40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 609 126. Dark Expedition (Forty-six, Hope)
"Sir." Dante said softly.

“I am listening,” Sanguinius said without looking up.

As usual, he sat on his throne, and a blinding light refracted by hundreds of gems fell from the sky, shining on his body and making his golden hair sparkle.

Two strong mortal servants lifted his bloody wings so that their companions could remove the pieces of flesh hanging from the bones for the angel.

This was Sanguinius's own wish, so no matter how unwilling or reluctant they were, these loyal people had to hold sharp knives and carry out bloody work on the angel's sacred white wings.

The primarch's blood flowed down the ground, dyeing the stone bricks engraved with patterns and stories into a complete scarlet color, and the smell of blood lingered for a long time.

Dante stared at his Primarch, at the brand new armor, the bloody blade leaning against his hand, and a statue of the Emperor held in the hands of an angel, his brows furrowed further.

He calmed himself down before speaking.

"The fleet is advancing on the enemy, but their firepower—"

"--very strong." Sanguinius raised his head and continued, "So it is difficult for destroyers and our carrier-based aircraft to approach the target, and the situation of fish boarding the ship is not optimistic either."

"Yes, I know this, Dante. The lifeblood of war is information, and I had already analyzed this through the observation window long before you were ready to provide me with this intelligence."

Dante was silent for a moment, then replied, "I'm sorry, Primarch."

"I'm not scolding you."

The angel said, stood up, and walked down from the throne. His wings were no longer as bright as before, and his pale bones were exposed. The multiple holes and cuts caused by the loss of flesh and blood made him look extremely terrifying.

The servants followed him anxiously, not knowing whether their work should continue. Sanguinius made a simple gesture and asked them to leave.

After that, his voice became extremely cold and different from the Sanguinius Dante was familiar with.

"The Primarch's intelligence far exceeds that of any Astartes. I have no intention of insulting or judging you, I am simply stating a fact."

"And this means that if I need to, I can turn my mind into an indestructible weapon. It only takes me a few seconds to process the torrent of data and turn it all into intelligence and information for my own use."

"This is what I am supposed to do, my son. A precise, efficient, and powerful war machine. This is what I am supposed to do, unshakable and unaware of the difficulties."

He paused, his expression becoming complicated again. Dante tried to ask further questions, but Sanguinius did not give him the chance.

The angel turned around, returned to the throne, and raised the sharp sword with one hand. The horrible wounds on his wings behind him had begun to stop bleeding at an astonishing speed. Suddenly, with a bang, the angel threw down the scabbard hanging on his waist.

The sturdy scabbard wrapped in animal skins and gems fell into the pool of blood, splashing blood and creating ripples. The angel himself stared at the blade without saying a word.

From the few parts that were not covered by blood, Dante saw the Primarch's eyes and looked into their eyes. He forced himself not to look away, but the emotion contained in Sanguinius's eyes at this time was no longer something he could understand.

The angel lowered his right hand and chopped down the sword. However, the undried blood on the sword did not fall to the ground, but stubbornly remained on it.

He turned his wrist, held the sword upside down, walked past the silent Dante, and strode out of the small throne room filled with the smell of blood.

At the moment they passed each other, Dante discovered that the statue that was originally held in the Primarch's hand had disappeared.

He hurried to catch up. The scene on the outer deck was horrific. The bodies of the loyalists had not yet been collected and could only lie together with the filthy etheric spirits of the dead demons.

This is a helpless move. Now is not the time to let the dead rest in peace. The war is not over yet, and it can even be regarded as just beginning. Every living person must contribute his or her own strength to this war.
Servants were drafted into service as soldiers, soldiers were promoted to sergeants or platoon leaders, and former officers were now overwhelmed with the task of coordinating the preparations for several battle positions.

Batch after batch of emergency supplies were transported out of the warehouse and placed in narrow or wide corridors, waiting to be used. Sanguinius walked past them, accepting people's greetings, but he had no intention of explaining to Dante.

At this moment, the only thing the Chapter Master of the Blood Angels could do was to follow his Primarch closely, walk through this hell paved with the corpses of brothers and brave men, and stand tall to encourage the people.

Their similar golden armor was stained with endless scarlet during this journey. Dante's brows were getting more and more furrowed, while Sanguinius' breathing became more and more slow and leisurely. The silence was not broken until ten minutes later when they stepped onto the nearest boarding deck.

Between the empty tarmac and the huge cables emitting sparks, Sanguinius turned his head and looked at his son.

"I am going to join the battle, Dante," the angel said slowly. "I should have done so long ago."

"Primarch? But there are no shuttles here. If you wish to issue orders, I suggest you move to the Mother of Tears battle barge of the Weepers, who received instruction from the Mechanicum eleven years ago."

Looking at Sanguinius's calm expression, Dante's voice couldn't help but become smaller and smaller until it completely disappeared.

"I don't need a shuttle. This war must be ended in the quickest and most direct way possible, and I'm the best person to do it."

".What do you want to do?"

"win."

After saying that, the angel turned around, grabbed the helmet on the belt around his waist with one hand and put it on. It fit tightly with the neck armor, and pale white steam gushed out from the connection.

Sanguinius's face was thus hidden behind an eyepiece made of gold, steel, and rubies, so that no trace of his true features could be seen.

At the same time, the outer door of the boarding deck began to rise, and the air pressure changed suddenly. Dante's pupils shrank, and he finally realized what his Primarch wanted to do, but it was too late.

A burst of deep blue light flashed from the angel's hand, and then the magnetic device on Dante's steel boots was suddenly activated, fixing him in place. No matter how he used the neural connection to try to shut down the magnetic device, it was of no use.

Then his helmet floated up from behind his waist, broke free of the magnetic hook, and buckled onto his armor with a gentle force. The breathing grid activated instantly and began to supply him with sufficient oxygen. The inner door of the boarding deck was opened at this moment.

The chill of the void rushed in, causing a thin layer of frost to form on Dante's golden armor. The light of the battleships' firing and explosions came from afar, illuminating their armor, and the power of destruction was presented to Dante in the most intuitive way.

He wanted to say something more, but the words that were supposed to come out of his mouth remained like ashes between his lips and tongue. At this moment, a sudden burst of light from the broken wings behind Sanguinius destroyed Dante's ability to speak.

He stared blankly at the pure golden, heart-stirring light and forgot everything for a moment.

He watched them rush out from the depths of the angel's bones like water, filling the holes in the wings, smoothing out the new and old scars, and in just an instant making the entire boarding deck as bright as day.

"Primarch?" Dante managed to squeeze out the voice with difficulty.

Sanguinius did not answer, but slowly raised the sword and clenched his hands. The bloodstains on the sword finally slowly disappeared under the shining light.

The wings behind him stretched out with this movement, shining with golden light, and boiling water began to burn silently on his wings.

Dante stared at the back of his Primarch, watching this miraculous scene, and clenched his fists tightly, trying to confirm whether he was dreaming, and his gauntlets creaked.

"Just like I have for you, my son, my father also has expectations for me."

In the light, Sanguinius slowly turned his head. Dante could only see a small part of his helmet and an eyepiece that was dyed golden by the boiling golden flames. Suddenly, Dante had a premonition.

He felt that the angel was going to say something to him, something he had never said to anyone before.

His hunch was correct.

"He had envisioned this long ago. He shaped my essence with unspeakable horrors, and believed that I would reverse it with the heart of humanity and dispel the darkness."

"His trust in me was too great, but he never doubted it. He always believed that I could be a symbol, a symbol of hope, courage and justice."

"And I beg to differ. Even now, I do not believe that I represent these qualities that are more precious than gold. Moreover, I have failed, my son. If Calistarius had not risked his life to save me and take on my fall, I would never be able to say these words to you."

"And he is lost in the depths of the Warp. He cannot return, at least not until he has tamed the reins of those two terrible beasts. But how can he do this alone? I want to help him, but..."

The angel turned his head and faced the void, flames spreading from his back to the tip of the sword.

"But my father told me that I had other things to do. I was a symbol, I didn't have to believe if I was really that brilliant, I just had to do what I had to do. That's all, Dante."

Dante's lips trembled as he wanted to ask a question, but he didn't want to disturb his Primarch. The word "father" that contained doubt and worry was swallowed back into his throat.

The next second, a flash of golden light flashed before his eyes, and the angel flapped its wings and rushed straight into the void at an indescribable and incomprehensible speed, like a sharp sword blooming with infinite brilliance, easily cutting through the darkness.

The light from his wings illuminated the surrounding void. He flew so that every warship in the Red Tear fleet could see his figure.

A thunderous cheer surged from the end of the light toward Dante on the boarding deck of the Red Tear, bringing his spirit into a brighter world.

He was stunned, and it took him a while to realize that he was surrounded by an excited crowd. Light was pouring down from above, and a dazzling human figure with wings on its back slid over their heads in the surging air waves, heading towards the darkness in the farthest distance.

The crowd roared.

The devout chanted the scriptures of the State Religion, praising the names of the God-Emperor and Sanguinius, weeping and thanking them for their grace.

The brave men brandished their weapons, gazed at the angel on the ground, prayed for him, and wished him a victory. Their courage was integrated into the glory of Sanguinius, making his power even stronger.
There was great noise all around, but Dante was extremely confused, because, amid the shouting of the people, he vaguely heard a different voice.

The voice was neither pious nor fanatical, but contained only one emotion. Dante listened for a long time before he was sure that the speaker was filled with sadness.

Who is it? Who is so bold?
He turned around and searched around against the crowd, and finally saw an ordinary and old face, an old man in linen clothes. His hair and beard were all white, his face was full of wrinkles, and his hands were tightly holding a statue of the emperor that was about to break.

His face was full of a father's concern for his child, pure and straightforward, without any concealment.

Instantly, Dante was struck by lightning. He stood still, the shouting around him faded away, leaving only a buzzing ringing in his ears.

He wasn't sure.
His discovery was enough to drive anyone crazy, even Dante was no exception, so he really didn't dare to confirm his guess, but he didn't dare to deny it either, so he just stood there, letting his heart beat faster, the air leaving his body, almost making it difficult to breathe.
In the crowd, the inconspicuous old man looked at him.

"He is a sword," the old man said. "But he is also a bridge, Louis Dante. He does not understand how important he is, but I will tell him, and he will tell everyone. There is light, so have hope."

He turned and left.

There was a flash of light before Dante's eyes, and then the illusory scene disappeared, and he suddenly returned to the real world.

Is it just a dream?
But the golden light still shining on his retina told him no.

Dante took a deep breath and looked up into the distance, just in time to see it rushing towards the enemy ship with an unstoppable attitude. Ignoring the artillery fire, melting the torpedoes, tearing through the flames of the explosion, and even the void shield could not stop it.

The feeling of the incarnated sword began to become clearer and clearer. Dante raised his hand to cover his chest. The dizziness in his head made him take a deep breath.

He didn't understand where this feeling came from, but it was undoubtedly correct, because the light really swept through the enemy's captured warships like a sharp sword. The three destroyers were immediately split into two at this moment and turned into metal garbage in the explosion.
And Sanguinius did not stop.

He crashed headfirst into their flagship.

(End of this chapter)