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Chapter Text

Immaterium

Sanguinius, Great Angel

He woke up in the infinite void of the Immaterium, surrounded on all sides by rivers of different energies swirling around, as if in the eye of a cyclone. At first he felt nothing; he simply was, not knowing who he was, what he was, or even if he existed at all. Then came the pain... the pain that seemed to tear his very self apart, only to come together and fall apart again

He didn't know how long he had lasted in this cycle, but the pain brought some relief because with it came the certainty that at least he existed. Pain diminished over time, and his consciousness began to return. However, his memories and thoughts were one big chaos, like a puzzle scattered haphazardly across the table.

He didn't know how much time had passed or if it had passed at all, but with an unimaginable effort of will, he began to piece together his shattered mind and soul into a whole. Step by step, fragment by fragment, he remembered who he was, or rather who he had once been. Millions of memories were falling into place again. A brown-haired man in golden armour, glowing like the sun. Emperor... Father.

Then he saw the faces of nineteen others like him, created to lead humanity to a better future. Along with their names, their faces returned, but so did their memories. Anger, sadness, a sense of betrayal, despair. Soon, the memories of his brothers were followed by others, no less painful. The lost lives of his sons, loyal to the end. Billions, perhaps trillions of lives destroyed by the machinations of cruel gods, the blindness of his father, the ambitions and imprudence of his brothers, but also the corruption of imperial officials.

The more of his memories returned, the more anger and despair grew within him. But eventually even they gave way, leaving a void once again, where he, Sanguinius, remained.

Now that he remembered who he was, his previously blurred figure began to take on clearer shapes, to finally become a golden-haired youth with burnt, broken snow-white wings, who floated naked and crouched in the void of the Empyrean. When the memories of the last moments of his life reached him fully, he truly wept, for himself, his brothers and all the victims of the fratricidal war.

Everything they had built, the magnificent vision of the empire, lay in ruins. What's more, the Horus Heresy revealed the disease already ravaging the young empire. Tens of thousands of worlds that followed Horus or simply rebelled, unable to endure the iron tyranny of the Imperium of Mankind, which treated its citizens no better than the xenos did.

Floating in that vast void, undisturbed, free from responsibility, he could for the first time since leaving Baal actually look back on more than two centuries of his life, and what he saw did not fill him with pride, for it was pride, along with stupidity and arrogance, that had contributed to their downfall.

Now that he looked back, so many things could have been avoided. First of all, their father's secrecy and lies had not only left them blind to the threat of the Chaos Gods, but had also caused division among the Primarchs. Instead of calming it, he had only fuelled it.

The best example of this was Magnus and his Thousand Sons. He had not known what the emperor had hoped to achieve by simply forbidding the psykers from using their powers without explaining why they shouldn’t. Not fully understanding the threat of the Immaterium and the Ruinous Powers, they had been completely unprepared when the chaos attacked, sowing the seeds of betrayal within their ranks.

Sanguinius could not forgive himself for his own blindness and naivety. He should have seen what was happening much sooner, and he particularly blamed himself for his haste and lack of prudence in responding to Horus' call for help. A mistake that cost them the war. It was said that he was the best of his brothers, but he proved ultimately to weak.

He didn't know how long this bitterness and self-torment accompanied him because in the Immaterium time flows as it wills or does not flow at all. In any case, at some point, something inside him ignited. A small spark that soon grew into a flame of determination. His will burnt like a white inferno.

Much was lost, but while he lived... or rather, while he existed, he could influence what was yet to come. Even if it meant saving one system, one planet, or even one soul, it was worth fighting for. After all, wasn't he the son of the Emperor of Mankind, the one who would lead humanity to a bright future? Even if his father's plan had fallen apart, it didn't mean that something new couldn't be built on top of it. He, SANGUINIUS, would not rest until humanity was free and safe from the horrors of Chaos.

He will hunt, he will destroy, he will kill, he will save, he will heal, and he will restore. If humanity is destined to fall, he will change this destiny or shatter it completely. After all, isn’t it natural to want to get back up after a fall, rather than stay on the ground?

The will not to give up, to live and move forward against all odds. Wasn't that the greatest trait of humanity? The will to fight. The will to survive. The will to win. Moving forward, hoping that the future of this grim, dark universe might be a little brighter, that another day on the battlefield, in the mine, in the factory... even in the greatest hell, might be a little better. Isn't that the only thing that pushes humanity forward?

However, one thought haunted him. How on earth was he still alive and hadn't lost his personality? From what little knowledge their father had shared with them, as well as from his numerous conversations with Magnus and his own deductions, it seemed impossible. After death, he should have transformed into pure energy, similar to the one that surrounded him at the moment.

In addition, he could be anywhere, and what's worse, he didn't know what had happened to his father, brothers, and the Empire. Had the Emperor won, or his corrupted by Ruinous Powers brother?

The shock of discovering the existence of the Chaos gods and the true face of the Immaterium was immense. Now it was beginning to dawn on him that he was in enemy territory, not knowing where he was or where to go. He was like a child in the fog.

Carefully and slowly, he allowed his mind to delve into the Warp surrounding him. Somewhere in the distance, if he could call it that, he sensed entities circling on the edge of perception, a muffled sea of ​​whispers, whose meaning was lost somewhere along the way.

He felt them trying to get to him, urging him to come closer. But something blocked them, preventing them from coming any closer.

"They won't get any closer, little one… They are too afraid of what awaits them here. Even the most powerful of them." Sanguinius looked around in surprise, but he couldn't see anything; even his psychic senses couldn't detect anything.

"Who are you? And where?... Show yourself, demon," he cried, strengthening his mental shields and taking his unstable feelings and tangled thoughts into check.

"Should I be offended? Hmh? But I understand your concern and caution." The voice spoke again, but this time a small ball, the size of a human head, made of glowing white light, materialised in front of him.

Strange. He didn't feel any energy typical of chaos from this thing. What's more, the creature emanated an unusual calmness; its presence seemed like the calm surface of a lake on a windless day.

"You do not seem to belong to the forces of chaos, but you are undoubtedly a being of the Warp. Unless you are simply deceiving my thoughts." He replied after a moment, trying to choose his words wisely. He did not know what he was dealing with and how to possibly fight it.

"I do not belong to Chaos; what's more, I am far older than any of the Ruinous Powers, as some call them, as your father used to call them."

"You claim to be older than chaos?… Hmh.You exist in the Immaterium, so you cannot be C'tan or Necron. You must be one of the Old Ones, the creator of the Aeldari. I have seen texts about you on the Craftworld Magc' Sithraal." Sanguinius quickly deduced, but one thing did not add up in his reasoning. The Old Ones were supposed to completely disappear from the galaxy after the lost war with Necrons and their masters.

The ball of light glowed slightly, and he somehow knew subconsciously that it was a sign of satisfaction and approval. After a moment, the creature's calm voice resounded again.

"You weren't far off, young Sanguinius. In truth, I am but a fragment of a once-powerful being, a shadow of my former self, hidden in this place, waiting for the right moment," the other admitted.

This really intrigued him, a true being from myth and legends, and not of humans, but of a much older race.

"Do you have a name? How should I address you? And what do you mean by the right moment?" he asked, his innate curiosity about the world, buried under the mounds of self-criticism and despair after his defeat, coming to the surface.

"My name has long ceased to have any meaning; it is better left to be erased in time. Call me Mad Fool, for that is what my brethren called me before they left this galaxy… Yes... That is exactly what I am. Although you, my dear child, may be the one I have been waiting for."

The Primarch looked at him with surprise and slight disbelief.

"Mad Fool? Is that how I should address you? And why exactly would you wait for me or someone like me? What are your motives?" His voice became tense; what could the fragment of an ancient god, or something equally powerful, want from him?

The ball of light dimmed slightly for a moment, and when his interlocutor did not respond immediately, he took it as a moment of reflection or contemplation.

"Well, you may call me Prophet. Let's say that would more or less reflect my position among my people." Old One replied after a moment, creating more questions than answers.

"You didn't answer my next question. What do you want from me?"

Prophet fell silent for a moment, as if trying to put his thought into the right words.

"I have been observing what is happening in our galaxy, both in the Materium and the Immaterium, for over 60 million years, and with each passing day, no, with every second, this place is becoming worse, corrupted, or destoryed. A world of endless wars." His voice was filled with timeless fatigue and sadness.

"All this time I've been waiting for someone with the right qualities. Qualities that very few have met in all this time, and none have passed the trials I've set before them."

Sanguinius pondered these words. So there were others, but they failed? The question is what happened to them and what will happen to him if he fails those trials?

"You're talking about the right criteria, qualities. What are they?"

"Come with me. I'll show you something, and then I'll answer your question." The Old One replied, suddenly transporting them to another place, where they were floating in front of an unimaginably large vortex of energy, so powerful that just looking at it caused him physical and mental pain.

He turned to the Prophet and asked, pressing his hand to his temple. "Agh. Where are we and what is this?"

"A treasury of all knowledge. Concealing the secrets of the past, present and future. The very centre of reality. The Well of Eternity." The Old One replied. Then he added soothingly. "Give it a moment. Soon the pain will pass."

Sanguinius pondered his words. A treasury of knowledge both past and future? How could such a thing exist? In moments like this it truly dawned on him how little his race knew about the world around them.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"This is the first of the trials. With my help, you will peer into the Well of Eternity. If you survive, not only will I answer all your questions and help you in every way I can, but what you see will change you."

"Remember, however, not to focus on the future but on the past, if you do not want your soul to evaporate. Now the question remains... Will you try?"

Great Angel turned towards the phenomenon. Now, as the pain truly began to subside, he could appreciate the unique beauty of what was before him. Thousands of colourful weaves and streams created something beyond human comprehension, while hiding secrets ready to shatter a mind of mortals and immortals alike.

Was he ready to take the risk? But did he have anything to lose? He was dead. He did not know if he could somehow return to the world of the living, nor how to survive in the Immaterium without alerting the chaos gods. What's more, this place might hold the answers he needed.

Struggling with his thoughts, he finally replied, his voice more confident than he felt, "I will undertake your trials… Shall we begin?"

He could clearly feel the joy radiating from the Prophet at his words. "Then let us begin. Focus your senses on the Well, and I will guide you further."

He did as he was told. Soon he felt as if he were being pulled inside, then darkness filled him, and a moment later he awoke floating in an endless white void filled with countless thin, multi-coloured threads, intertwining in all directions.

"These ribbons of light", said the prophet, "contain within them your past and all the events related to it. From the moment you were created in the laboratory by your father until now."

"The amount of information and knowledge contained within them would be enough to disintegrate the mind of a mortal, even an enhanced one. And that's just part of the danger. The hardest part is facing the truth because you will be looking at your past from the outside, not from your own perspective, which often blurs it or makes us perceive it in an acceptable for us way. Grab one of them."

More questions rose in the mind of the best of the emperor's sons, but he realised that the time had come to act, not to ask questions, so clenching his jaw, he grabbed the purple ribbon that snaked next to his right hand without hesitation.

Then it began. Even if he wanted to, he could not describe what he was experiencing. It was beyond human comprehension. He expected to see past events replayed before his eyes.

But instead, every day, every second, he experienced from the perspective of every being nearby. When he was created, he felt his father's hope and joy, mixed with his cold calculation. Malcador's doubts. The fear and anger of the Ruinous Powers.

When he fought mutants, xenos, or demons, he saw and felt himself killing and being killed at the same time. He was himself, but he was also the Aeldari whose skull was crushed by his hand.

These alien thoughts of the xenos, and especially the demons' perspectives full of hatred and malice, made him want to vomit, but those rare moments when he experienced events from the perspective of the chaos gods were the worst. At those times, he only wanted to scratch his eyes out and destroy himself just to not experience it.

He finally understood what they were really facing. The power and malice of these beings went beyond human understanding. There were no words to describe how evil they were, even from the perspective of a man who had seen nothing but war, death, and other horrors of this world his entire life.

He didn't know how much time had passed; it seemed like an eternity, during which his mind had almost broken down many times, and his soul had been consumed by this madness.

At some point, however, everything stopped, and his eyes were once more filled with the image of himself standing in front of the Eternity Gate, giving a speech to the defenders.

"I had my eye on you earlier." The prophet appeared to his right. "You and your brother Vulkan. There was compassion in you, but also an iron will, rarely seen together in this grimdark universe."

"But it was you who shone brighter and brighter for me with every moment of this civil war. Your will tempered by the struggles with Black Rage and Red Thirst, your concern not only for your sons but for the common people of the empire. But it was your defence of Terra and your speech that assured me that you were the right choice."

Sanguinius turned his head away from him, feeling slightly embarrassed. He didn't like being praised. He didn't feel worthy of it. He was far from perfect.

"I know what you would like to say." The Old One continued, his voice warm and understanding. "That you are not perfect... And that is good, I say. I am not looking for someone who is; it is impossible."

"I am looking for someone who struggles with his own weaknesses and understands the weaknesses of others. Because of your struggles and your sons' struggles with your flaws, you are more understanding of people and their mistakes; you do not look down on them because you yourself fight with your darker nature."

They were both silent for a moment.

"Do you know what I see when I look upon this scene?" Prophet finally said, and Sanguinius fixed his gaze on the events unfolding before his eyes.

"Desperate men, fighting against horrors to allow humanity to survive another hour?" he asked, his voice full of pain at the memories he had experienced earlier. This was undoubtedly the worst moment of the trial.

"That too. But most of all I see strength, yet compassion; valour, yet righteous anger; unyielding will, yet love; sacrifice, yet hope, all in one person, the brightest soul in this galaxy."

"You have passed my test, boy. And your mind and Will have been forged into an indestructible armour, having survived something that should have destroyed you utterly, like so many before you. Even Tzeentch, that foul creature, fears to look into the Well of Eternity."

"Now the most important question remains. Do you wish to make this dark galaxy a brighter place?"

The question hung in the air between them. Sanguinius didn't have to think long to know what had to be done. No... what he wanted to do.

"Yes. I do," he replied, to which Ole One flashed his light, clearly pleased with his answer."

"Come, so we have much to do, and you probably have many questions. Time for you to meet the others."

"The others?" he asked, frowning.

"You didn't think I was the only 'Mad Fool' who dared to remain in this galaxy, did you? There are three of us. The remaining two stand guard."

"Guarding what?" he asked, now even more intrigued. Two beings as powerful as prophets could not guard something ordinary.

"The trail you have walked and those that await you, they are not just our whims. They have a purpose, which you will soon learn.

Chapter Text

Webway

Sanguinius, Great Angel

With the help of this strange Prophet teleportation, they found themselves in a huge chamber made of black stone, which could easily accommodate a dozen Emperor-class Titans. It was lit by hundreds of floating flames, powered by a fuel invisible to him, but a light touch with his mind confirmed his suspicions that they drew energy from the Immaterium.

The walls and ceiling were decorated with numerous bas-reliefs and engraved symbols that meant little to him, and he would probably need at least many hours, if not days, to see them all.

On some of them he only recognised the silhouettes of Aeldari, beings similar to orcs. The rest, without context and knowledge, were impossible for him to read at the moment.

At the far end of the chamber was the only exit from the chamber. A huge door made of some metal, several metres high. But it was not them that caught his attention but two balls of light floating in front of them, one blue, the other bright green.

They must have been the remaining Old Ones, or rather their existing fragments, the ones the Prophet had mentioned.

However, the most noticeable change was the fact that he felt as if he was no longer in the Immaterium. The endless pressure of wild energies seemed to be only a murmur on the edge of perception, as if something was blocking or severely limiting these corrupted energies.

His guide, because he did not know what else to call him at the moment, was already heading towards his brethren, and Sanguinius followed him right behind, wanting to get answers to the questions that consumed him as quickly as possible.

When they were a few metres from the Old Ones levitating in front of the gate, the blue ball spoke, emitting a sound outside. "So he passed the trial of Will. So there is still hope."

"Yes, there is little time left. Just a few, maybe a dozen human millennia," added the third member of this powerful race.

"Sanguinius, meet my brethren. Their names, like mine, have long since lost their meaning, so you may call them Seeker and Mind." Prophet introduced them, his voice full of enthusiasm but also pride. Apparently, the fact that he had passed their test had a truly special meaning for them.

"Do your names have any real meaning, or did you just make them up on the fly?" Sanguinius asked, intrigued.

"Oh, they most certainly do." Mind replied, flying closer to him, as if to get a better look at him. "Prophet is probably the only being in the galaxy capable of seeing the future in the Well of Eternity and still retaining his senses."

"Though the visions of the future are convoluted and unclear," the one in question interjected.

Mind flashed green, as if showing irritation at being interrupted, then continued, "The Seeker is extremely sensitive to Empyrean energies and, over time, is able to locate every living being in the galaxy, both in the matter and immaterium, and also predict disturbances in those energies in advance. It was thanks to it that we were able to capture your soul at the moment of death."

The Primarch had to admit to himself that their abilities were extremely useful, although he himself knew how deceptive visions of the future could be since he himself had predicted by whose hand he would die.

"So your abilities are related to... the mind, I take it?"

"Yes, to the manipulation of the energies of the Immaterium, to be precise." Mind replied, then added, "But as I am but a fragment of the being I once was, there are many psykers more powerful than me in the galaxy. But I am certain none have the knowledge I have. The advanced techniques and skills of my race, which pale in comparison to those of the Aeldari at the height of their power."

Sanguinius could not help the hunger that grew within him at those words. From the very beginning, he had sought a way to combat the Black Rage and Red Thirst in himself and his sons. Where could he find a cure if not in the knowledge of the race of the ancient gods? The only question was. Would they share that knowledge with him, or could he master it?

Before he could broach the subject, Mind spoke, "I will teach you what I know in time, Sanguinius, but as skilled as you are as a... psyker, that's the word you use, it can take centuries to learn and above all master these techniques. Practice is necessary."

He just nodded at that, gratefully. He would be patient. Now he had other pressing questions.

"Thank you, Mind. But could you tell me where we are now? I assume we are not in the Immaterium, but it can't be the Materium either, for this is not my physical body," he said, indicating his much better-looking form.

His earlier injuries and maimed wings had regenerated after his trial in the Well of Eternity.

"We are in the Labyrinthine Dimension, or Webway as the Aeldari call it." Seeker replied, approaching them, his voice a little colder and his tone a little grumpy.

Before the primarch of the ninth legion could ask for an explanation, however, he continued, "It is an extra-dimensional space that our ice separated from the Immaterium tens of millions of years ago, creating a place for superluminal travel and connecting the entire galaxy. It exists between the Immaterium and the real world."

"So this is the Webway, the one the Aeldari used. But the few records I found on their Craftworld did not say that you were the ones who created it... So much knowledge has been lost and is being lost at every moment. My race is a perfect example of this."

All the events of the past few years came back to him: the betrayal of his brothers, the riven civil war that had claimed trillions of the Empire's inhabitants, his own death at the hands of his beloved brother, and finally what had happened to his father. He didn't even know what the situation in the Empire was like now, only that, in theory, they had won.

He felt Black Rage begin to awaken again, but somewhere inside him. But with the force of will, he crushed it immediately. After experiencing the Well of Eternity, it seemed much easier. However, the very fact that this flaw continued to exist when he didn't have his physical body meant that it wasn't simply a result of some genetic mutation but was connected to the mind and soul.

"I could probably ask how the Aelari haven't discovered you in the millions of years you've ruled the Webway, but it makes sense that as the creators of this place, you know it much better." Sanguinius said, and all three of them smiled in agreement.

"The Aeldari have named themselves our heirs and have used the Webway to expand their galactic empire, just as we have done before. However, they have never been masters of this place." The Prophet explained, "There are hidden places here that only we have access to."

"If you have such sanctuaries hidden here, why are there only three of you left and in such a state? Why haven't the others of your race hidden here?"

Mind sighed and said, "It's simple. The rest of our brethren saw no point in continuing our existence here and left the galaxy in search of a place where they could start over, and as for us, it's a bit more complicated."

"At first we stayed because of what happened to the Immaterium after the war and the birth of Ruinous Powers, seeing a threat they posed to all races. We felt partly responsible for the situation, even though we were the ones being attacked in the war against the Necrons and their masters. Yet we were the ones who sent millions of the living soldiers we had created to fight against them." Mind, she said, a hint of guilt evident in her voice.

"So this war was so terrible that it changed the entire Immaterium and created the demons and chaos gods?" Sanguinius tried to imagine the scale of such a war, which dwarfed even the tragedy of the Horus Heresy that had claimed trillions of human lives.

"The galaxy was so devastated that the Necrons, who had won the war and subsequently overthrown their masters, went into a sleep for millions of years and remain dormant to this day. The few of our people who survived fled the galaxy, while the three of us, shattered by the war, shadows of past selves, remained here."

"Prophet said the two of you were guarding something," Sanguinius interjected, glancing at the first of the Old Ones he met.

"Yes, we stayed to guard an important artefact of our race that we created to fight the C'tan, but by the time it was complete, we were unable to use it," Seeker admitted, his glowing form visibly dimming, radiating regret and something he couldn't quite place.

"C"tan?" he asked, certain he had heard or read that word somewhere. "From the context, I assume these are the Necron machine gods?"

Even the little information he had was beginning to make sense to him. These divine machines were too similar to the Omnissiah of the Mechanicus for him not to have any doubts. In addition, the Martians' mania for replacing organic bodies with mechanical elements.

The priests of Mars had always disgusted him. His father certainly knew something, and this was another thing he was hiding from them.

Of course, seeing the horrors of Chaos, he understood why the Emperor was in such a hurry to start and finish a crusade, but it didn't justify the fact that he tolerated the inhuman practices of the Mechanicus, such as creating servitors, sometimes from the entire population of a planet. The mere thought of it always made Black Rage boil somewhere deep inside him.

His thoughts returned to what Seeker had said earlier about the artefact. It was clear to him that this was the thing they were guarding.

"Lord Seeker, what did you mean earlier when you said you were unable to use the artefact you created? You said it was finished; was it somehow defective?" He asked, staring in the direction of the gate; however, he had been sensing something strange coming from its direction for a few moments.

The Old Ones fell silent, however, but he had the impression that they were communicating with each other through some kind of telepathy, as their forms flashed light irregularly.

"It was more like WE had become too defective. We considered ourselves a paragon of virtue, but 5 million years of war can corrupt anyone. In our attempts to survive, we lost something that truly set us apart from our enemies." Mind finally replied.

"Come; it would be better for you to see for yourself what the problem is and why you are necessary to solve it. It relates to your future trials and probably to future galaxy itself.”

All three Old Ones flew to the gate, and strands of energy emerged from their luminous bodies; when these strands touched the gate itself, golden runes began to appear on it, and after a moment, the gate started to open.

An oval chamber appeared before his eyes, much larger than the one they were currently in. He followed the hosts of this place inside. The walls seemed to be made of some metal alloy unknown to him, and the chamber itself seemed empty, except for one column standing in the middle, several dozen metres high, maybe two metres in diameter.

Sixteen beams of warp energy, each in a different colour, ran from some kind of relay protruding from the smooth walls towards the column in the centre.

Sanguinius waited for some explanation from his guides, but when he received none for a moment, he finally asked, "Hmh. Should I know what we're looking at? Is it some kind of doomsday weapon, using the energy of the Immaterium?"

"No, no," Prophet denied, then approached the pillar and stayed there for a moment, Sanguinius sensing the rising psionic energy from him.

A moment later the column began to slide into the ground to reveal a golden, masterfully crafted spear floating vertically in the air, on which beams of energy were united.

Sanguinius' psionic senses practically screamed at the amount of various energies accumulated in it. Despite standing a dozen or so metres away from it, he felt that getting closer would mean its complete destruction.

"Aeglos, the spear of destiny. Our greatest hope in the fight against the C'tan." Mind said, flying closer and stopping next to him, she continued.

"This is not an ordinary weapon but an accumulation of knowledge and skills but also the desperation of our civilisation combined into one. An artefact that allows you to enter and leave the Webway in any place in the Materium and Immaterium. And not only the user but entire fleets and armies. An absolute logistical and strategic weapon."

Sanguinius's mind slowly tried to digest the information he had heard. The first thought that came to his mind was that his father would do anything to get his hands on this relic. It was a complete game changer.

However, before he could ask Mind why the Old Ones couldn't use this artefact.

The walls of the chamber began to tremble, and after a moment, in the places where the rays emerged, they parted, revealing huge, dozens of metres long, glass-like tanks.

However, he knew that they had to be made of something unimaginably durable because the numerous elements of various sizes, made of some metal, inside emanated a sinister energy that then travelled to the spear itself.

This energy resonated dangerously with the Black Rage and Red Thirst hidden deep inside him, and he had to focus his willpower on tempering them.

The Primarch tore his gaze away from the tanks, then looked at the Old Ones, waiting for an answer.

Prophet, probably sensing the questions building in his mind, replied, "These, my boy, are the C'tan shards we captured and imprisoned here after the Necrons shattered them."

Sanguinius could only stare in disbelief and wonder how everything was becoming more absurd with each passing moment.

Chapter Text

Webway, Inner Sanctum

Sanguinius

Sanguinius slowly walked around the chamber in awe, looking at the fragments of metal gods locked here. Compared to the energy they emanated, the power of his father, or even Horus's strengthened by chaos gods, paled. And there were hundreds, if not thousands, of them here.

He looked at the Old Ones questioningly, "How on earth do you keep this power in check, being a mere shadow of your former glory? The shards are not trying to combine?”

"It's not that simple," Prophet replied. "To understand this, you must know the context of Aeglos' creation."

The Primarch nodded, signalling for the other to continue, "Please speak."

"Without going into details. We wanted the Spear of Destiny to be indestructible above all and to be able to contain and transmit a huge amount of energy," Prophet began, then Seeker cut in.

"To do this, we captured three C'tan, at great cost, and fused our psionic powers with their bodies, creating an artefact, while their essence served as an unlimited power generator for it."

"We did not foresee one thing, though," Mind continued, her voice full of irritation mixed with sadness. "That the Yngir, as a final act of rebellion against the fate that was to befall them, created a safeguard. Seven seals that had to be unlocked in order to use the full power of the spear."

Sanguinius had an idea where this was headed. The Old Ones were somehow unable to break or unlock the seals. But what seals could they be, capable of stop divine beings? Or how powerful were these C'tan really?

"What seals are we talking about?" he asked, to which Seeker quickly replied.

"First, you must know that our enemies were incredibly powerful; it would take many of us to even fight one of them. Each of them represented an aspect of the existing reality, a universal force that ruled the universe."

"And these three sealed Aeglos with their own essence, which was also the source of its power. To unlock Six seals it’s necessary possess six opposite aspects to their original ones. The seventh requires the Yngir energy to be present, which is a death sentence for all but themselves.

"I understand that this is not possible?" Sanguinius interrupted him.

"No, or at least not in theory, because trying to implant their energy ended with the destruction of the soul of the being subjected to the procedure. But there is one exception. A certain child was, during its creation on Luna, the moon of Terra, tainted by the energy of one of the C'tan - Mag'ladroth, which boils in it constantly, causing, in moments of exceptional mental weakness, an increase in uncontrollable anger, but also enormous strength, the strength coming from the Star Gods.” Mind replied.

"Black Rage? So Void Dragon is the reason for its creation? How did it come about?... But what about Red Thirst? Is there some other origin behind it?" He asked, not even knowing what to feel, despite having received an answer to one of the questions that had been bothering him his whole life.

"Yes. It’s Black Rage, but it’s topic for later. I was talking about Aeglos. Let me finish first with this. So, in order to use the Spear to move through the Webway, it is necessary to break the Seventh Seal, or preferably all seven."

"What are these other seals?" he asked, after a moment, already feeling a slight headache from how twisted it all was.

"Aspects of Valor, Justice, Fate, Hope, Sacrifice, Death. And it's not about you doing something brave or just, but becoming the embodiment of those aspects. The easiest way is the faith of mortal beings." Prophet explained, his voice taking on a much darker tone.

"But you would probably need the faith of your entire empire, identifying you with a given aspect, to become its embodiment. Good luck getting so many beings in this horrible universe to feel hope and justice and identify it with you. It's probably the hardest seals to break. Hope and justice left this galaxy a long time ago."

Sanguinius clutched his head. "Why then did you bring me here in the first place? To show me this artefact and share your history?"

"Calm down, young Sanguinius.” Said Prophet. “We had a purpose in bringing you here. When you survived your death and looked into the Well of Eternity, you took a step towards breaking the third and sixth seals, the seals of Fate and Death. For you were fated to die and this was to be the end of your journey. But you broke it." he reassuring him.

"And even earlier, by sacrificing your life to stop your brother, Horus, you also came closer to possibly breaking the fifth seal, Sacrifice. And your Empire of Man does the rest of the work.”

"Empire?" he asked, surprised. "What does the Empire have to do with this? If it even still exists. After what I saw happen to the Emperor, I don't know if anything can be salvaged from it."

The Old Ones fell silent for a moment. Finally Mind spoke, "Sanguinius, nearly 1,000 years have passed in the Materium. Time passes differently in the Immaterium than in the real world, and it has taken you a long time to rebuild your soul in its entirety. Additionally, while the Well of Eternity is outside of time, that does not mean you exit it the same moment you entered it."

The Primarch of the Ninth Legion felt as if he had been struck with a sledgehammer. Thousand years? What could have happened in such a long time? Five times as long as the Great Crusade had taken.

Wait, but the Prophet was saying something to the empire doing the rest of the work in connection with the seal of Sacrifice.

"According to your earlier words, I understand that the empire must continue to exist. That means that my brothers have managed to rebuild it." He said aloud, looking at his hosts.

They began to flicker with light, as if feeling nervous.

"We will talk about this later," Mind replied, then added hesitantly, "Let's just say that your empire is in worse shape than before the rebellion, but they did one good thing, especially important to us."

"They immortalised you as the Saint and a symbol of the greatest sacrifice, but also of courage. One could find also traces of the rest of the virtues we need, such as justice or hope, but not enough."

"Exactly." Seeker agreed. "You could probably break the seal of Sacrafice, but you're too weak for that right now. You need to regain at least your former strength."

Sanguinius had much to think about; meanwhile, his mind turned to the incredibly powerful C'tan shards present in the chamber. He looked at the Old Ones.

"Are you really weakened? How on earth were you able to gather such a large number of Shards? From what I understand, most of them were supposed to be hidden by the Necrons."

"Yes, but the Necrons and also the Shards were asleep." The Seeker replied, "We didn't enter the Necrons tombs through the main entrance but sneaked in like a thief in the night. Plus, you forget that there is nothing in this galaxy that can hide from me. Sooner or later I will find it."

The pride and self-satisfaction seething from the ancient being made Sanguinius wonder for a moment which of them was the deity several dozen million years old.

"All these shards belong to one Yngir or does each chamber hide one of them?" He asked, approaching one of the tanks, where the shards suddenly began to swirl wildly, as if sensing him.

"Caution," Mind warned, flying over to him. "Even though they are dormant, they are still semi-sentient and your energy resonates with them. Aeglos can absorb their power, but that doesn't mean they can't sense you and automatically reach your mind."

"As for your question, each tank holds a different Star God. I won't tell you about each one, at least not now. But the tank you're standing in front of and the two to your left hold the worst of them. Aza'gorod, the Nightbringer, was the first C'tan the Necrons encountered. Mephet'ran, the Deceiver, was the one who tricked them and was really the trigger for the entire war."

"But the one before you was the mightiest of them all. A true beast among monsters. Mag'ladroth, the Void Dragon. The one whose energy is already flowing within you.”

“Let his power be seen in the fact that your father fought a single fragment of him on Mars and was only able to imprison him back in his tomb. On top of that, the Dragon manipulated the entire human Mechanicum, as you call it, into worshipping him as this Omnissiah."

Sanguinius suddenly turned to her, surprise written all over his heavenly face. One of the C'tan shards is hidden on Mars? And is worshipped by those stupid Martians? As if he didn't have enough reason to hate those psychos.

He fell into deep thought, letting his mind quickly analyse everything he had learnt. However, what he was coming up with didn't fill him with enthusiasm. Prophet and the other two had their own agenda and planned to use him in some way. And he was tired of being someone's pawn. No more.

"For what purpose do you do all this? To defeat the chaos, C'tan? That is the question that troubles me the most. If I am to serve your purposes, I must know them. I will not simply become your tool." Sanguinius' voice left no doubt that he expected an answer, and if it did not satisfy him he will leve, they might try to stop him.

"The Prophet flickered slightly, as if sighing. "We did not show you all this, my boy, to make you our pawn. This is our attempt at redemption, to repair what we have helped to destroy after all."

"Exactly," Mind admitted, "We helped create the unwilling gods of chaos, and now we want to help create someone who could resist them and also Yngir, if they ever broke free from their prisons and regained their former power."

"You want to make me some kind of god? It would go against everything the Empire stood for and everything my father dreamed of."

"Sanguinius, the Emperor's dream has always been just a dream. There have been, are, and will always be divine beings in this galaxy. To close your eyes and hope that the world will conform to your own imaginings is not only foolish but pathetic," the Seeker said with contempt, then added, "We have learnt this the hard way. We believed in peace and coexistence, only to be met with the reality of war and brutality beyond all imagination."

The Primarch couldn't disagree with those words, for he himself had similar many times. And if they offered him the power to bring Chaos to its knees and perhaps the power to save his sons from the curses that were destroying them, he would gladly accept it. So that he would never again have to feel the helplessness he felt, especially on Sigmus Prime and Terra.

"So what's the plan? What I have to do and what steps do I need to take?"

"The first step must be to make you stronger. Your path to godhood has already begun when humans began to worship you as a saint of the Empire, but you will need much more human and not only faith but also your own actions, personifying the aspects we need." Seeker explained, his glowing figure radiating visible excitement. Their plans were finally coming into motion after millions of years.

"So I suggest you go into the Immaterium and hunt down lesser demons or other creatures that inhabit it to absorb their energy."

"Wait a moment." Sanguinius interrupted him, "What do you mean by absorbing their energy? Is that even possible and safe?"

"What do you think your Red Thirst is? It's not a physical condition; it's a psionic one. A curse and a blessing in one from Khorne." The Prophet replied, leaving him stunned.

"You mean... you mean that by drinking blood I absorb the energy of the being?" he asked in disbelief. It seemed that he had been searching for a cure for a misdiagnosed problem all along. "So what? I have to bite into the demon's body and drink its blood? I don't know if I could even do that."

“Eh. No, no.” Mind sighed. “We’ve discussed this much among ourselves, and we’ve come to the conclusion that you should be able to, upon a demon’s death in the warp or banishment, absorb the energy using your psionic powers.”

"And as for developing yours power, we'll start training as well, and I'll teach you techniques of my people, but that will take years to master, even with your keen mind. Well, but we have to start somewhere."

"If that's settled, I'd like to know what's happening with the Empire and my brothers, as well as what happened to my father after he was placed on the Golden Throne. I think I've been patient long enough." Sanguinius spoke, his tone reflecting his impatience. It wasn't that he didn't want to learn all the secrets the Old Ones had revealed to him, but his heart yearned to know what happened to his brothers, sons, and the people of the Empire.

Chapter Text

Webway, Ilmarin

134.M32

Sanguinius

Sanguinius truly marvelled at how something so vast could exist hidden from the eyes of the Aeldari, who had ruled the Webway for over 60 million years.

The Inner Sanctum and its vestibule alone were enormous, but the ancient fortress of the Old Ones made his pride as a human and the accomplishments of his species incredibly muted.

The place was huge, probably able to hold an entire planet, and a large one at that. The prophet even commented that Sanguinius would have to fly for weeks to reach from one end of it to the other.

It was the Old Ones main stronghold in the Webway during the War in Heaven. It was from here that their forces were commanded and transferred to various fronts, and in the last days of the war, it had been hidden from both enemies and the races serving this ancient race.

He called it a fortress, even though it looked more like a hexagonal cube studded with needles, each one several tens of thousands of kilometres long.

It could probably fit an entire densely populated human system. Maybe even Ultramar. Just imagining what this place looked like at the height of its power made him feel an inner sadness, even pain, that he had not been able to see this sight and probably never would.

The gleaming white walls, illuminated by the glow of lights powered by the Immaterium, remained deafeningly empty, even though the structure itself glowed as if bathed in sunlight. The fortress should be visible halfway across the Webway but hidden from view.

Mind supposedly explained it to him during one of their first lessons. It was such a complex manipulation of the energies of the Immaterium, locked in a network of overlapping psionic arrays, that even the Aeldari at the height of their power probably could not recreate it. And those clever bastards had created, among other things, the Blackstone Fortresses.

The last year and a half he had spent here had focused mainly on the development of his psionic powers. The techniques and abilities he learnt would probably make all human psykers, including Magnus and his father, jealous. And according to his mentor, they were the basic set taught to young Aeldari right after their creation.

Compared to human ones, which focused more on raw power and crude application, they were more sophisticated while requiring much less energy. In addition, they allowed him too do mind-blowing and crazy things, such as trapping thousands of shards of divine beings and drawing energy from them to power probably the most powerful weapon in the galaxy.

With a few flaps of his wings, he flew up to a several-metre-high oval structure, inside which was a shimmering mirror of multi-coloured energy. Flying into the portal, he found himself in another place in Ilmarin, several thousand kilometres away.

The entire fortress was connected by hundreds of them, making it much easier to move around when you weren't a ball of energy like the three fragments of the Old Ones.

Another technology that the Imperium would give up at least a few systems for. However, the thought of the Imperium of Man immediately made his thoughts darken.

His father, or rather his corpse, was chained to the Golden Throne, while the presence in the Immaterium continued to power the Astronomicon. His brothers were dead or missing, his sons condemned to deal with both Black Rage and Red Thirst, and the empire was ruled by the fucking lords, the ecclesiarchy and the Mechanicus, and he couldn't even decide which were the worst.

He had hoped that with their father gone, Guilliman might be able to stabilise the empire and become the new emperor, but everything had gone to hell. His brother was as good as dead, held in stasis, wounded by that damn traitor Fulgrim.

Although whether it was truly the primarch of the 3rd Legion or a daemon that had taken over his body was a question, and not even the three ancient Old Ones knew the answer.

Flying through the empty corridors, he headed towards the forge and armoury complex hidden deep within the main structure of the fortress, where he would meet with some of the few remaining residents of Ilmarin.

Orain Droh, Arhyon Firesoul, Tarvas Eldial, and Melyth Dawnlance were four ancient Aeldari who had served his mentors since the War in Heaven. The only downside was that they could not leave the fortress, as their life force was bound to it.

That did not change the fact that their knowledge was in many ways equal to that of their masters. And Orain and Melyth were the most magnificent warriors he had ever faced or seen in action. Over 60 million years of honing their skills had not been wasted.

Arhyon and Tarvas, on the other hand, taught him alongside Mind about the Immaterium and its dangers, as well as the Webway. The former even claimed that their knowledge of chaos was equal to that contained in the Black Library of Cegorach, the Laughing God of the Eldar.

All four Eldar were also incredible craftsmen, grandmasters in their craft, who had been crafting weapons and armour, as well as vehicles, for millions of years. Ilmarin had thousands of armouries and hangars filled with equipment, much of which dated back to the War in Heaven, but the rest had been made by them.

He had also expected them to treat him with contempt, or at least look down on him, but Orain's first words shocked him, turning his entire vision of what he had become a part of upside down.

"For now, like our creators, we are your teachers, while you are our apprentice, but if our plan succeeds, you will become a master and lord to us and them."

He also had to admit that, contrary to appearances, when talking to the Aeldari, or at least these ones, he had much more in common than he had with other humans, even Fulgrim. They talked for hours about art, culture, architecture, technology, and religion. The topics were endless when he was dealing with walking encyclopaedias.

He got along great with all four of them, but he especially liked Tarvas, who had a surprisingly positive and easygoing personality for such an old man – although, of course, he didn't look it.

From hundreds of meters from the armoury, he could hear the sounds of forging and numerous machines, although the noise was not even compared to the factories of the empire. This part of the armoury was a large hall where a walker was currently being assembled.

He landed in front of the small gates leading to Orain's private forge, which slid open before him, allowing him to step inside. Both the armour and the forge were made of the same shiny white material as everything else. The only difference was the numerous machines, each much more advanced than those of the empire. Production was almost completely automated.

In the middle of the forge, with his wraithbone hammer in his hand, stood his teacher, who was rhythmically striking some elongated object placed on an anvil decorated with runes.

With each strike, warp energy flashed, and the air carried the sound of an exceptionally resonant bell.

Not wanting to interrupt his work, he looked around the forge itself, but he had been here so often that he knew it almost by heart. Here and there, several weapons appeared on the walls, both for melee and ranged combat.

Finally, he was torn from admiring their skilful workmanship by the voice of the Eldar.

"Sanguinius, my dear apprentice. You are here at last. Your weapon is ready." The man said in a serene, calm tone, holding out a four-metre yellow-and-white spear, about a metre longer than the primarch himself.

Sanguinius approached him and, taking the weapon in his hands, looked at it carefully. It was made entirely of wraithbone. But the shape seemed oddly familiar to him.

He lifted his head and looked at the Eldar, "It looks just like Aeglos."

Orain nodded, "That's right. In the future, you will wield the Spear of Destiny. This is only a temporary weapon, but it is good for getting used to fighting with a spear of this size.”

Sanguinius looked at him in surprise, slightly raising an eyebrow. "You are exceptionally certain of that. It is possible that I will never be able to unlock the seal on Aeglos. It seems practically impossible."

The ancient Aeldari stepped closer and, despite the more than half-metre difference in their height, placed his hand on his shoulder and said in a firm and confident tone. "I admit that when Prophet told us who they had chosen as champion, I was convinced that they were making a mistake."

"I admit that I had hoped and expected that only someone of my race could fulfil this honour. However, I know now that it was impossible, for our race has become too proud and arrogant. But, I do not claim that your race are not any better."

"You, however, are different," he said, and clenching his fist, he lightly hit the primarch's chest with the side of it. "You have a heart that beats not only for yourself but for others. A sense of justice, a desire but also a determination to change this sick galaxy for the better, and you are able to die for it. Or rather, you died for it."

"Thank you, Orain. These words mean a lot to me, really. Coming from someone so wise and experienced, they sound different." Sanguinius replied, feeling the warmth filling him. It was good to have someone who had faith in you.

The Eldar smiled slightly, but after a moment his face turned serious. "Let me finish. As I said. If there is anyone who will ever lift this bloody spear, I believe it will be you. I see greatness in you, the same greatness I once saw in my race, which was squandered."

"The spear is one thing, but your armour is ready as well. I still had to repaint it. The original colour of the wraithbone wouldn't suit you."

The Ancient Armourer led him to one of the walls, where, with a wave of his hand, he pulled back a panel in the wall, revealing an incredibly elaborate golden armour inside. It was clearly a mix of Eldar and human craftsmanship, and unlike his old Primarch armour, it was less massive and bulky.

"Come on, I'll help you put it on," Orain said, walking over and taking the main breastplate in his hands. To Sanguinius' surprise, the armor was exceptionally easy to put on. Less than a minute passed, and everything was in place.

He took a few steps and moved his arms, testing its mobility, and had to admit he was surprised. The armour itself was incredibly light and hugged his body while also being very malleable, hardly restricting his movement.

The Ancient Eldar took a closer look at him, walking around him, nodding as if to himself and muttering something under his breath a few times.

"It'll do for now," he finally concluded.

"For now?" Sanguinius asked in surprise. "This isn't the final version?"

Orain looked at him as if he had insulted him, then with a sigh shook his head in disapproval.

"My boy, if this was the best I could do after millions of years of perfecting my craft, I wouldn't be able to look myself in the mirror. This is just the first prototype. A reworked Aeldari armour, or rather my version of our armour, without that stupid oblong helmet."

Sanguinius nodded with a smile playing on his lips, "Indeed, those helmets look ridiculous."

"Thank you for the armour and weapons. They'll come in handy on my next hunt," he added a moment later, approaching his new spear leaning against the wall.

Orain looked at him more closely, his expression immediately becoming serious.

"Be careful. In the Immaterium, you never know what you'll encounter. One moment you might be surrounded by nothing but wild energies, and the next you might be looking at a Greater Daemon standing before you, or the God of Chaos himself."

The Primarch shook his head slightly. "Relax. I'm careful. Besides, this is more of a technology hunt. Seeker showed me a place where I could find SCTs from my race's Golden Era Technology."

Orain nodded, "I have to admit that your race had a few, dare I say, really fucked-up technologies at that point, like those planet-sized mechanical serpents or nanoswarms."

"I'd like to see that, although perhaps not as destructive an aspect of this technology." Sanguinius sighed, while sadness filled him at the thought of how much his race had lost.

Chapter Text

Immaterium

Sanguinius

Even though he had left the Webway quite close to the place that Seeker had shown him. He still had quite a large area to search, which was always risky in Warp.

Having muffled his presence so that it did not shine for all like a supernova, he used the energy of the Immaterium to move in search of the ship containing the STC or hard copy printout from one.

He might not be able to help the Imperium or his sons in real space for now, but he could grow stronger and wage war in the Immaterium or Wabway. Maybe even build an army in Ilmarin, but all that would take time.

Together with Prophet and the others, they began to make plans, but in this galaxy you never know when something will turn them upside down. Especially since for all their resourcefulness and knowledge, his three mentors were just a shadow of their former selves; what remained, and even then, they were not the most powerful individually.

To his surprise he managed to locate the ship quite quickly, or so he thought. The warrior and commander in it forced him to stop for a moment and look at this marvel of human technology with admiration.

Although relatively small compared to the largest colossi of the empire, really no bigger than a frigate, it was above all much more pleasing to the eye in design and much more slender and elegant, more reminiscent of some Eldar ship.

The Geller Field was clearly active, but thanks to a trick Mind taught him, he bypassed it by teleporting inside, but it took him a moment to adjust to the space-time reality inside.

The interior of the ship was lit by a dim, occasionally blinking blue light, giving the seemingly deserted place an air of dread and uncertainty

This impression was only deepened by the various sounds reaching him from time to time, from simple knocking to groans that could just as easily have been emitted by a strained structure or by some monsters straight out of human nightmares.

For him, however, this was not a first; in his short life, he had seen horrors that no human mind could have conjured up. Evil so repulsive, horrors so terrible, that it seemed there was no escape from it.

Without hesitation, he entered what seemed to be the main corridor. For now, his presence in the Immaterium was masked by one of the techniques Mind had taught him, but he wasn't proficient enough in it to hide him if he got too close to the daemon.

As the Old One herself put it, his aura was too bright and fiery to be properly concealed without masterful skill.

In addition to the C'tan energy flowing through him from the Void Dragon, which he had fully awakened during his battle with Horus, his person generated a sort of gravity of its own that was easily felt in his vicinity.

The dozen or so rooms he passed seemed deserted but remarkably clean, with no trace of the passing of the years. Suddenly, his vision blurred, and he saw a brief vision of scarlet paws and psychic tentacles emerging from the darkness and trying to grab him.

A moment later he was back in the dimly lit corridor, blinking, trying to focus on his surroundings. It was the first vision he had since the defence of Terra. But it was just as imprecise.

Whether it concerned a threat on this ship or some future one, whether in a minute or a year, an hour or a century, he could not say. But he did know one thing: he had to be careful regardless. Arrogance had ruined many, and probably more powerful ones than he.

He no longer knew how long he had been wandering through the deserted corridors and rooms, because in the Immaterium time passed as it pleased. But with every moment he knew that something was very wrong; even by the standards of this place, something was wrong, especially since Geller's shields were still active. If any daemons had gotten inside or possessed the crew, there would have been a massacre here. But there was no trace of any bodies or even bones. There were basically no traces. But who knew what horrors were hidden?

The further he delved into the ship, the more he felt that he was being watched by something, but when he examined the ship's deck with his psychic senses, he detected absolutely nothing, no beings. Perhaps he would have felt nervous if he had not seen so many wonders and horrors that this galaxy had in store for the first 200+ years of his life.

Soon he found himself standing in front of a door that should have led to the bridge or some other command centre of the ship. But it opened on its own before he could even get to it, revealing an equally empty room, large enough to hold a battalion of Space Marines.

The interior itself did not seem to differ from the few Golden Era of Technology ships that were in service to the Empire; at most, it seemed to be slightly more advanced and had a few differences.

Suddenly it hit him what those differences were. He couldn't see any crew seats, screens, or displays; that could only mean one thing. The ship was completely controlled by AL. At that moment he began to feel real anxiety.

One was to fight xenos or even daemons; he had no shortage of methods or experience to conduct such a fight. However, how to effectively fight AI was a completely different matter. He was wandering around in the dark here, especially since he understood how dangerous AI could be. After all, it was AI that brought humanity to its knees at the height of its power.

"Strange. You appear to be human, but you are composed entirely of compressed and stabilised energy, similar to the entities that inhabit this chaotic reality," came a voice, seemingly coming from everywhere. But he could see and sense no one around him.

His suspicions about who was in control of this ship proved correct, but the question remained where the crew was and where to find some STCs.

As the flood of thoughts flowed through his mind, Al continued her analysis. "You don't need oxygen, food, or organs. Pure energy taking on material form. What an intriguing puzzle."

Sanguinius, remaining alert, asked, his hand tightening around the shaft of his spear. “Who are you? Do you have a name?”

The voice fell silent for a moment, then spoke again, but instead of answering his question, the AI ​​began speaking again as if to itself. "Fascinating. I see no division between body and spirit; instead, energy manifests in corporeal form. I can't wait to understand how you function."

Sanguinius frowned at this dismissive approach, as if the AI ​​was treating him like an object. He decided to try to come to an agreement one last time, but he had a bad feeling about all this. Before he could say a single word, however, his attention was drawn to the cracks opening in the walls, from which emerged several dozen humanoid robots, perhaps half a meter shorter than him, who surrounded him from all sides and began to approach him with outstretched arms, which began to generate some kind of energy strands, which began to connect into a large energy network that was probably supposed to trap him.

"I don't know who you think you are, but I am Sanguinius," he told Al in an icy tone, feeling the Black Rage rising within him as if the very energy of the C'tan was responding to the impertinence of this arrogant AI. "Great Angel of Humanity, and no conglomeration of code will look down on me.”

With a wave of his hand, he caused a telekinetic dome of psychic energy to strike his opponents, scattering them to the sides with great force. However, it did them practically no harm in the long run.

The moment they hit the walls of the chamber, their bodies disintegrated into billions of tiny fragments for a moment, which, after only a second or two, began to merge back into a whole.

"Nanits, great." He sighed to himself, watching them carefully and waiting for the attack.

"SORCERER! CHAOS DOG! I WILL HAPPILY DISSOLVE YOUR BODY INTO FRAGMENTS!" The AI's voice emerged from all the robots at once in unison, creating a sound so strong that even he winced slightly.

Sanguinius began to notice one thing. The AI, for all its intelligence, had the same flaw as its creators and most other races, led by the Aeldari. Arrogance stemming from technological advancement.

There was clearly something wrong with it. Was it the influence of chaos, a code error, or was it simply created that way? He didn't know. What he did know was that he had no way to fight the artificial intelligence. He could probably destroy it along with the ship using his psychic powers, but he could forget about STC then.

He was comforted by the fact that these machines that he had to deal with right away seemed to be, despite their advanced design, only a prototype of the mythical Man of Iron, each of which supposedly had its own more advanced AI personality than the one on this ship.

When the robots' arms began to transform into plasma cannons, he immediately surrounded himself with a barrier that took the impact of the attacks. He stretched his free left hand in front of him, and a powerful chain of golden lightning emerged from it, which began to branch out, attacking all opponents at once.

Even if they were protected from the electric attack in any way. Aman' Storm was an attack created by one of the Old Ones to fight the Necrons and C'tan themselves and was intended to completely disintegrate the living metals that made up their bodies.

Its power depended on skill and, of course, the amount of psychic energy poured into the attack, but the more powerful it was, the harder it was to control. If it got out of control, it could annihilate the user. According to Mind, this happened to its creator Aman during the fight with Mag'ladroth.

The machines did indeed begin to disintegrate into atoms when they came into contact with the attack, but then the floor beneath him suddenly opened up, disrupting his concentration. Both the lightning and the barrier were broken, and at the same moment a tentacle of nanits struck Sanguinius with such great force that he broke through the massive reinforced walls into another, much smaller room.

More tentacles followed him, trying to grab him, some even trying to pierce themselves with their sharp needles. Sanguinius instinctively covered himself with his wings, but he felt the attacks begin to penetrate the adamantium-hard feathers.

With one thought, he reactivated the psionic barrier, and after it, sent another shockwave of energy, followed by another and another.

Not wanting to risk an attack from below, he began to levitate with the help of his powers, enclosing himself in a cocoon of purple energy.

However, the number of nanite tentacles increased, slowly turning into entire clouds that pressed against him with untamed force, and he could not focus on anything other than defence.

Soon he could no longer see anything, surrounded by nanites on all sides, and his barrier began to lose its strength. However, Sanguinius knew that if he used more psychic energy, his cloaking field would no longer be able to hide him, and he would become visible in the Immaterium like an exploding supernova.

He could not rule out attracting the attention of even one or more of the Ruinous Powers, and this was not an encounter he was ready for.

So he had to try to either win or at least escape with what he had. But it was easier said than done. For it seemed that he was drowning in a sea of ​​nanites.

In this desperation, deep inside him, suppressed anger, untamed fury, and a mad void began to awaken. In his eyes, radiating with golden light, an endless blackness began to form, and a moment later it filled them completely, and a cry of dominance and cold fury emerged from his throat.

“BEGONE!!!”

The nanites suddenly fell to the ground like a huge wave, as if separated from whatever controlled them.

Sanguinius, guided as if by no will of his own, inexplicably sensed the AI ​​hidden in the ship's systems, and his untamed black anger began to press against this pathetic consciousness.

"NO, NOOO! SPARE! PLEASE! NOOO, NOOOOO!!!" Her voice carried through the ship, full of desperation and the will to survive.

But he knew no mercy. This ridiculous creature wanted to kill him; it was only right that he would repay her in the same way.

"SURRENDER TO THE VOID!!!"

A wave of impenetrable, light-absorbing black energy poured out of it in all directions, drowning the ship in eternal emptiness.

All movement and sounds ceased; after a moment, the sea of ​​darkness began to recede, returning to the place from which it was born. The fog drew back into Sanguinius.

After a moment, there was no trace of it or of his own anger. Just like there was no trace of the ship itself.

The Great Angel was floating as if in an open wound in the Immaterium, because even after the chaotic energies that had previously pressed against the ship surrounded by the field, there was no trace within a radius of many kilometres.

Sanguinius grimaced and grabbed his head because he felt the pressure growing inside it, and then the whispers came, louder than ever before.

Destroy! Consume! Drown in the eternal Void! Free yourself from your shackles!

Destroy! Consume! Drown in the eternal Void! Free yourself from your shackles!

Destroy! Consume! Drown in the eternal Void! Free yourself from your shackles!

The voice in his head kept repeating the same words over and over, trying to break through the shields of his will. But he defended himself, despite the panic that was flooding him.

"Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!" he shouted like a mantra, until the voice finally fell silent. However, the terror he felt did not leave with him. Something very bad was happening to him. Black Rage had never been so persistent nor so powerful, and above all, he seemed sentient now.

He looked around the last time at the void surrounding him, which was once again filling with warp energies. Not only had he lost the possibility of obtaining STC, but he had also lost control over himself.

"I have to consult with the others. Maybe they will know what is happening," he muttered to himself and teleported to the entrance through which he had arrived.

Chapter Text

Webway, Ilmarin

Sanguinius

As soon as he arrived in Ilmarin, he went straight to the place where he was sure he would meet one of the Old Ones. One of them always guarded the Inner Sanctum, located in the very heart of the fortress.

Although the Black Rage hidden deep inside him had completely quieted down, the memory of the feeling that accompanied its outburst did not leave him for a moment.

And to his horror, it was not a bad feeling. Quite the opposite. He had never felt so good. So powerful, almost invincible. With one attack, he had annihilated both the matter and energy of the Immaterium within a radius of several kilometres. Without any difficulty and without having any control over it.

And it terrified him, especially since after surviving the Well of Eternity, it seemed to him that it was easier to control his flaw. However, it turned out that he was seriously mistaken and needed both the opinion and help of beings much more experienced than him, especially in the matter of C'tan power.

When he appeared in the vestibule to the Inner Sanctum with the help of one of the portals, he indeed found Seeker in front of the gate. As soon as he saw him, he must have realised that something was wrong because he quickly flew up to him and asked.

"Sanguinius, you are radiating the energy of Yngir. Hmh...Mag'ladroth...? What happened?"

Sanguinius stopped and lowered his head in shame. It was not a behaviour that could be seen anywhere else, but in the presence of these ancient and incredibly wise beings, he could not help but feel like a child.

Especially since, with all the hopes placed in him and the time devoted to him, he felt that he should at least control himself; unfortunately, he failed.

"I found the ship exactly where you had located it. However, it was controlled by an AI that I could not handle without manifesting my presence in Empyrean. Then I lost control and..." He gritted his teeth angrily as he remembered how easily everything had slipped through his fingers.

"Mag'ladroth's power manifested," his mentor finished for him.

Sanguinius nodded slightly and looked uncertainly at the glowing silhouette of the Old One.

"I did not even know when it happened. One moment I was in control, and the next I felt only fury and void which burst from me like a sea of ​​darkness, consuming everything. The robots, the AI, the ship, and the chaotic energies of Immaterium surrounding it."

Seeker flew closer to him, coming within a few dozen centimetres of him, then asked gently, "May I?"

Sanguinius, guessing that he meant some kind of scan or examination, simply nodded.

He felt the psychic tendrils touch him and then reach deeper into his being. It all lasted only a few seconds, after which the Old One finished the analysis.

"And what? Did you manage to determine anything?"

Seeker flickered with various shades of blue lights, which Sanguinius had learnt to recognise in his mentors as a sign of thoughtfulness.

"We must have missed it, but somehow, Mag'ladroth's energy became much more powerful, and I have several possible explanations, but two are really the most likely," the ancient being admitted.

"When you entered the Inner Sanctum, the C'tan powers hidden within you must have somehow resonated with the shards there, strengthening them."

Sanguinius looked at him with concern, "And the second possibility? Is it perhaps even worse?" he asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Hmh, possible? It's hard to say which option is more disturbing, although both are possible. In any case, he supposes that it is due to the lack of a material body because your form is almost pure concentrated energy of the Immaterium. The Void Dragon energy, as strictly connected to the physical, material reality, tries to fill this missing space."

The Primarch began to circle in place, trying to organise his thoughts. The implications of these words were terrifying. Indeed, thinking about it now, when Black Rage took control of him, he felt as if his own had become more solid.

In addition, when he lost control, his body, held together by the power of his mind, should have started to fall apart.

He glanced back at his mentor. "You mean that Mag'ladroth's energy replaces my physical body?"

"Not exactly," Seeker denied. "The C'tan also didn't have bodies until the Necrons created them. But their powers were strictly matter-bound and affected by matter, while they were very susceptible to the energies of the Immaterium."

"Just as Materium and the Immaterium are two sides of the same coin, so the energies of the C'tan and those of the Empyrean are part of a whole.”

"It could also be a solution to our real space problems. Normally you would have to use a similar method for the gods and demons of chaos, which is extremely expensive in terms of energy."

"Now, however, in theory we could use the Yngir energy to create a temporary body for your spirit. Think of it as putting on armour."

Sanguinius had to admit he was intrigued by the idea, but more questions arose. "Is this even possible?" he asked.

"It's hard to say, because you are an exception. The C'tan do not possess a soul as such but are a self-aware nexus of the Materium energy. Then again, neither we nor any living races, especially the Immaterium entities, have the power to manipulate reality directly, but we can use the Empyrean power to do so." Seeker replied; from his voice, it seemed he was also intrigued by the possibility.

"The idea seems and may make sense, but there is one problem." The Primarch of the Ninth Legion retorted, running his fingers nervously through his golden hair. "I do not know how to control these powers, or even if it is possible."

"Sanguinius, you have looked into the Well of Eternity and survived. I am certain that if anyone can control the C'tan energy, it is you." Seeker assured him, probably trying to reassure him, but that did not mean that his words were untrue.

Thinking now of the Void Dragon's power, he had to admit to himself that even if the C'tan were extremely susceptible to Warp energy, their power alone, or at least Mag'ladroth's, was lethal to that same energy and the beings created from it.

The Void could be an extremely useful tool in combating the Ruinous Powers, for even they could be erased from existence. There was no room for anything in the Void, only infinite nothingness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Immaterium

Great Conspirator

When he sensed this unnatural disturbance in the energies of the Immaterium, he was intrigued. This was something new, something unknown, bearing the mark of change. And this was his domain.

Hastily throwing out plotting further intrigues and twists of events, he went to the place where the anomaly occurred. However, when he arrived at the place, what he saw not only surprised his ancient mind, but he even felt a slight twinge of fear. Something he had experienced several times before, and that was standing in front of the Well of Eternity.

In the space of the Immaterium before him, he saw a glowing wound of nothingness, which spread like a black stain over a large area. He felt nothing – no energy, no forces, nothing. Only a dark void, which caused his constantly changing body to feel a slight shiver.

He flew closer to the very edge of this phenomenon, which cut into the Immaterium like some barrier of absolute darkness. Unable to contain his curiosity, he put his hand to it, which soon disappeared inside.

But he felt nothing. Literally. Suddenly, he simply stopped feeling his hand. Desperately, he quickly pulled it out, but there was no trace of his hand. It had ceased to exist. Only a smoothly cut stump ending at the forearm.

What's more, when he tried to regenerate it, nothing happened. As if it had never existed at all.

His quickly growing fear was quelled by even greater curiosity. This was something completely new and unknown, something he had never encountered before.

"Interesting. I have never experienced such power." His voice resounded like thousands of overlapping sounds. Constantly changing, constantly fluid.

In a fluid movement, he cut off the damaged arm with his other clawed hand just before the elbow. Blue fluorescent blood gushed from the wound, which immediately turned into energy, and after a moment the forearm began to reform, along with the previously lost palm.

The only clue to solving this unusual phenomenon was the fact that it did not have its source in the Immaterium. It had to be energy or power derived from the Materium. C'tan? Some weapon of their rebellious servants?

Now he was fascinated. What kind of power was this? Or maybe a weapon? Who did it belong to? What was this person doing here? ... And most importantly, could he, the Changer of Ways, use it, and how? The advantage such power would give him against the other Chaos Gods would be invaluable.

It would be some good news after a thousand years of troubles. While Khorne, Nurgle, and even that arrogant youngster Slaanesh were reaping the rewards of the civil war they had orchestrated in the Imperium of Man, he had to contend with Fate itself.

All his plans, delicately woven events, had fallen apart just like that. Something had happened that should not have happened and had affected Fate to the point of turning everything upside down. Even his most loyal servant, Kairos, seemed useless in this regard.

Previously, the Architect of Fate had been able to pick up useful information from the prophecies of his daemon, but now it was constantly changing, to such an extent that he himself could not make sense of it. Something that gave him an advantage over the rest of gods simply stopped working.

"Something's happened," he said to himself in a voice that had probably driven countless beings mad. "I feel the Change coming. And I don't think it's related to Anathema. It's something different, new, and definitely dangerous."

For too long he had been blinded by his ability to manipulate Fate and the possibilities that knowledge of Kairos' future gave him. He had underestimated the ability of other beings to act in secret and in hiding, believing himself to be unmatched in this regard.

However, it turned out that right under his nose, plans and changes were taking place that he had no idea about. Just admitting it to himself was driving him crazy at the moment. The only reason he could explain why he was unable to perceive it was that an entity or entities of similar or greater power were behind it.

It seemed to him that he knew everything that was happening in the galaxy, but it turned out that there were forces capable of blocking his vision. It was as unsettling as it was exciting. It posed a challenge and potential changes.

With these thoughts, he immediately teleported to his fortress – the Crystal Labyrinth, located in the heart of his realm.

A terrifying cry escaped his lips, shaking the very foundations of the fortress itself.

"KAIROS!!!"

It did not take long for the two-headed Lord of Change and arguably his most powerful and useful servant to appear at his beck and call.

Leaning on his staff, the blue-plumaged humanoid avian hybrid bowed both heads.

"My lord," one head greeted him.

"My servant," the other said, causing Tzeentch to feel a surge of irritation. As usual, he found it amusing to try to decipher which head was telling the truth and which was not, but at the moment that was the last thing he wanted to do.

It did not take long for the two-headed Lord of Change and arguably his most powerful and useful servant to appear at his beck and call.

"Kairos, someone's actions have escaped my sight, I want you to look into the past and find them. No matter how long it takes."

The Lord of Change replied, his voice carrying absolute certainty.

"The past and future are clear."

"The past and future are hazy."

"Someone has looked into the Well of Eternity."

"No one could survive looking into the Well."

"The son has survived."

"The son is gone."

"I see an Angel, a Savior, a God"

"I see the Devil, the Destroyer, a Liar"

"Black Sword."

"Golden Spear"

"Immaterium and Materium drowned in eternal Void.”

"Materium and Immaterium bathed in golden light."

"I see the end of Chaos."

"I see the victory of Chaos."

"I see nothing more."

"I see countless things."

Then both heads fell silent, and Tzeentch had only one thought.

'This was so confusing that it would take him ages to discern which head spoke the truth and when.'

He could now look at his loyal servant with anger and irritation.

Chapter Text

Webway, Ilmarin

Sanguinius

147.M32

When he left his private chambers inside the palace where he currently resided, Varok, the leader of the surviving Krorks living in Ilmarin, was waiting for him just outside the entrance.

Although he himself was almost three metres tall, he was still half the height of the experienced chieftain, who, according to Tarvas, was one of the most distinguished generals of the War in Heaven, who gained particular fame for forcing the Silent King himself to retreat.

Sanguinius still couldn't believe after all these years that the incredibly intelligent and wise warrior was the ancestor of the half-witted orcs, of course, apart from a few exceptions.

What's more, practically every one of the 2 thousand Krorks living here was no less intelligent than any of his sons, the Astartes. And although they did indeed resemble orcs in appearance, the only thing they had in common seemed to be their love of fighting.

The Krorks also looked less like some savages and barbarians but like well-organised soldiers. Their armour was even better than those of the Astartes, as were their weapons. All were born in a war lasting millions of years, which forced them and the Eldar to make huge technological leaps.

He looked closely at the ancient chieftain; excitement was visible on his grey face and amber eyes, and this could mean one thing: a fight was coming.

"Varok," he greeted him, putting his right fist to his chest in a salute obligatory between krorks.

He did the same, slightly bowing his head, which meant that he recognised the superiority of the second warrior. Sanguiniu had managed not to lose in a duel with the Krork chieftain yet, although he had to admit a few times that it was close.

Varok was without a doubt at the level of a Primarch, even the most powerful of them, and in sheer strength and endurance, he outclassed them, even Vulkan.

"Sanguinius, my boys came across a group of Drukhari on a raid outside the fortress and brought one in for questioning," Varok said, his voice and manner reminding him of a mixture of Lion and Dorn.

Krork's words immediately piqued his curiosity, for he had not had the opportunity to fight the Dark Eldar since his arrival in Ilmarin, despite the fact that they hid in the Webway in great numbers, especially in their gargantuan city of Commorragh.

He had to admit to himself that he felt the need to fight real opponents, for the last few years had been limited to skirmishes with daemons or other Warp creatures, and none were particularly difficult to defeat.

"Strange. The Drukhari don't tend to venture into these areas; there's nothing worth their attention here," he noted, heading for the portal on the ground floor.

Varok followed him, and when he caught up, he replied, "They found a stable Warpgate nearby, leading straight into the middle of a thriving human system. They've set up a large base of operations right next to it."

Sanguinius lost his footing for a moment and frowned as he felt Black Rage briefly awaken under the influence of rapidly growing emotions, but he quickly stabilised him as he had practised. The thought that these xenos were hunting and enslaving humans, the inhabitants of the Imperium, was unacceptable to him.

The Emperor and the Imperium of Man may have treated their inhabitants as resources to be used, but that was something he and Vulkan could never come to terms with. What was the purpose of the Imperium's existence, if not for the good of its inhabitants?

The survival of the race? Why should a race deserve to survive if it treats its own people as a resource to be used and thrown away?

Seeing how the Aeldari were willing to wipe out an entire planet to save one of their own, he couldn't help but feel bitterness.

This question had been with him since the Great Crusade. Did the Imperium deserve to exist? He wasn't saying it was the worst. It couldn't even be compared to Chaos, which was one big plague on the galaxy that should be completely eliminated.

The Imperium fought against Xenos and chaos in defence of humanity but itself murdered or abandoned the people it was supposed to protect. And when he often heard from his father and brothers that it was a necessary evil, like the alliance with Mars, he felt like throwing up. For him, these were excuses.

"You're thinking about your race's empire again, aren't you?" He heard Varok's voice from the side, who looked at him with understanding because they had talked about this topic many times.

"Yes." Sanguinius admitted, then sighed, "The state my race was in, and still is, is painful to behold. So much potential only to become what we fight against."

Varok nodded, then replied, "I feel the same way when I see our degenerate descendants, a shadow of our former power and glory. So did Orain and the others when they saw their race degraded, consumed by excess and decadence."

"That doesn't mean change is impossible. The future is wide open, and now that you're here, Sanguinius, the chance for a better tomorrow is closer than ever. What this galaxy and the races that inhabit it lack is one Divine Being, but not just any being. A being that is the embodiment of justice and law, but above all, of what is right."

"That would mean subjugating all those who don't want to by force. How is that any different from what's happening now?" The primarch interjected, still plagued by doubts about the Old Ones' plans for him.

He wondered how much of Sanguinius would actually remain in this new divine being.

Ancient Krork stopped in front of the portal itself and looked at Sanguinius, replying, "A little more light and hope in this grimdark universe. It will still be better than anything in this galaxy. Let's not kid ourselves; this entire reality is a cursed place of constant war and death. It will never be a paradise, but we can make it a little more liveable."

With that, Varok stepped into the portal.

Meanwhile, he stared at the swirling sheet of energy for a moment. Perhaps the Krork Chieftain was right. If there was a chance to make this place a little brighter and easier to live in, he intended to do so, but on his own terms.

Gripping his spear tighter, he followed Varok.

On the other side, he saw two thousand krorks preparing for battle, most of them dressed in powerful power armour that, given their height, resembled Dreadnoughts more.

He didn't see any Jotunns, massive machines resembling titans on eight legs. He suspected that this was due to the type of fight they were expecting. If this was to be an attack on the Drukhari base, it had to be a swift assault that would quickly crush the enemy's resistance.

His sons preferred a similar method of fighting. The Blood Angels were famous for this type of action even before the Emperor found him on Baal.

He spotted Varok standing in the right corner of the hangar, accompanied by his second and third-in-command Thrall and Durotan, four ancient Aledari, and several other Krorks guarding a prisoner standing among them.

He rose lightly into the air and, with a few flaps of his snow-white wings, covered the hundreds of metres that separated them.

The others greeted him briefly, and then he had time to look at the captured prisoner. The scarred, grey face of the male seemed young, but it also bore the marks of many battles and fights. The black hair was cut short, which was rather surprising for an Eldar.

But the green eyes, so far fixed on the krorkas and Orain and the other ancient Aeldari, looked in his direction, and after a moment they widened in shock, as if he recognised the primarch and was surprised to see him alive.

This did not surprise Sanguinius himself, for his fame and that of his brothers extended throughout the galaxy, and many Drukhari had fallen at his hand.

He looked at the gathered people once more. "What's our plan?" he asked, but when instead of an answer, they all looked at him expectantly, he understood that they expected him to lead the attack.

This was probably to strengthen the cooperation between him and the Krorks, whom, due to their small number, he knew by name and had exchanged a word with more than once.

"What about the prisoner? Have you obtained all the information you could?" he asked, walking over to the holographic map of the slavers' base, glancing at Drukhari out of the corner of his eye.

Orain nodded slightly, saying, "Mind combed his mind. He couldn't hide anything. As you can see, the pirates are slowly turning an ordinary bridgehead into a fortress. And there are over 6 thousand of them stationed inside, or at least that was the case two weeks ago when Ezraes was at the base."

"And that number has probably increased." Arhyon added, also approaching the hologram floating in front of them. "These spoilt children are preparing for a major raid through the Warp gate in a few months. We can probably expect another 2-3 thousand." The Eldar's tone clearly indicated what he thought of his descendants.

Sanguinius looked at the map again, then said, pointing to the docks being built on the eastern side. "Right now, this is the weakest and most vulnerable point of the base. And since it is well-covered from any ship fire, we must strike directly and quickly."

"Varok will attack the port, Thrall will assault from the front, and Durotan from the west, where the fortifications are still being built." He explained, pointing at the individual targets.

Thrall looked at his commander and then at Sanguinius himself, piercingly. "I understand that you intend to distract them somehow so that we can reach the location unnoticed?"

He nodded, then walked over to the Drukhari and towered over him, asking, "Tell me, what would you do to keep your soul from being consumed by Slaanesh?"

The Drukhari's eyes narrowed and burnt with a green flame. He clenched his teeth, then growled, "You mock me, mon'keigh?"

One of the krorks, Garosh, slapped him across the face, knocking him to the floor. Sanguinius raised a hand, stopping any further action.

Crouching down beside the Dark Eldar, he looked into his eyes, burning with anger and hatred, and asked, "Let me rephrase the question. What would you do for me if I could protect you from the gaze of the She Who Thirst?"

For a moment, the negative emotions in the other's eyes were replaced by disbelief and a glimmer of hope, but they quickly disappeared under the pressure of anger.

"That's impossible. There's no escaping the Dark Prince. The only thing you can do is postpone the meeting with him." The Drukhari replied, his voice full of fury but also reconciliation with his own fate.

Sanguinius looked at him in silence for a moment, then said, "Look at the beings in this room. Your ancestors and the krorks here remember the War in Heaven, which you've only heard of in myths, where they fought enemies worse than Slaanesh."

"Not to mention the three Old Ones who lead them, beings who created your race and who remember a time when the Chaos Gods didn't exist yet."

The Drukhari looked at him a little calmer; the people gathered here must have made an impression on him. Hesitating, the Dark Eldar asked, "What are you getting at?"

"All of us here ultimately aim to stand against the Ruinous Powers and, even more, against other forces hostile to us, no matter how powerful. If you swear allegiance to me and fight for our cause, I will give you a taste of my blood."

When the Drukhari tried to interrupt him, Sanguinius silenced him with a look from his glowing golden eyes. "At the moment of your death, Slaanesh will be able to find only me, for my blood will become a barrier between him and you. And your soul will dissolve into the Immaterium."

"Moreover, I do not know how long it will take, whether hundreds of years, a millennium, or three, but the time will come that I will not only be able to protect you but also to keep your soul whole."

Sanguinius waited for the other's answer, but Ezreas only stared into space, completely lost in his own thoughts. So he gave him time, feeling the gazes of the others on him, who clearly did not like his idea.

The Great Angel of the Imperium knew the risks, but the chance of gaining loyal spies among the Drukhari was too tempting.

He was torn from his own thoughts by their captive, whose voice seemed stronger, more certain, as if he had found some purpose, something worth fighting for. "What do you expect of me?"

Sanguinius looked at him with a smile, then asked, "How many of your people do you think would take me up on my offer?"

Chapter Text

Webway

Sanguinius

137.M32

With slight disbelief he watched from a great distance the Drukhari base hidden in a small branch of the Webway, surprised at how dismissive they were of any kind of defence.

Not only were the fortifications still under construction, but he could see only a dozen or so guards at the front. No cannons, vehicles or walking machines.

But everywhere there were Dark Eldar bustling about, preparing equipment and weapons or loading supplies onto the decks of their ships.

Or rather guarding the slaves who did all the work for them. Both humans and Aeldari.

"Were they really so arrogant, so sure of themselves, or of the safety provided by the Webway, that they did not fear any attack?" He muttered to himself, but Varok, standing behind him, must have heard him because he replied.

"That is a trait of their race, not just the Drukhari. Orlain and the rest are poor examples of how their people behave, for they have a different perspective, but the Aeldari can be just as proud as their dark cousins, yet disciplined and loyal to themselves."

"And the Drukhari are just as likely to backstab a fellow human as an enemy," added Sanguinius, who had heard similar words from his Eladar teachers many times.

"It may be easier than we thought, though we cannot rule out the possibility that they have some traps set. So be careful when you attack," he said, stretching his wings and reaching into the Immaterium to capture its energies in an iron grip, bending them to his will.

He cast a glance once more at the Krorks standing behind him and ordered, "Give me five minutes before you strike. I think most of their forces will be concentrated in the centre of the base against me by then. After your attack, Ezraes will lead the rebels behind the enemy... for the glory of battle."

After these words, tensing his muscles and taking a powerful swing of his wings, he rose into the air with enormous force, in the blink of an eye rising hundreds of metres into the air, and a dozen or so seconds later, he was already above the base itself, breaking the sound barrier.

His gaze immediately fell on the largest building, located almost in the centre, where, according to the words of the their former prisoner, the leader of the entire planned expedition, Succubi Aeshia Oratarin, was staying.

At that moment, the Drukhari already knew that something was happening because the psychic energy pouring out of Sanguinius itself must have seemed to glow like the sun to their sensitive psionic senses.

Having wrapped itself in a cocoon of wild golden-purple chaos energy, it fell on the building like a meteor, not only destroying it but also creating a crater in its place. The wave of released kinetic and psychic energy also shattered many buildings around it, although they were made of wraithbone and other incredibly durable materials.

He even considered using Void, but he didn't want to risk it getting out of control while his allies were within range. Plus, it would be overkill, and the Krorks would never forgive him for taking the fight away from them.

Shouts of both pain and anger erupted from all sides, and not all of them belonged to the Drukhari. Sanguinius clenched his teeth, knowing that it was impossible to save all the slaves. War and fighting had this thing about them that they always brought death to the innocent and defenceless, regardless of their willingness.

Having emerged from the created crater, he rose lightly into the air again, revealing himself to the Drukhari recovering and heading towards him a few dozen metres away. Blasters, heat lances, and splinter cannons aimed at him sent deadly projectiles, which, however, stopped easily on the golden barrier that grew around him.

Sanguinius stretched out his left hand, around which discharges began to gather, and a second later a real storm emerged from it. Hundreds of branching lightning bolts exploded around him, tearing the proud Dark Eldars to shreds or completely disintegrating them.

Then, gripping his hand tighter on his spear, he flew towards them. The first Drukhari was pulverised on contact with his body as he struck it with force. His spear pierced the skull of the next one, practically vaporising it.

In a split second, his senses and brain registered all the enemies around him, their faces painted with terror and desperation. Not only because of his terrifying appearance but also because death was a sentence for them and practically a guarantee of an encounter with Slaanesh.

More missiles and rays flew towards him, but he was already in a different place, tearing through the Drukharii surrounding him as if through butter. Here he grabbed the head of one of them with his hand, crushing it easily. Another received a kick that tore him to shreds.

His opponents tried to keep him at a distance, avoiding hand-to-hand combat, which was unusual for them, but it was of no use because he was too fast and too powerful for them.

Where his spear and body could not reach, lightning and flames appeared, ice stalagmites, and others were swallowed or crushed by huge hands formed from the ground.

But soon the more powerful units of the enemy fell upon him, the Grotesque, the Khymerae, and the Talos Pain Engain. Fearless, driven forward by pain and madness.

Their disgusting bodies, twisted by the torments and other repulsive methods used by their masters, and their minds broken and forged into something that should not exist, made Sanguinius filled with anger. Plain anger at the sight of indescribable evil, yet so common in this world.

With fury he rose into the air for perhaps thirty metres, then, putting his wraithbone spear on his back, he stretched out his hands in front of himself, accumulating more and more energy between them, which he released after a moment.

A devastating purple-gold wave spread in all directions, engulfing both the Drukhari and their beasts, creating an empty space around him in a radius of a kilometre.

He sensed how, at this moment, the Krorks were launching an attack in three places, and considering that the commotion he had caused here must have certainly attracted attention, he counted on the powerful warriors to easily break through the rest of the Drukhari.

At that moment, a brief flash of an incoming attack appeared in his mind. A curved black blade, covered in green runes, was heading towards his face.

He extended his hand to the left, surrounding it with a shell of psychic energy, and a moment later it intercepted the blade that had been heading towards him, seen in the vision earlier.

However, the first was followed by the second, and before the hand and the whole body appeared, an exceptionally tempting, scantily clad body, a body that he assumed belonged to Aeshia, because he doubted anyone else would be able to get close to him so quickly and practically unnoticed and at that height.

With an open palm, he struck the Succubi in the stomach, sending her to the ground, after which he landed gracefully. He covered both hands with psychic energy and waited for her to attack again.

The Drukhari female struggled to get up from the ground, clearly injured, as blood was flowing from both her mouth and nose. It was honestly quite an achievement that she had survived his blow. After all, she was one of the elite of her race.

Aeshia rushed at him with a speed that was imperceptible to a normal human, but he saw her every move with ease, and when her curved blades were heading towards him again, he began to parry them with his hands again, which clearly drove the woman into a real frenzy.

The whole exchange of blows lasted perhaps a few seconds, after which Sanguinius knew that he could not afford to waste time. Parrying her next blow, with his other hand he quickly grabbed her by the neck and sent some of his energy into her body, thus depriving her of consciousness.

Taking to the air again with the Succubi held in one hand, he looked around again, noticing the commotion in the ranks of the surviving Drukhari and their slave hybrids. Some began to fire in his direction again, and their beasts charged at him again.

The rest, however, began to turn in the opposite direction, where the sounds of fighting could be heard from the places where the krorks and the rebelling Drukhari and slaves led by Ezraes were advancing.

Sanguinius rose high above the ground, where he could easily see the entire base. He watched with satisfaction as the Krorks pushed forward with a brutality and precision that even the Astartes could envy.

Honestly, it looked more like entire battalions of Dreadnoughts. The Dark Eldars simply stood no chance. The docks were already ablaze, and the Krorks were also beginning to board the Drukhari ships.

In the opposite direction, Ezraes defended a complex of buildings that served as targets for the slaves. The battle was going even better than he had expected, as the Dark Ones were involuntarily pushed towards him, straight into the slaughter that awaited them.

Suddenly, golden flames appeared in his free hand, and then in front of him, just above the largest concentration of Drukhari monsters, the air itself ignited, creating a huge pillar, a true inferno with a diameter of over 20 metres, which, controlled by his will, moved forward, immediately consuming everything in its path.

The flames were so hot that even where they did not reach, everything began to ignite and melt.

And to demoralise the enemies even more, he focused his will on the enemies and then attacked their minds directly, strengthening the fear and panic they felt. Encouraging them to abandon their weapons and flee.

In the end, within the next few minutes, it was practically over. All that remained were ruins, ashes, and thousands of corpses of Drukhari and their slaves. Both humanoids and beasts.

Varok sent Durotan with some of the krorks to search for the surviving drukhari, and Aeshia Oratarin and several other prisoners had already been taken to Ilmaris.

Meanwhile, Sanguinius, along with Varok and several of his krorks, went to meet Ezraes' rebels, who were waiting for him near the slave barracks surrounded by former slaves, mostly humans, but among them were several dozen Aeldari and even a few orcs.

Now that the fight was over, the former slaves kept their distance from the group of several dozen Drukhari, which, in his opinion, was probably a good thing because they outnumbered them by a dozen times, and he did not want to lose potential Drukhari spies. He had too many ambitious plans for them.

Both the Dark Eldars and the slaves looked at his approaching silhouette with a mixture of fear and admiration, seeing first-hand his power and the destruction he was capable of.

The impression was certainly enhanced by the golden aura of psychic energy that he maintained around himself like some kind of celestial halo.

"Ezraes," he addressed his newest servant.

"My Lord," the Drukhari replied, bowing his head in obeisance, then added, "According to your command, I found like-minded members of my race and gave them to drink of your blood, which you gave me. There were almost a hundred of us, but over a dozen fell in battle."

"I know. Sixteen to be exact," the primarch said. "Their souls went to the Immaterium, where they dissolved into its endless rivers of energy, perhaps to be reincarnated once more. I could feel Slaanesh lurking for them, but she had to leave without a taste. She was not pleased about it."

And indeed she was not, now that he thought about it. In addition, if she had not known of his survival before, she now knew, and she was furious that he dared to block her access to the souls that belonged to her.

Sanguinius would have laughed at the sight if not for the fact that he would have to be on his guard from now on. If he had been in the Immaterium instead of the Webway, he would have stood no chance against the god of chaos.

In any case, his words had made an impression not only on the Drukhari but also on the few enslaved Eldar who listened to him. The mere knowledge that he had a way to shield them from the Prince of Pleasure's gaze was like a light shining in the darkness of night to them.

Sanguinius looked around at them all, the humans as well as the orcs, who were unusually calm for themselves, clearly gazing at their great, powerful ancestors with adoration.

"I invite you all to my fortress, where you will be safe and fed. There we can discuss the future."

Chapter Text

Webway, Ilmarin

Orain Droh

161.M32

The training ground was filled with the din of a fierce battle, the sounds of which echoed off the walls made entirely of wraithbone, dyed blue. It belonged to the Krorks after all, and it was undoubtedly their favourite colour. A lucky colour.

At this thought, he just shook his head and silently watched the duel taking place before him, or rather, he should say, the fight between Sanguinius, currently on the defensive, and his three opponents.

Melyth and Aleshia, abnormally agile, were constantly pressing on him from all sides, attacking and retreating to strike from another place, their Force swords searching for other weak points.

Meanwhile, Varok was pressing on the former primarch with all his strength and mass. His huge top made entirely of wraithbone was the size of Sanguinius, who tried to avoid being hit at all costs, especially since they couldn't use their psychic powers, and the man himself couldn't use his wings either.

Although even without them, Sanguinius would probably have dealt with Varok if not for the constant biting attacks from the two Eldar females. Despite being half his size, the angel was stronger and certainly faster than even old Krork.

The pace of the fight was so fast that even he sometimes had difficulty tracking the movements of his student, which would probably be invisible to most beings in the galaxy. Just a blurred silhouette here and there.

A moment later, he sensed the presence of one of his own masters flying into the hall. A moment later, a ball of white energy stopped right next to him to also watch the fight taking place before them.

After a few minutes, Prophet finally spoke, "Impressive. Sanguinius has made great strides in controlling his form with the energy of Yngir. If only the power of Mag'ladroth itself could be controlled as smoothly."

Orain looked at him in surprise, then asked, "Does that surprise you, Master? The fact that he is able to use this energy in any way is a miracle. That the C'tan energy is connected to his soul and not his physical body, yet does not conflict with his psychic powers, is another."

"Sigh. You are right," the Old One admitted with a sigh, then added, "It's just that after so many millions of years of waiting, when our goal finally seems within reach, I am starting to forget myself and grow impatient. I feel an excitement and energy surging through me that I haven't felt in aeons."

He simply nodded at these words, understanding his master's feelings perfectly. Everyone felt that all the planning, preparation, and waiting were finally beginning to bear fruit.

He suddenly remembered one thing that he had wanted to ask one of his creators before: "So now that he is able to manifest a material form with the power of the Void Dragon, will he be able to go to the Materium?"

"Not entirely, for all he would have to do was lose control of the C'tan energy and have Black Rage take control of him for his body to disintegrate again. It's difficult to say what would happen to his soul then." Prophet explained, taking on his mentoring tone, which, after so long, was already making Orain laugh.

"However, if certain circumstances were to arise..." his master added, and Eldar had the strange feeling that Prophet hadn't just happened to show up at that moment. They knew each other well enough to sense when one of the Old Ones had an agenda or wasn't saying something.

"Should I understand that these particular circumstances have just occurred? I doubt you would have mentioned them at all if you hadn't planned something," he replied, which immediately elicited a laugh from the Old One, a rather characteristic kind of laugh, since they, while not having a body, manifested it through their psychic powers.

"You know me too well," Prophet replied after a moment. "And yes, you are right that something did happen. For I had a vision of a planet, or it was a moon, that was struck by a warp storm. And yes, before you say that this happens on thousands of planets, this one is different. More important, but I don't know why."

"Relax, Master Olórin. I understand perfectly well how rare and yet accurate your prophecies are. If you have seen this place, then it is either important or will become so if we intervene, because I suspect that is what you want."

"I would ask you not to call me that anymore," the Old One said, with a mixture of slight irritation and nostalgia. "That name belonged to a powerful member of an even more powerful race. This fragment is not worthy of being called that."

Orain bowed his head slightly, understanding the reasoning behind those words, and replied, "Forgive me, Master. I forgot myself."

"It is well, my friend. I am not even angry; it is simply better to leave the past where it belongs. Let us learn from it and look to what lies ahead. Ichtar IX"

"It is an Imperial mining planet. What happened?" The serious voice of Sanguinius intervened, who had apparently heard their conversation with his inhuman senses, had stopped fighting, and was heading towards them.

He stopped before them expectantly and asked once more, "What is it with Ichtar IX?"

"It is, or will be, consumed by the Warp Storm and become a feeding ground for daemons," Prophet replied, then added in explanation, "I had a vision of this place, and Seeker helped me find it. I feel it may be a key location for our plans, a flashpoint."

When he fell silent, Sanguinius did not press on but instead became lost in his own thoughts, causing several minutes of silence. Neither Prophet nor Orain himself allowed him to think calmly, fully aware of the extraordinary mind and tactical genius of their apprentice.

The old Aeldari had to admit to the Emperor that the creation of the primarchs had been a work of genius but also of incredible luck. And Sanguinius was the embodiment of that, with his practically infinite potential.

"So you think..." Sanguinius finally spoke thoughtfully, "That it's possible for me to go to Ichtar IX? How? I thought the Materium was out of reach for now? "What's changed?"

"No, nothing has changed in that regard. The risk is still too great. But if the planet were to actually be swallowed by the Warp Storm, you theoretically wouldn't be in real space. Much like the Gellar Field creates real space within itself, the opposite is true in the Warp Storm, which directly connects the Materium and Immaterium, capable of pulling a planet into the Warp, for example, or allowing something to pass from it to the planet."

"So let's talk about how I can get to Ichtar IX and what our plan is for the planet. But we'll do that over dinner, because after training I have to meet with Ezraes and hear what his spies have to say about Commorragh. "That's all this galaxy needs: the Drukhari united in one place and under one leadership."

Yes, Orain had to agree with that completely. The mere thought of this degenerate part of his race, which remained alive, uniting forces to sow even more pain and destruction, stirred in him a mixture of negative feelings that he found it hard to describe.

They had already received news from the Eyes of Sanguinius, his spies, that the Drukhari were organising thousands of bands and cabals into one united force, of course, as for them, a poisoned blade aimed at the rest of the galaxy.

Sooner or later, they would have to face its inhabitants, or rather fight for dominance in the Webway and survival. His depraved cousins ​​would either submit to the young Sanguinius or completely die out. There was simply no place for them in their plans in the form they were in now.

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Eye of the Terror,

Sortiarius - Planet of Sorcerers

Magnus The Red

161.M32

He watched the rites of his new ritual carefully when he sensed an alien presence that appeared on his planet, carrying with it the stench of corruption that only the spawn of Slaanesh could.

And this one he recognised in particular. What did this snake bastard want from him? He had the pleasure of not seeing him for a thousand years, but all good things had to come to an end. He mentally signalled his sons to let his unfortunate brother, or what was left of him, pass.

He looked around his chamber and ran his eyes over the numerous books, scrolls and artefacts, wondering if they would not be permeated with the stench of Slaanesh's depravity, then with a snap of his fingers he moved them to another room and waited.

After a dozen or so minutes, the gates to the chamber opened, and through them entered two legionnaires of the Thousand Sons, followed by the disgusting and large snakelike silhouette of Fulgrim.

Seeing him, Magnus was personally glad that his mutations weren't even a tenth as drastic as his brother's, who, along with Agron, had come out the worst in this whole service of the chaos gods.

"Magnus, brother, why do I feel like I'm not welcome here?" Fulgrim's first words upon entering had already irritated him, and his tone of voice didn't help at all, making him – the Daemon Prince – feel dirty.

"Fulgrim," he greeted him. "What do you want?" he asked, not wanting to play any games.

The demonic face of the Primarch of the III Legion twisted into a parody of a smile. "My dear brother, I bring news. Unheard of and exciting at the same time. Though this information means many unforeseen consequences. "It is such a gift from my god."

Magnus frowned and slowly walked over to the throne standing against the wall, adapted to his figure and wings, on which he sat.

He then looked at the other Daemonic Prince and said, "The very fact that the Prince of Pleasure is offering some information for free means that he either has an agenda or has encountered a problem that he cannot solve on his own. Speak, then. Let's just say that I am intrigued."

Fulgrim laughed, his voice more like the hiss of a snake that so irritated the Crimson King. "It's like you, Magnus. You analyse everything; you look for a second meaning, motives, but what can you say? You are the champion of the god of magic, secrets and change. So it's natural, I guess.

"But you got it all wrong." He added, "It wasn't the Dark Prince who sent me here, but he passed on this news to me, and I came to you of my own free will to share this very happy news." Our dear winged brother is alive." Saying this, Fulgrim's face twisted into such a sinister, yet ecstatic, expression that Magnus felt almost nauseous.

However, his mind was already analysing the other's words. The winged brother who was dead? Suddenly Magnus froze. It couldn't be possible. Not him; they could feel him dying. The backlash carried far into both the Materium and the Immaterium.

Magnus jumped up from the throne and quickly approached the standing Fulgrim, "It can't be possible. Sanguinius died at the hands of Horus. We all felt it. Tzeentch confirmed it."

Fulgrim suddenly grew serious, as if it had only just dawned on him what Sanguinius' survival meant. He would not forgive them and would pursue them until he or they were utterly destroyed. Righteous and Just Great Angel. Absurdly powerful angel. What he did in the defence of Terra was beyond even what the Primarchs should be capable of.

"Not only is that not impossible, it is absolutely true. My master has known of his survival for some time now. When she tried to absorb the souls of several Drukhari, all she found was the silhouette of an angel, Sanguinius, shielding them from his sight, who not only blocked her access to the souls but was himself unattainable to her."

Magnus began to pace nervously around the chamber as he listened to Fulgrim's further words.

"But in addition to those few dark Eldar souls, there were thousands more from the same place, from the same battle, and the memories that She Who Thirst had extracted from them only confirmed that Sanguinius was indeed alive and hiding in the Webway."

"Moreover, he has allies, orks, but larger, stronger, and disciplined in powerful armour and with advanced weaponry of Eldar origin. As my master claimed, they were the Krorks, the ancestors of the orks from millions of years ago, a race forged in the fires of an ancient war."

Magnus pondered. If Sanguinius was in the Webway, he must have had some Aeldari allies, and there were even the long-extinct ancestors of the Orks. Something was happening that they did not understand. Unknown forces were making moves beyond their field of vision. In hiding, in the darkness.

He did not like it when something surprised him. It was one of the traits that connected him to Tzeentch.

"I understand that you came with more than just this information. I can see it in your eyes." He turned to his brother.

Fulgrim laughed and then proposed, "What do you say we hunt our little brother before he hunts us?"

Magnus looked at him more closely. "What do you propose? "Do you have a plan?"

He just shook his head, "I was more counting on you being able to come up with something."

Chapter Text

Materium, Ichtar IX

Carl Franz

162.M32

The first sign that something was wrong was strange swirls in the sky and flashes of energy. Then some of the miners and even a few of his fellow soldiers from PDF began to behave strangely and have hallucinations. They heard voices, endless whispers that did not even allow them to sleep.

When the skies were completely filled with strange clouds of energy, cutting them off from the rest of the cosmos, it seemed that things could not get worse, only to realise that this was only the beginning.

Those who had previously suffered from hallucinations and heard voices suddenly seemed to go mad, and later monsters from the very depths of the abyss began to emerge from their bodies.

The slaughter began. However, the beasts turned out to be intelligent and began to capture people into slavery to use them for only the God-Emperor knows what.

In the first two days, of the planet's nearly 60 million inhabitants, mostly miners and their families, half died, and the rest either lost contact or took refuge in several Imperial  strongholds on the planet, which, however, barely defended themselves.

In total, only four days had passed since the demons had attacked, and They had neither the men nor the equipment to defend themselves against such a terrifying force.

Worse still, their enemy was not just a stupid beast but cunning and intelligent, attacking when they least expected it and testing various defences, looking for a weak point.

Sometimes, however, instead of attacking or in the middle of an attack, the demonic creatures would start fighting each other, and then Karl's mind would fill with the terrible thought of what if the only thing keeping them alive was the fact that their enemy was fighting itself.

But at this moment, as he watched the coming attack from his place in the fortifications, the demons seemed completely determined to crush them that day.

With anger and pain, he watched as the first line of defences collapsed under the onslaught of the enemy horde. The countless salvos from their various types of weapons did not bring the results they had expected.

They did not have the advanced weapons of the Imperial Guard Regiments, nor could they count on the help of the Emperor's Angels; they were left to their own devices and what they had.

As the first ranks of demons began to reach the second line of fortifications, his attention was drawn to a sudden flash of light, however, coming not from the enemy but from somewhere high above them.

The darkness surrounding them was briefly torn apart by a brightening sun, which grew larger and larger with each passing second.

A moment later Karl realised that it was not the sun but a brightening meteor, which hit the enemy's front ranks, causing a huge explosion that brightened the horizon and stopped the enemy's charge, from which came mixed cries of pain and fury, but also fear.

Karl, like most of the defenders, was blinded by the explosion, unable to see what was happening.

Only after a moment, when his eyes seemed to be able to see again, did he see from the side where the enemy was a sea of ​​golden flames and purple lightning spreading in all directions, engulfing demonic beings one after another.

Karl, impatient to see what was happening, took military binoculars from one of his fellow soldiers, thanks to which he could finally see what was happening in the place where someone or something was holding back the onslaught of beasts straight from some nightmare.

The truth was, however, that he could not see anything because there was such chaos there that all he could see were blazing flames and blinding lightning discharges, stretching for kilometres.

With a heavy sigh, he helplessly put down the binoculars, and like all the rest of the defenders, he simply waited while the fight for their survival another day raged in the distance.

Karl couldn't confirm this; the battle must have lasted for hours as the demons began to retreat in panic, or at least what was left of them.

A moment later they heard a loud flapping of wings, and a moment later they saw an angelic figure, now covered in blood, slowly approaching them, flying through the air thanks to its enormous snow-white wings.

Karl rose to his feet in disbelief and stared at the angelic warrior, who gracefully landed just near the place he and his squad were defending.

They hurriedly went to take a closer look at the one who had saved them. Seeing him, Karl was convinced that it was an angel sent by the emperor himself because no man had the right to be so beautiful and powerful at the same time. The three-metre tall figure covered in golden, magnificently crafted armour gave an impressive impression.

This was further emphasised by the golden halo of light that surrounded their angelic saviour, giving him an aura of such holiness that Karl felt like crying with emotion.

Then their saviour spoke, his voice as holy as his presence.

"Good people of Ichtar IX, I know the horror you have experienced is hard to describe. Daemons have fallen upon your world like a devastating plague, devouring everything in their path."

"But in this hour of trial, when you have faced an enemy far more powerful than yourselves, I come to your aid. I do not know whether you will believe my words, but I am sure you have heard of me before. Moreover, you have honoured me and held a festival in my honour."

Karl looked around, noticing that the other defenders were listening attentively to the angel's words. He himself, however, tried to guess who their saviour was, for he was certain that he had seen him somewhere before.

"I am Sanguinius, Great Angel, Primarch and son of the Emperor of Mankind. And on this day of your trial, I come to your aid."

Karl froze upon hearing these words, as did all who heard the angel's words that carried for miles. Indeed, the stranger's appearance resembled the paintings placed at their place of worship, where the Emperor's son was honoured as a martyr and the embodiment of sacrifice and loyalty to the Empire.

But that was precisely the point: Sanguinius was dead, sacrificing his life to give the Emperor time to kill his traitorous son Horus.

At least that was what the Ecclesiarchy taught them, and it was one of the tenets of their faith in the God-Emperor.

But before he could think about it any further, their savior spoke once more, "If you wish to escape this planet alive, have your commanders meet me within half an hour. Time is of the essence."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Materium, Ichtar IX

Sanguinius

162.M32

By the time Sanguinius reached Ichtar IX, he knew he had arrived too late. The planet had already been under attack by the daemons of Khorne and Tzeentch for several days. This was also the only reason that humans had survived so far.

The daemons of both chaos gods had killed more of their kin than the planet's inhabitants.

Sanguinius was also unable to arrive earlier because the very process by which he was able to set foot in the real world required that the planet be touched by chaos and that a permanent connection be created between it and the Immaterium.

In this way, he had to first get to the Warp, and from there, among hordes of daemons, reach Ichtar IX.

As soon as he appeared in the planet's skies filled with chaos energy, he began to carefully assess the situation. Searching for survivors and the largest concentrations of the enemy.

To his surprise, in several places the humans resisted the chaos spawn, but it was in one place that they concentrated most of their forces.

The Imperial military outpost, situated on an old volcano, was well fortified, its ramparts stretching down the slope, creating several lines of defence that seemed increasingly difficult to breach as the slope became increasingly steep.

However, seeing the first lowest line of defence collapse and then be engulfed by the attacking daemons, he moved without hesitation towards the very front of their charge and, like a meteor dressed in an aura of golden psychic energy, fell on the unsuspecting enemies.

The sheer kinetic energy of the impact tore apart all the chaos spawns within a radius of hundreds of meters, and then the released psychic power came. The golden flames spread for kilometres, devouring most of the vanguard of the chaos army.

Sanguinius immediately jumped out of the crater he had created and threw himself at his enemies, carried by righteous anger and the desire for revenge for all the victims that had fallen at the hands of the daemons.

Beams of purple lightning flew out of his outstretched hands, searching for enemies, whom they disintegrated on the spot. Tongues of fire consumed the next advancing ranks of the enemy, who, having shaken himself from the first attack, in fury, carried by the will of his gods, rushed at him without hesitation.

However, the only thing that awaited them was death. Because none of them was powerful enough to get close to Sanguinius, even a few metres.

Grear Angel continued his attack, and where his flames and lightning did not reach, his golden spear reached, slaughtering enemies without mercy.

What the Daemons had seen as an easy slaughter had turned into an hours-long battle, from which they were not the victors. If a more powerful one, such as the Lord of Change or the Bloodthirsters, had appeared on the battlefield, it would have probably turned out differently.

Of the twenty thousand or so Daemons who had charged, only a handful survived, and they began to retreat in terror. Even the will of their gods could not propel them forward against this terrible enemy, whom some of them recognised as Sanguinius, one of the Primarchs.

The fame of this son of the Emperor had grown among the Daemonic beings after the terrible massacre on Signus Prime and especially after the defeat of Ka' Bandh, the dreaded Bloodthirster Khorne, twice, and then the Daemonic Prince Angron, Champion of Khorne.

From that moment on, many daemons began to call him the Angel of Annihilation, because that was all that awaited those of them who stood in his way.

When Sanguinius saw that the spawns of chaos were beginning to flee in terror, he did not continue the chase because he had less and less time. The moment he appeared on Ichtar IX, the gods of Chaos had to detect his presence.

So he needed to save as many of the planet's inhabitants as he could. So they headed towards the fortifications, and he called the commanders of the imperial base's defence to him.

If he wanted to save other defence clusters that were still defending, he had to evacuate those gathered here as quickly as possible.

In a dozen or so minutes, several dozen men and women in commanding roles gathered before him. Tiredness poured from their faces, and the eyes that looked at him saw more than a human should, but he was perfectly aware that in this galaxy, practically no one experienced the privilege of a normal and peaceful life.

"Let me make this clear," he spoke, immediately drawing their full attention to him. "We will not hold this planet for more than a day or two. The Daemons you have seen so far are merely cannon fodder for the Ruinous Powers they serve. Now they will send more powerful servants, or perhaps even go themselves."

"Then it is simple. We will all die. Both you and I will perish. Within six hours, you will gather everyone in one place, the most defensible. Then I will help you get out of here. But now I must try to save your other compatriots as well. For several places are still defending."

"Lord Sanguinius, if we start gathering everyone in one place, we will be leaving the lines of defence. Don't we risk another attack?" asked one of the men, gathering his courage.

Sanguinius looked closely at the young man, perhaps twenty years old, who had asked the question. He nodded in approval and replied, "You are safe for now. The Daemons will not dare attack again until they are certain they can defeat me. When they strike again, you will no longer be here. Now, let's get to work. Watch for me at dawn."

With that, he took to the air and flew off to the east.

Chapter Text

Materium, Ichtar IX

Sanguinius

162.M32

Sanguinius, tired and tense, watched as one by one the remaining inhabitants of Ichtar IX passed through the portal to the Webway, which, thanks to his three mentors, they managed to open.

The last fourteen hours were exhausting even for him, as he doubled down to save as many people as possible from the daemons. He didn't even manage to reach many places before it was too late. And in fact, only two places were still defending themselves after he saved the defenders of the Imperial base.

Also during the transport to the same base, he had to defend the survivors all the time. In the end, only a little over a million inhabitants of the planet survived. Now, most of them were safe on the other side of the Webway, where transport ships were waiting for them, ready to transport them to Ilmarin.

Sanguinius couldn't tear his eyes away from this depressing sight. Terrified women and men, hugging even more terrified children, who still did not allow themselves to feel relief. Not until they were in a safe place, not after what they had seen.

Finally turning his gaze from these poor creatures destined to be raw materials in this dark and shitty universe, his attention was drawn to the countless ranks of daemons lined up miles from the mountain's base, afraid to come any closer.

Their hideous muzzles, twisted in anger and fear, were pointed in his direction. They wanted nothing more than to strike him from the heavens and tear his body apart, but they were restrained by the terrible knowledge. Death by his hand meant the end, final annihilation.

Suddenly, his gaze caught a commotion among the enemy ranks. Dozens of grotesque figures dressed in purple armour were pushing through the crowd of daemons, pushing them aside with contempt.

Sanguinius' eyes narrowed immediately in fury. His calm demeanour began to crack at the sight of the mutated forms of the Emperor's Children legion. How dare they even show themselves to him?

"Traitors. Fratricides." He hissed angrily, his form glowing for a moment with the golden glow of stored psychic energy, and then he shouted in a voice that expressed all the emotions he had stored up over the years.

A sonic wave in the form of a cone stretching hundreds of metres wide flew towards the place where he had seen the traitorous Space Marines. When the Old Ones' own technique struck the ranks of daemons, it annihilated them on the spot, one by one, tearing them into pieces.

Hundreds, then thousands of chaos spawns ceased to exist in an instant. A similar fate befell the purple-armoured Astartes, who had only a moment to react to the attack, but this one was not only too far-reaching and absurdly powerful, but they had never encountered such an attack before.

A few of the psykers tried to defend themselves, but it was of little use, as they held out a fraction of a second longer.

Sanguinius took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He had not really expected the sight of the traitors to have such an effect on him. But he could do nothing.

One look was enough to bring to mind the countless lives that had perished during the Horus Heresy, as it was now called. The sight of thousands of his sons' dead bodies, tens of thousands of other marines, and millions of fallen soldiers loyal to the Imperium filled his mind.

All dead, while these chaos gods' scum had the audacity to attack another Imperium world and kill another. Unforgivable.

He also felt that this attack, combined with the battle lasting over half a day, had left its mark on him. He could feel the eyes of the Ruinous Powers, who watched him from their realms in the Immaterium with undisguised curiosity.

His lack of control certainly amused them. Slaanesh, however, was not happy about the loss of his toys. The angry will of the Prince of Pleasure pressed against his mind, seeking any crack through which he could get through.

However, Sanguinius' mind, tempered not only in the fire of hundreds of years of war but also by the techniques of the Old Ones themselves, was an impregnable fortress.

Suddenly he sensed two powerful presences materialising nearby. His gaze fell on the newcomers, and the sight of their mutated forms ignited his fury anew, and only thanks to his earlier outburst offorce of will was he able to control himself.

His traitorous brothers. Of the two, Magnus was still somewhat reminiscent of his former self, but the changes were obvious. Horns, wings, demonic body. Despite this, Sanguinius was able to see traces of his brother.

Fulgrim, however, was a mere shadow of the intelligent, handsome and brave man he once was. His form resembled a hybrid not of man, but of demon and snake.

The once proud crimson of his legion now marked the colour of his skin and scales, making the Angel feel pain at the sight of what had become of his brother, with whom they had once spent hours talking about art, technology, and culture.

Sanguinius looked for the first time in almost a millennium at his treacherous but still brothers and felt unspeakable pain. He felt responsible for not seeing the corruption of chaos earlier. For spending too little time with them, for not knowing them well enough and for not noticing what was happening in time.

He did not see it in Horus and Lorgar; he did not see it in these two either. He gritted his teeth and gathered his thoughts, preparing himself for a meeting for which he felt he was not ready and probably would not be.

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Magnus

Who would have expected that a simple Chaos Storm on an insignificant planet, one of millions in the Imperium, would lead them to their brother's trail?

Although trail is a bit of an exaggeration, for they didn't even have to look for it, as it came to them on its own. The news reached them immediately, as soon as the Primarch of the IX Legion set foot on the planet, standing to fight the invasion of the daemonic servants of Khorne and Tzneech.

What's more, the Changer of Ways sent one of his Lords of Change to inform him of this event, probably curious to see how the meeting between the primarchs would develop.

Magnus wasted no time, informed Fulgrim of the whole situation and, after a short preparation, set off to first meet with the Champion of Slaanesh and then head for Ichtar IX, a mining planet that could become the site of one of the most important events of the last millennium.

For it had been hundreds of years since so many primarchs had gathered in one place as they were about to do now.

Unlike that snake bastard, he didn't yet know what to do with his brother.

His own conversion to chaos and service to Tzeentch had been more out of desperation and a desire to save his sons than conviction or real choice.

And Sanguinius... Sanguinius had been one of the few of his brothers who had tried to understand and help him. He had been one of the few things that had tried to unite the brothers, to find a thread of understanding between them. He had tried to do what the emperor should have done.

Magnus had often wondered what would have happened if their father had been more like Sanguinius or if Sanguinius had become Emperor. Would Horus have rebelled? Would so many of the primarchs have sided with him, and would so many worlds have rebelled against the Imperium?

These were questions he would never get answers to, but they still often came to his mind, especially since he learnt that the Great Angel of the Imperium of Man was alive.

When he and Fulgrim appeared in the barren wasteland of the planet, the only variety of which was a mountain or volcano rising before them, they could not help but notice him.

Golden armour and snow-white wings, long golden hair and eyes glowing with psychic power. He shone like the sun against the multicoloured sky filled with the seething energies of chaos.

Magnus had to admit deep down that he understood perfectly why the people of the Imperium adored his brother so much. People living in poverty and desperation, in the constant shadow of death, needed something to give them hope. And this Hope had a form that floated in the sky right before him.

Golden eyes met his own, and Magnus felt them pierce through him, reaching where even he himself was afraid to go, where he had closed his humanity and pride.

He also finally realised the change that had taken place in his brother, who, despite having a powerful psychic talent, focused on close combat, also using the possibilities that his wings gave him.

Now, however, he felt the enormous amounts of energy of the Immaterium flowing through Sanguinius like a rushing river, ready to throw this power against his enemies with a single thought. In addition, he felt in the air the aftermath of the attack that had just taken place in this place.

An attack that had consumed thousands of daemonic beings. Their last cry of terror was still in the air and reflected in the Immaterium.

Fulgrim, standing next to him, suddenly moved forward, and seeing his hideous face twisted in fury, Magnus knew that he wanted to attack their brother immediately.

Magnus did not hide the fact that he also wanted to see which of them was the more powerful psyker. But even now, after so many years and the power he had gained in Tzeench's service, he felt a reluctance to face Sanguinius, who had always been considered the most powerful of them among the Primarchs.

And now he seemed stronger than ever.

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Fulgrim

Fulgrim felt excitement, fear, fury, and hatred. All of them to excess.

The chance to cross blades with that fool Sanguinius was ecstatic. Oh, how he regretted that this father's pet had died by Horus' hand and not his own.

But he was filled with terror, for he knew deep down how powerful his sanctimonious brother was. His exploits on Sigmus Prime and especially in the defence of Terra had been recounted among the daemons and legions that now served Chaos. Sanguinius, the Angel of Death.

But the mere thought of fearing that fool made him seethe with unquenchable fury. Fury that fuelled hatred within him, hatred of Sanguinius and what he represented, hatred of what he had become, hatred of Slaanesh, to which he was bound for eternity.

Finally, hatred of the fact that all these feelings made him feel even more ecstatic and excited but still did not quench the hunger that was eating him.

When he and Magnus appeared at their destination, the sight of Sanguinius floating in the air before them intensified the emotions swirling inside him many times, making him see black for a moment, overwhelmed by their intensity.

Of course, this son of a bitch, this fucking angel, had to look and present himself better than ever. Surrounded by a golden halo of light, he seemed to float above the battlefield and the lonely mountain like some good deity descending to earth to eradicate all evil.

The only thing that kept him from throwing himself at the former primarch of the IX Legion at that moment was the fear that pierced him. The power and psychic strength that emanated from the other one were undeniable.

The snakelike lower half of his body writhed nervously in place, and the fingers of all four hands clenched nervously around the hilts of his swords and spear.

He glanced at Magnus hesitantly, waiting for some sign, preferably to attack, but Magnus was staring at his brother floating above them in the distance with an unreadable expression.

Fulgrim could see that the other was hesitant, and not for the same reasons as he was.

"Tssk," he hissed angrily. Magnus was another fool who, after almost a millennium, still couldn't accept what he had become. The truth was, however, that all three had changed, and there was no turning back.

Chapter Text

Materium, Ichtar IX

Sanguinius

162.M32

Slowly, keeping his guard up, he lowered himself to the ground, landing gracefully, still keeping an iron grip on his psychic powers, ready to explode to attack at his one thought.

Especially since Fulgrim, or rather the monstrosity that used to be his brother, was on the verge of throwing himself at Sanguinius at any moment.

They were only a few meters apart, so he could easily see the hatred burning in the eyes of the servant of Slaanesh.

"I would say that it is good to see you, but that would be untrue. And you know that I abhor lies." The first one spoke; he did not intend to waste time. "They say that time spares no man, but I must admit that in your case it was exceptionally cruel."

Fulgrim would probably have thrown himself at him at that moment, if not for the iron grip of Magnus' red hand on his arm. The Champion of Changer of Ways remained unfazed by his words and confidently stepped forward, stopping just an arm's length away from him.

"You have changed as well, Sanguinius." He said in a surprisingly calm voice, though the Great Angel could sense the unmistakable emotions coursing through him. Was it anger, hatred, or sadness? He couldn't tell.

"Perhaps not outwardly, though you do seem even more transcendent than before. But your psychic powers, I must admit, have surprised me."

Sanguinius allowed a small smirk to creep onto his face. "I thought you would be especially delighted that I saw the potential to be a more active psyker?"

Suddenly his brother's demonic face darkened. "If this had happened before the civil war, I would have been over the moon and would have happily exchanged knowledge with you and delved into long discussions. But now that we are on opposite sides of the barricade, this is one of the last things I would like to see."

"Already without these abilities, you were the most powerful of us in battle; now you are a threat. You have become something whose continued existence is a threat to me and my sons. And that is something I can be happy about."

"Argghh. Shut up already. Let's fight. I'm tired of waiting." Fulgrim roared angrily, listening to their exchange with increasing rage and impatience.

But then both Sanguinius' and Magnus' eyes fell on him at the same moment, pinning him to the spot.

Fulgrim visibly quieted as two powerful auras of psychic power descended upon him in all their glory. Magnus 'he could still tolerate, but Sanguinius's luminous and radiant energy sent shivers down his spine and caused him almost physical pain. It was the complete antithesis of what he was now.

Now that their hot-headed brother had fallen silent, Magnus's gaze fell on him again, and he spoke, his voice dripping with curiosity, "How on earth did you survive? I was sure you died and your body was buried on Baal."

Sanguinius laughed lightly at that, though there was no mirth in it. "You surely don't expect me to give you that answer. We are enemies, brother. Why would I reveal my secrets to you?"

Magnus inclined his head slightly as if to acknowledge his point, then replied, "If you don't want to, then don't. I was just being curious. You know I like riddles and mysteries."

“Tell him, tell him,” Fulgrim cackled, his snakelike body writhing with excitement. He looked at Sanguinius with maddened eyes and hissed, “Oh, we know how the Great Angel fell. From champion of humanity to collaborator with the long-ears and the orks. I would like to see Anathema’s reaction to the betrayal of her most devoted son.”

Sanguinius felt his irritation grow, not at the Daemon Prince's words, but rather at his irritating voice and his disgusting face, which was a caricature of his brother's. Rather than let himself be provoked, he decided to irritate the snake.

"I knew that serving that debauched god would drive you mad, but I have to admit I didn't expect it to make you stupid as well. I suspect I could have a more intelligent conversation with an ork than I could with you and honestly I can't believe how much you've regressed, Fulgrim."

Magnus thrust his hand out to the side, stopping the second time other Daemon Prince in a matter of minutes.

This time it did not stop Fulgrim, whose snake-like, lithe body simply bypassed the former primarch, and then, faster than the human eye, or even an Astartes, could register, he threw himself at Sanguinius.

The blades flashed, and a sonorous gong rang out, like the striking of a bell. Sanguinius was surrounded by a dome of golden energy of the Immaterium.

Sanguinius looked hard at the traitor, then said, his voice a strange mixture of sadness and mockery, "Brother, you had no chance a thousand years ago, and you have none now. Did you consider your transformation and becoming your master's dog as progress? I only see how weak you have become, and I wonder where that brilliant and insightful mind has gone."

Meanwhile, Fulgrim did not let up, attacking the barrier standing in his way with increasing strength and speed. His blades flashed the fierce violet of his psychic powers, and the sound of the blows became a cacophony of sounds without any rhythm.

But instead of weakening, and yielding under the onslaught of blows, the barrier seemed to grow thicker, more stable, and more durable.

Sanguinius held his left hand out in front of him and said. "You said that I am now collaborating with the Aeldari and Orks, so let me demonstrate to you what my new friends have taught me."

Sanguinius focused, closing his eyes for a moment, and opened his mind to the reality around him, to the intertwining rivers of energy. He clenched both his metaphysical and physical hands, as if he had grasped something, and began to slow down time.

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Materium, Ichtar IX

Magnus

162.M32

During the short exchange of words, he was unable to extract any information of interest from his brother's mouth; what's more, that fool Fulgrim had to attack him, provoked like some mindless daemon.

However, he had to admit that once again Sanguinius had surprised him. He had expected that the golden barrier, hastily created, that had grown between the brothers, would quickly give way under the blows of the champion of Slaanesh, but it held and with each passing moment seemed more and more solid and stable.

Once again it dawned on him that he had not known how strong his brother had become and how far his psyker abilities had advanced. However, what happened a moment later shattered all his previous predictions.

Sanguinius' outstretched hand tightened on something, and a moment later it began to tremble as if it were struggling with something.

And then he felt it. His thoughts began to slow down noticeably, as did his breathing and pulse. The same sound Fulgrim's blades made against the barrier became slower and slower.

He focused all his powers to try and resist Sanguinius's abilities, but all he managed to achieve was that, thanks to his mind being anchored in the Immaterium, he was able to perceive stimuli and reason in real time.

However, his body and his psychic powers succumbed to the effects of time. In the few seconds that passed, the entire world around them practically froze. Time continued to flow, but so slowly that even for beings of their abilities it was practically imperceptible.

Fulgrim's blades froze in place, moving perhaps a fraction of a millimetre per second. But not only them, but everything around them except the inhabitants of this planet is still fleeing to the warpgate in the distance. However, time did not spare the daemons on Ichtar IX or the newly arrived Chaos Marines.

The entire planet practically froze in time, and all Magnus could do was watch as Sanguinius lowered the barrier and slowly approached the Daemon Prince of Slaanesh.

While his left hand and, of course, psychic power held time in place, he placed his open right hand on Fulgrim's chest. The hand glowed with golden light, and time slowly began to flow again, faster and faster.

But it was too late for the Primarch of the Emperor's Children. One could say that he lacked time to react.

In the blink of an eye, the serpentine figure was surrounded by a hexagonal cube made of light itself, then it quickly shrunk, leaving only empty space behind.

There was no trace of the Prince of Pleasure's champion.

Time had already returned to its normal course, but the wasteland of Ichtar IX was silent. Mangus felt true fear for the first time in a long time, and even his faith in his own psychic powers wavered slightly.

Maybe the two of them would have a chance of defeating the Primarch of the IX Legion; he doubted he could do it alone. Not after what he had seen, not after what he had felt. He could do nothing against Sanguinius' time manipulation technique. And that worried him the most.

"I see you have indeed learnt a few tricks," he said, trying to get back to the earlier conversation. He was trying to buy time, wanting to understand what had happened to Fulgrim and what power Sanguinius had used against him.

But instead of answering, his brother suddenly looked to the west as if sensing something. Magnus felt it too a moment later. Bloodthirsters, three to be exact, set foot on the planet, driven by their master's will.

Apparently Khorne, having learnt that Sanguinius was alive, was eager to acquire his perfect champion. Magnus could imagine why. Great Angel and his Blood Angels, with their not small problems with Red Thirst and Black Rage, were the perfect servants for the Blood God.

Though he sincerely doubted that still applied to Sanguinius himself. He had a feeling about it.

"I have done what I wanted; now I think it's time for me to go." Sanguinius said as he rose into the air with a single flap of his wings, then added, "I would advise you to do the same. I have heard that the servants of Khorne and Tzneeth do not like each other, to put it mildly."

Magnus felt like breathing a sigh of relief, because after what he had seen, he had no desire to fight Sanguinius, especially since he had nothing to gain and everything to lose.

How should the Daemon Prince be reborn in the Immaterium even upon dying, for his essence always returned there, yet Fulgrim had somehow been captured, both his physical form and the one anchored in the Warp?

The implications of this were more than disturbing. Moreover, his brother was indeed right. There was just as much chance that the brutes of the Lord of Skulls would attack him as they would Sanguinius.

"I think you are right," he admitted aloud, "but what about Fulgrim? What did you do with him? Unless this is another secret? If so, forget I asked."

Sanguinius looked at him, his golden eyes seeming to pierce Magnus through and through. "I have plans for him and a theory I would like to test. However, I can assure you that Slaanesh will have to find himself a new toy."

Then he nodded slightly and added, "It was good to see you, although I must admit that it is hard to say, considering what you have become. But I do have a glimmer of hope. For there is more of the old Magnus in you than I could have expected. We will meet again, but I hope that I will not have to kill you then."

It took only one flap of his mighty snow-white wings for the Great Angel to disappear and reappear miles away, rushing the last of the refugees coming through the portal.

Magnus spotted the Bloodthirsters flying from the west, one of which he certainly recognised. Ka'bandha clearly wanted revenge.

However, by the time Khorne's Greater Daemons reached the evacuation site, there was no sign of the strange warpgates or Sanguinius himself. His brother had left a parting gift, though.

"I think it's time to make a tactical retreat," he muttered to himself, then teleported off the planet, the last thing he saw being a gargantuan explosion of searing light that engulfed the Bloodthirsters and then began to spread even further, racing like a wave of pure destruction across the planet's surface.