Chapter 204: The Hive Mind: After All, I Am the One Who Held This Family Together

In the secret dungeon, the dull mechanical hum filled the brightly lit room without pause, like the chirping of insects on a midsummer night.

Seth silently observed the room.

The room, encased in machinery, had been forged into the shape of a chapel, its pale marble carved with countless intricate patterns, each symbolizing a fallen Warlord or Librarian.

Woven among the patterns were more exquisite reliefs depicting the nine pure Primarchs: Lion El'Jonson, Leman Russ, Roboute Guilliman, Vulkan, Corvus Corax, Rogal Dorn, Fulgrim, Jaghatai Khan, and the greatest of them all, Sanguinius.

Sanguinius's statue stood taller than the others, placed prominently between the Lion and Roboute Guilliman.

Each Primarch's statue depicted a moment worthy of remembrance: Lion chasing the Midnight Lords aboard a warship, Guilliman floating among the stars beyond Calth, Vulkan standing pristine upon Macragge, Jaghatai Khan crying out his father's might, Rogal Dorn calm and ever holding back a final trick, Fulgrim with his head severed, Leman Russ with his back broken by Magnus.

It was said this grand carving was personally designed by Sanguinius during his lifetime, a dual manifestation of his prophecy and artistry, a memorial to the most worthy deeds of his eight loyal brothers, carved by the hands of the Blood Angels after his death.

Above Sanguinius's statue, stained glass depicting the Radiance of the Archangel filtered the artificial light, scattering multicolored specks upon the body of the ancient warrior, Mar Site, casting a luminous glow over his remaining form.

Every Astartes knew that Dreadnoughts were the Legion's monuments; some warriors were so precious that even when they fell on the battlefield, their grievously wounded bodies were placed within Dreadnought sarcophagi to continue fighting for the Emperor through longer ages, until the Second Death claimed them.

Inside the Dreadnought sarcophagus, it was so cold and lonely that even the most loyal warriors would feel fear; thus, most Dreadnoughts slept. But Mar Site did not—he remained awake, enduring the cold and pain within the stone coffin to guard this secret dungeon.

His gaze involuntarily shifted to the stasis field behind the Dreadnought warrior.

Fifteen scrolls, each as tall as a man, floated within the field, sealed tightly with lead—these were the Scrolls of Sanguinius, written by Sanguinius's own hand, recording every prophecy he had seen in his lifetime.

Seth's heart trembled; he felt his two hearts nearly filled with holiness, the churning blood within him seemingly weakened.

It seemed as if the dark parts of him retreated before the fire of Sanguinius contained within the scrolls.

Seth turned his head, looking at the Dreadnought warrior Mar Site, who was studying Zhou Yun and Morpheus standing before him.

"You came for Sanguinius?" Mar Site demanded.

Whether it was Seth's illusion or not, when Mar Site spoke the name Sanguinius, the blood-laden air seemed to thicken.

This blood-laden aura could not be fully cleansed even by Sanguinius's fire; Seth faintly raised a hand to his head.

An uncontrollable restlessness and rage swirled deep within Seth's soul; his vision flickered, as if he stood not only in the Archangel's chapel but aboard the Vengeful Spirit.

The figures of Zhou Yun and Morpheus before him wavered—one twisting into a warped Dark God of the Warp, the other becoming Erebus, his face covered in inscriptions.

"I came for my promise to Sanguinius."

Zhou Yun nodded slightly, his tone brimming with sincerity; his fingers brushed imperceptibly over the Heat-Actuated Scoreboard & Robot Director, and even Seth beside him seemed momentarily touched by that sincerity—but then Zhou Yun spoke again.

"I came to resurrect Sanguinius." Zhou Yun stated his purpose without hesitation.

The Blood God's gaze had already turned; the moment Zhou Yun stepped into the tunnel leading to Sanguinius's tomb, the Blood God would know his intent.

There was no longer any need for concealment or caution.

Instantly, the air thickened into tangible blood.

The ancient Librarian Mar Site stepped back sharply; the Librarians and Flesh Tearers surrounding him froze in place; Seth stood speechless in shock. Rage, endless rage, surged simultaneously from Seth's spirit and flesh.

His eyes were veiled in thick crimson mist; Seth raged, the world raged, all things seemed to weep blood.

In the blood, Seth saw darkness—he saw the cold, dark Warp essence beneath Zhou Yun's material shell.

He saw the future: Zhou Yun drawing forth the Archangel's corpse, corrupting the Archangel's soul with profane power, staining the pure fire of Sanguinius with an alien metallic blue.

"How DARE YOU!!!!" A beast's roar tore from Seth's throat, his rage nearly uncontrollable.

Above the Brass Fortress, the orange-red Warp sky churned, brewing a storm of fury.

Bloodthirsters roared, Flesh Eaters screamed as they beat their war-drums, and the Chaos Cultists of Khorne, locked in eternal war upon the shattered earth, pounded their chests with their hands.

Fury! Fury! Fury!

Khorne was furious!

Khorne upon the Throne let out a roar that shook the entire Warp; across the galaxy, in every battlefield of the material universe, countless mortals suddenly felt rage surge within their hearts. The Khorne Berserkers on Cadia sank deeper into madness; the crimson scar above Baal glowed as if weeping blood; the Tyranid swarms shrieked in unison.

Khorne was enraged—not because of Kabanha's death.

Kabanha lost a battle; though this cost Him a sliver of power and the permanent loss of one Bloodthirster, Khorne did not care. Whose blood flowed mattered not—even His own blood meant nothing.

As long as blood flowed, Khorne would only praise it.

Khorne was enraged because that little Archangel, the cursed Human Emperor, and the new god forming in the Warp had deceived Him.

Cadia had drawn His gaze; the Tyranid shadows had obscured His vision; the Emperor's cursed Legions were advancing along the borders of His domain.

All this had distracted Him from Baal, allowing the little Archangel and the new god to slip past His notice.

That little Archangel—the one who was both the cause of Sanguinius's birth and the consequence of his death—sought to escape His grasp, to return to the material universe and reappear as a Primarch.

And that new god had inserted himself, already beginning to corrupt the little Archangel.

It was all deceit and trickery; they had used every ruse to evade Khorne's sight and avoid true battle. Khorne was furious.

But blood could not be avoided; war could not be escaped; only through bloodshed could true victory be decided.

Khorne let out a battle cry.

Part of His power was bound by Cadia, and...

Khorne lifted His gaze to the distance.

At the edge of His domain, a cold, dark sun hung low; countless demons loyal to Him screamed, their bodies ablaze, while an army like the dead marched beneath its chilling, dark light.

Khorne was forced to divert much of His power to deal with it.

Khorne's wrath took tangible form—like countless crimson blades slicing through the veil between reality and the material world, stabbing into the Baal system. Yet...

Khorne let out a furious battle cry, but the burning blades were halted as they entered reality.

Few beings in the material universe could resist Khorne's might—even weakened by Cadia and drained by the Human Emperor.

But on Baal, there happened to be one such being, born of the material universe, capable of resisting Khorne's power.

A shadow of greed and hunger surged violently from reality—a dense, layered black mist, like billions upon billions of tiny insects converging.

Predator! Plunderer! Competitor!

The Hive Mind shrieked, blocking Khorne's power.

It could still discern priorities.

Like Khorne, it craved Baal, craved Sanguinius.

But it sought Sanguinius's material body and genetic sequence.

If Sanguinius were resurrected, it still had hope of acquiring both.

But if Sanguinius were corrupted and ascended by Khorne, his material structure would vanish—leaving only an inedible Warp carcass.

Then the Hive Mind would lose all chance of obtaining Sanguinius's genetic sequence.

The Hive Mind understood: it must stand its ground now.

Yet the instant the Hive Mind clashed with Khorne, eighty-eight thousand eight hundred nodal organisms died instantly, along with the lower Tyranid organisms linked to them.

On Baal's battlefield, Dante stared blankly at the scene before him.

Among the Tyranids, nodal organisms began dying one by one, their heads falling to the ground as if severed by an invisible blade.

Then the lower Tyranids under their control followed suit, their heads likewise severed.

Within eight seconds, nearly a third of the Tyranid forces on the battlefield had inexplicably died—and the deaths continued.

The Tyranid swarm now assaulting the Void Shield vastly outnumbered the first wave that had attacked the moat; the loss of a third greatly eased the pressure on the Blood Angels.

Even Dante could see faint starbursts flickering in the heavens—remnants of dying Tyranid bio-ships.

Dante looked puzzled; from all signs, this seemed like Khorne's power.

But why would Khorne aid the Blood Angels?

"Or is this also the power of that Saint Dora?" Dante muttered under his breath.

(End of Chapter)