"Oh?"
"My former brothers, why have you come? Do you mean to kneel and beg for mercy?"
Horus sat upright on the Throne, the Dark Crown upon his head.
He looked down at Sanguinius, radiating the bearing of a king, as if welcoming ministers who had come to pay homage.
"Where is The Savior? Is he so afraid he doesn't dare face me?"
"Is that little coward trembling on the Throne like a Gretchin?"
He was the first to begin the classic pre-battle exchange of trash talk, mercilessly mocking The Savior, the Emperor of Mankind.
"Your opponent is us."
"Ten thousand years of sorrow and hatred all began with your betrayal."
"You tore the Imperium apart and destroyed countless lives. Now the time has come to settle the account."
Sanguinius tightened his grip on the Moon-Silver Blade, fighting spirit surging in his heart.
Ten thousand years ago, he had been brutally slain by the traitor before him, and now they would fight again, as if it were unavoidable fate.
Sanguinius still remembered how helpless and cold he had felt when Horus's talons tore through his body, and that agonizing memory had even cursed his sons with the Black Rage.
But this time was different. He looked toward Guilliman and his other Primarch brothers, and a faint smile could not help but surface on his face.
This time, he would stand united with his brothers and fight shoulder to shoulder.
"Horus, you have nowhere left to run."
Golden fury misted in Sanguinius's eyes, and the wings behind him were also stained with a layer of golden light. He descended like a golden angel, arcs of electricity flashing around him.
The already mighty Archangel had grown even stronger after his resurrection.
He swore, "We will judge you in Father's place, you shameful