Chapter 491: This Extreme Blue Doesn't Seem Right

"I am Titus." The resolute voice rang from Titus's mouth,

the inscribed characters upon this ruined wall seemed to possess an unyielding power, like unerodible stones in the wind and sand, like enduring courage, like a solid fortress wall, like a bright orange-yellow lighthouse,

this low wall shielded Titus from the rolling yellow sands that would destroy existence, strip away spirit, leaving only rage and killing intent, and awakened Titus's spirit, ravaged into a thousand holes,

he remembered who he was,

he was Demetrian Titus, a Space Marine, an Astartes, the Emperor's Angel of Death, a member of the Dora A-Meng Chapter,

"I shall keep my mind pure, my body strong, untouched by doubt's corruption, unspoiled by self-aggrandizement; I shall become a bright star in the dome of war, an Angel of Death, with resolute wings slaying humanity's enemies, for a thousand years and a thousand more, until the end of eternity and the demise of mortal flesh."

Titus recited aloud the sacred passages, using holy scripture to protect his mind and solidify his resolve.

He looked toward the three skulls fixed upon him,

'Leonos' doubted him, 'Slax' judged him, 'Kalgan' abandoned him,

these were not the true three, but reflections within his heart, lingering shadows left by a century spent imprisoned in the Inquisition,

those doubts, those questions, those self-obsessions coiled around Titus, repeatedly questioning his loyalty, judging his mind, slowing his steps in service to the Emperor, preventing his iron body from becoming a bulwark for humanity,

even if tainted by doubt, will you still fight for humanity?

even if judged a traitor, will you still fight for the Imperium?

even if abandoned and forgotten by your chapter, will you still fight for the Emperor?

Rage—should you not rage against these slanders?

destroy it all with fury, avenge those who betrayed you with fire,

say: Blood for the Blood God!

say: Skulls for the Skull Throne!

Titus's only response was a cold refusal,

"I am the Emperor's finest warrior; I offer myself to humanity; my fury belongs solely to the Emperor."

"I am iron will and iron flesh, untouched by doubt, plague, killing lust, or pride; nothing can corrupt me."

"I am the bulwark against fear, the defender of humanity, a Space Marine, an Astartes."

"I fear nothing!"

the three skulls staring at him shrieked shrilly, shattered into fragments, and vanished with a thunderous crash.

Titus raised his head fearlessly, gazing at the sky where the crimson sun hung suspended,

the shadow of the Blood God mirrored upon the heavens, eyes blazing with fury brighter than stars, fixed unblinkingly upon Titus,

the Blood God was enraged by Titus's refusal, yet swore he would ultimately corrupt Titus,

even if eight centuries and eight centuries, eight millennia and eight millennia pass, Titus shall never leave this desert until he accepts the Blood God's rage and becomes his vessel.

"I am Titus." Standing beneath the low wall, Titus declared unyieldingly.

The Blood God's figure vanished angrily into the sky, yet Titus remained trapped upon the sands.

He was clearly determined to utterly imprison Titus. Titus gazed at the high wall, scarred with countless scratches,

one Primarch—Lorgar Dorn—had once fallen into the same predicament as Titus,

Lorgar Dorn had carved upon this wall every escape plan he could conceive, one after another, every plan Titus could imagine or could not, all inscribed upon it,

yet Lorgar Dorn had rejected each one, none could escape these sands,

but Lorgar Dorn ultimately left. Saint Dora A-Meng had spoken of this.

yet even Saint Dora A-Meng could not explain how Dorn escaped this place,

the wall bore no inscription of the method Dorn used to depart, yet there must be a way—this place could be escaped.

Hope remained.

Titus slowly thought, pondering a way to escape.

Perhaps there never was any way to escape. A voice suddenly rose from within Titus's heart, as if seeking to awaken his deepest fears.

"I fear nothing." Titus declared firmly.

Perhaps you will ultimately fall here, reduced to dust, wasting the body the Emperor gave you. The voice sounded again, abruptly, still carrying the chilling breath that stirred primal fear.

"I fear nothing." Titus felt no fear or retreat.

Even if you could escape, perhaps all is already too late—you missed the most critical moment, bringing catastrophic consequences. The horrifying voice continued.

"I fear nothing." Titus did not retreat before the voice.

The voice fell silent, seemingly satisfied with Titus's response,

Titus suddenly felt a chilling, dreadful presence behind him,

his spirit grew faint, the presence inducing a bone-deep shudder,

he had felt this sensation only upon the Primarchs—Kiman and Saint Guilliman.

Titus whirled around, finding the desert dimmed, daylight obscured by shadow,

a vortex of blue and gold unfolded before Titus, surging like waves, roaring like a flood, powerful and terrifying,

"Father?!" Titus stared at the blue-and-gold swirl, like a painting spreading across the air, and instinctively cried out in joy,

blue and gold were the signature colors of Roboute Guilliman, the Primarch of the Ultramarines,

Titus nearly believed his gene-father had come to rescue him,

but the moment he spoke, he sensed something wrong,

this... this blue in the blue-and-gold was not the Ultramarine blue—it was deeper, closer to midnight,

the gold was different too—not brilliant, but dull, like twilight before dawn.

Gradually, the blue-and-gold vortex took form, ceased its flow, settled into the silhouette of a figure,

a cloak stitched from human skin rolled up shadows; midnight-blue and dark-gold power armor emitted a cold gleam; bats with crimson wings spread across the armor; the towering figure briefly blocked the sun, shielding him and Titus from the gaze above.

A chilling, pale, monstrous figure stood before Titus,

he lowered his pale head beneath a tangle of white hair, fixing Titus with pale eyes filled with madness and terror.

Titus prayed to his gene-father, Roboute Guilliman,

but the one who answered was Konrad Curze.

(End of Chapter)