As space on Davin began to collapse, the Steel Truth, stationed in orbit, also began regenerating more slowly.
Its warship decks started peeling away like cracked flesh, black blood and pus flowing from those lesions, no longer spreading to expand the colossal floating island.
Its added mass came from the Warp and was now in a constant
state of loss of control.
Sanguinius was supported by his Sanguinary Guard. Azkaellon roared for the Legion Apothecaries to treat the primarch, while the Great Angel struggled to keep his sons calm.
"Steady yourself, Azkaellon. I will not die so easily."
"This is not where I shall meet my end."
The Great Angel looked at his son with a strange expression. Azkaellon sensed a fear in it that sent a chill through him.
That gaze was filled with sorrow and helplessness. Sanguinius seemed to feel immense debt and guilt toward his sons, yet they had no idea where that debt came from.
"Father, have we not done enough?" The invincible god of slaughter on the battlefield now felt helpless. He turned and barked at the equally blood-mad Nassir Amit, ordering him to come protect their gene-sire.
The captain of the Fifth Company had an exceptionally unstable mental state. Even among the Blood Angels, they were famed for their ferocious, reckless style of battle.
Sanguinius understood that once he had made his choice, he would ultimately walk toward his destined end—death at Horus's hands—and his sons would likewise be forever entangled by the Red Thirst and the Black Rage.
Though the Black Rage had yet to manifest at this point in time, as a Warp curse, it possessed the same peculiar quality of transcending time.
And at the instant of his death, the Black Rage would awaken in the bloodlines of every angelic son.