Capítulo 59: Chapter Twenty-Three: On Silver Wings (Part VIII)
Yet the Theophage found itself facing no Astartes, Phareon, Warboss, Chaos Champion or other masters of War that stalk the Galaxy. It faced a Primarch. The Theophage was created as a rival to hunt Greater Daemons. A tool that could parasitize power from even the Dark Gods. At best a rival predator to the chosen of Chaos. A Primarch was different, they were not meant to be rivals or even hunters of Daemons or Xeno Champions. They are there extinction made flesh. The Rangda Champion that faced Dante, Lord of the IX called itself a God-Eater. In truth, it was simply the grandest of Parasites. Dante, by contrast, was an Archangel. No, he was THE Archangel.
For in distant days within the Imperial Palace the Emperor revealed a hidden truth to his Ninth Son. The Son who was given wings to teach Mankind to fly held another secret. Another mystery beside his wings, his visions, and his wrath. When the Primarchs were born many years ago on Ancient Terra the Emperor gave them each a name. A true-name. Unlike the petty shifting things of mortals or the binding curse of Daemons. The true-names of the Primarchs were static things of power and dignity. You could strip a Daemon of agency by proclaiming its name. Just as you rob a lie of its power by telling the truth. Speaking a Primarchs true-name simply carved their legend deeper into the universe. So all of the Primarchs were known by the mighty name their father gave them. Except one. One whose name had already been carved so deeply and so purely into the universe. That to even speak it with knowledge of what it entailed could shake mountains. The original Angel of the IX had become a story so great and so noble that it echoed through history and timelines. From the moment the Great Angel held the Eternity Gate and fell upon the Vengeful Spirit. Mankind dreamed of flight. Just as the Chaos Gods existed as soon as they were born. The Angel existed the moment he died. A figure of mercy and wrath stretched across space/time. Inspiring the first legends of divine watchers and giving courage to the Golden Warrior standing before a tomb of a Throne at the end of days.
This figure would have countless names and countless roles. Taking his final form and greatest actions when it combined with the greatest son of the greatest son. In another timeline, Dante the Master of the Blood Angels would achieve apotheosis with the Herald of his Primarch. Joining with the Black Angel and its Red Clad Champion to be reborn at the end of the God-Emperor's Imperium. Dante the Primarch was not known to the galaxy by his true name. He wore a golden mask meant to honor his greatest son and hide his true power. Now facing the Theophage and a world infested with nightmares the IX Primarch dropped the mask. Speaking a name he hoped to be eventually worthy of using and letting Dante finally sleep how he wished too. The Primarch proclaimed his true name for the first time and the darkness across the galaxy trembled
"I am Sanguinius, Archangel of Mankind. You have invited my Wrath, and there shall be no Mercy."
In the material, world, nothing seemed to change. The Primarch flew towards the Theophage with his blades aloft. Ready to strike the killing blow. In the Immaterium it was like a supernova had erupted. A sector cleansing mass of white light with a silver pulsar called the Sanguinor clutched in one hand, and a blackhole named Mephiston in the other. The power and idea of the Great Angel. In all its forms, focused upon the Theophage. As that power washed over the Rangda weapon its alien mind formed a few final thoughts. Its entire life it had been called a God-Eater. Raised to devour weaker life and hunt the predators of the Warp. Yet in all that time it had never truly seen a god until now. The flickers of the Dark Gods' attention were sickening waves of malice. The crushing presence and intellect of the Great-House-Minds were strong but formed of stolen power. This… Angel before him was something else. Pure, Mighty and divine. The Light of Sanguinius fell over the Theophage like the Firstborn of Gyptus, Chosen of Khorne, Ravening Hive-Fleets and Armies of the Damned before it. Snuffing it from existence like a mote of dust caught in a solar eruption.
As quickly as it happened it was over. The burned empty husk of the Theophage fell from Hossak's sky, unworthy to share the Heavens with the Archangel. Its cloak of stolen warp-stuff stripped away and its body broken by the swords of the Primarch. Across the Warp the mightiest of Psykers and Warp-Predators noticed what occurred. Far away on the Bucephalus, the Master of Mankind let a small smile slip. The Angel had taken to the skies once again. Upon some distant Craftworld a prodigy ended his meditation with a shock. Feeling the future change in a storm of golden fire and silver wings. A green-skinned behemoth took a moment to pause as it throttled a rival and sniffed the air. Some ancient bestial instinct told him a fight was coming. The Chaos Gods paused the clash within the Warp, only to peer into the Materium and observe the one they coveted above all. The best of the Emperor and Mankind they so hoped to despoil. Something that defied classification as flesh or machine peered out from the Halo Stars. Tissue so old it seemed fossilized, moved according to an ancient intellect. A threat was registered by this primordial beast and a warning sent to Rangda worlds beyond the galactic edge.
Across Hossak, a shadow of a memory of the Great Angels power flowed through his Geneseed. Pushing power and wrath into the flesh and souls of the Astartes. A ghost of the Black Rage filled the hearts of the IX Legion. letting them fight faster and stronger than before. Ripping apart Rangda spawns with righteous madness. Leaping into the fray with an Angels Wrath tamed by his Mercy coursing through them. They were not lost in the vengeful delusion of the Black Rage nor the blood-hungry Red Thirst that had cursed the original sons of Sanguinius. Instead, they came alight like the Angels they were always meant to be. In the Materium, they were pushed to transhuman heights by the blessed blood of the Angel flowing in their veins. In the Warp, each of their souls blazed. Clad in the gold and crimson light of the Primarch. Blinding the Witch-Sight of any Xeno that dared look upon them.
As the Angels of Death fought across the Hive and Azkellon led his Battle-Brothers to the height of Bel-Haust a vague sense filled the IX Legion. Clad in transhuman flesh and bonded to their Primarch, they were meant to fight the wars of the Materium. Yet that might not always be the case. As the radiance of a demigod filled them the Emperor's Angels wondered that in some far distant age they might be called to fight other Wars. When the Legions of Light march upon the Strongholds of Chaos they would do so as beings of spiritual power. What they felt now as the Primarch touched his true nature, was a hint of what was to come.
Silver flames flared from the Astartes' Wings and enchanted flames coated their weapons. Letting them cut through Rangda and Bel Soldiers possessed by cyborganic weapons and armor. The Space Marines wept tears of red gold as the power of their Primarch filled them. The love and power of the Emperor's greatest son was a thing of wonders. At the very peak of Bel-Haust, the force led by the Primarchs Herald found the massive shield generator complex. Techmarines hurried to commune with the apostate technology as their Battle-Brothers protected them from the last defenders. The Brothers of the Amber-Host, the deployed tech-marines castigated the cursed machines of the Rangda and Bel. Casting out the heretek and breaking the Shield Generators with binaric exorcism.
As the Great Shields of the Hive fell the final stage of the battle started. The full wrath of the Imperial fleet opened fire upon Bel-Haust Hive. Lance strikes tore apart entire Hive-Spires. Bombardment Cannons turned the defenses of Bel-Haust to molten slag. Storms of dropships unhampered by anti-aircraft fire thundered from orbit. The Theophage lay dead and the Rangda realized the battle was lost. Across the hive, the Cerebivores and Ossivores fled. Retreating into the darkened squalor beneath the hive. Hounded by Astartes the entire time they fled. As the defenders of the Hive were crushed by the Imperiums might a shining Archangel flew across the Hive. A guiding star to his sons and soldiers.
Hidden behind psychic luminescence, the Primarch had suffered. His feathers were burnt and frayed at some places. His face was gaunt, as if he had not eaten in days. The normally flawless skin of Dante was sallow and marked with healing burns. Communing and channeling the power of Sanguinius had been incredibly challenging for the Primarch. Each of his brothers was tasked to create a legend of themselves that could echo through the Warp. Dante was faced with an opposite problem. His legend existed, he needed to prove himself worthy of it. The sheer exhaustion and pain the Primarch felt were firm reminders he was not yet worthy. Dante could tap into a power none of his brothers could rival, at the cost of himself. His father's gift had been that power, and warning of how to handle it. The Primarch had hoped he had grown in his decades of Crusading enough to use it. While he had not burned or been possessed by the Gold or Black Angel. He had still flown far too close to the Sun like Icaros before him. Taking a deep steadying breath as he glided past the main Bel-Haust spire Dante reminded himself that in time he would master this power. He just hoped the demonstration of it had been an adequate threat to bluff the Rangda into being more cautious.
Returning to the Seraphim and resting the Primarch commanded the rest of the battle from his Flagship. His trusted sons capable of taking the lead. After a month of fighting Hossak was fully compliant. The remaining Rangda was deeply entrenched under Bel-Haust and the last traitor-human defenders had surrendered. Soon the first detailed reports of the Farms across Bel-Haust were coming in. Of country-sized concentration camps were millions of deformed vat-bred and stolen children were raised as livestock. The Rangda fed on neural tissue and needed rich sources of it. So the human livestock were not the degenerated husks or meat-hulks seen on Orkish or other Xeno worlds. They were bred to be intelligent and quick-witted. With constant streams of basic logic and mathematical problems blasted into their holding-pens. Correct answers earned more food. The Rangda realized the threat of intelligent livestock, so they made slight modifications to their food. Shortly after birth, every child was lobotomized with Xeno industrial equipment. Stunting the development of fine motor control and social development. Creating millions of damaged children and teenagers with the dexterity of toddlers. Penned together and farmed for Alien monsters.
The liberating forces had tried to help them. They livestock-children could only moan and scream. Thrashing at each other and the Imperials with unnaturally elongated limbs. Some were taken from there factory-farms and screamed at the sight of the Sun and sky. Such impossible concepts had them howling until they passed out. Others were even worse. Filth covered and meuling for nutrient gruel for answering questions projected on large holo-tablets. Imperial Churgions inspected the human livestock and found entire colonies of alien bacterium inside them. Regulating and controlling agents that replaced some of the biological functions that could not survive the horrors of the farms. As Dante read report after report he felt his twin hearts grow numb. He had seen some of these horrors in his visions but he had hoped they were just another illusion born of Chaos twisting the threads of fate. Each report ended with the same solum recommendation. The Emperor's Peace would be the only salvation.
Feeling the rage boil within him Dante felt the Dataslate in his hands turn to a fine powder under his grip. He looked down in slight befuddlement, he had not realized he had been holding the glass tablet so tightly. Shutting his blue eyes Dante felt the red of his hate dye his pupils crimson. The Primarch wished he could deliver a thousand deaths on the Rangda for there crimes. He would have to settle for one extermination. From his command throne, Dante gave the orders for dealing with surviving humans across Hossak. The freefolk who had survived as wild game for the Rangda would be indoctrinated as Imperial citizens. The Bel Empire and all its people would die in fire. They had betrayed mankind and committed great evil. May they find absolution in the Astronomicon's light. For the billions of broken humans across Hossak, cruel mercy was prepared.
A tool of ethunanzia was decanted. Amanita-Finis, as it was called, was unleashed across thousands of farms. Designed to be easily inoculated against by Imperial technology. When an unprotected human was exposed they died painlessly and near instantly. The ease of treatment made it an ineffective bioweapon but perfect for this role. As clouds of pale smoke fell across the world. Dante felt the billions of dead enter into the warp. The confused and lost souls entering the soul-net of his Father's power. As the deaths across Hossak ended. A final matter was at hand. The remaining Rangda must be dealt with.
Hiding beneath the Bel-Haust Hive the surviving Xenos had burrowed deep. Creating nests and defenses to protect themselves from the Imperium. Auxilia and Astarte's expeditions had been difficult and fruitless. It seemed the Rangda hoped to outlast the invasion fleet and wait for the Imperium to leave. Using the infrastructure and size of the Hive as a shield. The IX Primarch would not stand for that. The Imperium disembarked from the Planet, thousands of drop ships ferried entire armies into orbit. Leaving a world devoid of human life, ready to face mankind's wrath. At the Primarchs command, the Nova-Cannon of the Seraphim fired upon Bel-Haust Hive. A moon cracking ordinance smashed into the Hive. A wave of plasma blanketed a hundred miles in every direction. Punching from the Hives top to the edge of the planet's mantle. Leaving a tectonic plate sized crater of obsidian where the Hive once stood. Mountain ranges worth of ash blanketed the planet. Burying the bodies of billions of innocent victims of the Rangda and the scars upon the world their occupation had made. As the molten glass that once was Bel-Haust started to cool, Hossak was declared cleansed of the Rangda.
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