Warhammer 40: Doom

Chapter 338 Angel's Sorrow
Doom anticipated the approximate date of Randan's attack and prepared his army at the Nur Stars.

The same was true of the human empire; it didn't make a big show of it openly, but it was secretly making tense preparations.

The Cult of Mechanics received a direct order: the Forging World production lines were to be fully operational, and productivity soared to its peak amidst the binary prayers of the Technologists.

Voidships, Titans, Knights, armored vehicles—all equipment related to war—are born from molten lava and praise, emerging from the production line amidst words of blessing.

The Emperor brought back Saint Gilles, announcing the return of his ninth son to the people of the Empire with a brief procession.

The Lord of Humanity pondered for a long time, and although he loathed those pure white wings, the fait accompli was undeniable.

Instead of hiding it, let's openly showcase Saint-Gilles.

As he expected, when the angel spread its wings and soared in holy light, mortals were completely captivated by it.

They knelt and praised the emperor's greatness and the angels' holiness.

The mortals' faith was strengthened—the emperor was the true god. If the ruler of mankind was not a god, how could his offspring be so holy and perfect?
Those pure white wings are definitely not a symbol of mutation!
It was so dazzling, without a trace of dirt or mutation; every feather shimmered with pure, flawless light.

The emperor saw the fanatical faith gathered by the angels, bathed in golden light. His face was as cold as frost as he turned into golden light and disappeared in the return ceremony.

The angel flying in the sky received a series of messages in its mind, which were orders for the next step of the operation.

When Saint Gillis turned around, the Emperor was nowhere to be seen. His magnificent face was slightly somber, and his blue eyes darkened, knowing that he was not well-liked by his father.

The angel folded its wings and slowly descended from the sky into the crowd. Mortals were moved to tears and reached out their hands to touch the holy light.

Saint Gilles showed no disgust at the filth, but smiled warmly as he reached out and touched the mortal's palm, offering the warmth unique to the Primarch.

The crowd was so excited that they couldn't contain themselves, pushing and shoving forward, crashing into the golden walls formed by the imperial guards.

As the fervor spread, the Imperial Guard turned to look at Saint Gilles, their helmets conveying a signal for him to leave.

Knowing he had caused trouble, the angel gave the royal guards an apologetic smile, spread his wings, and departed amidst the cries of the crowd…

The pure white angel travels directly to Lionsgate, boards a spaceship to the spaceport, and receives a gift from her father.

A Glory Queen-class warship hovers silently at Lionsgate Spaceport, awaiting the arrival of its master.

Saint Gilles, bathed in a hazy glow, his towering figure, unique to Primarchs, moved through the steel forest of warships.

He was like a beacon, dispelling darkness wherever he went, bringing warmth to the ship's laborers and inspiring reverence in their hearts.

As the owner of the warship, the angel traveled all over the ship, making sure to inspect and visit any place he could reach.

He once glimpsed the grandeur of the empire through prophecy, and now, experiencing it firsthand, he seeks to understand the insignificance beneath that grandeur.

Slaves crawled through cramped pipes, using their bodies to propel massive warships.

The brilliance of the Lord of Mankind cannot penetrate the steel jungle; even in the splendor of the grand expedition, there are intricate, dark corners.

Saint Gilles felt pity for these slaves and secretly vowed to change everything.

The most urgent task is to leave Terra.

By order of his father, he will travel to the vast void to reunite with his brother, Horus Lupecal, and learn the art of war.

The emperor's attitude towards Saint Gilles was a complex mix of love and hate.

He loathed the angelic, twisted form, yet loved the burning heart, so he ordered that the child follow Horus to learn.

Horus Lupecal, son of the First Emperor, was referred to by the Emperor as his "Centaurus".

They lived together for thirty years, as mentors and friends, fighting side by side to conquer most of the solar system and banish the ignorant old night.

To express his affection, the emperor personally crafted a pure gold ring and presented it to Horus as a testament to their love.

The emperor sent Saint Gilles to follow Horus, hoping the two would learn from each other.

Horus possessed both military prowess and political acumen, but his disdain for mortals caused the emperor some unease.

But no one is perfect. He inherited the ambition and desire for conquest of the Lord of Mankind, never concealing himself and regarding mortals as worthless.

In the eyes of the Wolf God, the Emperor is a beloved father, brothers are blood relatives, and the legion is his responsibility.

Humans are the ones who deserve to be ruled!

This viewpoint runs counter to the great love of the Lord of Mankind. When the two were together, Horus, suppressed by the Emperor, dared not be too presumptuous and his attitude towards mortals was relatively moderate.

After the emperor left, preoccupied with trivial matters, his long-suppressed contempt and arrogance gradually surfaced.

Numerous reports from the front lines indicate that Horus's attitude towards mortals has become increasingly extreme, reaching a point where it can no longer be ignored.

After careful consideration, the emperor sent Saint Gillespie.

He hoped that the angel's inner fervor would inspire Horus and make his beloved son understand that mortals were the foundation of the empire.

With a mix of factors at play, Saint Gilles set off for the Eastern End Starfield with high hopes.

His progeny legion—the Ninth Legion—will withdraw from its various fleets to join the Father of Genetics.

The Ninth Legion is not a fully organized legion; its members are scattered throughout the Empire, assisting other legions or fighting alongside auxiliary forces.

Upon the return of the Legion Primarch, the War Council immediately ordered the Ghoul Legion to abandon its mission and rejoin the Primarch at once.

Saint Gilles, dressed in a pristine white robe with a diagonal closure that exposed his right chest and arm, sat at his desk with his wings folded behind him, rapidly learning about the Empire through holographic projections.

His azure eyes reflected the data stream; while studying, his thoughts wandered far away, and he felt slightly uneasy.

"The Ninth Legion will surprise you; their spirits are shattered."

During their parting embrace, his brother's words still echoed in his ears, leaving the angel's heart restless.

Throughout the various armies of the Empire, whether mortal or Astartes, the Ninth Legion is referred to as the Ghoul Legion.

The term carries a malicious connotation; their own genetic offspring are despised by both the Brotherhood Legion and the Imperial Legion.

On the stone seat armrest, Saint Gilles' long fingers curled slightly, his broad chest heaved a little faster, and a surge of anger rose in his chest.

He returned to the human empire, shouldering the responsibilities of being the emperor's son.

Part of this heavy responsibility belongs exclusively to our genetic offspring; it cannot be shirked or tainted.

How could he not be furious!
Whatever the reason, the offspring of the genes fought for the Empire and may have made mistakes, but they should not be humiliated like this!
Taking a few deep breaths, the unique oily aroma of the warship's filter wafted through his mouth and into his abdomen, and Saint Gilles dissipated the anger in his chest.

As a transcendent being, he knew all too well that anger would cloud his judgment.

Before meeting with my children and getting to know them, it's impossible to know who is right and who is wrong. I can only put aside my anger for now and wait for a more in-depth investigation later.

Exhaling a breath of stale air, Saint Gilles calmed his turbulent emotions and closed the files related to the Ninth Legion.

I studied the literature many times, but it is still difficult to get a full picture from just the words.

He casually swiped across the data panel and began to look at other publicly available information, with the focus naturally on his destination—the Shadowmoon Wolf Legion.

As the first brother to return, Horus Lupecal was deeply loved by his father and received many special honors.

Saint Gilles smiled warmly, as if a warm sun had risen in the cold cabin. He quickly flipped through the documents, learning about his glorious brother during the monotonous subspace voyage.

As the warship emerged from the subspace, the proud silhouette of the Glory Queen-class warship returned to the real universe.

This is a dim starry sky, where small-mass stars emit a faint glow, exhausting all their energy to give a little light to the planets within the galaxy.

Because of the star's weakness, the world surrounding it is filled with ice and snow, hard ice blocks, and biting cold winds—a common sight across all worlds in the galaxy.

However, at this moment, the light of the stars paled in comparison, while the plasma radiance from the collision of the Imperial warships made the galaxy much brighter.

Saint Gilles sat regally on the bridge, his handsome face, glowing faintly, exuding an air of majesty, yet his eyes held a smile that was both gentle and comforting.

"Sir, on behalf of the father of genes, I would like to convey my sincere greetings to you."

The holographic image lit up, and the two Astartes knelt on one knee. They were slightly stunned when they saw the angel's face, and then bowed their heads respectfully.

“Aizekel Abaddon.” Sanguires’s voice was gentle as he looked down.

With his keen observation, the Primarch noticed the full moon emblem on the helmet under the armpit of the warrior with the topknot, and said softly, "I thought it would be Cyranus who greeted me."

Abaddon bowed his head and answered respectfully, "My glorious brother has gone to the surface with the Father of Genetics to negotiate with the lost humans. He is very good at political maneuvering."

(End of this chapter)