December Wolves, Angels, Ravens, Bats (IV)

The moment the angel from Baal saw Karyl Lohars with his own eyes, only one thought existed in his mind.

Calm down—he told himself—you must calm down, Sanguinius, you must calm down.

But he couldn't do it; calmness was a luxury he could only dream of. Frenzied images bombarded his mind, as irresistible as Boarding Torpedo.

The pale skin and the skeleton beneath it remained in his sight, but Sanguinius couldn't stop there; he inevitably saw more.

The deck beneath his feet had transformed into a shattered glacier, with lava gushing forth from beneath it in a manner contrary to common sense. All around him was not darkness, but a void even deeper than darkness.

Countless voices whispered among them, reciting words that could not be understood, nor should be understood. Sanguinius felt a chill he hadn't felt in a long time. He clenched his fists and stood still, urging his reason to try to bring himself back.

However, after only a short while, this terrifying scene changed.

A fierce wind arose, and pale ashes howled through the storm, as brutal as a blizzard. Wronged souls wailed and screamed, and countless worlds burned and collapsed behind their illusory faces.

Galaxy burned, stars vanished, and maniacal laughter echoed endlessly. Twisted monsters leaped from the void, scattering wildly, their thirst for blood burning with excitement.

Fear.

Sanguinius' hands began to tremble—of course he was afraid, why shouldn't he be? Even Primarch have things they fear.

However, he was not defeated by this fear.

The Baal people trembled, yet stood firm in their place.

"This isn't real," he told himself. "It's part of an illusion, it's my cursed talent at work, it's not real."

A few seconds later, he resolutely flapped his wings, the muscles in his back stretching out. In the fierce blizzard, he attempted to take off.

He had to do it; he had to get back to the real world. Who knows what else he'd see if he stayed here?

God knows. Will what he sees grab him?

The blizzard tore at his body, and the ashes in the gale became sharper than knives. He flew up, fell, then flew up again, and fell again, until he was covered in wounds and his skin was torn open.

An almost unbearable pain surged from the depths of his soul, wave after wave, relentlessly assailing him. After the thousandth fall, Sanguinius knelt on the shattered glacier.

Blood splattered as he trembled and looked up at the sky, intending to observe the movement of the blizzard, but suddenly felt a sensation of falling. The next second, he began to fall, plummeting towards a place darker than darkness itself.

Wings bound by the gale, unable to unfold, they could only huddle on its shoulders, feathers fluttering and falling along the way. Sanguinius gazed at them in bewilderment, his thoughts tormented to the point of being unable to think.

He offered no resistance, and a second after that thought crossed his mind, he plummeted to the very bottom of the abyss. When he opened his eyes again, everything he saw had changed.

Now, he can only see darkness.

Sanguinius struggled to his feet and tried to walk forward, but his body—or rather, his remaining sanity—no longer supported him. So he had to crawl instead.

His wings were stained with blood, and he crawled naked through the darkness, leaving a winding trail of blood. At first, the darkness was utterly silent, without a sound. But as he moved forward, the world gradually "gained" sound.

The sounds of blades piercing flesh, the crackling of flames, the screams of monsters, and the solemn chorus of thousands of dead. It was as if they were all wailing in unison, yet it was also incredibly sacred.

And, a deep, chilling roar.

"Sing a song for me," he said. "To celebrate this moment of Vengeance."

Unconsciously, Sanguinius crawled towards that direction, and the surrounding temperature began to change, shifting towards a colder and harsher temperature. The chorus also began to grow more intense, almost deafening, booming, and full of hatred.

Listening to it, Sanguinius felt a deep weariness; he knew he had gone too far. If he continued, he would lose his way back. But...

I must see it. I must see that scene.

Sanguinius murmured to himself—a testimony.

He moved forward again, as if breaking through some kind of limit, when suddenly a sharp explosion rang in his ears. A tearing sensation came over him, and Sanguinius' eyes widened.

He knew that his survival instinct had kicked in at this moment—it was screaming and pulling him back, not allowing its master to lose himself in the illusion.

But having come this far, are we really going to give up now?

He forced himself to lift his head, and at that very moment, at that final moment, he finally saw it.

A skeleton, a tall skeleton shrouded in Black Rage and wreathed in chilling spiritual light, is wielding a golden, flaming sword, battling countless twisted monsters in the darkness.

He was not alone, though he appeared to be, he was by no means alone.

On his back was another skeleton.

It was golden, its charred flesh dripping blood from its bones; it was still breathing, yet in excruciating pain. Gazing at it, time seemed to slow down. Sanguinius opened his mouth, feeling a tremor.

He wanted to say something, but then he saw two tears sliding down the golden skeleton's eye sockets.

--As if struck by lightning, in that instant, Sanguinius suddenly understood something he shouldn't have understood.

The skeleton was not weeping for its own fate.

He was for

"Go back, my son," the skeleton said, its voice like the last breath of a dying man. "This is not the path you should take. Go back."

It barely raised its right hand, light shimmering between its fingers, and it was this light that guided Sanguinius home.

The angel trembled, feeling two hot tears fall from his eyes. He turned around, painfully and resolutely obeying his father's command.

--

Horus was anxiously thinking, unsure of what to do. His anxiety was quite obvious, but fortunately, he didn't need to hide it at the moment. He was pacing back and forth in a meeting room, where he was all alone.

Whether it was the guards brought by Karyl Lohars, or Azkaellon and Fakus Kebo, they all stayed outside and gave Horus specific instructions.

This meeting room, which he had carefully selected based on his memory, had an inner room where Sanguinius and Karyl Lohars were currently conversing.

Horus, of course, wanted to know what they were saying, but he couldn't hear them at all. All he could do for the moment was wait.

However, he was soon no longer alone. About ten minutes later, the meeting room door was pushed open. Horus initially thought it was a guard who had disobeyed his orders, and with a hint of anger, he turned around, only to see a giant dressed in black.

He was very thin, with long hair that was blacker than ink, but his skin was as white as snowflakes or ashes, and his eyes were equally black.

Inevitably, he reminded Horus of Karyl Lohars. Only, this man's skin color was more "human."

Horus knew his identity at first glance.

"Corax?" The Cthonia smiled with a complex expression, a mixture of surprise, welcome, and embarrassment at his earlier expression. There was also a hint of bewilderment at the current situation. "Corius Corax?"

The man he called Corax nodded slowly and gently, "You are Horus Lupercal? He wasn't lying to me, you are indeed very recognizable."

Horus paused slightly, and before he could speak, Corax had already entered. He turned around and gently closed the door. His black robes were loose, but they could not conceal his strength.

Horus could see his brother's muscular physique and bony back through his robes. This eerie contrast startled him—he had to admit, Corax reminded him of some animals.

His first impression of Kolus Corax was more like that of some kind of bird?

Horus chuckled at his own absurd perception; he didn't know what was wrong with him. Perhaps he was influenced by Sanguinius' strange behavior—how could he have thought of comparing Corax to a bird?

Horus stepped forward, intending to be more affectionate, but just as he was about to put his arm around Corax's shoulder, he realized something else—not everyone likes physical intimacy.

So he switched to another form of etiquette.

Corax lowered his head and looked at his outstretched right hand.

"What does this mean?" he asked softly. "I don't quite understand."

"It's a courtesy, Corax, from Terra. You just need to extend your hand, yes, that's it."

Horus patiently instructed his brother and shook hands with Corax. This time, the temperature he felt was quite normal, which secretly relieved him, even though he himself didn't really know why he did it.

"So, you and Father have finished talking? I thought you would talk for longer," Horus asked. He chose to speak first, after all, judging from Corax's appearance, he didn't seem like a very talkative person.

Horus didn't want the atmosphere to become awkward; he needed a conversation to get through this difficult wait.

"Yes," Corax nodded. "He seemed to have something to do, so he temporarily ended our conversation."

"That's unusual, brother." Horus frowned. "Father doesn't usually do this."

"Ah, um."

"."

Horus pursed his lips, realizing that his suspicion of Corax's lack of talkativeness might be true. Reluctantly, he changed the subject himself.

Do you know the names of the rest of us? No? Okay, then let me introduce them to you first.

Update complete. To be continued tomorrow.