Chapter 566: DANG DANG DANG!!! EARTH DESTRUCTION BOMB!!!

+Confession!

+Do not continue to betray the blood of Saint Guilliman!

+The Red Angels speak nothing but lies!

+How can you thus betray the name of the Ninth Battle Company of the Blood Angels?

Colonel Mo Er awoke from a bed soaked in blood; the commander of the Crimson Angels Battle Company clutched his head, shaking off the fragmented voices in his ears,

lately, the warriors of their Crimson Angels Battle Company had frequently heard this voice,

the voice claimed to be Melos, the apothecary of the Blood Angels Legion over ten thousand years ago, claiming that the Saint Guilliman now worshipped by the Crimson Angels was in truth a demon named the Red Angel, claiming that all their deeds were betrayals of Saint Guilliman's blood.

But Saint Guilliman told the Crimson Angels: this must be the vile scheming of Khorne!

Yes, they, the Crimson Angels, were the purest offspring of Saint Guilliman,

they were born from the Ninth Legion's Ninth Battle Company, and Corinarl was the ninth planet of their star system,

the Ninth Legion, the Ninth Battle Company, the Ninth Son, the Ninth Planet, the Ninth Blood—could there be any offspring of Saint Guilliman purer than the Crimson Angels?

Did not Saint Guilliman choose to resurrect on Corinarl, not on Baal, as proof of their purity?

They alone walked the Path of Saint Guilliman, faithfully upholding the Sacred Blood.

Mo Er struggled to rise from the blood-stained bed, his foot crushing the skull of a mortal who had died last night during the blood-drinking, blood, brain matter, and bone fragments smearing into a sticky pulp beneath his soles,

Mo Er frowned slightly—where were his servants? Why had none come to clean up these blood-slave corpses?

Then Mo Er suddenly remembered: last night, while drinking blood, he had accidentally twisted off his servant's head and sucked the blood from the severed neck.

Mo Er shook his head; the rate at which battle servants were being lost had grown ever faster,

partly because the battle brothers, in their frenzy, sometimes accidentally devoured the servants as well,

but mostly because the supply of new servants was dwindling—many mortals refused conscription and went into hiding,

what ungrateful wretches they were; should it not be their honor to serve the Angels?

Had they forgotten who protected them? Who kept them safe from Chaos and xenos?

What vile, ungrateful scum—they need only give their blood, while the Crimson Angels must bear far greater burdens.

Mo Er walked to a corner of the room and stood before an ornately decorated mirror,

he reached out and wiped away the bloodstains on the glass, gazing at the face reflected within.

It was a gray, twisted face: no lips, fangs jutting from exposed, dry gums; no eyelids, bloodshot eyes bulging from their sockets, cheekbones raised, face elongated, skin gray-black, ears sharp and pointing skyward—like a hideous humanoid bat.

Mo Er was startled by the vision, nearly stumbling to the ground,

but in the blink of an eye, the image in the mirror returned to normal—his face restored to its beautiful, pale visage, hidden beneath golden hair, identical to the glorious countenance of Saint Guilliman.

This was yet another proof of their purity.

Mo Er gazed proudly at his reflection,

but suddenly, a hallucination flickered before his eyes—he seemed to see the figure of the former battle commander, Chao Wu,

he saw Chao Wu, in his final moments, gripping Mo Er's hand tightly, eyes wide with terror, whispering to him:

"Deception."

"All of it is deception."

"We have fallen."

"The Ritual of Atonement is a lie."

"Correct my error."

Mo Er shook his head urgently—this must be another illusion woven by Khorne,

he clearly remembered the words Chao Wu spoke as he died, entrusting the Crimson Angels Battle Company to him,

he had spoken plainly:

"Purity."

"All is for purity."