So Close

The team, like a golden arrow, cut through the Chaos ocean, heading straight for the coordinates shrouded in crimson and despair.

In Baal, on the outskirts of the monastery fortress, the last line of defense is suffering in a cycle of collapse and rebuilding.

Dante, the Chapter Master of the Blood Angels, felt every inch of his steel and flesh screaming for rest.

Fifteen hundred years of long service, countless brutal battles, the eternal pain of losing the Primarch, the heavy burden of constantly sacrificing offspring, and this seemingly endless swarm of insects before him...

All of this has long exceeded the limits of any living being, even the offspring of the Primarch.

His "job" is no longer "007," but the despairing "111"—from waking up to collapsing again (if there's still a chance).

Every minute and every second was filled with battle, command, sacrifice, and pain.

He longed for a glorious death, an end that would allow him to finally rest in peace and be freed from this eternal duty.

But at this moment, another, stronger emotion overwhelmed his weariness and longing—guilt, and a sense of responsibility to a noble ally.

He had just risked his life, nearly being beheaded by another lurking Hive Tyrant, to snatch back the deep blue, tattered body of the Ultramariner Titus, amidst the claws of the Hive Tyrant and the encirclement of the Tyrannosaurus.

This warrior, who had been tormented by the Inquisition for a century, threw himself into Baal's hell without hesitation as soon as he was freed, and fought there for ten days and ten nights until he perished together with the Hive Tyrant.

He earned the deepest respect from Dante and all the Blood Angels who witnessed his feat.

"Save him!"

Dante growled at the hastily arriving Chapter Apothecary, his voice hoarse but undeniable:

"Do everything possible! We must save this holy warrior! He is the eternal brother of the Blood Angels, the most shining proof of the Imperium's loyalty!"

The Apothecary looked at Titus's almost completely destroyed torso and shattered heart.

And that face, frozen in the moment of death, yet still wide open in fury as if still screaming, unconsciously murmured:

"This... Chapter Master, perhaps... we could consider preparing a ' Dreadnought ' mech coffin for him? His will is so strong, perhaps it can..."

"You fucking repay kindness with enmity!!!"

Dante's roar was like that of a wounded lion; he kicked the Apothecary, sending him staggering backward.

"If I die, are you planning to stuff me into that iron coffin and make me fight for another 1,500 years?! Huh?!"

The Apothecary steadied himself, touched the spot where he had been kicked, and surprisingly showed little fear. Instead, he replied in an almost straightforward tone:

"Uh... Chapter Master, do you really think you won't need to enter the Dreadnought in the end? Who gave you such a... naive idea?"

He straightened his back, his tone even carrying a hint of the "professional stubbornness" unique to Chapter Apothecary when facing death:

Even if the holy Archangel Sanguinius himself appeared here today, he could not stop you!

This isn't just my opinion; it's the consensus of all the Apothecary in our entire Blood Angels Chapter!

Your experience, your will, your very existence—they are too important to the Chapter, to the Imperium, and must be perpetuated to the fullest extent possible!

This is our duty and... privilege Apothecary!

"I'll fucking shoot you dead right now!!"

Dante was so angry he almost drew his gun, but seeing the Apothecary's stubborn expression that said, "I'd die for the future of the Chapter," he hesitated.

And the subtle, approving glances cast by the other Blood Angels around him.

In the end, he simply delivered a solid, powerful blow, knocking the Apothecary's helmet askew.

"Listen, you idiot!"

Dante lowered his voice, but his anger hadn't subsided, "My last order to you is: save him!"

Using all the precious genetic materials in the Blood Angels Treasury, and the last medical technology passed down from the Emperor era!

If... if there is truly no way to save it...

His voice lowered, filled with endless sorrow. "We must do everything we can to preserve his body, perform the most thorough biostatic treatment, and place it in the best refrigerated coffin."

If Baal ultimately survives... I, Dante, and all the survivors of the Blood Angels will hold a memorial service for him of the highest order.

We will kneel before him to commemorate his sacrifice and loyalty.

if..."

Dante's Adam's apple bobbed as he glanced at the howling swarm of insects in the distance. "If Baal falls and we all perish... then I want his remains to be the last Imperium warrior devoured by these abominable insect hordes!"

This is Dante's promise to the Chapter Master the Blood Angels!

The Apothecary finally abandoned his infuriatingly blunt manner, stood at attention, and solemnly performed a Aquila Salute: "I obey your orders, Chapter Master! I will do my utmost!"

Dante nodded, took one last look at Titus's peaceful face, turned around, and once again resolutely walked towards the crimson battlefield that devoured lives.

The thought of "dying a valiant death" grew stronger in his mind, perhaps after this crisis was resolved... no, it had to be after Baal survived.

He cannot die yet, at least not now.

On the other side of the battlefield, Mephiston, the Chief Librarian the Blood Angels, is being enveloped by a surging storm of Psionic Energy.

That power came not only from his own strength, but also seemed to be the "Black Rage" that erupted from the hearts of all the warriors in the Blood Angels Chapter in this desperate situation.

That thirst for blood, the eternal grief of losing the Primarch, and the violent struggle against one's own Destiny.

The torrent of collective unconsciousness, gathered together, was guided and infused into him through some ineffable Warp mechanism.

This power is violent and tragic, yet it also carries a sacred sense of sacrifice.

Mephiston's face was contorted by the Psionic Energy glow, but he gritted his teeth and tried his best to guide the power, transforming it into flames that would incinerate the swarm and a barrier to protect his comrades.

The archangel is still here... He is watching over us from somewhere in the Warp... He has never truly left...

Dante gazed at the towering beam of Psionic Energy emanating from Mephiston, a faint flame of hope burned within him.

Throughout the history of the Blood Angels, whenever the race faced the brink of extinction, miracles would occur, and extraordinary powers from the Primarch would manifest.

He prayed, prayed almost desperately.

It was as if in response to this prayer, which embodied the last vestiges of the entire Chapter's faith.

The Veil between the Warp and the Realspace was pierced at the most intense point above the battlefield of Baal by a gentle yet incredibly resilient golden light.

The light fell to the ground, precisely enveloping the body of a Blood Angels warrior.

The warrior, consumed by extreme Black Rage, exhausted his last ounce of strength and was overwhelmed by the swarm of insects. His body was mangled, but his posture remained that of a charging warrior.

A voice, warm, compassionate, and filled with boundless love and apology, rang out directly from the lingering echo of that fading soul:

"My noble son... are you willing to give up everything you have left—your body, your last soul—for me, for your brothers?"

The corpse's fingers twitched almost imperceptibly.

The soul, about to be completely absorbed into the Warp background, was firmly held by a powerful yet gentle force, slowly pulled back from the brink of destruction.

A brighter and brighter golden light began to emanate from the mangled body.

The light did not merely cover the surface, but permeated from the inside out, as if the remains themselves had become a luminous vessel.

The echo of the soul became clear in the light; it was the voice of a young warrior, filled with relief and unparalleled glory.

"Father... is that you? To be able to see you in my final moments... it is truly the Emperor's blessing."

I have no regrets... If my broken body and insignificant soul can still create life for my brothers, and do my last bit to protect our homeland...

Please... please don't hesitate, give it your all!

"I am with you... my brave and noble son."