Where Are You?
Lion remained silent.
Ten thousand years of slumber, ten thousand years of isolation from the world, ten thousand years of complete ignorance of all this.
When he awoke, the Imperium had changed; when he returned, his descendants had fallen into depravity.
He had no way to defend himself.
He could only --
"Sorry."
Those three words, spoken by the lion, were like three meteorites crashing to the ground.
Seraphax was stunned.
He stared blankly at Lion, at the figure he had cursed, swore at, and resented countless times in his dreams over the past ten thousand years, at the Primarch standing before him now, enveloped in divine light.
"What did you say?"
His voice trembled so much it was almost inaudible.
"Sorry."
Lion repeated, his voice sincere without a trace of pretense, heavy as if burdened by millennia of guilt:
"I've done too many wrong things."
I left you in Caliban, failed to provide you with sufficient guidance, and did not stand by your side in crucial moments.
My arrogance, my dictatorship, my paranoia have caused you to suffer pain you should not have had to endure.
He took a step forward, a step that was not oppressive, but sincere:
I have no right to ask for your forgiveness.
But I want you to know--"
His gaze went straight into Seraphax's eyes:
You will always be my son.
No matter what you do, no matter what you become, this will never change.
Seraphax's body trembled violently.
In his eyes, the anger, resentment, pain, and grievances that had been accumulating for millennia all mingled together at this moment, transforming into an indescribable complex emotion.
His lips trembled slightly; he wanted to say something, but couldn't utter a word.
He could only grip the sword tightly in his hand.
The power of the four gods was still surging on that sword.
But within that surge, something seemed to be quietly changing.
That was the last trace of the Age of Light within him, the final remnant of that loyal warrior from ten thousand years ago, and his love for the lion.
"It's too late, Father."
His voice was so low it was almost inaudible:
"Too late..."
He suddenly looked up, his eyes burning with a final, resolute determination:
"But at least—let me die by your hand as a warrior."
He suddenly sprang into action, and the sword flashed once more.
This sword strike contained neither the power of the four gods nor the blessing of Chaos, but only the purest resolve of a warrior, the most complex emotions of a son, and the last dignity of a the Fallen.
Lion looked at him.
Looking at this final sword strike.
He did not dodge.
He simply raised the "Loyalty" in his hand, met the sword light, and thrust it out.
The two swords crossed.
Golden and dark red light intertwined, collided, and merged in that instant, and then— Seraphax's sword broke.
The sword, strengthened by the power of the four gods, shattered like fragile glass before the sword called "Loyalty," turning into countless fragments scattered on the ground.
The blade of "loyalty" has already Seraphax's chest.
There was no blood splattering.
The sword's edge seemed to pierce not flesh, but soul; it pierced through millennia of struggle and pain, the final obsession of a the Fallen.
Seraphax's body stiffened.
He lowered his head, looking at the sword embedded in his chest, watching the golden light flowing from its blade slowly devouring the remaining Chaos power within him.
Then, he looked up at Lion.
In his eyes, the gloom of millennia of decline was slowly dissipating.
Instead, a strange clarity emerged—the light he once possessed ten thousand years ago when he was the Dark Angels Knight Commander.
"Father..."
His voice was weak, yet clear:
"I... was... loyal..."
A hint of moisture finally appeared in Lion's eyes.
He reached out and gently supported the collapsing body, pulling his fallen son into his arms.
"I know."
His voice was deep, yet it contained boundless emotion:
"You have always been loyal."
But... Destiny has been so unfair to you.
Seraphax's lips curled up slightly.
It was a smile—a genuine smile he had never shown in ten thousand years.
"To... die by your hand..."
His voice grew weaker and weaker:
"Very nice..."
His eyes slowly closed.
The Chaos light surrounding him completely dissipated at that moment.
His face became peaceful, as if he were asleep, as if he had just woken up from a nightmare that had lasted for ten thousand years and was finally free.
Lion held him, remaining motionless for a long time.
The fighting continued all around.
The fifty-one Dark Angels warriors who followed Lion —the elite of Deathwing and Ravenwing —were engaged in fierce combat with the Chaos army of the Thousand Eyes Warband.
The Thousand Eyes Warband has a large number of members.
Hundreds of Chaos Space Marines, thousands of Beastmen, tens of thousands of mortal Cultists, and the Orks lured here by Seraphax.
At this moment, they surged towards the fifty-one isolated soldiers like a tide.
The Deathwing Terminator stood in a row, their Storm Shield and Power Sword forming an ironclad defense.
Their movements were precise and efficient; with each swing of their swords, an enemy fell, and each shield could block dozens of attacks.
But there were too many enemies, far too many to kill, so many that even these millennia-old elites began to feel the pressure.
Ravenwing warriors piloted Land Speeder, circling overhead.
Their heavy weapons spewed flames, tearing hordes of Cultists and Beastmen to shreds.
But the enemy's numbers were simply too vast; those who were knocked down were quickly replaced by those behind, and those who were torn apart were quickly replaced by even more.
"First Company! Shrink the defensive line!"
The voice of the Deathwing Commander rang out in the communication channel:
"We need backup!"
But where can we get support?
They were in the Imperium Nihilus, deep within enemy-occupied territory, and in the heart of the Thousand Eyes Warband's stronghold.
The nearest Imperial Fleet is hundreds of light-years away, and the nearest reinforcements are fighting in some unknown star system.
Only them.
There were only fifty-one soldiers.
besides--
A furious roar echoed across the battlefield.