Interlude: Rekindling (III)

"They don't want victory. ✊🍟 ✌♧" Fulgrim gently told his brothers. "These things are just appearances. What they really want is sacrifice. Tactics, military strategy, troop deployment. They don't care about any of that. They only want to offer sacrifices to their gods."

No one answered him; only Ferrus Manus cast a somber glance. The dark, blood-red light in the sky pressed down on them, bringing an oppressive atmosphere that was unbearable for most.

Exhaustion, thirst, and hunger plague everyone, whether you are Astartes or a mortal; these feelings are roaring through every part of your body.

You need to take this seriously! They're howling. They give us food, water, and rest!

But they can offer nothing.

The Volcano Cannon began to roar, and continued to roar. It had been firing for eleven minutes.

Rewinding time to three irreversible hours earlier, two Primarch arrived here with their respective armies.

On one side were Lion El-Jonson's Dark Angels and Space Wolves, along with remnants of other forces and legions. On the other side were Sanguinius and his offspring, and some who had been inspired along the way to join them.

So, this raises a question: Where are we? What place is this?

No one could provide an answer, because this place was simply a wasteland. Apart from the wreckage and ruins left by war, it was nothing more than a sinister demonic realm shrouded in darkness.

To say that this is their destination, the location of Astronomican, is it not a bit ridiculous?

The Fortress of Despair is a magnificent complex nestled in the Himalaya Mountains. The Astronomican Hall, located on the highest level of the Fortress of Despair, is heavily guarded, its full extent beyond the comprehension of most.

How could it have become such a dilapidated ruin?

But the truth is the truth: if you close your eyes, you can see the Astronomican Radiance softly, dimly, as if it would be blown out by a breeze at any moment.

So they began to wait there—or more precisely, to wait there in accordance with Lion Eljonsson's orders.

The Lion El'Jonson only revealed the reason to his brothers, but the others didn't really need a reason. They were all exhausted, even the Dark Angels.

The timers inside their helmets indicated they had been in the war for less than five hours, but their bodies seemed to tell a different story. Tense knees and stiff muscles—could five hours of fighting have exhausted Astartes to this extent?

The answer vanished in the wind along with the murmurs of the dead, and what rose afterward was the simple thought of only wanting to obey orders.

"Just give us the orders, sir," the soldiers told their commander. The commander then sought help from others, from the Astartes Astartes, from their company commander, from their brothers, and finally from the Primarch.

The Primarch's command is to wait here.

So what else is there to say?

Of course, the wait was worthwhile. Just thirty minutes earlier, three other Primarch had arrived here.

Fulgrim, Ferrus Manus, Jaghatai. So many Primarch, so many armies.

The Auxilia was reorganized, and infantry regiments and armored divisions were once again fully manned. Tank commanders began looking for gunners, loader operators volunteered, and infantrymen started asking each other if anyone had any cigarettes left.

The Iron Hands reported to their fathers and rejoined their company. The Imperial Fists opened their arms, allowing their Servitor to inspect their armor, and spontaneously reassembled into battle formations. White Scars' motorcycles roared, the Blood Angels began their slow assembly, and the First Legion's massive army filled the entire battlefield in a dark mass.

They all knew in their hearts that now was the time.

So Lion El-Jonson ordered the Volcano Cannon to be aimed at a certain spot and begin bombarding it. There was originally no door there, until the first beam of light from the Volcano Cannon struck. Ashes suddenly rose up as the blazing white beam of light slammed into a door that had long been destroyed.

A golden Radiance suddenly emerged from the scattered ashes, as if the torrents of the Volcano Cannon were powering it rather than trying to destroy it. Half a minute later, the entire giant gate appeared, standing twenty-five meters tall.

The Emperor, with his head bowed and eyes closed, looked up at them with pity, holding a sword in one hand and a scale in the other.

This miraculous scene quickly stirred up a surging wave in the crowd. Some wept, some gripped their weapons tightly, some remained silent, but there were others who chose to talk to each other at this moment.

"The gates will soon be opened," said the Lion El'Jonson.

He gripped the spear tightly, but kept his eyes closed, not looking at anyone.

"But we can't know in advance what's inside," Sanguinius replied worriedly.

"I can serve as the striker." The Khan smiled modestly and casually patted the hilt of the White Tiger Dao.

"You always want to be the striker, Jaghatai, but not this time." The Lion El'Jonson solemnly rejected his brother's suggestion. "I don't want to use conventional tactics, nor do I want you to tear our enemies apart with speed as usual. Like Sanguinius said, we don't know what lies behind that door."

Jaghatai pondered for a moment, then nodded. He stroked his long beard and asked, "So, how should this matter be decided?"

"We'll crush them," the Lion El'Jonson declared, opening its eyes. "No dispersed operations, no separating infantry regiments and armored divisions, and no Astartes penetrating alone with Auxilia providing fire support. We have Titans, and all sorts of heavy firepower still well-supplied with ammunition; they'll be forced to face us head-on."

"Very good," Ferrus Manus said somberly. "I like this strategic direction."

His silvery, gleaming hands were crossed in front of him, gripping the Forgebreaker. It lay flat on the ground, the hammerhead still stained with lingering blood.

"Perhaps," Fulgrim spoke again, thoughtfully, "We'll encounter it again."

"Who?" Sanguinius asked.

"You'll find out," the Chemos said, his tone tinged with amusement, the edges of his bone-white hair still burning like Embers, yet his face remained devoid of any smile. He then looked at Ferrus Manus.

"If it does reappear, leave it to me."

Gorgon nodded slightly. "But if it's another one, I'll do it."

"A riddle-like conversation." Jaghatai shrugged at the angel and the Lion El'Jonson. "I suggest you get used to it; these two are now talking in a way that only the other can understand, and I don't want to ask them to explain things to me."

He finished telling the joke to himself, then laughed and walked away, where the White Scars men had already prepared his motorcycle.

"Flanking man, Jaghatai!" the Lion El'Jonson cried to him.

"I see."

The Khan answered calmly and drew his knife, placing it gently on the ground. He began to drag it, and even as he climbed onto the chariot, its blade remained deeply embedded in the ashes.

"Get ready," the Lion El'Jonson said again.

His tone was ethereal, and his gaze seemed to fall into the void. Sanguinius looked at him with a puzzled expression, not knowing who his brother was speaking to. But that question was no longer important, for the door had already been opened.

Its opening was as silent as its appearance, as if it did not exist in reality. The golden door finally disappeared into darkness under the continuous bombardment of incandescent beams of light, and a blood-red mist swept in.

The soldiers grabbed their weapons and began to stand guard. The tank cannons were already heating up. The Lion El'Jonson glanced at his empty left side and suddenly raised his Lion Sword and spear together.

A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, and Sanguinius suddenly felt something climb up his spine. He frowned, and in that familiar shiver, he saw the Emperor's face.

A face bleeding and streaked with tears.

"The time has come, Sanguinius," he said with a smile. "I wish you a triumphant return."

The father's face vanished, and the angel silently looked up, only to see a swirling vortex appear in the burning sky.

He frowned, glimpsing the Shadow of several steel behemoths through the deep black storm. He wanted to say something, but the blood mist had already completely engulfed the massive allied force. When it dissipated, the wasteland was once again barren.

The established position was left with only defensive fortifications and stacked toolboxes; there was not a soul in sight, only the deathly wind blowing by.

--

Rogal Dorn removed a helmet and examined it inside. It wasn't any model he recognized; he found an aftermarket insert on the right side of the helmet.

Dorn pressed lightly with his finger, and the interlayer sprang open on its own, revealing a folded parchment scroll, which he caught steadily. He slowly unfolded it and began to read it carefully, memorizing every name on it.

There were no unit numbers, no ranks, only names and a short self-introduction. Sometimes it was a parchment scroll, sometimes a piece of iron, and sometimes a fragment of bone. The inside of the helmet was a chosen place to put it, but sometimes it was also found on the inside of the shoulder armor.

A gentle breeze blew by; Blood Red hadn't bothered him for at least three centuries, but day and night no longer alternated; only darkness and the moon existed overhead.

He returned the helmet, then stood up, bent down, and dragged the red and blue corpse into a sand pit he had dug beforehand.

Dorn naturally knew how to excavate a proper tomb. Although he didn't have the right tools at hand, that didn't stop him from making some—he made a makeshift shovel out of some fragments of Astartes armor.

It has no handle, but that's enough for it to accomplish the tasks Dorn designed for it.

The wind whistled past as Wanshi turned away from the buried grave and walked toward the next corpse. His steps were resolute and unwavering until a peculiar scent wafted in the wind.

Rogal Dorn turned sharply and began to gaze at the endless red sand.

He smelled the aroma of Phosphex flames.

Update complete.

The rest of the story can wait until the Lunar New Year period to watch; the viewing experience will be much better that way.