Chapter 76: Face-to-Face
The tide of the Warp was like a restless sea, drowning Curze's thoughts. Visions of death had always plagued the Primarch of the Night Lords since he first became conscious, illusions he could not shake.
Even now, the image lingered: Sanguinius lying on a bloody battlefield. Although he had a difficult relationship with his other brothers, Curze felt that Sanguinius should not die.
Curze's warships lay hidden in the shadows of Macragge's orbit while he quietly infiltrated the throne room of the Second Empire, avoiding countless patrolling guards and surveillance devices.
The throne room was magnificent and solemn, with huge murals depicting the glory and victory of the Imperium. However, for Curze, all this was just a symbol of vanity.
His eyes were cold and ruthless, and his hands gripped the blade known for dealing death tightly.
When he reached the center of the throne room, Azkalon, chief of the Sanguinary Guard, stood before him. The warrior wore gold and red armor, his cape blazing like flames, his hands holding an exquisite and deadly blade.
"Night Lord, lay down your weapon," Azkaellon said quietly, no trace of fear in his voice. "This is not your domain."
Curze sneered and disappeared into the shadows like a ghost. When he reappeared, Azkalon's armor was torn, and blood gushed from his chest.
Azkaellon fell to his knees, his blade hanging limply in his hand. His wound was deep enough to see bone, but he still looked up at Curze stubbornly.
"Sanguinius will end you, fallen Primarch," Azkaellon whispered.
Curze's eyes were cold as knives. He grabbed Azkaellon and held him hostage.
"End me?" Curze chuckled, his laughter filled with mockery and bitterness. "No, Azkalon. Sanguinius cannot end me, just as I cannot end myself."
At that moment, a sacred power filled the air. The doors to the throne room slowly opened, and golden light poured in, dispelling all darkness. Sanguinius appeared in the doorway, his massive wings spread like a barrier of light. His gaze, deep and compassionate, stared directly at Curze.
"Curze," Sanguinius said, his voice low but commanding. "Why are you here?"
Curze threw Azkaellon to the ground, his blade pointed at Sanguinius. His eyes were filled with a mixture of emotions: anger, fear, pain, and a hint of undisguised respect.
"Sanguinius, I saw not only your death," Curze said, his voice cold as ice, "but also my own."
Sanguinius frowned slightly, but his gaze remained gentle and resolute. "Why are you so obsessed with these illusions? The course of fate is not unchangeable."
"Unchangeable?" Curze sneered. "Do you think I want to be troubled by these illusions? I saw the moment you fell, you dying, drowning in your own blood, your blood spilled across the battlefield. My fate is also similar, dying at the hand of an assassin of Assassinsorum."
He paused, his tone filled with despair. "This is not a choice, Sanguinius. This is a curse!"
Sanguinius listened quietly, his eyes filled with compassion. He slowly walked toward Curze, each step carrying an irresistible majesty.
"Curze, we each carry our own destiny," Sanguinius said, "but that does not mean we must succumb to fear."
"No! No!" Curze clutched his head with both hands and roared in pain. "If you accept the daemon, you won't die! Sanguinius, why did you choose to be the Emperor's slave? All of this is part of the false Emperor's grand plan! You've all been deceived by him!"
Curze felt that his life was meaningless, that he had been trapped in other people's plans.
"I will always believe in my father," Sanguinius said. "Even if my death can bring him a little help, I will do it without hesitation."
Sanguinius stopped and came face to face with Curze. He reached out and gently pressed his hand on Curze's shoulder. The warm touch made Curze tremble slightly.
"Curze, come back. Father will forgive you. After all, we are all his children."
Hearing this, Curze's eyes grew conflicted, and his hand slowly loosened its grip. He took a step back, as if he were about to step back into the abyss.
Then Sanguinius saw Francis hiding in the large tree in the corner. The originally sad and solemn atmosphere was instantly broken. He didn't even notice that Curze was about to escape.
"Compared to that plan, the current rebellion is completely insignificant," Curze muttered. "The entire world is doomed to fall into endless war, and no one can change it."
Just as Curze was about to turn and run, he suddenly felt his whole body stiffen. He was utterly unable to move. He looked around in horror and saw two tentacles extending from the tree, stuck to his head.
"Why did you let him go?" Francis called out. "He fantasizes about being controlled by others every day. This is typical paranoia. This is a disease; it needs to be treated!"
Francis walked out from the large tree, swung a big stick, and knocked Curze unconscious from behind.
Sanguinius stared in stunned silence.
Although what Francis said made sense, Sanguinius always felt that Francis was the one who should be treated.
"Why are you here?" Sanguinius asked. "And why were you hiding in the tree?"
Faced with Sanguinius's question, Francis thought quickly, then said, "Uh, it's a prophecy! I predicted your meeting yesterday, so I came here to wait for you."
Sanguinius believed this reason. Although he had just said that he did not believe in fate, at this moment, he also felt that he would die at the hands of Horus.
"Did you also predict my death?" he asked.
Francis stroked his chin, then patted the other man on the shoulder. "How could that be! In my prophecy, you nearly killed Horus with a single blow of your sword."
After saying that, Francis dragged Curze away, leaving Sanguinius with a confused look on his face.
Guilliman, who was passing by, also saw them. Looking at Francis dragging Curze out, he turned to Sanguinius with an equally confused expression.
"What are they doing?" Guilliman asked.
"Curing a disease," Sanguinius replied.
...
Inside the laboratory.
While Curze was unconscious, Francis drew a bucket of blood from him. Curze's already pale face now looked even more emaciated.
"The blood of the Lion, Fulgrim, Perturabo, Leman Russ, Sanguinius, Angron, Guilliman, Magnus, Ferrus, Horus," Francis muttered, looking at the jars before him. "Add to that Curze's blood and my own blood."
Francis looked at the jars of Primarch blood in front of him, then carefully mixed the blood in a one-to-one ratio. Finally, he obtained a cup of blood that emitted a faint golden glow.
He was already looking forward to what the blood of all the Primarchs would become.
Would it just turn back into the Emperor's blood? Or something else entirely.
However, these were not things he needed to think about right now, because the blood in front of him had a damned allure.
Francis raised his glass and said, "For the Emperor—maybe!"
He drank deeply. The moment the blood touched his lips, Francis's eyes widened instantly. The blood seemed to come alive and slide into his body. He wasn't even given a chance to savor it.
"Why is my brain itching?" Francis suddenly felt an itch on his head, and a golden light appeared in the laboratory, which had been filled with cold white light.
When he looked in the mirror, he found that the same halo as the Emperor's had appeared behind his head.
Suddenly, his consciousness was pulled into the Warp. Four huge, blurry figures appeared before him, confronting a golden sun. When the four figures noticed him, Francis instantly felt like his whole body was about to break apart.
At that moment, the golden sun suddenly burst out with immense light, instantly submerging Francis's consciousness in the Warp. Immediately afterward, Francis opened his eyes. His consciousness returned to the laboratory, but he was also accompanied by a long-absent, kind voice.
"Francis! What did you do?"
"Huh? I didn't do anything!" Francis protested. "I just drank some strawberry juice, but I didn't expect it to be so sweet that it reached the Warp!"
Francis's scalp suddenly felt numb. He hadn't expected the blood to be so powerful.
At the same time, Curze, who had fainted, woke in a confused state. He vaguely saw a golden halo above the head of the person in front of him, and he growled.
"Haha, false Emperor! Are you afraid that I will expose your plan, so you've come here to kill me personally?" Curze laughed bitterly.
"It's useless. I will only be killed by the assassins of the Assassinorum. Even you can't kill me! This is fate, this is a curse! I won't let you succeed! You're not worthy of being our father!"
Francis felt his back tingle when he heard this, and he muttered to himself, "Father…you saw it too, right?. I didn't say that. It's all Curze's fault!"
[End of Chapter]