Chapter 455: The One Who Manufactures Fear and the One Who Knows No Fear

Titus awoke from a room that was spacious, even luxurious by Astartes standards.

The Ultramarines adhered strictly to the Codex Astartes, and their quarters were invariably simple.

Even during his tenure as Second Company Captain of the Ultramarines, Titus had possessed only a narrow cell: one end held a round table, the other a small bed, upon whose headboard rested replicas of his honors—the Iron Circlet, the Iron Skull, the Laurel, the Purity Seal, the Imperial Aquila, the Skull and the Admonition—nothing else, save a single copy of the Codex Astartes.

On the Lord of Light, however, Titus had been assigned a chamber once belonging to the fleet commanders who had accompanied Macaricus on his crusade, radiating mortal opulence—spacious, lavishly decorated, with a bed so vast even an Astartes like Titus found it excessive.

The bed ought to be made smaller, so that in emergencies, one would not waste time climbing down.

Titus silently thought to himself, taking two or three seconds to rise from the eight-meter-wide bed.

The Blood Angels had requested blood-caskets for their quarters—their mechanical resting devices, designed to keep them in optimal condition—and the request had been granted.

Titus, had he requested a smaller bed or a smaller room, would likely have received the same approval.

That one was undoubtedly a son of Fulgrim, yet stubbornly claimed to be a son of Rogal Dorn—Saul would say he did not appreciate life's finer things, but the Ultramarines favored loyalty, honor, and utility over comfort.

With the aid of the Holy Mechanicum and its servitors on Mars, Titus donned his power armor—the Lord of Light required no binary prayers or soothing of the machine spirits from the Adeptus Mechanicus, for the Primordial Power was the ship's very master.

This too was a point to note: on the Lord of Light, every machine-spirit was in perfect harmony; Titus could feel his power armor in excellent condition.

The Lord of Light harbored many peculiar "rules" to observe.

These rules were not decreed by any authority, but had gradually formed as minor customs among Astartes and mortals who misunderstood the ship's unique traits.

For instance, Rule One of the Lord of Light Survival Manual:

If you encounter an Astartes wearing a hood, wreathed in blood mist, named Kain, do not panic—he is merely a Blood Angel with a foul temper, who coincidentally shares a name with the Chaos Champion Kain; in most cases, simply greet him calmly.

Rule Two: If you hear a buzzing sound emanating from the head of an Astartes named Kain, Rule One is void—immediately retreat to a distance of at least twenty-two meters.

Titus knew the truth behind these two rules—the Kain in question was the Chaos Champion Kain himself; the buzzing meant the Fleshmelter was activating.

Rule Three: If you encounter a blue-armored Astartes wizard on the Lord of Light, dressed in Egyptian style, wielding a black staff, do not panic—he is merely an ordinary, ornament-loving Ultramarine Librarian, perhaps Lord Diggory.

Related Rule Four: Never mention numerology, Mortarion, the Red Word, Leman Russ, Space Wolves, "step on the back," the Council of Nikaea, or "all is dust" in his presence; never grab a Grey Knight and tell the wizard, "This is your brother."

The truth behind this rule: the blue-armored wizard was in fact the Chaos Champion Ahriman of Tzeentch.

Rule Five: If you see card-like entities on this ship sprouting demonic forms, do not panic—they are not demons, but pure Doraemons.

Titus had no comment on this rule—the lord seemed to summon demons for amusement from time to time.

There were other oddities: never approach the Cadia soldier in military uniform practicing psychic abilities, suspecting her of illegal psyker status; never disturb the giant yellow bear named Doraemon who sneaks to eat dorayaki at midnight; never ignore the flying black Dreadnought; never mistake the Eldar disguised as a black-haired, black-skinned boy; never speak to Gabriel Seth if you lack strong mental fortitude.

Within a day or two, Titus had largely adapted to the Lord of Light's peculiarities.

Armed with his bolter and chainsword, Titus proceeded to his assigned post for the day.

According to the roster, his duty partner today was Lord Gabriel Seth, Captain of the Flesh Tearers, now Commander of the Eighth Company of the Doraemon Marines.

From what he recalled, the Flesh Tearers had never been fully manned due to certain reasons, maintaining only four companies.

After the Battle of Baal, many Flesh Tearers perished; the survivors, even counting all, barely exceeded a single company.

Thus, all veteran Flesh Tearers had been absorbed into the Doraemon Marines, temporarily forming the Eighth Company.

As for the reconstruction of the Flesh Tearers Chapter itself—

"I still cannot accept those Primaris!"

As he patrolled the corridor with Titus, Seth growled:

"They are not like us. They are more like you—like Ultramarines."

"They do not suffer Bloodlust, nor Black Rage."

As a future comrade of the Doraemon Twenty-Two Chosen, Titus would eventually discover the other peculiar traits of the Blood Angels—the Bloodlust and the Black Rage.

So the Blood Angels had not concealed their existence from Titus, only demanded he keep them secret.

"Titus, I am not saying Bloodlust and Black Rage are good things—they are both blessing and curse. Undoubtedly, after Saint Guilliman's resurrection, Black Rage may no longer be a curse."

"But we draw strength from them, we fight against them, we struggle endlessly between fury and bloodlust. Only those with sufficiently strong and pure souls—who preserve their souls from corruption in this process—are Blood Angels. Otherwise, they are mere ghouls."

"But now, Bloodlust and Black Rage do not manifest in those Primaris. They have not been forged or tested. They are not Blood Angels—and they may yet be ghouls."

"What of the Howling Griffins? Those warriors seem to lack Bloodlust and Black Rage too," Titus asked.

He had heard this from Zhou Yun.

The Howling Griffins were a product of the Age of Curse-Born; they had, to some degree, been stripped of the Blood Angels' genetic flaws, free of Bloodlust and Black Rage.

Titus's question left Seth momentarily stunned.

Then—

"A pitiful, unfortunate lot. A worthy, unfortunate lot. True sons of Saint Guilliman."

"They have endured trials worthy of the Blood Angels' name—no, I mean, if they are unworthy, then no one is worthy."

Seth shrugged slightly.

The last time they had received news of the Howling Griffins was before the Battle of Baal.

To protect the countless Imperial worlds along the Kraken Hive Fleet's path, the Howling Griffins launched wave after hopeless wave of assaults against the Hive Fleet, nearing total annihilation.

The Howling Griffins apologized via comms for being unable to reinforce Baal—but no one blamed them.

Titus smiled.

If Seth's words held true, then as long as the Primaris endured enough trials and earned sufficient honor, he would eventually accept them—though most Primaris Titus had met so far were still immature.

Hmm, Saul was a minor exception—he grew rapidly, his swordsmanship was exceptional, seemingly drawn from combat memories stored in his gene-seed; after two or three genuine battles, he would become a first-rate warrior.

Titus himself could not stand still—he pondered whether to adopt Kain's earlier suggestion: chaining his chainsword to his arm?

Lord Seth, though he constantly cursed Kain as a traitor and shit, had recently begun wrapping chains around himself too.

Hm?

Titus raised his head sharply.

A tremor—a faint tremor—beneath the veil of reality, imperceptible to physical senses, pulsed through the air.

It was a tremor from the Warp; Titus's keen soul had sensed it.

He raised his chainsword instantly.

Seth did not understand what Titus had detected, but seeing his reaction, he knew something was amiss.

He too raised his weapon and asked: "What is it? Hmm?"

Before his words finished, his nose twitched several times.

Now Seth sensed it too.

"The smell of blood… where is this blood coming from?" Seth's expression twisted into something monstrous.

"The Warp," Titus replied.

"Impossible—we are above Terra's orbit, directly over the Imperial Palace, at the heart of the Astronomican's brightest light."

Seth gritted his teeth, staring fixedly at the source of the stench—then—

Seth smelled it. Seth saw it.

Vast darkness, laced with shrieks of agony, cries of torment, and a horrifying stench of blood, surged toward him.

Within his flesh, deep in his muscles, within his genes—emotions he should never have felt erupted violently.

Fear.

Seth felt a bone-deep terror.

A shadow writhed into existence aboard the Lord of Light—its mere appearance drowned Seth in fear.

Not just him—Seth could sense even his power armor and chainsword trembling with fear.

Seth shuddered violently, terror engulfing him like a black tide.

Had he not possessed a strong will, he would have fled already—

"Lord Seth!!" A low roar jolted him awake.

Titus stood firm beside him; the boundless darkness and fear seemed to affect him not at all.

His spirit stood unyielding, brutal, unbreakable within the sea of terror—unperturbed, radiant as molten gold, even pushing back some of the fear enveloping Seth.

"He's here!!"

"That thing has pierced into reality!"

Titus uttered a low battle cry.

(End of Chapter)