The Curtain Rises
Frankly, watching Fulgrim slowly put on his armor wasn't a very enjoyable experience, at least not for Sanguinius.
Despite the breathtaking beauty of the phoenix's ceremonial armor, and even more so in person, it couldn't stop the archangel from finding the process, which lasted for over six minutes, tedious.
Fortunately, the Chemos probably knew about this, and he didn't prolong the process. After putting on the silver crown inlaid with jewels, he ended the change of clothes abruptly, without choosing any more accessories or worrying about color matching.
After Fulgrim thanked his skilled servants, they left the changing room and began walking side by side through the wide tunnels inside the volcano.
In the past, walking side by side usually involved a guard, but this time was different. The Blood Angels and the Emperor's Children, who were in charge of the guard, had already left the volcano ahead of time.
Sanguinius knew that they would most likely stand in a line like a guard of honor, waiting for Magnus's arrival on some helipad at the end of the tunnel.
"He was one hour and forty-three minutes late," Fulgrim said calmly. His long, silvery-white hair cascaded over his purple-gold shoulder armor, and his gold and red cloak billowed behind him as he strode Primarch.
"So?" Sanguinius cautiously shifted the focus. "You're unhappy about this?"
"I'm probably not the only one who's dissatisfied. There are many more people here today than just Primarch; there are far more people who are much busier than us. But, to be honest, what I don't like is his attitude."
The phoenix stopped and sighed softly.
"A natural lateness, a natural assumption that the Warp is a gentle and friendly place—yet I'm forced to stand on his side."
"I know you think immediately abolishing the Librarius is too extreme, but our opinions are actually not important, Fulgrim."
Sanguinius shook his head, and the silver chains and pendants hanging from his wings swayed in unison, making a crisp sound. Unlike Fulgrim, he did not pay attention to his appearance and always chose to wear ceremonial armor when going out.
The archangel wore a simple white robe; were it not for the ornaments, his attire could be described as quite plain.
"Yes," Fulgrim sighed again. "Our opinions are unimportant."
As he spoke, he actually laughed, though it wasn't a very pleasant laugh, "But Magnus probably wouldn't think that way."
Sanguinius didn't respond to that, but simply gestured for Phoenix to continue and quickened his pace. Ten minutes later, they emerged from the tunnel and arrived at the Primarch's private helipad.
The sky over Nikaea was overcast and filled with dark clouds. The apocalyptic scene of lightning, thunder, and volcanic eruptions did not stop a Storm Eagle from slowly descending.
It came to a shaky stop in a corner of the tarmac. The violent roar of the engine gradually subsided, and the Servitor and technicians who were already prepared rushed over and immediately began emergency repairs.
They had done this many times before; any aircraft attempting to fly over Nikaea had to undergo this test. The hatch slowly opened, and the crimson Magnus and his guards emerged.
Compared to the Blood Angels Emperor's Children, the Lion Guard seemed rather small in number; he only brought ten guards, the reason for which was naturally unknown. Magnus had always been a mysterious figure.
The second most knowledgeable scholar in the Milky Way was dressed today in a dark brown inner garment, paired with a gold and red embroidered outer coat, with eagle-embroidered arm guards, and his long hair was loose and crimson like blood.
He had barely stepped out of the hatch when he noticed the angel and the phoenix, and a smile immediately spread across his face. The Primarch approached each other and began to greet one another; the whole process was brief. Once the greetings were over, they were the first to step into the tunnel, while the guards followed in three lines behind their respective Primarch.
Magnus spoke softly, with a hint of reserve, his voice echoing discreetly in the tunnel. Clearly, he was using some kind of power to mask his voice and the conversation. Sanguinius frowned, not understanding why he was doing this.
"It took me a whole year to get to Nikaea, brothers, but I didn't let that year slip away in vain. I studied many theories, read countless ancient books, and finally, I succeeded."
"Success?" Fulgrim raised an eyebrow. "What? Have you discovered some new psionic theory?"
"Yes, but also no." Magnus smiled slightly, approached Fulgrim, and began to introduce his research findings to him.
"I know the main arguments of this meeting, and I know exactly what caused it—the long-standing shortsightedness of Leman Russ Russ and Mortarion led to this consequence. My father had to deal with this, and I understand him, but I also have my own considerations."
"What are you trying to say, brother?" Fulgrim asked seriously. "Or rather, how do you intend to refute Russ and Mortarion?"
Magnus smiled warmly and mysteriously, "It's simple. Don't they think psionic energy will cause disaster? Then I'll show them just how gentle and efficient psionic energy really is."
"You still haven't said what you've discovered, Magnus," Sanguinius said softly, a hint of worry flashing through his mind. For some reason, he suddenly felt a strong unease.
"Don't worry, my angels! Just you'll see!" The Crimson King laughed heartily, brimming with self-satisfaction, his face displaying a pride unique to scholars.
This pride has been born in countless scholars who have completed groundbreaking theoretical research, almost like a kind of destiny's Legacy and guidance. Now, it has finally appeared in Magnus.
The Crimson King had completed countless studies throughout his life, but none had ever brought him such satisfaction or pride. At this moment, he was happy and full of hope for the future.
But will the future truly be as bright as he imagines?
Fulgrim sighed almost imperceptibly and exchanged a glance with Sanguinius. Both could see the seriousness and helplessness in each other's eyes—the meeting had to proceed regardless.
--
Karyl walked slowly and leisurely past a large group of worshippers who were praying, strolling as if on a picnic. He did not deliberately slow his pace or hide himself, but neither the worshippers nor the Servitor noticed him.
His back was no longer shrouded in "shadow," and the grotesque back of "Blade" was completely exposed to the air. Pale and pitch black intertwined and spread, resembling a bizarre, living creature.
He was like a monster, or Ghost.
Karyl calmly walked through the long corridor, through the archway filled with scriptures and the remains of believers, and began to explore the labyrinthine interior of the Fidelitas Lex.
He wasn't surprised by anything he saw; after all, there really wasn't anything surprising here. So far, there hadn't been any signs of "corruption" on the Fidelitas Lex, not even a single star.
The believers' prayers remained fervent and solemn; they prayed devoutly to the gods for the future of humanity, even willing to pay the price with decades of asceticism and their lives.
The environment was not as dirty and chaotic as rumored, nor filled with traces of ascetic life; everything was very clean. Even the resting place of the remains of Devotion, adorned with scriptures and strips of cloth, was orderly and disorderly, yet aesthetically pleasing.
This place looks so normal it's almost unbelievable.
But what about Angron and his group?
A full year has passed since the 1,300 Word Bearers left the Perfect City, and no news has come from them since; they have vanished without a trace, as if they have evaporated into thin air. 1,300 Astartes is no small number, even for Word Bearers.
Furthermore, even Karyl's perception of the "shadow" was affected. He didn't know who had done it or how, but he sincerely admired the person who had done it.
What a formidable enemy I've never met!
With this cold compliment in his heart, he slowly followed the heartbeat-like ripples of shadow into the depths of the bridge of the Fidelitas Lex.
Word Bearers dressed in civilian clothes or armor can be seen everywhere, carrying out their daily routines. Guarding, training, and maintaining armor and weapons are all proceeding as usual, without anything amiss.
Karyl temporarily ignored them and stepped into the deepest part of the bridge. He harbored some dark and gloomy desires, but he couldn't let them be released here.
The bright lights disappeared deep inside the bridge, replaced by dim, flickering candlelight. Karyl continued deeper, and an open hall, bathed in candlelight, welcomed him.
The entire hall was filled with cold stone coffins, each bearing the name of the deceased and the insignia of their unit. Offerings from the ship's faithful adorned the area around each coffin: wreaths, letters, and carvings by the devout.
Under their influence, this place possesses an atmosphere that is both like a cemetery and a temple.
Karyl squinted, revealing himself. The flickering candlelight passed right through him, oblivious to his presence, casting no Shadow whatsoever.
He followed the increasingly rapid undulations of the shadows and arrived before a stone coffin. A line of solemn, ornate characters was clearly visible on the surface of the coffin.
"Angron Tai, commander of the 7th Assault Company of the Serrated Sun Chapter, passed away during the consecration ceremony. As the first of the deceased, we will send him off to the realm of the gods with the utmost respect."
Karyl read the words softly, placed his right hand lightly on the stone coffin, shook his head, and a flash of cold rage appeared in his eyes.
The next second, his right hand suddenly plunged into the stone coffin.
The candles in the main hall went out all at once, and a gloomy breeze swept through. A few seconds later, accompanied by a cold laugh, the candles flickered on again. The stone coffin itself had been pushed open, and it was completely empty, without even a single bone.
At the same time, on the other end of the Fidelitas Lex, a person suddenly opened their eyes, blood flowing backward from their throat.
Update complete.
Guess what happened?