Materium, Ichtar IX
Sanguinius
162.M32
Sanguinius, tired and tense, watched as one by one the remaining inhabitants of Ichtar IX passed through the portal to the Webway, which, thanks to his three mentors, they managed to open.
The last fourteen hours were exhausting even for him, as he doubled down to save as many people as possible from the daemons. He didn't even manage to reach many places before it was too late. And in fact, only two places were still defending themselves after he saved the defenders of the Imperial base.
Also during the transport to the same base, he had to defend the survivors all the time. In the end, only a little over a million inhabitants of the planet survived. Now, most of them were safe on the other side of the Webway, where transport ships were waiting for them, ready to transport them to Ilmarin.
Sanguinius couldn't tear his eyes away from this depressing sight. Terrified women and men, hugging even more terrified children, who still did not allow themselves to feel relief. Not until they were in a safe place, not after what they had seen.
Finally turning his gaze from these poor creatures destined to be raw materials in this dark and shitty universe, his attention was drawn to the countless ranks of daemons lined up miles from the mountain's base, afraid to come any closer.
Their hideous muzzles, twisted in anger and fear, were pointed in his direction. They wanted nothing more than to strike him from the heavens and tear his body apart, but they were restrained by the terrible knowledge. Death by his hand meant the end, final annihilation.
Suddenly, his gaze caught a commotion among the enemy ranks. Dozens of grotesque figures dressed in purple armour were pushing through the crowd of daemons, pushing them aside with contempt.
Sanguinius' eyes narrowed immediately in fury. His calm demeanour began to crack at the sight of the mutated forms of the Emperor's Children legion. How dare they even show themselves to him?
"Traitors. Fratricides." He hissed angrily, his form glowing for a moment with the golden glow of stored psychic energy, and then he shouted in a voice that expressed all the emotions he had stored up over the years.
A sonic wave in the form of a cone stretching hundreds of metres wide flew towards the place where he had seen the traitorous Space Marines. When the Old Ones' own technique struck the ranks of daemons, it annihilated them on the spot, one by one, tearing them into pieces.
Hundreds, then thousands of chaos spawns ceased to exist in an instant. A similar fate befell the purple-armoured Astartes, who had only a moment to react to the attack, but this one was not only too far-reaching and absurdly powerful, but they had never encountered such an attack before.
A few of the psykers tried to defend themselves, but it was of little use, as they held out a fraction of a second longer.
Sanguinius took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He had not really expected the sight of the traitors to have such an effect on him. But he could do nothing.
One look was enough to bring to mind the countless lives that had perished during the Horus Heresy, as it was now called. The sight of thousands of his sons' dead bodies, tens of thousands of other marines, and millions of fallen soldiers loyal to the Imperium filled his mind.
All dead, while these chaos gods' scum had the audacity to attack another Imperium world and kill another. Unforgivable.
He also felt that this attack, combined with the battle lasting over half a day, had left its mark on him. He could feel the eyes of the Ruinous Powers, who watched him from their realms in the Immaterium with undisguised curiosity.
His lack of control certainly amused them. Slaanesh, however, was not happy about the loss of his toys. The angry will of the Prince of Pleasure pressed against his mind, seeking any crack through which he could get through.
However, Sanguinius' mind, tempered not only in the fire of hundreds of years of war but also by the techniques of the Old Ones themselves, was an impregnable fortress.
Suddenly he sensed two powerful presences materialising nearby. His gaze fell on the newcomers, and the sight of their mutated forms ignited his fury anew, and only thanks to his earlier outburst offorce of will was he able to control himself.
His traitorous brothers. Of the two, Magnus was still somewhat reminiscent of his former self, but the changes were obvious. Horns, wings, demonic body. Despite this, Sanguinius was able to see traces of his brother.
Fulgrim, however, was a mere shadow of the intelligent, handsome and brave man he once was. His form resembled a hybrid not of man, but of demon and snake.
The once proud crimson of his legion now marked the colour of his skin and scales, making the Angel feel pain at the sight of what had become of his brother, with whom they had once spent hours talking about art, technology, and culture.
Sanguinius looked for the first time in almost a millennium at his treacherous but still brothers and felt unspeakable pain. He felt responsible for not seeing the corruption of chaos earlier. For spending too little time with them, for not knowing them well enough and for not noticing what was happening in time.
He did not see it in Horus and Lorgar; he did not see it in these two either. He gritted his teeth and gathered his thoughts, preparing himself for a meeting for which he felt he was not ready and probably would not be.
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Magnus
Who would have expected that a simple Chaos Storm on an insignificant planet, one of millions in the Imperium, would lead them to their brother's trail?
Although trail is a bit of an exaggeration, for they didn't even have to look for it, as it came to them on its own. The news reached them immediately, as soon as the Primarch of the IX Legion set foot on the planet, standing to fight the invasion of the daemonic servants of Khorne and Tzneech.
What's more, the Changer of Ways sent one of his Lords of Change to inform him of this event, probably curious to see how the meeting between the primarchs would develop.
Magnus wasted no time, informed Fulgrim of the whole situation and, after a short preparation, set off to first meet with the Champion of Slaanesh and then head for Ichtar IX, a mining planet that could become the site of one of the most important events of the last millennium.
For it had been hundreds of years since so many primarchs had gathered in one place as they were about to do now.
Unlike that snake bastard, he didn't yet know what to do with his brother.
His own conversion to chaos and service to Tzeentch had been more out of desperation and a desire to save his sons than conviction or real choice.
And Sanguinius... Sanguinius had been one of the few of his brothers who had tried to understand and help him. He had been one of the few things that had tried to unite the brothers, to find a thread of understanding between them. He had tried to do what the emperor should have done.
Magnus had often wondered what would have happened if their father had been more like Sanguinius or if Sanguinius had become Emperor. Would Horus have rebelled? Would so many of the primarchs have sided with him, and would so many worlds have rebelled against the Imperium?
These were questions he would never get answers to, but they still often came to his mind, especially since he learnt that the Great Angel of the Imperium of Man was alive.
When he and Fulgrim appeared in the barren wasteland of the planet, the only variety of which was a mountain or volcano rising before them, they could not help but notice him.
Golden armour and snow-white wings, long golden hair and eyes glowing with psychic power. He shone like the sun against the multicoloured sky filled with the seething energies of chaos.
Magnus had to admit deep down that he understood perfectly why the people of the Imperium adored his brother so much. People living in poverty and desperation, in the constant shadow of death, needed something to give them hope. And this Hope had a form that floated in the sky right before him.
Golden eyes met his own, and Magnus felt them pierce through him, reaching where even he himself was afraid to go, where he had closed his humanity and pride.
He also finally realised the change that had taken place in his brother, who, despite having a powerful psychic talent, focused on close combat, also using the possibilities that his wings gave him.
Now, however, he felt the enormous amounts of energy of the Immaterium flowing through Sanguinius like a rushing river, ready to throw this power against his enemies with a single thought. In addition, he felt in the air the aftermath of the attack that had just taken place in this place.
An attack that had consumed thousands of daemonic beings. Their last cry of terror was still in the air and reflected in the Immaterium.
Fulgrim, standing next to him, suddenly moved forward, and seeing his hideous face twisted in fury, Magnus knew that he wanted to attack their brother immediately.
Magnus did not hide the fact that he also wanted to see which of them was the more powerful psyker. But even now, after so many years and the power he had gained in Tzeench's service, he felt a reluctance to face Sanguinius, who had always been considered the most powerful of them among the Primarchs.
And now he seemed stronger than ever.
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Fulgrim
Fulgrim felt excitement, fear, fury, and hatred. All of them to excess.
The chance to cross blades with that fool Sanguinius was ecstatic. Oh, how he regretted that this father's pet had died by Horus' hand and not his own.
But he was filled with terror, for he knew deep down how powerful his sanctimonious brother was. His exploits on Sigmus Prime and especially in the defence of Terra had been recounted among the daemons and legions that now served Chaos. Sanguinius, the Angel of Death.
But the mere thought of fearing that fool made him seethe with unquenchable fury. Fury that fuelled hatred within him, hatred of Sanguinius and what he represented, hatred of what he had become, hatred of Slaanesh, to which he was bound for eternity.
Finally, hatred of the fact that all these feelings made him feel even more ecstatic and excited but still did not quench the hunger that was eating him.
When he and Magnus appeared at their destination, the sight of Sanguinius floating in the air before them intensified the emotions swirling inside him many times, making him see black for a moment, overwhelmed by their intensity.
Of course, this son of a bitch, this fucking angel, had to look and present himself better than ever. Surrounded by a golden halo of light, he seemed to float above the battlefield and the lonely mountain like some good deity descending to earth to eradicate all evil.
The only thing that kept him from throwing himself at the former primarch of the IX Legion at that moment was the fear that pierced him. The power and psychic strength that emanated from the other one were undeniable.
The snakelike lower half of his body writhed nervously in place, and the fingers of all four hands clenched nervously around the hilts of his swords and spear.
He glanced at Magnus hesitantly, waiting for some sign, preferably to attack, but Magnus was staring at his brother floating above them in the distance with an unreadable expression.
Fulgrim could see that the other was hesitant, and not for the same reasons as he was.
"Tssk," he hissed angrily. Magnus was another fool who, after almost a millennium, still couldn't accept what he had become. The truth was, however, that all three had changed, and there was no turning back.