After the Blood Angels approved the reconstruction agreent for Baal, the eting finally drew to a close.
Supre High Marshal Ledodes was the first to leave his seat. His movents were crisp and decisive, as if he had anticipated the eting's outco from the very beginning.
His true purpose for this trip had simply been to bring the Elders to pay their respects and establish a foothold. Seeing Dante practically wearing an expression that said, "Why don't you just take over as Chapter Master of the Blood Angels," he knew the desired effect had been achieved perfectly.
As for asking the Blood Angels to allocate forces to join the expeditionary fleet, he was in no rush.
The Navigators still needed ti to chart the next leg of their voyage. For now, they would focus on helping set up the foundation for Baal's reconstruction.
After all, they had already witnessed the Blood Angels' administrative capabilities firsthand.
Ledodes silently exchanged a glance with Romulus as they walked side by side, both reading the exact sa conclusion in each other's eyes—
They were absolutely hopeless.
Romulus simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief. This was the most exhausting diplomatic encounter he had ever experienced. Fortunately, even though Arthur had not been able to shine in this particular situation, their team had a charismatic figure whose appeal worked exceptionally well against the Blood Angels. Otherwise, this would have been a real headache.
The Blood Angels themselves had nothing to complain about.
The Ecclesiarchy provided the funds and manpower, the Elders provided the Relics, and it seed all they had to do was nod their heads to secure an incredible bargain.
After all, regardless of what the more empty-headed mbers might think, Dante had been leading this group of problem children for centuries. He possessed enough self-awareness to know that if the Imperium truly coveted anything on Baal, they wouldn't need to put on such a grand show. And if Chaos attempted a spectacle of this scale, it would be impossible to hide.
As for whether there was any risk of Chaos corruption during this process...
While the Angels might have been completely clueless when it ca to planetary governance, when it ca to war and destruction—they feared absolutely no one.
"My Lord, do you have any further instructions?"
Inside the conference room, the crowd had dispersed, leaving behind only the core mbers of the Blood Angels.
"These are the minor adjustnts Cepatus intends to implent for the Chapter following his return."
Karna glanced left and right, noticing that both Dante and Cepatus were staring directly at him. Feeling slightly awkward, he handed over a docunt.
Dante took it and scanned the contents, his brow furrowing slightly before he asked with a hint of embarrassnt:
"My Lord, do you intend to rebuild the Three Spheres?"
The Three Spheres was an organizational structure established after Sanguinius reunited with the Blood Angels Legion, encompassing all its mbers.
The outermost sphere naturally consisted of the ordinary battle-brothers of the various companies. The second sphere held the company commanders and champions. The central sphere represented an extension of the Primarch himself; its mbers had to discard their past nas and adopt completely new ones to signify a fresh beginning.
This central sphere included the Sanguinary Guard, the Crimson Paladins, the Burning Eyes, and the Angel's Tears, which served respectively as the Primarch's personal bodyguards, his sanctum defenders, his secret police, and his direct Destroyer squads.
Dante, of course, was deeply familiar with the duties of these forces.
After Sanguinius's death, Raldoron, the First Captain and inaugural Chapter Master who brought the Primarch's remains back to Baal, had tirelessly attempted to restore the Three Spheres after it had been decimated during the Siege of Terra.
However, Lord Guilliman soon arrived with good news, and Raldoron was fortunate enough to no longer have to worry about rebuilding the Three Spheres.
With the implentation of the Codex Astartes, the Legion was divided. Furthermore, the Black Rage triggered by the Primarch's death forced the Blood Angels to reduce the ranks of even the Sanguinary Guard to ensure that Sanguinius's sacred legacy remained untainted by the madness. Rebuilding the other specialized forces was utterly out of the question.
But what else could they have done?
Their Primarch had fallen in battle, and the Blood Angels had always been relatively isolated due to their genetic flaws. They did not even have allies they could speak openly with.
"We know the current structure of the Blood Angels cannot support the Three Spheres."
Karna understood the root of Dante's embarrassnt. It was simply that the modern Blood Angels were severely diminished in strength, and Dante feared the Elders would be disappointed by the gap between past glory and present reality.
"However, we can try reaching out to the Successor Chapters who still uphold Sanguinius's teachings. We can distribute these functions among them, allowing multiple Chapters to instantly fuse into a unified combat force when necessary."
The Dark Angels had already proven the viability of this strategy. As long as the founding Chapter remained dominant enough, the system worked flawlessly.
"My Lord... why are we doing this?"
Dante had actually wanted to ask this question for a long ti. It had been inappropriate to bring it up in front of their cousins earlier, but now he finally had the chance.
Karna, and the Dawn Wings he represented, had been relentlessly obsessed with augnting the strength of the Adeptus Astartes. They had made it abundantly clear, both overtly and subtly, that they held little respect for the Codex Astartes, and they fully expected other Chapters to follow their example.
Truthfully, this blatant challenge to a Primarch's authority was sothing the modern Astartes found deeply uncomfortable.
These revered predecessors seed driven by an overwhelming sense of crisis, desperate to fortify the Astartes in preparation for so unknown threat.
"New challenges are rapidly approaching. In this new era, the traditional Chapter structure is no longer suited to the evolving conditions of the battlefield."
Karna replied with a deliberately cryptic answer. According to the vast linguistic data model Romulus had recently compiled, the high-ranking officials of this Warhamr universe generally preferred answers that allowed them room for their own subjective interpretations.
This was exactly why Arthur could captivate those haughty leaders with just a few cool, arrogant sentences—aside from his exceptionally good looks, of course.
Furthermore, the Transmigrators truly were gripped by an intense sense of urgency.
In less than three hundred years, the Great Rift would tear open. The Necrons were steadily awakening, the Greenskins were about to herald a formidable new Ork warlord, and the extragalactic Tyranids were on the verge of launching a full-scale invasion.
The Transmigrators had to make as many preparations as humanly possible before the storm broke.
Since the Ultramarines had already proven that forging an empire was a viable path, there was no reason the other Chapters could not build their own Greater Ultramars.
"As for the rest, I will not speak in absolutes. But consider this: we have already returned. In the future, what other exalted beings might make their return to the galaxy?"
Karna smoothly dropped another enigmatic hint at the perfect mont.
Guilliman's resurrection was an inevitability anyway. Even if the Transmigrators did nothing, the Aeldari and Archmagos Cawl would handle it themselves.
"My Lord, are you suggesting—"
Cepatus could hardly contain the wild excitent breaking across his face.
"It is neither a prophecy nor a divine revelation. It is rely a speculation, with no guarantees."
Having delivered the riddle exactly as Romulus had scripted, Karna imdiately tempered their expectations.
The Transmigrators did indeed have contingency plans to retrieve the fallen Primarchs. However, given the current uncertainty regarding their exact conditions, no one could promise that soone as thoroughly dead as Sanguinius could be brought back.
"Right, of course!"
The Angels nodded vigorously in agreent, pretending not to take it as gospel.
But now, every ounce of resistance they held toward rebuilding the Legion's structure had evaporated.
Are you kidding? If their Genetic Father returned only to find that they had allowed the Blood Angels to wither to a re thousand warriors, with their Successor Chapters alienated and fractured, they would not have the face to even look upon him.
Well, at least their enthusiasm had been thoroughly stoked.
Karna felt a slight headache coming on. Following Romulus's instructions, he pulled out another docunt.
"This details the production lines for the wargear of the Three Spheres. It must only be maintained by the Techmarines within your Chapter; do not let the Adeptus chanicus catch wind of it. We have already secured the STC aboard the transport ships, and it will be delivered alongside the heavy armants."
"Understood."
Dante swiftly scanned the docunt, noting that it included production schemas for various Terminator suits, Destroyer weapons, and armored vehicles.
Once installed, manufacturing could comnce almost imdiately, though pacifying the Machine Spirits would require considerable effort from the Techmarines.
He accepted the file with profound reverence. Unlike the grand future Romulus had painted during the eting, this tangible gift from the Transmigrators was the absolute key to rapidly restoring ties with their Successor Chapters.
"There is one last thing."
Karna produced two long boxes, each nearly the height of a grown man. One was packed to the brim with feather pendants belonging to Sanguinius, while the other contained pendants of his blood preserved within translucent crystals.
"These are the feathers of Sanguinius, and this is his blood. They have been given basic modifications, though you are free to artistically embellish them upon returning. Just don't consu them. Wearing them will suppress the Black Rage within the Angel's progeny to a significant degree."
"No additional conditions are required. When operating in squads, just have one brother carry it. There is no need for any complicated rituals."
He reiterated the point just to be absolutely clear.
Karna had complained to Rases more than once, asking if they could substitute these items with sothing less morbid. However, Rases had explicitly stated that they specifically needed objects capable of establishing a Warp connection with the Angel's descendants.
Karna could indeed use his Warp connection to install a psychic valve to dam the Black Rage. But if the Angels themselves refused to actively suppress it, his efforts would be futile. They had to use physical objects that could bear the weight of their psychological devotion.
And what could possibly serve as a greater emotional anchor for the Angel's progeny than the very wings and blood of Sanguinius?
So, this was the compromise.
"You may summon the Successor Chapters to claim their share. As long as they are willing to consciously rein in their fury, they can permanently break free from the threat of the Rage. There is no need to be stingy; if you run out, we have more."
It wasn't that the Transmigrators lacked other solutions. For instance, they could simply have Arthur—the Chapter Apothecary who had systematically dissected tens of thousands of Astartes of every conceivable lineage—implant a specialized hymnal pituitary gland into the Blood Angels.
That organ alone was highly effective at suppressing the genetic instincts and Black Rage of the Blood Angels. As long as the warriors maintained a relatively stable state of mind, they would practically never succumb to the flaw.
The reason they did not utilize this thod was quite simple.
They were not yet familiar enough with each other. Simply marching up and saying, "I have a cure for the Black Rage and the Bloodthirst; just let surgically implant a new organ into your brains," was a terrible idea.
It sounded exactly like a Chaos sche. Even the Transmigrators themselves would never accept such a proposal if soone pitched it to them.
No matter how agreeable the Blood Angels were, they would never consent to sothing so invasive and suspect.
"..."
Dante stared at the boxes overflowing with feathers and blood, which easily equaled the weight of two full-grown n. He raised his head and looked at Karna with an utterly flat expression.
"..."
The intensity of the gaze made Karna feel a twinge of apprehension.
"Sigh..."
Seeing Karna visibly trying to avoid eye contact, Dante let out a long, heavy sigh.
Others might be ignorant, but how could he not know?
If the physical remains of Lord Sanguinius genuinely possessed the power to suppress the Black Rage, then the Angel's descendants—who had been tornted by the Rage and the Bloodthirst for ten thousand years, driven so mad that so even sought out dark and dangerous entities—would have tried it ages ago.
Daemons and other sinister forces constantly used such things to tempt them into corruption. Dante was already deeply dissatisfied with the desperate asures taken by certain Successor Chapters.
And yet, these extraordinarily precious items had just been handed to them with zero strings attached. There were no bureaucratic rituals required, nor any sinister sermons to endure.
Well, there was one condition.
The Blood Angels had to make Baal a better place.
With the guidance of the Elders and the support of nurous friends.
Where in the galaxy could one find a deal this inexplicably perfect?
"I will ensure they are kept safe, my Lord,"
Dante nodded solemnly, signaling for the Sanguinary Priests to secure the Relics. In an unspoken mutual understanding, he did not bring up the idea of Karna joining the Blood Angels again.
His thoughts then drifted to the Sanguinary Priest of the Flesh Tearers who had recently co to visit him.
As a Successor Chapter founded during the Second Founding, the Flesh Tearers had always been severely plagued by the Black Rage, perpetually struggling with critically low numbers. Now, with their Chapter Master dead in battle, that sole Sanguinary Priest was the only remaining mber of their high command.
"My Lord, the Flesh Tearers are currently visiting Baal as well. Should we attempt to—"
"You are the Chapter Master. Handle it as you see fit."
Having distributed his gifts, Karna was practically itching to make his escape.
"Understood. I will have Chaplain Setalan escort you; he can provide a detailed account of the changes the Blood Angels have undergone over the past ten millennia. Elder Cepatus, please co with . I wish to discuss the restoration of the Three Spheres in greater detail."
Dante summoned the Chaplain responsible for organizing the Chapter's archives.
"Thank you for your trouble."
Karna gave Setalan an appreciative nod.
He was quite interested in history, even the history of a foreign world, for it carried the weight of countless individual stories.
"It is my profound honor, my Lord!"
Chaplain Setalan replied with fervent excitent, deeply grateful to be entrusted with such a sacred duty.
However, his elation did not last long before it was abruptly shattered by an unexpected intruder.
"My Lords!"
Just as the two were strolling through the resplendent Sanctum, a blood thrall ca sprinting toward them in a panic, delivering a wildly unforeseen report.
"A fight has broken out between the Lords."
——
In a secluded sector of the Sanctum, several warriors of the Flesh Tearers lay sprawled across the floor.
"What do you think human lives are?"
Arthur had a robust Flesh Tearer pinned to the ground. The servo-motors beneath his armor humd quietly as he kept the massive warrior locked firmly in place.
This initially wasn't supposed to be a conflict. Arthur had rely been taking a casual stroll, purposefully dampening his presence, when he stumbled upon a group of blood thralls being violently assaulted by the Flesh Tearers they were assigned to serve. He figured he would just rescue the thralls and have Karna swing by later to cast a purification on the deranged Space Marines, and that would be the end of it.
Bloodlust and psychopathy—the Transmigrators had always treated these genetic flaws as a dical illness. The Angel's progeny were, by definition, patients. Thus, Arthur was able to view their barbaric actions through a rational, detached lens.
But the mont he intervened, this bastard had the audacity to bark, "We are simply culling the weak among the Blood Angels' servants."
"And are you the weakling who ought to be culled?"
Pinning the struggling warrior to the floor, the black-armored knight asked in an icy tone.
"What about you?! Have you been culled as well?"
This particular descendant of the Angel seed quite sharp-tongued. The Bloodthirst and Black Rage clouded his mind with feral madness, turning him hyper-aggressive.
"I rember exactly who gave this thirst, who birthed this fury! What about you? Where do you co from? You—"
Almost the very second the Flesh Tearer spat those words out, before Arthur even needed to react, the surrounding mbers of the various Chapters instantly drew their weapons.
The Flesh Tearers' own Sanguinary Priest, who had just rushed to the scene, went so far as to unhook his chain-gavel, fully prepared to execute his battle-brother for uttering such profound heresy.
"Halt!"
Karna's voice rang out from a distance. The radiant angel, who never once bothered to suppress his inner glow, imdiately commanded the attention of everyone present.
He strode forward briskly, locking eyes with his companion for a fraction of a second. Once he confird that no one had died in the scuffle, he turned his attention to the warrior pinned on the floor.
"Who are you? Was this your doing?"
The luminous angel stopped beside the fallen Astartes. Even in the dead of night, his sun-like brilliance made the surrounding artificial lights pale in comparison.
"It was , and—"
The warrior shouted back, sounding thoroughly unrepentant. Refusing to rise, he simply craned his neck to glare fiercely at the newcor.
But in that exact instant, a colossal, overwhelming wave of sorrow—like floodwaters shattering a dam—crashed over him, entirely consuming Gabriel Seth's heart.
He had no idea who this exalted figure was. Yet, the mont he gazed into Karna's eyes—eyes brimming with deep anguish over the plight of re Mortals—a profound sadness, as if mourning an irrecoverable loss, washed over him, making it impossible to restrain his own churning emotions.
"My Lord..."
He mumbled weakly. Then, pushing himself off the floor, he scrambled backward, shrinking away like a grub retreating to a damp corner to escape the searing sunlight.
"Your na."
Karna crouched down and grasped the warrior's gauntlet, physically halting his retreat.
"Gabriel."
The towering Space Marine broke down, hot tears streaming down his face as he choked back sobs.
He tried desperately to summon his rage, wanting to lash out like a cornered beast at anyone who dared approach or question him. Yet, he suddenly realized that the all-consuming fury that had haunted him his entire life had vanished without a trace.
"Gabriel Seth—I'm sorry."
He whimpered brokenly,
"I'm so sorry, my Lord."
"I am not the one you should be apologizing to."
Karna shifted his gaze, focusing on the injured blood thralls. Catching his compassionate stare, the servants instinctively puffed out their chests, despite being completely bewildered by the unfolding scene.
"Co here, to my side."
Karna beckoned, gesturing for the battered thralls to approach him.
"Apologize to them."
"I am sorry."
The Emperor's Angel bowed his head to the lowly, insignificant servants.
This act left the thralls utterly dumbfounded. They froze, completely unsure of how they were supposed to react.
They were literally bred to be sustenance for the Emperor's Angels. It was simply the natural order that the Angels could take from them whenever they pleased.
"..."
Watching the horrific normalization of this tragedy, the Transmigrators exchanged speechless, lancholic glances.
Just because things have always been this way, does it make it right?
It was painfully obvious that there was still so much they needed to change.
Karna and Arthur t each other's eyes, both shaking their heads in sheer helplessness.
On one side stood the Imperium's loyal warriors, who had completely forgotten what they were actually fighting to protect. On the other stood the Imperium's devoted citizens, who had sacrificed everything and completely forgotten how to live for themselves.
Damn it all, was there not a single shred of balance in this godforsaken universe? Why was everything a surreal, nightmarish combination of absolute extres?
A naless sorrow filtered into the Black Rage. Karna held onto Seth's gauntlet with a tender firmness that made the newly arrived Sanguinary Priest feel a strange pang of envy.
"You are guilty,"
he stated plainly.
"Yes. I am guilty."
Seth choked out the words. In truth, he didn't fully understand exactly what his sin was. Yet, seeing that divine face, feeling that raw, visceral grief over the state of the galaxy—he knew with absolute certainty that he was wrong.
"Your cri is forgetting where you ca from, and forgetting what it is you were forged to protect. You must repent."
Karna's voice was gentle yet unyielding.
"Yes... I will repent."
'This charisma is absolutely terrifying,'
Karna mused to himself. Still, he had to admit that it made his efforts to rehabilitate the Angel's progeny infinitely easier.
He then asked softly,
"Do you wish to conquer this fury? Do you wish to beco your true self?"
"I do, my Lord. I do."
His answer was absolute and unwavering.
"Can you leash this madness, and reclaim your respect for human life?"
"I can, my Lord. I will."
His conviction was utterly sincere.
"..."
Unnoticed, the other Blood Angels who had rushed over upon hearing the commotion now stood gathered around Karna. They remained in reverent silence, drinking in his every word.
"Then, I shall walk alongside you."
Karna spoke with an infinite gentleness. "I will bear witness to your transformation. I can grant you the bastion needed to withstand the fiery tides of your wrath, and I will use my very being to guide you forward."
"Thus, it is my deepest hope that every son of the Angel can reclaim the remnants of their human soul, and steer themselves toward the light. This path is destined to be fraught with peril, and the unending Thirst will always haunt your steps."
He raised his head, eting the gazes of the towering Angels encircling him, as well as the trembling blood thralls cowering in their shadows.
It wasn't that they didn't want to be better. It was that they had no other way. No one had ever taught them how, and this cruel galaxy had never given them a single chance.
In this mont, he finally understood the profound sense of destiny that drove Arthur. It was the weight of knowing that broken souls were placing all their faith, their desperate hopes, squarely upon his shoulders, praying for deliverance.
"I will walk with you."
Yes, the Transmigrators would see this through.
——
"High Marshal."
From an observation deck not far away, Pedro of the Crimson Fists stepped up beside him.
He gazed down at Karna, who was completely surrounded by a throng of awe-struck Angels. There was a distinct glimr of envy in his eyes.
Though their own expeditionary force had slowly seen Elders integrate into their ranks, it was painfully clear that among these four grand figures—who seed like the very final blessings bestowed by the Primarchs—there was not a single son of the Imperial Fists.
Well, the Carcharodons didn't have one either, but that eccentric lot seed to share a completely different, bizarre bond with the Elders.
Anyone with eyes could see that the Elders heavily favored that solitary, unorthodox Chapter.
"I must confess, I am quite envious of the Blood Angels,"
Pedro said with a quiet sigh.
"As am I, Pedro."
Ledodes whispered in reply.
"As am I."
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