Chapter 214: You See, I Am Also a Daemon Prince Now

No one could ignore the figure standing in the tomb.

Wings of pure white tinged with a faint blue hung low behind him, trembling unconsciously, causing the chains, censers, and silver ornaments hanging from them to chime softly.

The armor forged of adamantium was restored to its original state, gleaming like the morning sun and inlaid with all manner of exotic gems. The Eye of Terra on his chest no longer bore cracks, its crimson gaze seemingly scrutinizing every impure villain present.

His golden hair stirred in a breeze blowing from the Warp, framing a face beneath a headpiece woven of gold. He was pure, noble, divine, and powerful—a beacon of hope that stood like a burning, yet gentle, star.

He was, without a doubt, a Primarch—one of the most powerful of the Emperor's exalted sons.

His mere presence filled the tomb with a radiant light that offered hope, warm and steady.

Yet, the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile, one tinged with a hint of mischief.

"Ten thousand years."

"Ten thousand years since I died upon the *Vengeful Spirit*."

"Now, I, Horus Lupercal, have returned!"

Silence fell upon the tomb.

The World Eaters Berserkers seemed to forget their rage, standing frozen in shock and disbelief.

The Bloodletters hesitated, for they truly sensed the power of Horus within the Primarch before them.

Angron, his remaining intellect buried beneath the Butcher's Nails, struggled to comprehend the situation.

Khârn stared at the towering figure in a daze.

Mephiston's eyes flickered with confusion, and Seth stood bewildered.

Zhou Yun silently pulled out his Mechanizer, his finger hovering over the button representing the Star of Adalia.

The towering figure noticed Zhou Yun's movement, and the corner of his eye twitched.

"Horus-gelius Luper-bar, you are the least deserving of silence for my joke."

The holy Primarch looked at Zhou Yun and said softly.

A flash of mischief, visible only to Zhou Yun, crossed his eyes, as if he were taking revenge for Zhou Yun's earlier teasing.

A smile tugged at the corner of Zhou Yun's mouth; it was him.

"And you lot—ten thousand years, and you haven't learned a shred of humor beyond rage?"

The silence shattered. Khârn, enraged at being mocked, let out a furious roar and raised his plasma pistol, aiming it at the Primarch's head.

Even a Primarch, if not yet ascended, was flesh and blood.

A point-blank shot from a plasma pistol would surely—

Khârn spat out a mouthful of blood, having no idea what had happened before he was sent flying, crashing heavily to the ground.

He struggled to rise, trembling, as ancient memories began to stir.

For the first time in ten thousand years, Khârn was stunned by his own audacity; he had actually tried to kill a Primarch with a plasma pistol?

"Khârn, you were once the most lucid of the World Eaters. Why have you become so easily controlled by rage?"

Sanguinius's wings unfurled, and a faint, ethereal golden light erupted, a gale sweeping through the tomb.

The Spear of Telesto appeared in his hand, its tip tapping the floor with the resonance of a holy bell.

The silence of the tomb was shattered once more.

The World Eaters Berserkers were consumed by fury again, charging toward the Primarch standing upon the dais.

Only Khârn realized this was utter—

Before he could finish the thought, a sharp pain pierced his chest.

His crimson power armor burst open, and blood gushed forth.

In that instant, Khârn felt as if he saw a white light, within which the soul of Argel Tal beckoned to him from the Empyrean.

*Old friend, am I coming to see you? *

Despair flickered in Khârn's eyes as he was knocked into a Warp rift, falling unconscious.

The other Berserkers were reduced to piles of gore and shattered limbs in the blink of an eye.

The daemons had burned away into ash the moment Sanguinius unfurled his wings.

Mephiston, Seth, and the remaining Flesh Tearers stared in stunned silence.

Their souls trembled.

Even a psyker as powerful as Mephiston could not comprehend what had transpired.

When did Sanguinius beat his wings? When did he take up the Spear of Telesto? How did those Berserkers die?

This could hardly be called a battle.

The gap between a Primarch and an Astartes was even greater than that between an Astartes and a mortal.

Yet, there was more than one Primarch present.

Angron, having entered reality, was no slower.

*Spinegrinder* and the Spear of Telesto clashed in mid-air, blood and warm light colliding.

The skulls hanging from Angron's armor rattled with a horrific sound.

The silver chains on Sanguinius chimed like raindrops.

The Lord of the Red Sands and the Angel crossed paths in the tomb, but no one could track their movements.

They moved with such speed that one doubted if this battle was even taking place in the material universe.

A low roar echoed; the first exchange between the Primarchs ended.

Angron was bathed in blood, the wounds inflicted by the Spear of Telesto gruesome and terrifying, nearly carving him to pieces.

The Great Angel stood in the center of the tomb with a grace Angron could never attain.

He had shed a few feathers, his golden armor was splattered with blood, and there were shallow cuts on his face and arm—but that was all.

Yet, Angron's flesh was healing.

No, that was not material flesh; it was a body formed of Warp energy, a vessel of the Aether, a fragment of Khorne.

He recovered in the blink of an eye, as if Sanguinius had never harmed him at all.

The beast let out a low growl, thick with the stench of blood, rage, and malice.

But everyone present understood the meaning behind that roar.

The planet was mired in a horrific war; countless were killing, countless were dying, and endless blood and skulls were falling.

Khorne's gaze was fixed here, and all of this was fueling Angron, healing his wounds.

"... Are you proud of your master's charity? Angron, has the gladiator of Nuceria fallen so low?"

The Great Angel sighed with pity, a trace of mischievous playfulness flashing in the corner of his eye.

"But you see," Sanguinius chuckled, "I, too, have received a blessing."

A clicking sound echoed.

Zhou Yun appeared behind Sanguinius, plunging a winding key into the Primarch's lower back and twisting it hard.

"Now it's fair."

The Great Angel's lips curled into a smile as he leveled the Spear of Telesto at Angron.

"Now, I am also a Daemon Prince."

(End of Chapter)