The two sons of Sanguinius felt as if they were in a dream. The crimson wine they had been savoring had transformed into globs of green slime. The Horus they had been furiously pummeling had turned into a pile of shit. Worse, they had been so close that it had sprayed right into their mouths.
A feeling of nausea, originating from the very depths of their souls and impossible for even a Space Marine to resist, shot straight to their brains. Their stomachs churned violently, and then…
VOMIT!!!
As they vomited uncontrollably, they looked at their battle-brothers with aggrieved expressions, as if to say, "We are all brothers, why would you feed us this?"
…
SILENCE!!!
The entire feast hall fell into a dead silence. Everyone, including Dante, stared dumbfounded at the two wronged-looking recruits. When had anyone afflicted with the Black Rage or the Red Thirst ever shown such an expression?
But what truly strained their composure was that very expression. They could actually read a look of pure grievance in the eyes of a Blood Angel Astartes.
So what on earth was this stuff? When the potion vial had been opened just moments before, no one had smelled a thing.
During the design phase, Zhou Ye had made sure the substance would be completely odorless.
"They seem to be truly cured."
Sanguinary High Priest Corbulo immediately rushed over. Having spent his entire life researching a cure for the Red Thirst and the Black Rage, he found the scene before him utterly incredible.
He was astonished to find that they were, in fact, truly cured. He then looked at the green potions, opened one, and held it to his nose. There was no smell at all.
He and Chief Librarian Mephiston examined it carefully and found almost no trace of any warp curse. There was, however, a tiny bit of Nurgle's essence, but for a Space Marine, it was practically non-existent.
Moreover, it didn't conflict with their sacred unguents or other rituals. In other words, it was completely safe, unlike the time Khorne had deceived Sanguinius.
"This potion can truly cure the Red Thirst and the Black Rage! The curse that has plagued us for ten millennia is finally about to be lifted!"
"Praise the Emperor!!!"
"Oh, Sanguinius…"
With the announcement, the entire feast hall erupted. Only the two marines who had just been jolted from their madness looked as if they wanted to say something but couldn't.
The moment they tried to speak about the taste, their grinning Chapter Master clamped their mouths shut and dragged them away.
The other Blood Angels simply assumed their reaction was a side effect of emerging from the Red Thirst and the Black Rage. After all, there had never been a true case of recovery before; they chalked it up to the body's maladjustment.
More importantly, the stuff had no smell. Both High Priest Corbulo and the Chief Librarian had opened it and smelled nothing.
They may not be Space Wolves, but their sense of smell was still formidable. Yet they had detected nothing.
"This is not a scheme of the warp gods, but true salvation. It comes from a mysterious Primarch, with whom the Flesh Tearers Chapter fought side-by-side. They banished the Fallen Primarch Fulgrim and even obtained a fragment of his utterly blasphemous weapon."
Seeing the atmosphere growing more fervent, Dante stood up and spoke slowly. As the de facto Legion Master of the IXth Legion, Dante knew he had to boost morale before the battle.
He then presented the trophy Seth had brought: the shard of the Laer Blade.
"Praise the great Primarch! What is this Primarch's name?"
"That Lord."
"?"
"We do not know his name. That is what we call him," Seth explained, seeing Dante's confused expression.
"Praise That Lord, and his Tech-Priest! They have granted our Blood Angels lineage a peace we have not known for ten thousand years! We…"
Dante looked at Seth, silently asking how the potion was to be administered.
Some things were preventative, others curative. Based on the current results, this seemed to be an excellent preventative measure.
"It can be used for both prevention and treatment. I have not felt a single trace of the Red Thirst or the Black Rage since I took it."
A brilliant smile spread across Seth's face. Some of the others felt something was off, but then they saw the two Flesh Tearers shivering in the corner. Their eyes were now lucid, and it was clear the effects were potent.
"In that case, let us have this as an appetizer."
Dante muttered to himself, a hint of doubt in his mind. For some reason, he had a bad feeling.
But considering the endurance of a Space Marine, how bad could it taste? Besides, when Mephiston had examined it, he hadn't smelled anything strange.
Soon, the safe was opened, and tens of thousands of vials were brought out. One was distributed to every single Space Marine of the Blood Angels lineage present.
"Brothers! We have one hundred thousand doses now, but we will not be able to get a resupply any time soon. Therefore, every vial is precious. We of the Flesh Tearers have all already partaken, so we will not drink again."
Seth said with that same brilliant smile. The rest of the Flesh Tearers all had their helmets on. They did not possess their Chapter Master's abstract acting skills. The sight of the potion made expressions of extreme disgust appear on all their faces. They had indeed all drunk it.
"…"
Dante looked at Seth, then fell into thought. He looked down at the potion in his hand and thought again of the approaching Tyranid swarm. He didn't have time to administer it one by one. How bad could it be?
After all, Astartes could also be called Astartes Monks. Their lives were not unlike those of ancient ascetics. The Astartes of the Imperium generally lived well; what they lacked were ammunition and equipment, not daily sustenance.
Even so, they were masters of self-restraint. How bad could it taste? The others thought the same. And thinking of the Red Thirst and the Black Rage that tormented them all, there was nothing they wouldn't accept. So…
"For the Emperor and Sanguinius! Praise the gift of the mysterious Primarch and his chief Tech-Priest!"
Dante raised the vial in his hand, looking at everyone before him. All the other Astartes did the same, raising their potions high.
'Cheers!!!'
Staring at the strange green liquid in his hand, Dante suddenly felt an odd sense of déjà vu and familiarity. He took a deep breath, held it, and tilted his head back, downing it in one go. Seeing Dante's action, the others followed suit.
"Cheers!!!"
And so, under Seth's slightly pathological smile, they all drank.
The entire hall fell into an eerie silence. Everyone's face began to twist rapidly.
Especially Dante's. The moment he swallowed it, he remembered why it felt so familiar. He recalled a time he had faced Chaos Space Marines.
The Cleansed.
At the time, he couldn't figure out their origin, so he had bitten one, hoping to analyze their nature. The result was that the foul taste had completely obliterated his suppressed Red Thirst. This was that same feeling, but an enhanced version.
"Nurgle…"
In that instant, Dante felt as if his internal organs were trembling. It was a disgust that surpassed the upper limits of what even a Space Marine could endure.
And then…
"VOMIT!!!"
Dante instantly leaned against a nearby wall and began to vomit violently. He wasn't the only one…
"VOMIT!!!"
More than twenty thousand Astartes in the hall began to retch violently, their bodies convulsing. The once fragrant feast hall was instantly filled with a sickeningly sour stench.
Seeing this, Seth quietly turned his head away, a smile of deep satisfaction on his face.
On the grand statue of the Great Angel Sanguinius at the front of the hall, a single drop of condensation trickled down its forehead.
…
And so, very quickly…
"SETH!!!"
"…"
"YOU BASTARD!!!"
Nearly all the Chapter Masters and high-ranking officers had now surrounded Seth. It was because of this bastard's trickery that they had all drunk it. Some of them had never even experienced the Black Rage or the Red Thirst, or only to a very minor degree.
They had not yet reached their limit, but now they had drunk it too.
The once-grand Angels' Feast was now filled with vomit and a sour stench. No one wanted to eat anymore. The beautiful banquet had been ruined by this idiot. Well, not everyone. The Flesh Tearers, at least, could still eat.
They had been drifting in the warp for over a year and had needed to eat during that time, so they had grown accustomed to it. But now, it was clear they wouldn't be eating anything. A group of successor Chapter Masters had Seth surrounded, and their battle-brothers below had the other Flesh Tearers cornered, looking ready to string them up and whip them at a moment's notice.
Dante sat wearily in his seat. The Black Rage and Red Thirst that had tormented him were indeed completely gone. That was good news. But this feeling of nausea was incredibly unpleasant.
What left him speechless was his own age. He was old, even among Space Marines. He was older than many Dreadnoughts. While there were Dreadnoughts older than him, they had usually been interred in their sarcophagi for centuries and spent ninety-nine point nine-nine-nine percent of their time slumbering, unaware of the outside world.
So Dante was the oldest active Space Marine, his service even longer than that of the legendary Primarchs. The Great Crusade had only lasted a few hundred years, ending with the Horus Heresy.
Dante felt a wave of melancholy. He didn't go to settle the score with Seth. A group of successor Chapter Masters had already brought out great iron chains, ready to string up Seth and all the Flesh Tearers.
If the bastard had given it to them privately, it would have been fine! Now, no one had the Red Thirst or the Black Rage. The potion from That Lord was a guaranteed cure, but for the love of the Emperor, couldn't they have waited until after the feast to drink it? Who was in the mood to eat now?
That Lord was far away, and the Magos was their benefactor. But it would be a lie to say they didn't feel a little resentment. This stuff stank to high heaven, and it was made from Nurglings.
Wasn't this just eating SHIT? So, they directed all their anger at Seth.
"Dante! Dante!!!" Seth cried out in terror, but Dante ignored him, staring blankly at the statue of Sanguinius.
Just as a massive beatdown was about to commence, someone rushed into the hall in a panic.
Seeing this person, everyone stopped what they were doing. The shadow of the Hive Fleet currently loomed over Baal. Everyone knew that any piece of news could determine whether they could defend their world.
"A message from outside! The Underworld system has encountered the Tyranid vanguard! They are sending a distress signal! One Chapter has already arrived there!"
"A Chapter?"
Dante was stunned. He looked around the hall. All the Blood Angels successors who had received his message and were willing to return were here. He wouldn't blame the few that hadn't come.
He was even a little relieved. Just like during the War of the Beast, the Imperial Fists had been rebuilt from their successors after being wiped out. If they all died here, then those others would rebuild the Blood Angels.
And the galaxy was not a peaceful place. Some Chapters might be in the middle of their own major wars and simply couldn't break away.
"What Chapter?"
"According to the Astropath, it seems to be… the Lamenters."
"The Lamenters? How did they get here? Weren't they just recently devastated?" Dante asked in disbelief.
"The Lamenters… they are with That Lord. Wait, no, Elder Aslot is with them! He was a member of the Sanguinary Guard! A survivor from the assault on the Vengeful Spirit!"
"!!!"
At these words, everyone froze.
The Sanguinary Guard. The first Sanguinary Guard. The weight of those words hung in the air.
"All forces, assemble! Support the Underworld system at all costs! We must protect the Elder's safety! Distribute the potion to your Death Companies and those afflicted with the Thirst… and give these to the Blood Knights as well. Tell them this is salvation!"
"YES, LORD!!!"
With Dante's command, all of Baal mobilized.
---o---