Chapter 13 Blood Angels and Dante

Surprisingly, the Blood Angels' storerooms contained alcohol suitable for fragile human bodies.

The conversation took place inside an elongated, red-armored command center that had been deployed directly from orbit. Although every space in such a place was strictly systematized, a spot for Dante and the leader of the small Crusade was quickly found.

Ironically, if anyone had the chance to witness this meeting, they would have found Stas's position amusing. Since everything inside the command center was designed for the size of Space Marines, the "chair" was too high, causing Stas's feet to dangle above the metal floor. The table, on the other hand, was too tall, making it seem as though Stanislav was not an adult but a child. This impression was further reinforced when they walked past the armored Angels of the Emperor.

- And yet, it's very hard to believe your story, - Dante shook his head, having removed his helmet.

Stas looked at the Chapter Master with interest. The commander's face was contradictory. Physiologically, he appeared to be around forty, but his completely white, graying hair, scattered wrinkles, and a deep, almost haunting gaze screamed that this man was far older.

And was he even a man? Even if you disregarded all the enhancements a Space Marine undergoes, could you call someone who had lived for over a millennium and a half a man?

Especially in the world of Warhammer. One of the most terrifying universes Stas had ever known.

Besides Stas and Dante, there was another Astartes in the room, standing motionless against one of the walls. He was serving as a guard, holding a bolter. If Stas hadn't seen him enter, he would have thought the Marine was a skillfully crafted statue, so still was he.

- According to you, an Ork boss, one of the most successful Warbosses in the galaxy, simply got scared and chose to run rather than fight? - Any other person, hearing the doubt in the commander's voice, would already be on the floor, begging for forgiveness, but Stas didn't even bat an eyelid.

- That's exactly what happened, - Stas shrugged. - Given my curse, he thought it best to flee.

- Curse? - Dante frowned, and a metallic sound came from the Astartes standing to the side.

- Allow me to demonstrate, - Stas calmly reached for the bolt pistol holstered at his belt. No one had searched him or forced him to surrender his weapon, as a regular human posed no threat to an Astartes.

The only check he had undergone was a scan by a terrifying-looking Librarian, whose head was literally entwined with thick cables.

- Freeze or die, - the guard was against the wall one moment, and the next, his bolter was almost touching Stas's head. However, this didn't particularly bother the latter. There was no threat in the Blood Angel's voice, just a cold statement of fact.

- Lower your weapon, Manius, - Dante ordered. - What exactly are you planning to do? - This was directed at Stas.

- I want to show you my curse, - Stas shrugged and demonstratively pressed the terrifyingly large barrel of the bolt pistol to his temple. - This will be more visual.

Click!

The sound of the trigger being pulled led to absolutely nothing. Under the watchful eyes of the others, Stas ejected the magazine, removed the round, reinserted it, and pulled the trigger again.

Click!

- You can order your guard to aim at me and pull the trigger, - Dante frowned at the Saint for a couple of seconds, then nodded to Manius.

Click!

Stas didn't even notice when the latter aimed at him.

Now it was clear that this demonstration had genuinely unsettled the others. For warriors like them, the fact that their weapons had malfunctioned was excessively unpleasant.

- What about a chainsword? - The Astartes's fingers touched the hilt of the sword hanging at his belt.

- It will shut down.

- But that won't stop me from killing you with it, - the Space Marine corrected. Dante remained silent, observing the conversation.

- I wouldn't be so sure, - Stas grinned crookedly. - I don't know what will happen, but something will definitely happen to stop you. And you probably won't like the result.

- Like the appearance of World Eaters? - Dante clarified. - Yes, the orbital footage clearly shows that the Orks were behind their summoning, but given what you've told us…

- Exactly, - Stas sighed. - Once, when this all first started, I tried to end my life directly. I approached the railing on one of the hive levels of Ixodus. Beyond the railing was a chasm so deep I couldn't even see the bottom. And just as I tried to climb over, an electrical cable fell from above and stunned me.

Stas snorted bitterly.

- When I came to, I tried again. I managed to climb over the railing and jump, but a powerful gust of air from some malfunctioning technical valve below blew me straight onto a pile of rags on the neighboring level.

Stas grabbed the glass of alcohol in front of him, drained it in one go, and poured another.

- Realizing that my attempts were futile, I decided to take a different approach. I stopped eating, intending to starve myself to death. For several days, I deluded myself into thinking everything was going according to plan. I remained in that illusion until I encountered a group of deranged cannibals. They grabbed me and force-fed me.

- You ate human flesh? - Dante didn't seem to judge, which wasn't surprising given the Blood Angels' reputation.

- No, - Stas waved it off. - They had canned food. But the point is the fact itself. What are the odds of encountering cannibals on the lower levels of a hive who want to help you? That time, I understood the hint—they could have fed me something far worse.

A heavy silence fell as each of the interlocutors pondered something intensely.

- Why are you so eager to die? - Dante's next question made Stanislav laugh darkly.

- Why am I eager to die? - he repeated. - Because I want to die on my own terms. I want to die as a normal human, not as a bloated, rotting carcass from the gifts of some cursed creature. I don't want to be torn apart by a blade-covered sword or something even worse.

Stanislav began listing, waving the sturdy glass around, not noticing the drops of amasec flying from it.

- To be torn apart by Orks, enslaved by pirates, captured by demons craving to devour my soul, tortured by Dark Eldar for centuries, worked to death on a Mechanicus or hive factory—living in this time is a fate far worse than death. Is it so surprising that I desire a simple, ordinary death?

The glass landed with a clink on the table, and the Saint grimaced.

- But even in this small thing, I was denied.

- I must admit, I've never encountered a "curse" like this before, - Dante remarked slowly, picking up his glass, which had remained untouched. His tone made it unclear whether he was being ironic or sincere. - The fact that you mention names not widely known and hint at powers so monstrous that they shouldn't be known leaves me perplexed.

The Chapter Master took a sip of his drink.

- But have you considered that your curse might be a blessing? Judging by what you've accomplished during your crusade, you've saved at least one world, if not two. The Ork invasion on Armageddon and the cult on Ixodus. Your path is a blessing for the Imperium and a terror for its enemies.

Dante paused, his eyes gleaming as he looked at Stas differently now.

- The Emperor protects in many ways. In my long life, I've seen those blessed by Him. They are called Saints. And though I don't see golden wings behind your back, His attention is clearly focused on you.

- Maybe, - Stas rasped. He desperately wanted to say that even the Emperor didn't know where he came from, but he held back.

Even if Dante somehow believed him, such a conversation wouldn't end well for the Chapter Master.

Stas could see that one of the pillars supporting Dante was his faith in the Emperor. Perhaps he didn't believe in Him as a god, but he believed in Him as a leader and protector of humanity.

Telling him about the Emperor's current state wouldn't bring peace to his soul.

Stas himself was convinced that everything happening was just a cruel joke by this universe, which thrived on the suffering of all who entered it. Perhaps it didn't like that Stas had tried to leave too easily, so it continued to torment him.

Of course, these were just his speculations. In reality, it could be anything—from a goddess of fate or luck kissing him on the forehead to some other cosmic force. Stas had read enough books to have plenty of theories.

- My Librarian examined you and found no traces of Warp influence, - Dante smiled slightly, which looked impressive on his face. Though, any expression on the Chapter Master's face was worthy of an artist's brush. - This means it's highly unlikely that the Weaver of Fates has any connection to you. And given the level of abilities you've demonstrated, you are most likely indeed a Saint. Therefore…

Dante raised his glass and extended it toward Stas.

- …I propose we celebrate our meeting. The Emperor knows, good things rarely happen in our world, but today is clearly one of those rare occasions.

- Why not, - Stas chuckled, clinking glasses with the ancient Astartes. - Maybe I'll drink enough to die and end this farce.

- I wouldn't count on it, - Dante laughed. - I'm sure the Emperor has many more deeds in store for you!

*****

The Inquisition fleet arrived almost mundanely.

By that time, the Ork invasion had completely died down, and the people of Armageddon had begun repairing the damage. Most of the continent was in ruins, and it would take considerable effort to clear the debris, restore the factories, and resume production.

Equally important was replenishing the supplies of the "saviors."

The arrival of two fleets and the deployment of troops had consumed vast resources and fuel. Now, Armageddon aimed to replenish them. It was the least they could do to repay their saviors.

The personalities of the leaders also had a significant impact.

Rumors and tales of the Saint's exploits quickly spread across the planet's various levels. A key part of Stas's legend was that no one truly knew who he was or where he came from.

This was why the ordinary citizens of Armageddon saw the Saint as a man raised by the Emperor's grace, someone just like them. The aristocracy, however, believed the Saint was a cunning and ambitious noble who had found a way to rise in his world and gain immense power and influence.

Konstantin played a crucial role in this. The mad old man, when needed, proved to be surprisingly understanding and eloquent, capable of reaching even the highest offices.

This strategy bore noticeable fruit.

The recruitment centers of the small Crusade were overflowing with volunteers.

And the Saint's generals gladly took everyone who met their requirements. The surplus of candidates allowed Fischer and Numenorius to select the best, filtering out the chaff.

Here, the initial training took place, where the veterans who had survived the battles with the Orks diligently "drilled" the newcomers, trying to mold them into smaller versions of themselves.

Ironically, the criminal contingent of the Saint's surviving forces was highly appealing to the lower hive levels of Armageddon. This wasn't surprising, as the scum of Ixodus were far more competent in survival and killing, which was why they survived the Saint's campaigns.

Thus, if the goal was for Armageddon to dilute the criminal element of the small Crusade, it failed spectacularly.

Again, if any of the criminals hoped for a lack of discipline and an unorganized mob structure, they were sorely mistaken.

The fanatical followers of the Saint were ready to kill and beat the spirit out of those they deemed insufficiently dedicated to training.

Death during "training weeks" was a common occurrence, as there was always a line of those eager to take the place of the "fallen."

It was during this time that the Inquisition fleet arrived.

It was led by Inquisitor Hector Pessone, a dry man nearing old age.

Upon reaching the planet, he didn't waste time, expressing his desire to take custody of the "Saint." Though Hector didn't threaten, the tone of his message and the presence of three cruisers in orbit carried an implicit warning.

What Pessone clearly didn't expect was the Saint being supported not only by the trade fleet—which, given the difference in strength, would have been suicidal—but also by a significant portion of Armageddon and the Blood Angels, along with their legendary commander.

The Astartes were backed by a battle barge in orbit, a formidable opponent in space. It had been retrofitted and upgraded not only for deploying troops but also for breaking planetary defenses, making it a match for the three cruisers.

Such a strong alliance reassured the Saint's generals, but Stas himself threw them into panic when he simply agreed to comply with the Inquisitor's orders.

Hoping for the Inquisition's ruthlessness and capriciousness, Stas was willing to endure future tortures for the chance of a quick death. After all, the Inquisition was legendary for its ability to kill the unkillable.

The Saint was ready to give them a chance to end his life.

However, Stas soon grew angry when Dante contacted the Inquisition ship.

Stas realized he should have been harsher with Dante. Then the Chapter Master wouldn't have tried to save his life and complicate his already doomed path to death!

*****

- Hector Pessone listening, - the Inquisitor stated calmly, looking through the holoprojector at the Chapter Master.

- Inquisitor, I'll be brief, - Dante's words were dry and precise. - I must inform you that if any harm comes to our order's ally before his arrival on Terra and meeting with the Lord Inquisitor, you will find yourself facing significant problems from our order.

- Is that a threat? - Hector narrowed his eyes.

- If you wish to take it as such, then yes, - Dante didn't back down. - I've seen too often how you and your subordinates can be overzealous in your duties, to the detriment of the mission. The Lord Inquisitor clearly ordered the Saint to be delivered unharmed and in sound mind. If any part of his order is violated, I will make you regret your decision.

- You'll regret this, - the Inquisitor hissed.

- I highly doubt it, - Dante said, cutting the connection.

Pessone cursed loudly, causing his entourage to avert their eyes and avoid his angry gaze.

Ironically, Hector had indeed planned to thoroughly interrogate the prisoner to break him before delivering him to the Lord Inquisitor, hoping to impress his superior.

Now, however, Pessone had to abandon his plans. Though the Blood Angels weren't the most numerous Chapter, their influence was immense.

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