125 Dark Crusade (Forty-Five, Angel Defeated, 6

"Sanguinius--!"

How many times have I heard it roar?

The angel wearily gripped his sword, parried, knocked the steel whip away, and then adjusted his position.

His armor was tattered, and this magnificent and powerful suit of armor could no longer provide him with any form of protection. Similarly, the "power" function that Power Armour should have was actually gone. It wasn't just a few parts that were faulty; in fact, only a few parts of his armor remained intact.

But Ka'Bandha wasn't much better off; its body was covered in crisscrossing sword wounds, each one deep enough to expose bone, some even penetrating its neck. Any creature should die after suffering such injuries, but it was different; it wouldn't die unless Sanguinius cut off its head or tore it to pieces.

Ka'Bandha took two steps back, his steel whip hanging heavily in his hand. Sometime later, they had returned to the surface of the sea of blood. This once unfathomable ocean was now only knee-deep, ripples spreading as they fought.

It was panting heavily, and scalding, lava-like blood gushed from its throat, yet its voice remained clear. It wasn't the voice a Daemon should possess; it was undoubtedly deliberately crafted.

Do you know?

Sanguinius stood rooted to the spot, swallowing the blood from his throat, and calmly retorted, "What do you know?"

Ka'Bandha shook his head thoughtfully, not answering immediately. To be fair, it was utterly absurd for such an expression to appear on its beast-like head.

A wild beast, a Bloodthirster —the demon who has invaded the material Khorne's Realm the most in the past ten thousand years, committed heinous crimes, and is burdened with endless blood Daemon, now begins to think.

Moreover, its idea is quite interesting.

"The essence of war," Ka'Bandha began. "I once destroyed one of your worlds, a world called Landrum. A martial world where men, women, and children were all soldiers, receiving all kinds of training from a young age, regarding death as their final destination."

"Fighting them was a pleasure for me. Though these mortals are still weak, they are incredibly brave. No one retreated, no one surrendered, and no one even wavered in the battle. Do you understand what a miracle that is, angel?"

Sanguinius raised his sword and walked toward it.

He didn't answer, nor did he want to think about the Daemon's words, but Ka'Bandha laughed. It vomited another mouthful of blood and shook its head.

"I captured a general. A hastily promoted soldier, a nobody, armed only with a gun and a sword. I looked down at him as if I were staring at an ant, but he showed no fear; instead, he tried to attack me."

"This intrigued me. There are indeed many brave men among you, I admit that, but these people— the Landrum people—are still different. So I did something I had never done before: I decided to fight this sergeant's spirit."

"In the past, only you have received such respect; no one else has deserved my attention. That sergeant was the second, and far weaker than you, but I still want to win this battle."

Ka'Bandha raised his steel whip and lashed it at the angel. As cunning and ruthless as ever, he changed course mid-air, originally aiming to the left, but then, with a flick of the Daemon's wrist, redirected it to the right.

The angel quickly dodged, steadied his steps, swung his sword to deflect the steel whip, and continued walking towards Ka'Bandha.

He walked slowly, perhaps due to a severe injury behind his right knee. Ka'Bandha had recently bitten off a chunk of flesh from that spot, which had impaired his mobility.

But he didn't let the Daemon off easy either. The angel retaliated by piercing the Daemon's left shoulder with his sword, then twisting his wrist, pulling out the sword and slashing again.

He was just a hair's breadth away from taking away Ka'Bandha's left hand.

"At first, I thought their courage stemmed solely from their culture's peculiar belief in death—remember, Sanguinius? They viewed death as a way of serving you so-called the Emperor."

"And I showed the truth to that sergeant. I showed him what I saw, and I made him understand that the so-called Valhalla and resting place they might believe in do not exist. The afterlife is not peaceful; it is just as full of endless struggle."

"What's his name?" the angel suddenly asked.

Ka'Bandha grinned, his sharp teeth clenching, and retorted in a serious tone, "Does that matter to you? He's dead, he died without a burial place, even his soul was crushed by me."

He has surpassed you.

How do you know?

"If he had lost, you wouldn't have brought it up with me—so he has triumphed over you, Ka'Bandha. A mortal who has won against you in a battle of the mind."

"Yes," the Daemon nodded in acknowledgment. "His name is Haras of Landrum, and he defeated me in battle."

"He accepted its cruelty because he already knew—they, all the people of Landrum, already knew. A world under your rule had gone wrong; they knew these truths you had so carefully protected, yet they chose to accept them."

"They understood the nature of war: to accept everything, then stand tall and fight to the death or victory. Death, or victory, angels, nothing else."

"Nonsense."

The angel answered, his tone cold. He understood what Ka'Bandha was doing—conversing to regain his strength while simultaneously trying to distract him with these words. A simple strategy, yet effective, because the angel himself also needed a little time to recover.

He can continue fighting.

Ka'Bandha laughed.

No, you don't understand enough.

It whispered, its fangs gleaming, and charged toward him, flapping its wings.

The whip tore through the air with ease; the flesh and blood formed from pure evil provided overwhelming power, causing the steel whip to taut and straighten in an instant, making it look like a rusty, bloodstained sword.

The angel did not parry or dodge again, but instead accelerated straight towards Ka'Bandha. His only defensive measure was to hold his sword horizontally to his side, blocking his vitals to avoid being struck by the steel whip.

Ka'Bandha immediately saw through his intention—it was an obvious slashing attack aimed at Ka'Bandha's left hand, which was still attached to him by skin and flesh.

The Daemon laughed wildly, and instead of dodging, he opened his chest to the angel.

An indescribably sharp sound rang out in the next half second as the tip of the steel whip pierced the angel's right shoulder, shattering flesh and bone.

The longsword slashed diagonally upwards, severing the Daemon's left hand, and then changed direction a second time, creating a horrifying gash in its abdomen.

Blood gushed out, but Ka'Bandha swung down his steel whip and grabbed the angel's neck with his only remaining right hand.

"Very good."

It breathed approvingly, the pungent smell of blood assaulting the angel's nostrils.

"Creating weaknesses, trading blows—but have you deliberately overlooked one thing, Sanguinius? What you crave in this battle is far more than what I desire."

Ka'Bandha was right.

Sanguinius' throat began to bob, and the Red Thirst that had been suppressed for so long, which had never left since the start of the battle, surged forth at this moment.

It easily broke through the mental barriers the angel had erected for it, this time even breaking free of its reins, roaring and galloping wildly across the yellow sand, thirsting for a bloody drink.

Despite being held by the neck and needing to break free, the angel did not do so for the time being, but returned to the yellow sand once more. He was not afraid of death or defeat, but he feared that he would become something even more terrifying due to the indulgence of his desires.

--In that instant, even Ka'Bandha's blood seemed to attract him.

He dared not gamble, nor was he willing to gamble, on whether he could continue to suppress this unspeakable, innate desire under such circumstances.

Under the blazing sun, amidst the scorching yellow sand, the angel, drenched in sweat, landed on a sand dune. He could no longer discern which period of Baal this chaotic inner world represented; he simply shakily rose to his feet and began searching for the runaway horse.

Its tracks were not difficult to find; Sanguinius only glanced at it and saw countless deep hoof prints in the desert, not buried by the sand, but deeply embedded in them.

He tried to discern from the hoofprints where the beast had gone, but he didn't actually need to look. In the next instant, an irresistible sweet scent wafted up from behind him.

The angel turned and saw a blood-red, twisted monster, as tall as himself, but without wings. Its curved hooves were deeply embedded in the yellow sand, and its bare chest was stained with blood.

Sanguinius suddenly knelt down.

He almost lost control.

He longed to pierce the monster's neck with his sharp teeth, then drink heartily, releasing the desire that had been suppressed for countless years.

He did not want to be trapped in an endless political game, nor did he want to sit as an empty symbol in the Lord Regent's seat, waiting for others to come and worship him.

He disliked these things, never had. He only suppressed them out of a sense of responsibility. There were countless people in this world more miserable than him, so why should he abandon others for his own sake?

But, but.

A scarlet hand silently reached up and climbed onto his chin, making him look up.

"But battle, honor, and blood," his desire whispered softly. "You truly crave them."

No, that's not it.

"Yes, admit it, there's nothing shameful about it. You were born to kill, and so are you all. Primarch is just a modified term; the truth is, you are all merely tools, tools with pre-set duties."

"Don't rush to deny me. Think back carefully. Think about that glorious Great Crusade —how many people did you kill in it? How many families were destroyed because of your arrival? How many worlds were turned into dark and hopeless Hive City, where people suffered widespread oppression and bullying?"

Sanguinius gritted his teeth and closed his eyes: I will not refute it. What you said is indeed the truth. We are all blood-stained, all glorious butchers.

But if we don't do this, their future will be even darker. Even the cruelest order is still order, far better than the evil brought about by Chaos.

You can't sway me.

He took a deep breath, letting the smell of blood slide down his throat, and clenched his fists.

You cannot sway me.

"I don't need to do this. Coming back here is the most unwise decision of your life."

It knelt down, slashing its wrist with its sharp teeth, and hot, sweet blood immediately gushed out, flowing into the yellow sand with a hissing sound. The angel's nostrils began to twitch, as continuously as a wild beast smelling raw flesh. Its lips protruded, and long fangs slowly emerged.

"Drink," desire whispered. "In the desert, water is precious."

It moved its hand to the angel's head, staining his golden hair with blood, which then flowed down, defiling his entire body.

Veins bulged on Sanguinius' forehead, and the desire rising deep in his throat was suppressed by his low growls. But how sweet was the smell of blood? A few drops of the scalding liquid that slid down his cheeks eventually fell into his lips.

An unprecedentedly wonderful taste immediately unfolded.

Sanguinius suddenly opened his eyes, his pupils as narrow as pinpoints. He abruptly loosened his clenched fists, then grabbed the hand that was still oozing blood and bit down on it.

The sharp teeth pierced into the flesh, drawing out even more blood. He began to lick his wounds incessantly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of scalding blood.

How could there be such a wonderful feeling? Sanguinius greedily sipped his uncontrollable desires, finally casting aside the burden he had carried for ten thousand years.

He continued to drink heavily and tear at his flesh, completely unaware of his current predicament—until a low laugh reached his ears.

Sanguinius opened his eyes again and saw Ka'Bandha's face.

"I won," the Daemon announced with satisfaction and pride.

What? What is it saying? The angel took a deep breath in confusion, but a warm, foul stench filled his nostrils. He froze, looked down, and saw a pair of blood-red hands and the disemboweled body of Daemon.

The angel stood frozen for a few seconds, then his body suddenly began to tremble.

Ka'Bandha suddenly burst into wild laughter, his exposed internal organs convulsing along with the sound.

"Have you forgotten, Sanguinius? A battle on the spiritual level, you said it yourself! You thought this battle would only be limited to swords? No, with your current weakened skills, I could kill you easily, but this battle will be fair, remember?"

"This sea of blood was prepared for me. No matter how badly you wounded me, I could absorb it and instantly recover. But I didn't do that. I want to defeat you head-on. I will make you admit your defeat yourself."

The Daemon staggered to its feet, its entrails spilling out of its gaping chest and abdomen, but it paid no heed.

Ka'Bandha suppressed all his laughter, clenched his remaining right fist, and raised it high. At that moment, his voice boomed like Thunder.

"Now I have won," it said slowly. "And you have lost, Sanguinius."

"See? You and I were never any different. Remember what I said on Signus? We were supposed to be brothers, bound by blood, destined to kill together—now, you see the truth."

"Your heroic bearing, your millennia of unwavering loyalty, vanished without a trace in this fleeting moment of bloodlust. You even accept the blood of Daemon without hesitation. You treasure the blood of a monster you call a vile creature, a filthy thing, not wanting to waste a single drop."

"Now tell me, Sanguinius —can you still return to your children with your head held high? Can you still look your brothers with normal eyes? Can you still shout 'For the Emperor' once more?"

"Choose."

Ka'Bandha lowered his voice and whispered mockingly in a murmuring tone.

"Will you die here, as Sanguinius, in battle? Or will you deceive yourself and return with your unsealed desires? Choose, angel. My only weapon will wait here, awaiting your judgment."

After a long while, Ka'Bandha let out a roar.

It was stunned, for it had not anticipated this. But it was also pleasantly surprised, for the roar was an angry roar, and that anger was utterly pure.

Without reason to draw boundaries, without logic to guide it, all the self-control and repression of the past were thrown into this flame, becoming the most suitable fuel. Ka'Bandha had never seen such pure rage—never.

The moment this thing appeared, it overwhelmed Sanguinius's bloodlust, which he had suppressed for millennia, and then everything else.

Sanguinius roared and lunged at it, but he was not empty-handed. A sword had somehow appeared in his hand, a sword that signified one thing: Sanguinius was still a warrior, not a beast.

Ka'Bandha burst into laughter.

Ignoring its own injuries, it swung a heavy punch. The angel countered with a swift slash, cruelly cleaving the fist open and wedging itself between the Daemon's bones.

Bleeding and panting, Ka'Bandha twisted his wrist, forcing Sanguinius' sword out of his hand with his own hand bones.

It laughed and stepped forward, raising its right fist again. The violent force blasted open the sea of blood, corpses floated and sank, and countless weapons flew out. One of them, a steel whip, fell into its mouth.

The Daemon chuckled lowly, biting the whip, and with a low knee and shoulder strike, deflected Sanguinius's follow-up attack. Then he threw another punch, the blade spinning out from between the bones.

The angel flapped its tattered wings and roared as it soared into the sky, grasping it with one hand. But at that moment, a steel whip covered in jagged barbs struck swiftly, wrapping around his right ankle.

With a roar, Ka'Bandha exerted force with one hand, unleashing unparalleled bloodlust, and actually managed to pull the angel down.

Countless sprays of blood erupted from where he fell, and a figure followed closely behind, crashing through the blood curtain and hurtling toward the Daemon. Bones were broken, taut skin ripped from muscles, and blood vessels burst, yet he seemed completely unaffected.

He was consumed by anger.

In that instant, time seemed to stand still.

Ka'Bandha saw clearly Sanguinius's twisted face, tattered armor, protruding fangs, and still sharp weapon. He gripped it tightly in his hand, even though he was completely consumed by rage.

Still a warrior, always a warrior, refusing to become a beast.

Even if it's already madness.

"Only you," Ka'Bandha silently.

It swung its whip, only to be deflected by the sword. It retreated, and the angel roared as it pursued. It feigned an attack to lure the angel into drawing his sword prematurely, but the crazed warrior paid no heed, letting the steel whip wrap tightly around his neck without stopping his mad dash.

He raised his right hand, and the blade fell, slashing from the wound on Ka'Bandha's mangled left shoulder towards his gaping belly. He was covered in wounds, bathed in blood, and his face was contorted with rage, making him appear both beautiful and terrifying.

Ka'Bandha stared blankly at him, its body suddenly shrinking. Starting from its left shoulder, its body was severed, and the remains, along with its head and a small part of its right hand, slid into the sea of blood.

Nevertheless, its right hand remained clenched tightly, still wrapped firmly around the angel's neck, without loosening its grip in the slightest.

A smile rose from the Daemon's beast head, the sea of blood churned and began to boil, and a will roared within it, demanding that he accept the sea of blood's healing, then rise and continue the fight.

"No," said Ka'Bandha. "I won once, and I lost once. This is the final outcome of this battle, my lord."

The sea of blood surged wildly, then suddenly subsided.

That angry affirmation was both praise and rebuke.

You lost, Ka'Bandha, you lost to Sanguinius! He approvingly, yet with a mixture of disdain and delight, from his Brass Throne. But you also triumphed over him! For this I will—

Thunder rumbled, and one weak Daemon after another screamed in the Chaos waves, dying for it, being born for it, and then being captured by rage in an instant, becoming one of countless blood demons.

"--I need nothing more, Khorne," said Ka'Bandha.

He released his right hand, letting the mad angel carry his weapon towards the end of the sea of blood. He then sank into it, letting the corpses wielding weapons engulf him, offering neither resistance nor accepting its power.

"I refuse promotion. I have been defeated. Dying in this battle is the only thing I crave as a warrior. Even if I were to commit eight thousand more massacres and claim countless heads, it would not be able to compare with the honor and satisfaction that this battle has brought me."

"I defeated Sanguinius, the Khorne. I crushed him on a spiritual level, enslaved him with rage, and stripped him of anything to call himself noble or proud. But I also lost, and I willingly use this defeat to bring my battle to a close."

How dare you—?!

An indescribable terror surged from Ka'Bandha's blood, containing an extremely complex mix of emotions. There was a furious killing intent born from his defiance, but also a stern laugh that rewarded his courage.

Ka'Bandha ignored all of them, simply sinking, sinking, until it reached the deepest part of the sea of blood, and then fell silent.

Amidst the Chaos waves, in the realm of the Khorne, a voice slowly resounded.

"Ka'Bandha is dead."

He spoke, and then turned his gaze to other battlegrounds, no longer paying any attention to the Daemon's corpse. However, on the right armrest of His Throne, a complex and indescribable symbol appeared.

In the language of Daemon, that symbol can be used to refer to a name.

Ka'Bandha.