How dazzling he was when he rose to his feet.
Legend had it that when he still walked among mortals, men and women, young and old alike, were captivated by his beauty.
Though he lacked Magnus's mighty psyker power, Lion El'Jonson's resolve, Dorn's rock-solid fortitude, and even Guilliman's strategic brilliance.
He was still considered the one who most resembled the Emperor.
The holy white wings behind him unfurled, and dazzling light bloomed around him.
All the Blood Angels present shed tears as one and sank to one knee.
Before the Great Crusade began, the Ninth Legion had been an extraordinarily savage Legion. They were bloodthirsty and frenzied, so much so that even the World Eaters seemed civilized beside them.
Everyone looked down on the Ninth Legion, yet he had always welcomed his sons with a gentle smile.
Just as he had when they first met ten thousand years ago, he spoke the same words to his sons.
"Rise, my children."
The Blood Angels rose one after another, some needing their brothers' support to stand.
"Please allow me to speak with our guest first," Sanguinius said with a smile.
"Yes, Father."
The Blood Angels put away their weapons and withdrew.
The Silent King likewise sent his Triarch back through the teleportation rift.
"Thank you for what you have done, Silent King."
"I merely fulfilled the promise we made long ago. There is no need for thanks," the Silent King said, shaking his head.
"Has the great enemy in the darkness risen once more?"
"No."
The Silent King shook his head, seemingly considering something.
Sanguinius looked somewhat puzzled.
"The reasons cannot be explained in a few words. You must ponder them yourself."
The Silent King reached out, and in the blink of an eye, a mask with a serene expression appeared in