Chapter 270: Angels and Night Ghosts
Sanguinius walked alone into the depths of the desert.
Yellow sand rolled over his boots and white robe, and the gravel swept every feather on his pure wings. He shook his wings to shake off the fine sand buried between his feathers, but new sand soon returned, making his wings heavy.
He raised his head, and the sunlight made his smooth face look like alabaster. He closed his eyes under the scorching sun, letting the hot spots of light remaining on his retinas flicker between the dark vision.
It's time. Sanguinius thought. He will hold up the most glorious of those visions.
When he descended into the hot sand, carrying the small decoration on his back, he had already briefly picked up part of the illusion that was about to come true at this moment.
Three weeks later, he had learned to walk, run, and fly, and as he unarmedly defeated the tribe's supper ingredients from the Fire Scorpion's lair, he thought about how the creator of his gifted abilities would view his life.
A year later, he walked under the most intense sun, soaring in the sky with his brilliant wings, overlooking the sand plains and stone cairns below from the perspective of the sun, and watched what would happen in the future. The mutant tribe he dispersed, he wondered if he would also witness this scenery on the earth when he came.
He comes.
He opened his eyes to meet the small black dot appearing on the incandescent horizon.
Sanguinius stretched out his hand, feeling the direction of the wind today.
Then the angel fluttered his wings.
The wings rode the strong wind on the hot sand, helping him to soar up and across the sky; like a shooting star, the angel flew away in the sky and quickly approached the gradually enlarging black spot.
It will be golden. Sanguinius thought, vaguely feeling that the receding sand beneath his feet was merging with the sand that overlapped repeatedly in the shattered illusions of every day and night.
As for that spaceship, he had never seen it before, but he had seen it thousands of times. Its armor would shine brightly under the scorching sun, and it would possess an absolute quality. Aggressive, sublime beauty.
Its unparalleled appearance breaks into the realm of Bawei, symbolizing an uneasy decision.
The yellow sand caressed his wings, bringing a stinging pain that should not have existed.
He closed his eyes again, and his thoughts turned to his wings for a moment, feeling that the roots of the feathers were trembling uneasily. His blood grew cold under the scorching sun.
Soon, Sanguinius gave himself a smile. He looked straight ahead again and rode away into the wind.
The landing craft expanded in his eyes, and Sanguinius froze slightly when he saw its color.
In the dusty sky, a storm bird as dark blue as night outlines a deep outline that can only be achieved after night falls. When the sun shines on the aircraft, even the golden shadow is swallowed up equally. Turned into dark noon.
The wrong reality touched Sanguinius's mind...
No, he pursed his lips, and a new feeling sprouted in the angel's heart.
Real reality has hit me, he thought dazedly.
The hatch of the Stormbird opened, and eight Astartes warriors lined up, waiting for the appearance of the Gene Father.
Then there was him.
The surface of the dark blue armor shimmers with a layer of ghostly green, and the bright blue highlights depict every edge and spike of the armor, running through the breastplate, waist armor, and hard leg armor like thunderbolts of lightning. His right shoulder is decorated with a relief of a skeletal blood bat, while the left is decorated with a piercing black blade.
He wears a pair of huge and brand-new lightning claws on his hands. The same dark blue fluorescent claws flash on them and can almost cut off the air.
The bright red cloth behind him is divided into two groups, one is raised from his shoulders as a cloak, and the other is sewn under the tool and weapon boxes on his waist as a double layer of padding. The yellow sand is blowing in the wind. If you look closely, you can see that the original material of this group of dyed fabrics seems unusual.
Sanguinius did not continue to stare at the large number of stitching seams exposed on the inside of the visitor's cloak, but moved his eyes to the visitor's face.
He saw the extremely pale face framed by smooth black hair, the oversized pure black eyes embedded in the face, and some kind of paradoxical cold smile. It was as if this face alone was enough to bring the entire midnight into Baal's scorching sun.
"Welcome to Baal, traveler," Sanguinius said in the native Anokan language.
Somehow, he thought that the person opposite, the person who also repeatedly appeared in his hallucinations, but was always slightly different from his real appearance at this moment, might be able to understand what he said. .
But he really is...
"Sanguinius." The man spoke, directly stating his name, but the way he pronounced it was strictly in High Gothic. He stepped out of Stormbird's shadow, his striking cloak billowing behind him.
Sanguinius's heart was beating powerfully, and his wings were backward and slightly retracted. "I am," he said. But it was the name given to him by his people. It was a soul gift offered to him by a tribe that worshiped blood. It is also a name that should not be known to outsiders.
Derived from pure blood. Sanguinius.
The man learned his pronunciation. "I am," he said in exact Anokan, and then added his own name: "Conrad Curze."
So it was indeed him. A brother, Sanguinius thought, not a father.
But is it really him?
Conrad Coze walked towards him, with only a little unavoidable metallic smell of armor on his clean body that was washed every day. He surrounded him, stretched out his hand with the lightning claw, but only extended an index finger, and let the tip of the claw stop near his wings.
Their eyes met.
"Yes," Sanguinius said softly, his wings trembling, then opening.
Conrad Curze's claw tips gently followed the path of his feathers, combing them as if he were carefully wiping the surface of a work of art.
"I have seen them," Coze said, still using the Gothic language commonly used in the empire, but with a slightly flexible and smooth accent. "In the palace, they were penetrated by dark spikes, and blood flowed out. , falling on the white feathers..."
Sanguinius's wings suddenly folded, and blood beat against his eardrums.
"Why..." he whispered, and a kind of hallucinatory pathos suddenly passed through his mind.
Curze retracted his claws, and Sanguinius turned to him. Two pairs of eyes that penetrated the fog and looked into the future met at this moment, in a time section that should not have existed.
“Prophecy is the prisoner who creates the future.” Coates said, “The only path brought by prophecy is built in the fear of the past... This is what the place where I grew up called prophecy.”< br>
He couldn't help but laugh. The laughter was sometimes strong, sometimes weak, until it came to an abrupt end.
"Why don't you smile?" Cozz said suddenly.
"It's not funny." The angel replied tactfully.
Curze looked at him, then he looked away.
"This is the difference between you and me, Sanguinius." He said softly, with a sting that was not malicious in his words, "and you are always the better one among us. .”
"No, that's not it. Don't laugh like that," he continued.
The angel put away his warm and flawless divine smile. That smile that made the people of Baal worship him.
"So, how?" the angel asked.
"Your legion is not ready, and neither are you. Unfortunately, my legion is also not ready... The old gene seeds, and the gene seeds that my current blood can provide, Almost becoming the source of two unrelated genes."
He paused, "They are dying. I need time to re-adjust the adaptability of my genes."
"It seems that I shouldn't understand these terms, Conrad."
"Then, you can choose to find someone to introduce you to it within the next three years." Coates looked at him and said. "As fate would have it, the ebullient Horus Luperkar, Lord of the Luna Wolves, will welcome you with all his heart, great angel."
"I should assume that you can tolerate my presence. "?" Sanguinius asked, his tone becoming a bit sharp and full of hidden power.
Koz looked at him, then stretched out his right hand.
Sanguinius held his lightning claw.
"Then skin it and drink its blood," Curze said. "Of course, I mean..."
Sanguinius smiled.
“Destiny,” he replied.
What is not surprising is that the descriptions of angels meeting the emperor in Index and "Echoes of Eternity" cannot be said to be exactly the same, or they can only be said to be completely unrelated.
(End of this chapter)