Chapter 342 Drinking Together (Part 2)

Horus was right, Sanguinius realized as he walked among his timid sons.

The Council of Four Kings and Horus Lupercal, dressed in ceremonial garb, stood behind him, and of course, Torgaddon looked after the cart of wine. Sanguinius walked forward, feeling the supportive eyes behind him pushing his steps, and the Ninth Legion drawing him back to their midst.

Even the gorgeous and rich language of the Night Lord was not enough to describe all that the Immortal Nine presented to Sanguinius.

This was a legion that broke his heart. Unlike the pearl armor of the Luna Wolves with the smell of polished pearl powder, the Ninth Legion was sloppily covered with gray-like monochrome armor, covered with fire and knife wounds. In the mission of war, they were deprived of everything, from honor to life. Since becoming a warrior of the Ninth Legion, fate seemed to have its hands around their necks, leaving no mercy or tenderness.

The Immortal Nine were defeated and knocked to their knees again and again, and all this was brought to them by the blood of Sanguinius, the blood-thirsty descendants of his life. When the angel thought of this, he suddenly doubted how he still had the power to lead and save - the pain of the descendants came from himself.

"Warriors, I am Sanguinius, the Primarch of your bloodline," Sanguinius said, and the manuscripts he had written were blown away by the wind and sand of Baal. The Immortal Nine does not need a bright and beautiful promise, or a promise of future glory and lofty ideals. What they need is not the concept of the Imperial Expedition, because they have never deviated from it.

"Take off your helmets, Baal's radiation is not enough to harm any of us."

The 9th Legion did so.

And Sanguinius got a pair of fearful and timid eyes, embedded in one beautiful but pale face after another. These faces were the only masks they had. They would be enough to gain glory on any legion, but here, in Baal, in front of the Archangel Sanguinius, the faces of these angels could only barely cover their fear.

This was not fear of his existence itself, but a fear born from the heart of everything his coming represented. When Sanguinius walked among them, they retreated silently.

They were afraid that their gene father would get too close, close enough to understand their true bodies under the armor, close enough to detect any part that could touch their essence.

Sanguinius continued to walk, his wings carefully folded to avoid accidentally touching any resistant warriors.

"What is your name, warrior?" Sanguinius asked carefully, choosing a warrior who was willing to look him in the face.

The warrior's eyes flickered slightly, "Idamas," he said the word quickly, as if he was expecting Sanguinius to leave him.

"Where did you get this scar, Idamas?" Sanguinius asked, gesturing with his finger diagonally on his lips.

"I don't remember," the warrior said.

"Was it a long time ago?"

"...Yes," Idamas said in a low voice.

"It can make you forget the time. I'm afraid it was a war that ended long before I started fighting." Sanguinius said, "You have fought more battles than I have ever fought."

He smiled, "When I was still in my cradle, you were already great warriors."

Idamas' cheek muscles trembled.

Sanguinius left him and looked for the second person in the 9th Legion who was willing to respond to him.

At some point, there seemed to be more warriors willing to do this.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Nasir Amit," he got a response, more crisp than the last one, with an armored aggression.

The angel looked at him: "Remember how many battles you fought?"

Amit looked up at him, eyebrows arched. "Many," he said, "all the battles we needed to fight. All our achievements were bloody."

"But they are in line with orders, right?"

"Not completely," Amit said, his voice tense.

The angel's hand patted Amit's shoulder armor, "Please don't be humble in front of me."

Sanguinius asked some more warriors' names, one by one, listening to the complete story woven from those restrained and short words, while also telling his own.

A warrior described a battle that had destroyed half of his face in an understated manner, describing the acid spray weapons and splinter ammunition used by the resistance, and Sanguinius introduced him to the part of the Baal mutants that vomited radiated pus.

"I just learned that there are more powerful venoms. You have stepped into a universe wider than all my dreams," Sanguinius said, trying to touch the warrior's rough buzz cut head, "You have worked hard in the battle, warrior."

Some warriors will introduce some habits of the legion. He tells how the legion fights on the ground and what kind of technology is used to tear the flesh of the enemy. The brutality and violence of the ghouls he described almost deliberately destroyed the foundation for the normal gene primarch to make a good impression, which in turn earned the angry eyes of some companions.

"It reminds me of the pamphlets written in my tribe," the angel said distressedly, "recording that I have paved a bloody road for them in front. Sometimes I think I scared them, but the elders still say that I protected the pure-blooded tribe."

"You deserve the praise, my lord."

"What about you," Sanguinius blurted, looking at the hesitation and struggle on the warriors' faces. "You are worthy of it too."

Sanguinius could feel the Luna Wolves' eyes focused on him, surprised by his words. Well, he thought, Horus had said that the words would flow from him, and these were the words he suddenly wanted to say.

"The burial banquet on board the Gray Lady?" Sanguinius asked, "May I ask, why is such a banquet held?"

"We eat our dead brothers," the soldier said stiffly, and then became almost self-indulgent. "We eat their raw flesh, eat their memories, preserve the history of the Legion, and let those souls most worthy of continuation be reborn among us. ”

Near them, the legion commander Ishdur Osuran took the initiative to speak: "That's it, my lord. I resurrected from Zarin's body."

Sanguinius nodded slightly: "Not long ago, the Baal people would not record history on parchment. Some special tribes would even extract water from the dead. I don't know, maybe this sounds cruel, but we ——You and I are all familiar with an unusual custom of extending life. I always think that this is not taught to us by others, but sung by life itself. "

He shook his head, inviting the Legionnaires to approach him without regard to order or any possible offense.

If you want to tell him a name, say yours and Sanguinius will remember it. If you want to tell a story, or a few words, just speak, and the Legion will remember, use your brain and thinking, use your spirit and bones, use your blood and flesh.

Even with the most extraordinary memory, an individual may forget some details, but the history of the entire legion will not. Their hearts flow in each other's blood. They come from the same source, are scattered in thousands of places, and eventually return to the same source. There will be no more forgetfulness. The glory that was once deprived of by being rejected will return to the Legion's hard work bit by bit.

This took a lot of time and seemed to end very quickly. The ghoul's expression has changed, and all the worried fear has faded away, turning into intense desire and almost tough questioning. They want to know Sanguinius's decision, what exactly Sanguinius thinks of them, why he wants to understand them in this way, and where he wants to take them.

Their introduction to each other was like permission to indulge the ghouls, daring them to regain their desire and demand everything they deserved.

Sanguinius looked at his legion with emotion.

He said: "I am very happy to meet you, Immortal Nine. Everything today makes me re-examine the world today."

"Before this, I always thought that I had saved one planet, and there were hundreds of planets waiting for me outside. But when I was supposed to lead a force that had saved hundreds of worlds, I remembered this - —

"The Ninth Legion belongs to you, not me. It was not created by me, and it has never been protected by me. You have reached the point where you are today, but I have not provided any assistance. How can I have the power to impose my orders on you?" The top of your head?

"My achievements today are actually not as good as any of you. The things I have accomplished since I came to this world are far inferior to Immortal Nine. In front of you, although I am tall, I am just an apprentice and an apprentice. child.

"Now, I have become the master of the legion. This is not what I earned by fighting with my own strength. It is how some of you became captains and company commanders. This is what I was given by my innate destiny. But destiny I won’t favor you.”

Sanguinius spoke among his brood, his sigh joining the wind of sand that blew here.

The Immortal Nine, they are the same living beings as the mortals who are struggling to survive and survive in Baal. They are both the emperor's warriors and the people of the empire, but it seems that neither side is allowed to integrate.

"What reason do I have to be your leader, and what qualifications do I have to lead a great, battle-hardened team on a different path? How do I fulfill the responsibilities I've been given so that we can become a true unit and work with each other?" Rely on and not be slandered, entangled, or abandoned by others?

"In the face of fate, we each seem to have our own responsibilities. The pre-set trajectory allows you to play the role of blood-drinking and flesh-eating thugs, and it also allows me to ascend to the altar that I don't like and be worshiped by others.

"However, my recent experiences have repeatedly told me that destiny may be real or fictitious, but it is never trustworthy or worthy of attention. The path we take will always be the path we choose.

"I respect you for your achievements, admire you for your strength, and lament your suffering. And the path I have chosen is that I hope to be fortunate enough to be allowed by you to follow you to learn, to accompany you to fight, and to understand you. My will spreads its wings in front of you, pursuing reason and belief in the dark galaxy.

"I hope to use everything I provide you in exchange for your trust and your recognition. Even though you are my descendants, I am your original body."

In the wind and sand, Sanguinius spread his wings and knelt down on one knee, with only determination on his beautiful face.

The ghoul army was surprised by the rustling of sand and dust, and the armors clashed and collided. The orders and oaths they feared never arrived, the grand speeches and inspiring scenes they expected were nowhere to be found, and the punishments and reproaches they expected were nowhere to be found. Their hearts beat, never so quickly and powerfully.

"If you refuse, I will leave, I will renegotiate my agreement with the Emperor, and never interfere with any of your actions again.

"If you accept me, accept me as one of you, and allow me to learn like a recruit until I am qualified to be recognized by you, then I will stay and grow up to be able to stand beside you, or even in front of you.

"We will explore the new Legion together, to find a better look, as a bloodline connected by blood, to find the path we all really want to go, without being bound by others, regardless of the rebuke of fate.

"Finally, I know that you are exiles, brave warriors born from homeless people, and people who are not promised by Terra." Sanguinius slowly moved his eyes from everyone's face, and his outline was still gentle under the scorching sun, "If you agree, Baal will become your home."

The sound of gravel rubbing against ceramic steel was like rain falling.

"What do you think?" Sanguinius raised his voice, stood up, and shouted in the wind and sand, "Respected warriors? Will you allow me to swear to you and be at your service? "

Thousands of shouts of approval echoed on the plains of Baal, stirring up the wind and shaking the earth, like the surging pulse of the desert, rolling straight into the sky and earth.

Sanguinius smiled proudly: "In this case, allow me to bring you a sip of fine wine as a gift! This is what I asked your uncle from the Eighth Legion. As for the magical effects of the wine, I believe you will be satisfied!"

He turned around and waved to Tariq Torgadon, who was waiting beside him and looked a little dazed, through some soldiers: "Please ask our friends from the Sixteenth Legion to distribute blood wine to us! "

The Council of Four Kings who were watching nearby came to their senses and hurriedly drove the car to a position close to the team. Sanguinius motioned for them to throw a bottle, and soon, Horus threw a bottle of wine into Sanguinius's hands.

The angel easily pulled out the cork and tasted it himself. Some exciting and vague high emotions, and gorgeous and difficult to identify stimulating memories, as the blood wine hit his brain, he could hardly imagine any harmless enjoyment more suitable for the Ninth Legion than this drink.

He nodded to the legion: "One bottle per person, there will be no more! Just think of it as a belated celebration at the end of your decades of fighting. It's a pity that there is no food seasoning, and we can't use our friends from the Sixteenth Legion to match the wine. "

Sanguinius' words triggered a burst of laughter, and the ghouls moved to get their rewards behind the overwhelmed Moon Wolves. Tariq Torgadoun showed an expression of fear of being eaten alive at the right time, and he won a lot of fangs bared at him.

But the legion commander who had not yet resigned stayed at the back of the legion.

"We need a name," Ishdul Osuran stepped forward, and his restrained tone concealed a sour and bitter emotion, "A name you personally gave us to prove that we belong to you."

Sanguinius nodded slightly and closed his wings: "Blood Angel, this is the title given to me by Baal, and from now on it will also belong to you. "