An Angel Descends Beside Me

"Commander, the entire fleet has safely departed Mandeville Point and is expected to arrive at Baal Prime in three standard Terra hours."

As the Red Tear's armored railings rose, Ladoron, standing on the Red Tear's bridge, sighed helplessly. He felt no joy at learning of the Primarch's return; only a deep unease filled his heart.

"Azkarron, how many times have I told you? Use your job title when you're at work. How many times do I have to say it?"

"Also, Father has confirmed his return to the Empire, and the Warmaster is waiting for us in Baal. Do you know what we need to do?"

The guard captain nodded, indicating that he fully understood. "Don't worry, Captain, I've already sent men to inject those unstable guys with sedatives. They've all been placed in the Death Company, but---."

"But what?"

As the commander of the Ninth Legion, Ladoron was quite an anomaly. Unlike the others, he was not manic at all. Instead, he was as calm as Iron Hands, which put all the soldiers under great pressure.

After a moment's hesitation, Azkarron finally spoke:

"I believe they deserve the honor of witnessing the Primarch's return to the Legion. They are my brothers in arms, even if they are assigned to the Death Company."

"So you mean we're going to expose our legion's greatest secret in front of Father, in front of the Warmaster? Azkarron, are you awake?"

The nearly two-and-a-half-meter-tall giant lowered his head, like a naughty child being scolded by his parents. Physiologically, the guard captain, who had the Ladoron Gene-Seed implanted, was indeed of the son generation.

Knowing it would turn out this way, Ladoron pressed down on the shoulder opposite him, his tone softening slightly as he comforted him, "You know the current state of the Legion. Our reputation isn't good. What would happen if Father saw those brothers who are obsessed with Black Thirst?"

Besides, there's the Warmaster around. You know what kind of people Atlas are; they kill without blinking an eye."

"But Warmaster is a very nice person! Captain, aren't you overthinking it?"

When I last went to Serenity for rest and recuperation, Warmaster personally performed surgery to save me, except for the removal of the Gene-Seed due to damage.

I received the best medical care, and he even gave me a small gift.

To prove his point, Azkarron pulled out a chibi-style figurine made of Adamantium, modeled after himself. Its weight made Ladoron envious.

"That's true, but every family has its own problems. The Warmaster definitely won't tolerate any injustice. No matter how kind he is, that lord can't go against the Imperial Truth, and we are that pile of sand. Just listen to me."

Unaware that he had already been stigmatized and labeled a ruthless killer, Mordred rubbed his eyes. The radiation in Baal was a minor issue; the real problem was the sandstorms. Even drinking the northwest wind would inhale a couple of ounces of sand.

Looking around at the long lines of people gathering the Baal Civilians by distributing relief food, and Atlas, who was giving them a rehearsal in advance, the Great Angel was quite embarrassed.

Especially now, with Mordred's maids pressing her down on the stage and adorning her wings with numerous ornaments, there's a sense of artificiality about it.

"Second Brother, isn't this a bit much? With so many accessories, I feel like I can't even fly."

"You know nothing! This is fashion, this is class. How can you conquer the legion if you don't make yourself look cool?"

While what he said was true, Sanguinius still couldn't accept Mordred's aesthetic sense. He himself was covered in at least half a ton of Radiant Gold, had a leopard-skin vest over his shoulders, and his hair was permed into big waves, making him incredibly flashy.

But you can't fight city hall; Mordred herself got a perm and was wearing a Red Scarf, cosplaying as a dandelion.

This isn't Mordred trying to fool people; that's just how the Empire's aesthetic is. Even Marshal of the Adeptus Custodes Valdor of the Imperial Guard sported a spiky, flamboyant haircut. If your hairstyle isn't eye-catching, people will mistake you for a background character when you go out.

"As for not being able to fly, that's a joke. How big is the wingspan of these chicken wings? They fly entirely using Psychic Power. How dare you talk about science?"

Stop complaining here. Remember to follow the procedure later. I'm backing you up. As for how to correct things later, that's up to you.

No sooner had he finished speaking than Thunderhawk began to fall from the sky. This showed that the Ninth Legion was exceptionally poor, as they rarely even had Stormbird and had to make do with Thunderhawk.

Soon, accompanied by the sound of hatches opening in unison, Space Marine Paint Scheme in red stepped onto the land of Baal and assembled below the high platform.

The soldiers of the Ninth Legion also saw their Primarch, and Atlas squatting on the ground, wolfing down his lunchbox.

Of course, these were all minor issues. At this moment, the Tin Can Kid only had eyes for the glittering, winged Primarch.

Forty-two thousand one hundred and twenty-three people, a full thirteen hundred fewer than expected. Combining this with the information Mordred had given him, the Great Angel easily figured out the reason.

This broke his heart and saddened him so much that he knelt down on one knee and said to his offspring:

"My children, I am Sanguinius, the ninth son of the Emperor, and your father. I know of your suffering."

There is no need to worry or be afraid of this. From this day forward, there will be no more Ghouls despised in this world, only proud Blood Angels.

And I will be with you!

Now, I will issue my first command: I will see every one of my offspring, until I have seen each and every one of them.

The bond of blood allowed all the Blood Angels to feel Sanguinius' sincerity. The Primarch did not despise them, these Ghouls, but instead called them proud Sanguinius.

Even with outsiders present, no one would refuse the Primarch's orders. Soon, the 1,300 Death Company guarding the Red Tear came before the group and saw the Primarch kneeling and weeping for them.

Black represents misfortune, and red crosses represent the desire to submit. But in the eyes of the Great Angel, these less-than-honorable warriors are also his offspring. Mordred perfectly captured this scene, and feeling that the atmosphere was sufficiently set, immediately signaled the Khan to begin the operation.

Accompanied by a rousing background music, Mordred walked up to the platform and, in front of everyone, helped the Great Angel to his feet.

"Brother, I have seen your determination. The Blood Angels will be the new designation of the Ninth Legion."

I, in the name of the Warmaster, swear that as long as the Blood Angels regain their glory, all rumors will vanish, and Atlas will be your strongest support.

Upon receiving the signal, the Khan pressed the button, and countless flowers rained down from the sky, accompanied by thunderous applause, as everyone chanted the name of the Great Angel.

Four satisfied exclamations echoed throughout the Warp; the two SSRs they most desired had both arrived, and now it was time to see who would win the game.

However, the Four Gods were not the only ones participating in the Great Game; many rising stars also wanted to get their hands on the table. Countless eyes were on this sacrifice called humanity, hoping to follow in the footsteps of the big shots and get a share of the pie.

But none of this is relevant to the two Primarchs of the Material Universe, because Sanguinius, who has just finished his return ceremony, has encountered a very critical problem.

He was utterly incapable of curing the Black Thirst. To make matters worse, the Blood Angels were so poor that even a mouse would gnaw at them, and Baal didn't even have a mouse.

"Um, Mordred, could I have this set of jewelry?"

"Give it to you? Dream on! I've been saving this up for ages, scraping together all that money from the Adeptus Custodes. Do you know how long it takes to accumulate just by touching it?"

"However, on the other hand, I do have a job here that's perfect for you, guaranteed to help the Blood Angels quickly accumulate wealth."

Have you heard of the Atlas Park?

For Sanguinius who had spent his entire life dealing with mutants in this godforsaken place called Baal, he had a hard time understanding what Mordred was saying.

However, seeing the malicious look in their eyes, I felt like this was a trap.

But for the sake of the legion's development, Sanguinius still asked:

"Does this mean I'll be the farmer and manage the farm?"

"Pretty much, it just requires you to sacrifice some of your looks."

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