Sexdu had seen the sea many times.
That was back when he could still wield a weapon and fight.
On certain ocean worlds, Sexdu had once exchanged fire with the most troublesome xenos foes.
In the aftermath of countless weapons, towering waves surged, oceans evaporated, and seawater was polluted.
Both sides had exhausted every means at their disposal, until one had utterly annihilated the other.
He had only ever seen raging seas.
They had never been as tranquil as the one before him.
Chemos's dim twin suns tugged at the tides as they washed against the shore, and the sunset's radiance painted the beach gold.
The horizon was as smooth as a mirror. At this moment, only the sound of waves and the cries of distant gulls still echoed in his ears.
"Look! It's the sea!"
Yulia was the first to step onto the beach, her power armor making several dull thuds against the sand.
Sexdu was not that childish.
He merely stood on the shore, quietly taking it all in.
The sunset, the beach, the gulls, and the waves.
And the person before him.
He took every last detail into his eyes.
As though he wished to forever preserve this moment in his mind.
When the last ray of sunset vanished behind the mountains, Sexdu knew that their day of leave had come to an end.
"I hope you enjoyed Chemos, and enjoyed this day."
Fulgrim tightly held Kasgar, who was trying to wriggle free beside her, and slowly walked down the beach, smiling at the Third Legion.
She was confident that everyone would like what she had arranged.
"My lord, the Third Legion thanks you for your selfless gift."
Sexdu, along with the dozens of Third Legion warriors behind him, approached her.
"And now, please allow us to bid you a final farewell with these withered bodies."
It was getting late.
Sexdu needed to make everything clear.
"You knew?"
Fulgrim was surprised.
Of course he knew.
As a sufferer of Withering Sickness, he should have disappeared before ever meeting his primarch.
This was to prove the purity of their genes, and also to preserve the Third Legion's "dignity."
Yet for some reason, Fulgrim had learned of the rumors of Withering Sickness within the Legion before they even landed.
For the sake of these Space Marines who were already doomed to die, Fulgrim and Kasgar had secured a day of leave for them from the Emperor.
They had even argued with the Emperor over it.
That was what he had learned from the whispered words of that Adeptus Custodes shield-captain.
The Emperor had not actually been displeased with Kasgar, this sudden son-in-law of his.
After all, he was not the sort of person who put no fewer than two and no more than four spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee.
At the time, the Emperor had given him only one word.
Emperor: "Mm."
He had merely nodded in calm acknowledgment before continuing to ask Fulgrim about the matters ahead.
As though he had long expected Kasgar to appear here.
Then Fulgrim had insisted that, at this time when every second of the Great Crusade was precious, they remain on Chemos for one additional day.
So those Space Marines, with their bodies and minds withering away, could rest properly.
Naturally, the Emperor had disagreed.
Withering Sickness was the Third Legion's shame, discarded tools, something the primarch should never have known about.
And it certainly should not have delayed the Great Crusade by even a second.
But in the end, even he could not outargue this daughter he had only just been reunited with.
He agreed.
For the sake of this group of failures who should have died long ago.
The Adeptus Custodes shield-captain had not explained everything to him before they boarded, but Sexdu had still pieced together part of the truth from a few scattered words.
"But I never expected that you would do this for failures like us."
"No."
"You need not feel inferior because of this."
Fulgrim comforted him softly.
"Hold your heads high, Space Marines of the Third Legion."
"You have never failed."
"Though we had never met before, you are still all my proudest children."
"Perhaps Withering Sickness has taken your proud appearances and prowess, but your hearts remain strong, brave, and flawless."
"Though misfortune has struck us, our nobility has always come from what we do!"
"It has never been determined by bloodline, appearance, or even achievement!"
She drew her longsword toward the distant coast, its blade gleaming silver-white beneath the setting sun.
The sea breeze stirred Fulgrim's silver hair and the corners of her lips, where a faint, elegant smile rested.
"You have already done your very best, children."
"I am proud of you."
"My lord, thank you for your words."
Yulia stepped forward and bowed.
Even in these final moments, she seemed to have grown much quieter.
It was not that she had been overly boisterous before, merely...
Sexdu was simply still not quite used to it.
"At this final moment, please allow us to remove our helmets and truly feel the air of Chemos."
That was what she said.
"Stop, Yulia!"
Sexdu wanted to stop her.
"At this stage of Withering Sickness, our appearance will become very..."
"...horrifying."
He clearly remembered how unable to accept it she had been when she first learned that he had contracted Withering Sickness.
The Third Legion were all perfect Space Marines.
And Withering Sickness did not merely wither one's internal organs. Even their perfect, exquisite faces would gradually decay and wither away.
Third Legion warriors, who cared most about appearance, could never accept such a cruel fate!
That was why they had always worn full power armor, never removing their helmets for even a moment.
She was afraid others would see her ugliness and wretchedness.
At the same time, she was afraid to see it herself.
They were all the same.
"I know, Sexdu."
"But our perfection has always come from within our hearts. Hasn't it?"
Smiling, Yulia slowly removed her helmet.
Withering had already crawled across her entire face.
The skin of her face had inevitably ulcerated and decayed, making her look utterly terrifying. Under the virus's effects, her hair had nearly vanished as well. Only on the side far from the rot did a few strands of silver-white remain.
All beauty had faded away with this damned disease.
Only those pale violet eyes remained as bright as he remembered.
"...Yulia, you—"
Sexdu could not believe it.
How had that beautiful young girl, whose face had always carried a lively smile, become like this?
What about him?
Would he, who also suffered from Withering Sickness, become the same—
"Sexdu."
"Am I very ugly now?"
She lowered her head and asked.
No.
The girl from his memories had never disappeared.
She had always been here, right before him.
"Yulia."
"You have never been ugly."
Sexdu stared into her still-bright eyes.
"The ugly ones are us."
"We are the ones who dare not accept our true selves."
If they could not even face their own flaws, how could the Third Legion speak of attaining perfection?
Sexdu heard countless sobs before and behind him.
He, along with the more than one hundred Third Legion Space Marines suffering from Withering Sickness, removed their helmets.
Then, for the first time, they drew great breaths of Chemos's air.
It was so beautiful, and so real.
Accepting one's own imperfections was always the prerequisite to becoming perfect, was it not?
Fulgrim?
"Pfft."
Looking at Sexdu after he removed his helmet, Yulia smiled and gently caressed his scar-covered face.
"You're crying, Sexdu."
"I'm not."
"But you clearly—"
"I'm not!"
He retorted loudly, then lowered his voice until it was nearly inaudible.
"My eyes... my eyes have withered too."
The sea wind howled past their ears.
In the distance, the gulls still softly sang their drunken songs.
They merely looked at one another, at each other's scarred, ulcerated, yet perfect faces.
Neither spoke a word.
Sexdu felt that he still had so, so much to say.
Yet somehow, he also felt there was nothing he needed to say.
At this moment, even his withered body seemed to no longer hurt.
In these final moments, he had finally accepted his flawed self, and the future of the Third Legion that he would never see.
What an extraordinary person Fulgrim was.
He remembered the orderly, happy, beautiful city of Karax he had seen.
How great would her achievements be in the future?
Under her leadership, what a dazzling, ideal Legion would the Third Legion become?
When would they spread the Imperial Truth throughout this dark and ignorant world?
And when would they gather all the stars scattered across the universe back into one, never to part again?
When that time came, how greatly... it would be worth anticipating.
Kasgar had originally planned to arrange for people to remain nearby and tend to them until their deaths, but the Third Legion warriors refused his kindness.
They did not wish to linger under the torment of illness, nor did they wish to burden their primarch any longer.
Now, it was time to say goodbye.
Sexdu lay on the beach, tightly holding Yulia's hand as he gazed up at the endless starry sky.
He thought of his childhood, of carefree sword practice with his elder brother on Terra.
He thought of the teachings of the Third Legion's commander-instructors, and the elaborate, complicated court etiquette of the honor guard.
He thought of the Battle Brothers who had fought beside him during the Great Crusade, and how, to protect the Gene-seed, they had personally cut down one gene-cultist and monster after another.
He thought of the day's journey they had just experienced, of the small nameless gravestone beneath the rolling green mountains.
He recalled the road he had walked from beginning to end.
What a long journey it had been.
The old sun set beyond the mountains, and the new sun rose from the sea.
A new day had begun.
Wasn't it always like this, Sexdu?
The sun would always rise as it always had.
As for now...
It was time to get some proper rest.
Sexdu: Old Europan nobility of Terran descent, Third Legion Space Marine, bearer of the double-headed eagle, Son of the Emperor, member of the Emperor's honor guard, company captain, sufferer of Withering Sickness, and Yulia's lover.
He had lived through Terra's Unification Wars, undergone the first batch of Space Marine enhancements, taken part in the opening battles of the Great Crusade, become the Emperor's loyal guard, and fought alongside his primarch mentor until the very last moment to protect the Gene-seed.
And in the final stage of his journey, he had found his primarch, preserved the future of the Third Legion, and, filled with boundless hopes for the future, quietly lay beneath the shimmering light of a new dawn rising over Chemos.
Then he closed his eyes.
The hook had been buried for too long, and everyone was getting impatient.
My fault.
Then I'll give everyone an extra chapter.
Chemos's story ended here. Next came the Great Crusade.
Before you continue