125. Dark Crusade (Forty-Six, Red Angel, 5k)

Calistarius felt nothing.

In the blink of an eye, the cave and Iskandar Khayon vanished completely. A powerful psychic force and something terrifying he couldn't describe came knocking on his door; the former intended to lead him somewhere, and the latter did the same.

So, how do you choose?

Calistarius wasn't an idiot, but even an idiot would know which one to choose. He activated his consciousness, connecting with the psionic energy, and was then thrown back into the Warp.

He knew he was undergoing a teleportation, in a supernatural and surreal way. He had never experienced anything like it before; long-distance teleportation had always been a taboo technology, one that no one dared to attempt. Moreover, no one had warned him that doing so would bring extreme pain.

At this moment, Calistarius sincerely hoped that his physical body in the material world could possess a small ritual ring, as well as the help of his brothers who were also members of the Librarian.

But he had none of those things; he only had himself and the Emperor statue still held in his hand.

Does this signify anything?

Calistarius gripped it tightly.

It was only then that he discovered a suspicious point in the matter: he had traveled to the Warp as a conscious being, that is, in a soul state. If so, why did this simple statue, which was neither part of his soul nor a ritual implement and had no spiritual power, follow him so steadfastly?

His thinking ended there.

A crack silently emerged from the Chaos and unconscious world, engulfing him.

In an instant, the world was illuminated, darkness vanished, and blood red took its place, with everything in sight a scene of blasphemy and depravity.

The dark clouds floating in the blood-red sky resembled countless eyes, silently watching the appearance of Calistarius. The ground was completely submerged in a sea of blood, and the few remaining massive mountains were formed from piles of corpses, emitting a pungent, stench.

Calistarius in horror at the scene, wanting to go back and ask that bewitched Iskandar Khayon: "Is this where you think Sanguinius is right now? You insane bastard!"

However, a few seconds later, Calistarius realized that Khayon seemed to be right—in the floating state unique to consciousness, he really did see a familiar figure in the boundless sea of blood.

Calistarius immediately used his psionic powers to end his levitation and rushed towards the man. However, the closer he got, the more alarmed he became.

His golden hair was stained red, his armor was completely shattered, he was covered in wounds, and a blood-stained whip that was clearly evil and unclean was wrapped around his neck. If it weren't for the sword that belonged only to angels still in his right hand, Calistarius would never have approached this being.

The young Librarian carefully moved forward a few meters, floated in front of the person, and tried to confirm his identity, but almost cried out in surprise the moment he saw the person's face.

This is his father, without a doubt, only, only.

"But Sanguinius has never been so depraved," a voice said coldly.

Calistarius formed a hand gesture in preparation for psychic lightning; his keen spiritual senses allowed him to quickly pinpoint the speaker's location.

Before time could pass, he arrived above the man's head with incredible speed, lightning ready to strike in his hand, while the Emperor statue in his other hand began to glow faintly.

Calistarius was unaware of this, merely watching him warily, ready to attack at any moment. At the same time, he realized that this was also the consciousness of a Psyker, and clearly an Astartes.

However, compared to the image of most Librarian, his appearance was terrifyingly grotesque—large swaths of dark red, like folded wings, gathered behind him on both sides, and spread out like a cloak at his feet, outlining a dark and ominous massive whole.

Two crimson Radiance shone behind his shoulders, like torches being lit. He wore a mask shaped like a skinned human face, the red and white muscles standing out starkly, and a pair of seemingly calm eyes stared at Calistarius from their sockets.

"Who are you?" the Blood Angels demanded sharply.

The man did not answer, but simply extended his right hand, his index and middle fingers slightly bent.

Suddenly, a golden bolt of lightning streaked across the sky and struck the man's hand without warning, forming an Aquila emblem. He grasped it, showed it to Calistarius, and then finally spoke, his voice hoarse and deep, as if he were holding a razor blade in his mouth.

"You don't need to know who I am; it's meaningless. I'm just like Iskandar Khayon, the Crimson Son you met not long ago—someone who's here to lend you a hand."

"He has brought you to the place of your father's punishment and depravity, and I will reveal to you where his current beastly form comes from."

Calistarius had to admit that he was enraged.

Although this person's tone contained no hint of superiority, his straightforward manner made the Blood Angels even more unacceptable. It was as if, to him, Sanguinius had always been like this, and therefore there was no need for surprise or regret.

"You--"

Before he could finish speaking, the man immediately frowned and looked at him seriously. The fleeting hint of anger in his eyes made Calistarius freeze.

"--Silence!" he hissed at Calistarius. "Stop your ridiculous anger!"

"Look down at him. Do you think he still knows you are his son? No, Calistarius, he is now just a beast captured by rage, a rage that would kill every living thing he sees. Without exception, without discrimination."

The Blood Angels remained silent for a few seconds, then frowned and began to retort loudly, "Ridiculous! Why didn't he kill me just now?!"

"Because you are already dead," the man said.

Before Calistarius could even ponder the meaning of those words, the strange man raised his left hand and showed him a picture.

A crimson light curtain slowly unfolded, allowing Calistarius to see clearly his body surrounded by Apothecary, as well as his fellow warriors on guard around him. All four Chapter Masters were also present, arguing amongst themselves on the ravaged deck of the Red Tear.

He couldn't hear their voices, but he could read their lips to understand what they were saying.

His Chapter Master Dante said, "The sacrifice of Calistarius will be remembered, but now is not a good time to restart the psychic ritual. The Librarian must use their power to close the Warp Rift on the ship."

Chapter Master Sentor of the Knights of Blood said: I agree with you, Dante, and we must prepare for another war. I don't know who exactly stole the Ultramarines' ship and attacked us, but they will pay for it.

Chapter Master Malakin Phoros of the Lamenters said, "In short, prepare for war. But I still have a question: where did the Primarch go?"

The Flesh Tearers's Chapter Master, Gabriel Seth, roared in fury, "In the name of Sanguinius, whoever is on those ships, I will make sure they all die a horrible death!"

Calistarius withdrew his gaze, his doubts growing stronger—was he dead? Or was this merely an illusion?

No, he could tell that this was no illusion magic; the special magical fluctuations of capturing and projecting images from other worlds with psychic energy could not be faked. But if his body was already dead, what made his soul exist?

"Because of the statue in your hand," the man said calmly. "It preserved your soul, though only temporarily, but that's enough for us to do everything we can."

"What are you talking about?!" Calistarius asked, both confused and angry.

This time, the man did not rebuke or react otherwise to his emotions, but simply drifted toward Calistarius.

The young Librarian tried to dodge, but its consciousness completely defied its control, obediently remaining in place as if that person were its master. Then, the person placed a hand on Calistarius's shoulder.

"See what I see." He uttered a short phrase, his tone finally showing a hint of emotion, filled with sorrow.

The next second, the world before Calistarius's eyes suddenly changed—he saw his brothers, the Blood Angels, and the brothers of the brethren.

They fought side by side, battling against the surging tide of Daemon. What should have been a perfectly normal scene, however, made Calistarius vaguely sense something was amiss: their fighting style was far too bloody.

The battle was utterly chaotic, devoid of tactics or coordination, consisting only of continuous howling and horrific acts of wanton violence. However, the truly terrifying part was yet to come.

When the last Daemon was slain, the children of the angels turned their gazes to each other and to an Imperial Army that had just arrived on the battlefield.

They charged madly at each other or mortals, then chopped off limbs, severed heads, or simply tore people in half, pouncing on them like wild beasts and drinking their blood.

"Your the Emperor—!" Calistarius cried out in despair.

And this was just the beginning. More scenes followed, only the dead—or rather, the sacrifices—changed from brothers and soldiers to unarmed, innocent mortals, to one pitiful civilian after another suffering annihilation.

Without doing anything wrong, sitting idly at home, calamity descends from the heavens, one Hive City after Hive City, one world after another. Wherever the Sons of Sanguinius go, rivers of blood flow, whether friend or foe.

"This is just the beginning," the man said in a low voice. "Your father has been captured by the genetic defect and the pure rage inherent in his nature, and you will inevitably be affected as well."

"Ultimately, the blood connection between the Primarch and Astartes is partly due to the genetic engineering surgery in the Warp that separated you from humanity on a material level, but his blood also affected your souls."

"I don't believe it, I don't believe it," Calistarius muttered to himself, ignoring his words.

Red Thirst.

The man calmly uttered a single word, which awakened what little reason Calistarius.

"A curse that every Sons of Sanguinius must bear. As I just said, it is a defect deep within your genes, inherited from your father."

"His offspring must drink blood year-round, and even then, the Red Thirst will flare up from time to time during battle. It's not just a craving for blood, but also a fondness for violence; it can drive you briefly insane, making you enjoy the sight of the enemy's blood quietly blooming on corpses."

"However, this was before he succumbed to his desires."

He pointed to the lone figure wandering aimlessly through the river of blood.

"Things changed when he succumbed to his desires. For he drank not pure blood, but the blood of a Daemon. You may have heard of its name—the mortal enemy of angels, Ka'Bandha."

"Not long ago, it fought Sanguinius here, and ultimately, it won at the cost of its own life. It corrupted the spirit of Sanguinius and the souls of his offspring."

"The gate of desire, opened by the blood of Daemon, swallowed the souls of all of you in that instant. There was no turning back. Even if Sanguinius were killed here on the spot, the outcome would not change."

"From that time on, the angel's offspring will frequently fall into Red Thirst, until they are unable to extricate themselves, until the last one becomes its slave."

"The honors you have earned will be erased by terrible deeds, and your painstaking efforts over millennia to resist the Red Thirst will be utterly lost because of your father's momentary indulgence. But this is still not the end, just as I said, it is not a single curse that has captured his soul."

"Besides Red Thirst, there was also an unparalleled rage in his very nature. Your father was a monster, Calistarius, whom he tried desperately to conceal, and who truly embodied a hero in the body of a monster. Such a feat, but that does not change the fact that he was still a monster."

"Deep within his soul lay an empty space. There was nothing there but anger, and this anger was utterly pure. It only stirred within him a desire for violence and destruction, nothing more."

"You too will be affected by this curse; if you are not captured by the Red Thirst, you will be led by this blood-red rage into the abyss of humanity."

Calistarius his trembling left hand and clutched the Emperor statue to his chest.

"The Emperor will show His Mercy," the young Librarian said, his voice choked with emotion. "The Emperor will bestow His compassion upon us."

"No, He won't," the man calmly retorted. "Now listen to me, Calistarius, there's still a chance."

The young Librarian suddenly raised its head.

"You have conquered death, haven't you?" the man asked.

"I... I don't remember. I only know that I did do it, in—"

"--Under the guidance of Konrad Curze Curze, the Lord of Blades and the guardian of innocent souls."

The man sighed softly, reached out and grabbed Calistarius's left hand, gently pressing the Aquila emblem into the Emperor statue.

A burst of golden light quietly bloomed.

"And now you must do it a second time, Calistarius. You must conquer death a second time. No matter how difficult, no matter the cost, you must do it. Your father and your brothers are counting on you now."

In the golden light, his form began to dissipate, and the crimson world also crumpled up as if about to be destroyed. Calistarius watched this scene in shock, instinctively looking into the man's eyes. Then, he felt a sense of familiarity.

A question blurted out.

"Who are you--?!"

The man nodded, his form completely vanishing, leaving only one sentence. "He will answer all your questions, he will tell you what price you will pay."

Who? Who else?

Bathed in golden light, Calistarius couldn't help but close his eyes. When his vision returned, he was greeted by a face he had never seen before.

Dark-skinned, ordinary, plain, and simple. He looks like an old farmer who has spent most of his life working in the fields, or a craftsman who is used to weaving baskets under the scorching sun.

Calistarius down and found the man holding his hands, which felt incredibly rough, like touching sandpaper. He looked up in confusion, meeting the man's eyes.

Then all doubts were dispelled.

+You will bear everything, Calistarius. Your father cannot linger here, nor can he succumb. He is the sword of dawn, which will cut through the endless darkness that shrouds this place, allowing the light of hope to return to the Five Hundred Worlds.+

I understand, this is just another sacrifice.

The world spun around him, and the form of the Blood Angels reappeared beside his deranged father.

He looked resolutely at his Primarch.

Sanguinius was completely unaware of this.

It shimmered with golden light.

--

"We have to."

Dante suddenly stopped speaking; he smelled an unusual, acrid odor. It wasn't from burning or electrical damage, but rather an unusual, uniquely psionic, burnt smell.

At that moment, time seemed to slow down, and among the many offspring of angels, only he turned to look at Calistarius, who was not far away.

But he didn't see the young Librarian; he only saw a flickering golden light.

Time resumed its normal flow, Dante's two hearts began to beat at an extremely high speed. The Apothecary gasped in unison, while his fellow warriors stood frozen in place, both surprised and bewildered by the sudden appearance of the giant.

Yes, almost without warning, their father, their Primarch Sanguinius, quietly returned, only his armor shattered, his body covered in wounds, and his wings on his back mangled with blood.

However, Calistarius without a trace.

"Primarch!" Dante rushed towards him.

Sanguinius looked up, his gaze utterly unfamiliar, causing Dante and the other three Chapter Master behind him to stop in their tracks.

The others also noticed the Primarch's outward emotions, but no one uttered a sound; only the Servitor continued their efforts to repair the deck.

A few seconds later, Dante resumed his steps, walked toward Sanguinius, and bowed his head in respect.

"You're back."

"Um."

Sanguinius nodded, and said nothing more, only issuing a few simple orders, such as fetching spare armor, stopping the bleeding from the wings, and then reporting the current situation to him.

Dante did as instructed, but he couldn't forget the look the Primarch had just given him.

Father, what could have caused you such deep regret?

And what about Calistarius?

He didn't get the answer until seven days later. By then, he no longer needed the answer.