinator, and news from the Imperium's Dark Side poured in to his desk. One report—concerning the Lamenters—caught the Archangel's attention.
Having inherited all his fragmented memories, Sanguinius knew the Lamenters were also his descendants. Formed in a cursed era, they were ever exiled, dogged by tragic fates. The history of this warband was a history of hardship. While other Cursed Founding chapters became embroiled in various wars, the Lamenters abandoned their homeworld and headed west through the galaxy, continuing independent operations against the enemies of the Imperium.
Abaddon launched the 9th Black Crusade, and the Lamenters were ordered to resist. Yet due to their Cursed Founding origin, their calls went unanswered. They had to defend alone and suffered great losses. If the combined rescue force of the Ultramarines and White Scars had not arrived, they'd have been annihilated. Even then, they were swept up in a warp storm, vanishing until the dawn of the 41st millennium.
In M41.578, they were posted to the Maelstrom. Afterward, they were duped into the Badab War, and just over 300 Space Marines survived. Forced onto penitent crusade, they encountered the Kraken hive fleet. To save Imperial civilians, they fought to the death, suffering grievous losses. Even the Red Hunters, sent to monitor them, were compelled to join the battle and slay the xenos horde.
After the emergence of the Great Rift, there was little news of the chapter. Now, however, an interstellar message from the planet Pallas reported them once more. The warband was on the brink of extinction, with only a single company surviving. The message was sent on the order of Chapter Master Malakim Phoros, requesting aid evacuating civilians from the warzone.
"Our brothers are dying. Pallas' defense is doomed to fail. The whole galaxy, even more Imperial worlds, will fall prey to the Tyranids. We do not expect rescue; we only hope someone brings retribution and that some innocent lives may endure."
Sanguinius turned on the projector to assess. Pallas was distant from Baal; even if the Blood Angels dispatched reinforcements immediately, it was unlikely they would arrive in time. The Lamenters would surely not hold out that long.
Just then, Datch burst in. On his mini-map, he noticed a golden question mark over Sanguinius' icon—a sure sign of important plot development. The Primarch immediately issued a quest, as one would expect for a critical story character.
"Lord Sanguinius, is there anything I can help with?"
Datch's arrival made the Primarch smile. "Of course, Nameless One, I do have a task I'd like you to undertake."
Guilliman had already told Sanguinius about Datch's nature: get straight to the point, waste no words, lest he deploy conversation-skipping skills.
"We've received an interstellar message from Pallas. The planet is besieged by Tyranids, and the Lamenters warband has requested aid."
"But the world is far from Baal. Even with immediate support, the Blood Angels might arrive too late."
"Would you go to Pallas and help them hold out until reinforcements arrive?"
Sanguinius retrieved a fallen white feather. "This will serve as proof, so they will trust you."
The task interface suddenly popped up:
[Mission: Travel to Pallas, rescue it from the Tyranid hordes threatening countless worlds across the Galaxy. The Lamenters are resisting, buying time for evacuation. If you fail, uncountable people will be devoured. Sanguinius wishes you to assist the Lamenters as they battle the swarm.]
[Mission rewards: 1200 XP, 1200 points, +150 reputation, Mechagodzilla (24 hours use)]
"I will assist in the salvation of the Lamenters on Pallas," Datch replied, nodded, and accepted the quest. Instantly, he produced Rick's portal gun, aimed at the ground, fired, and leapt through to open a teleport gate.
Sanguinius, never having seen such a thing, could not conceal his astonishment—the Nameless One's abilities truly were limitless.