Again and again, he rose. Again and again, he fell.
Sanguinius spared no cost for victory. He burned away all the Warp essence his brothers had given him, burned away the tiny amount of faith he and Lorgar had gathered, yet he still could not defeat the Hand of Khorne. All he could do was delay this god's incarnation, preventing it from charging to the front lines and slaughtering everyone.
With one punch, Sanguinius spat blood. His golden breastplate had completely shattered, its fragments cutting into his heart. Blood flowed from countless penetrating wounds through the front and back of his torso.
His brothers watched this bloody battle through Magnus's psychic sorcery. Every one of them ached at Sanguinius's condition, for they had all been close to him.
Angron, freed of the Butcher's Nails, looked at Sanguinius and could not help saying, "If possible, transfer his pain to me. Even if it is only a little."
Horus said, "Konrad Curze's prophecy said that I would kill Sanguinius, pounding him into pulp with my fists. Is his body suffering even more now than it would have if it had been turned to pulp?"
Fulgrim's eyes were sorrowful. "At least Sanguinius does not have to raise a blade against his brothers. Sometimes, the pain in one's heart runs far deeper than pain in one's body."
"I admit that he is tougher than I am," Mortarion said sincerely.
Lorgar sighed. "All we can do now is hope Father returns in time. Otherwise, everything is over."
Konrad Curze shook his head, holding no hope for it. "At least according to the scenes in the prophecy, our father is not someone who can seize an opportunity. He always goes through endless hardship, only to watch the opportunity slip through his fingers."
"How delightful, Sanguinius," the