Alright, for POV changing, I'll try using this: IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Also, completely ignore that part of the Eldar aftermath I wrote about a few chapters back. I'll be removing that section if I have time.
BTW, I couldn't find much on the Rock's interior, so I left specific things vague on purpose, such as the light sources and the specifics of Luther's cell. They don't matter too much though.
Moreover, I'll try to make a little thing at the start of my chapters that respond to any insight/questions/criticism you guys post in the reviews, so look forward to it. I'll only do this on each chapter for reviews for the chapter before it though.
It took a whole week for Mal to reach Terra even with the aid of her Warp-bending powers.
She did not possess enough fine-tuning over her abilities to completely designate the time when the ship would arrive at its location. It would probably take thousands of years for her to do so successfully.
However, it was close enough for Mal, and a miracle for the cruiser's crew.
Soon, the girl had reached the home of humanity, wasting no time and immediately teleporting into the Imperial Palace.
Of course, she took Valerian with her, if only to appease his need to be protecting her at all times.
She admired the brilliant architecture of the Palace, but not nearly as much as any other person. After all, the Emperor had imprinted information of the structure directly into her brain.
She quite literally had a whole map of the place encoded in her very genes.
Therefore, it didn't take very long to find Trajann Valoris. However, convincing him to give her another ship, a fast one at that, took much longer. Eventually, the ancient veteran conceded with her requests, even though Mal did not specify exactly what she wanted to use the spacecraft for.
The custodian had heard the words of the Emperor himself, the same words which granted Mal absolute authority in her demands. To go against her request was to go against the word of his master. Still, Trajann seemed hesitant in his decision.
In the end, Mal's demands were met, the girl swiftly leaving Terra in a small cruiser named the Swiftwind. Of course, that "small cruiser" was capable of Warp travel and stretched out for several kilometers.
After Mal revealed a small portion of her power to the crew, a whole hour of devoted praying and crying followed, much to her protest.
When the annoying ceremonies finally ended, the journey began.
Valerian had informed Mal that The Rock was currently located near the ruins of Cadia, where it would stay unmoving for several more years.
They were apparently seeking new recruits at one of the planets in the system.
After she learned of the Dark Angels' location, she wasted no time in directing her new ship in its direction. After the crew was paid a hefty sum, they were sent on their way. Of course, these men and women had no idea why they were going to the system, nor did they have any idea why Mal would want to do so.
Even so, a job was a job. Not only did they have the opportunity to meet with a holy saint, but also received monetary payment for their endeavors. Therefore, there were no one in the crew who complained.
In the duration of several months, Mal had safely deposited the cruiser in the Cadian System. Apparently, the ship still had the resources to make the journey five times over, as they had expected a much more extended trip.
Paying this no mind, the girl simply stared at the destroyed ruins of Cadia Prime, directing her attention towards the shattered remains of the former world.
Mal's eyes were wide, her mouth was opened in awe.
"I see. So these are the remains of Cadia. I wonder just how much courage it takes to keep defending your world to the point where it's destroyed."
Mal smiled.
"It's true what they say. Cadia broke before the Cadians did."
To her displeasure, news of the objective was delivered at a time where it completely interrupted her thoughts.
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Valierian walked towards his mistress, presenting his message at a meter's distance. She had changed her clothing, preferring to wear a simple cloth dress instead of her mastercrafted commissar uniform.
The clothing was relatively cheap, but Mal's near-unnatural beauty would make dirt-stained rags appear elegant when worn on her body.
"My lady, The Rock is now in sight. What is the next step of your plan?"
Turning her gaze from the mass of rocks floating in space, Mal seemed to nod in understanding.
"Good. Everything is going according to calculations. We were fortunate to not meet any opposition on this trip."
She grinned in satisfaction. However, it was a grim expression, devoid of energy and humor.
"Good, now it's time for me to truly play my part."
Valerian furrowed his brows. His mistress was unusually serious. Where was that cheerful girl who seemed to be without a care in the world? Now, Mal seemed completely and utterly stern.
What would she do that could be so important for her to make that face? What feat could possibly require so much attention from the savior of Avarian V?
Mal began to walk toward the front of the ship. She wanted to take a good look at the Dark Angles' main headquarters.
Thinking wordlessly, Valerian followed.
It took quite a long while for them to move to the front of the cruiser at walking speed. However, during most of this time, no words were exchanged.
Valerian knew that his mistress would entertain just about any questions he had. However, the custodian couldn't bring himself to disrupt the serious expression on her silken face.
No doubt, Mal was deep in thought. He had no idea just what those thoughts entailed, but knowing his mistress, it was probably a complex plan for galactic domination, or a political scheme to win the support of the Inquisition.
Walking down the gothic corridors of the small cruiser, the mistress gazed at the stone pillars and the skull decorations. A small smile seemed to grace her lips as she took in the architecture.
Valerian observed Mal's every move, attempting to better grasp his mistress's personality. Of course, this proved to be nigh impossible, as she was an extremely mysterious existence, consisting of principles he had never even considered.
Moreover, her form seemed to reflect a girl who was not exposed to the darkness of war and hardship.
She was an innocent existence, kind and patient towards everyone, even those who crossed her. Valerian was a fine example of this. This made her truly seem like a saint, someone to be protected with his life.
However, Mal could also be contradictory. Nothing about her made sense, as her personality seemed to be the opposite of itself.
Yes, Mal was a kind person, forgiving of mistakes and failure. However, this did not mean she was a compassionate saint. No, she was far from such a thing.
In fact, the most contradictory part of her nature was thanks to this very compassion. After all, Mal was a kind person who valued lives heavily, sparing even her enemies. From what he saw so far, Valerian was able to deduce this much.
So, how was it possible for such a contradiction to be present? How come that merciless glint resided within Mal's amethyst eyes? How did the complete and utter disregard for any and all lives which reflected from the eyes of cold-blooded killers shine from the same eyes whose owner was capable of such compassion?
Yes, Valerian saw it. He was not blind. He saw that exact glint within Mal's eyes as the guardsmen back on Avarian V surrounded her, lasguns ready to fire.
He knew instantly that his mistress was prepared to kill them at a moment's notice. That red hint of bloodlust had entered her eyes, if only for a brief millisecond. From that moment forth, Valerian understood that Mal would be able to personally dismember each and every single of the humans without the least hint of regret afterward.
This came from the same mistress who was almost moved to tears by the loyalty of the Sisters of Battle, the same mistress who laughed off an attempt to take her life, treating her would-be murderer as a trusted advisor.
Aboard their last cruiser, Mal had told Valerian that she wished for all humans to live well, without the threat of xenos and daemons on the horizon. She had told him with eyes filled with compassion that she did not want to take the lives of any sentient being who did not have to be killed, that it would leave a bad taste in her mouth.
Those words were no lie, Valerian could attest to that. He had several millenniums' worth of experience on detecting traces of lying, and he could sense no dishonesty in his mistress.
Therefore, who was Mal? A cold-blooded murderer or a kind, loving saint? Which one was she? Which personality was real and which one was fake?
Valerian had heard of a disease in which the victim's personality was split in twain. However, it was certain that Mal did not have such a disorder. She was made personally by the Emperor. Such an organism could not develop any such diseases. To even think so would be heresy.
Moreover, unlike people who had split personalities, Mal did not sew discord with herself. In fact, every action she took was most certainly approved by her entire mind. Every life she saved and every death she brought was decided by the same personality which made up the entity known as Mal.
Valerian was sure of this in his heart and would accept nothing else. After all, the amount of emotional turmoil he sensed from Mal was minimal.
So, this begged the question.
What is Mal? Or rather, just how could she be this way? How could someone like her exist, so determined yet hypocritical at the same time?
As Valerian asked himself these questions, Mal finally started a conversation. It might have been just Valerin's imagination and paranoia, but it seemed if his mistress's smile revealed her knowledge of his thoughts.
"Valerian, do you think he'll like me?"
She asked with such uncertainty that it was hard for the custodian to answer.
"I am unsure of who you mean, my lady."
Mal sighed.
"He's the person I've come all this way to meet. Someone very important to the Dark Angels."
Valerian nodded in understanding.
"I see."
The golden giant took another step forward.
"I am sure Chapter Master Azrael will be honored by your presence."
To this, Mal's eyes widened before she simply chuckled in amusement, causing Valerian to frown in confusion.
"Not him, dummy. Although I would like to meet Azrael too, I've come to meet someone of more importance to the Dark Angels. Try heightening your standards a little, Valerian. Then you'll see who I'm talking about."
Continuing to frown, the custodian began to think once more, acceding to Mal's advice.
There could only be one person more important to the Dark Angels than their Chapter Master, and that person was...
Suddenly, Valerian's eyes widened in shock beneath his helm, his voice becoming slightly lighter with shock.
"M-my lady, could you possibly mean… The Lion?"
No, it couldn't be. The custodian chastised himself for such an outrageous guess. He had let his imagination get the best of him.
Valerian resisted the urge to hit his face with a palm. Surely, he needed much more training. Letting loose such an outrageous question was far too unprofessional.
However, such thoughts became naught after Mal's curt nod.
Valerian began to protest. His mind was frantically trying to piece together this new information. The custodian almost stuttered as he asked unintelligent questions, as his brain was still preoccupied with processing the information Mal imparted to him.
"My lady! If you are seeking to reclaim The Lion, why are you here? Was the Primarch not lost in the Warp?"
Mal chuckled again.
"Oh yeah, you don't know. I'm not surprised. Not even Azrael is aware of his chapter's most well-kept secret after all."
Valerian's brows became even more furrowed as he attempted to think, only to widen his eyes in shock once more.
A Custodian's mind was made to process information thousands, if not millions of times faster than a normal human's. Even so, running thousands of scenarios in his brain at once, Valerian was still unable to come to a conclusion. The Dark Angels were a highly mysterious chapter of Space Marines, their valor in battle only matched by their almost-suspicious amount of secrecy. There just wasn't enough information to use.
According to high-clearance Imperial records, Lion El'Jonson's location was a mystery after his bombing of Caliban, followed by the Warp storm which devastated the planet soon after.
It was speculated that he was either deceased or was sent into the Warp, carrying out the will of his father in the horrible depths of the Immaterium.
Mal grinned.
"I'm probably the only living person in the galaxy who knows this right now, besides my father, of course, but I don't mind sharing with you."
Valerian looked to his mistress with serious eyes, awaiting her explanation.
Mal chuckled, but there was no mirth in her eyes. It was as if she found this funny, but in some sort of deranged and ironic way.
"Apparently, the xeno species dubbed, The Watchers in the Dark, carried his injured body deep beneath the confines of The Rock. Lion El'Jonson is resting there, fully healed. He's just waiting in a little room, ready to be brought out of his coma during a time he will be needed again."
Mal's mirthless grin grew wider.
"None of the Dark Angels know about this, not even Azrael."
The girl brought a hand up to cover her face.
"Honestly, I would laugh at this situation if I didn't feel so sorry for them, and every other person in the Imperium."
Shaking her head, Mal regained her curt smile. She extended her arms to her sides, facing Valerian.
"Well, that's why I'm here, to bring sleeping beauty back from dreamland, preferably not with a kiss on the lips. I'm not that into incest."
Mal proceeded to shove her hands in her pockets while chuckling at her own joke, a joke that no one but the Emperor would understand.
Meanwhile, Valerian was shell-shocked.
The guardian was close to panicking now, his mind working feverishly to somehow accept this newfound information. It was unbelievable. However, it was all he could surmise from Mal's words. This was the only logical conclusion.
Still, it was too unbelievable still. After all, how could the Lion be inside The Rock, the most secure base of the Dark Angels?
The long lost Primarch was under the feet of his very sons this whole time? What sort of twisted irony was this?
Such a bizarre scenario couldn't be possible, right? If it was true, then the situation would be the worst scandal in ten thousand years.
How long must he have slept? 10 thousand years? 20 thousand? Just the idea of it was inconceivable. How many Dark Angels had died in the field of battle, hoping to meet their gene-father in the afterlife? How many of them were in the Warp right now? Trying to find him?
If this information was true, then ten thousand years of heroic sacrifices and acts of faith would be instantly rendered void.
Valerian quickly came to terms with the information and sighed inwardly. It was not his place to judge the will of the Emperor. He would not doubt the words of his mistress.
Valerian had met with Grandmaster Azrael once before. The Dark Angel was a serious man, surprisingly kind, but not naive. He had weathered storms of evil and corruption; sometimes literally, and emerged unharmed. Just what kind of expression would that stern face make if he were to learn the truth?
Even with his incredible mind, Valerian could not predict the Chapter Master's reaction to this information.
Mal chuckled lightly.
"Strange, right? Not many would expect something like this."
"But how?!"
Valerian's already-breaking mask of calm could not be maintained any more after the reveal of this information. He had never possessed the same stern indifference and acceptance of newfound information like his brothers. Of course, this was thanks to his surprising amount of inexperience for a warrior who has lived for ten thousand years.
The girl continued speaking, completely ignoring the custodian's behavior, which would have earned him a stern scolding from his superiors. She either didn't know of this flaw in Valerian, or she just did not care.
"You see, Valerian, the Lion traveled back to Caliban after the Horus Heresy, grief-filled and guilt-ridden, for he did not arrive on time to prevent the Emperor's fate."
The custodian nodded. This much he knew. It was well within Imperial record.
"However, as he arrived above the orbit of his beloved planet, he was suddenly struck by another act of betrayal, as if the Heresy wasn't enough."
A patronising humor could be seen in Mal's eyes, as if mocking the world for being so cruel.
"The planetary defenses of Caliban fired on the Lion, surprising him and killing many Dark Angels in his charge. Seeing this, he judged the planet to be Chaos-infested, ordering a series of orbital bombardments with the intention to rid the world of Warp taint."
A spiteful chuckle came from Mal as her gaze narrowed.
Valerian could only stand in grim silence at this, his faced frozen into a single expression. He was used to it at this point, this kind of betrayal. In the Imperium, it was honestly not that rare anymore. The only surprising part was the fact that he didn't know of this beforehand, and even that wasn't so shocking if you put two and two together and analysed the Dark Angels' high amount of secrecy.
Mal chuckled once more before she continued on with the story, a cruel sneer decorating her lips; creating an expression not fit for someone so fair.
"But you know, that's not all, Valerian. That's not all. Do you know what the icing on the cake is? The cherry on top? The frakking home run?"
A snort escaped her lips.
"It was his second-in-command who betrayed him, the man who he saw as a father and friend. In the end, it was Luther who forsook the Lion, leading the whole of Caliban to eternal damnation."
Mal drew another breath.
"At the end, a Chaos-boosted Luther fought with the Lion and lost, but not before wounding him with a cursed blow."
She shrugged.
"Well, it didn't really matter, as the Chaos gods got pissed off at his loss and threw a hissy fit, completely destroying the planet with their Warp storm."
Valerian found himself sympathizing with the Lion. Having your trusted brother betray you, only to find out that another one had done the same soon afterword. Such a thing was not pleasant to experience.
Even so, he was not surprised, nor was he particularly outraged. Yes, these actions described were horrid and vile, speaking no better of the perpetrators.
However, the same tale had been sung so many times during the Imperium's history that one more was honestly not that big a deal anymore.
Horus, Konrad Kurze, Alpharius, Omegon, Lorgar Auralien, Fulgrim, Mortarion, Angron, and so forth. If these gods among men could be persuaded to follow the whims of Chaos, so could a mortal man like Luther.
Seeing that Valerian was taking this information relatively well, Mal continued.
"After that, The Watchers in the Dark just dragged Lion's body away, somehow healed his wounds to the point where he was fully healed, and just kept him in a room ever since."
She took another deep breath as she composed herself.
As Valerian processed this information, he could only ask one question. Something about the expression on Mal's face just did not seem right.
"Why are you so rattled at this, my lady? You were not present during the battle, nor have you met the Lion."
Simply, it was highly illogical for Mal to be so emotional about this. After all, she had never even met the Primarch. To her, it must have just been a story, something akin to a mission briefing from the Emperor.
Except, it wasn't. Such thoughts were immediately proven false by Mal's next words.
She chuckled, more bitter and sinister than ever before.
"Oh no, you're confusing these emotions for spite and anger for Lion El'Jonson and the Dark Angels. I assure you, they are not. As you're probably thinking, these kinds of things have been happening for dozens of millennia, this one is just a little special. I've never met my brother, so I don't feel sorry for him yet."
Suddenly, those purple eyes were staring into Valerian's visors. Mal was literally staring into his soul.
It might have been his imagination, but a black flame of rage seemed to be burning in them, accompanied by a glimmer of red.
It was then he noticed that he never truly discovered Mal's emotional state during this conversation.
Valerian thought that Mal was bitter and angry, raging over what had happened to the Lion and the Dark Angels. However, as he stared into those eyes, it was all proven wrong.
No, there was definitely anger in there, paired with pity. However, Mal's eyes were akin to a scorching inferno threatening to devour everything. Valerian decided instantly that her anger and sorrow was not directed at the Dark Angels or their traitor brothers.
After all, the anger in those eyes was personal, meant for a hated foe, someone she hated so much that death would be considered a mercy to them.
Therefore, it was not for the Dark Angels. Valerian knew Mal for long enough that she would not get so emotional over them. Not even a Space Marine chapter. A week ago, she had talked about their deaths like they were worth nothing, with an expression of pure calm.
There was no way she would get this angry over them.
Mal continued, the venom in her eyes becoming more concentrated by the second. It seemed to spill out of her like a lake, spite so concentrated, so crystallized that it seemed as if black sludge was leaking from her every pore.
"Do you know who told me about this in the first place? Do you know how much pain it caused Him? Can you even possibly imagine the agony he went through in those moments? Can you?!"
Valerian gulped as he looked into the twin abysses below him, feeling his very soul being pulled into that dark abyss. Mal was grinning in barely-restrained anger, the opening of her mouth resembling a pathway to the void.
In those moments, even the trained custodian began to shed cold sweat as he struggled to push back the butterflies overflowing in his stomach. An unstoppable amount of dread filled Valerian's being as he stared into the void. It was all he could do to stop himself from shaking, and even that was difficult.
"What is this aura?! Such concentrated spite, I feel as if I am drowning in it!"
Mal continued to speak, however, her words were now distorted, assaulting Valerian's senses from every direction, deafening even to his ears. Her voice was mocking and harsh, like the sensation of flesh rubbed on a cheese grater.
"The people in this little empire just seem to love betraying each other, don't they?! After all, if someone like Dad, someone who lifted humanity out of the ground when it was already six feet under, someone who gave them ownership over the very stars, someone who is a literal beacon of hope in this unforgiving universe!"
The very earth seemed to shake under Mal's fury as her voice became even louder.
"If humanity had found it within those wretched little hearts of theirs to actually betray someone as kind as Him, then just what the hell are they?! Who the hell do they think they are, dragging someone as radiant as him down into their disgusting puddles of filth?!"
Suddenly, the suffocating pressure and wretched miasma that seemed to permeate from Mal disappeared. It was instantaneous, as if that strange pressure never seemed to exist at all.
She looked to the metal floor, face completely obscured by the rim of her cap. It was if Mal couldn't find the strength to speak anymore, as if something in her had just suddenly broken.
The girl, now eerily silent, addressed Valerian with a soft and vulnerable tone, as if she was coping with some sort of unbearable pain.
The custodian had no idea how to react to this, and could only stand in shock, relieved at the disappearance of that drowning aura.
However, he could not find the words to refute Mal's claims. It was because of the simple fact that he couldn't. After all, if humanity had been truly loyal and thankful for the gifts He bestowed upon them, then the Horus Heresy would have never transpired. He knew this. Everyone knew this.
Even so, Valerian would still fight for humanity, even if they betrayed his master. After all, he was one of the few custodians to see hope in the vastly inferior masses. He saw their potential, and would defend them with his life if he had no other choice. Still, even if Valerian favored humanity to that degree, he still could not bring himself to disprove Mal. After all, if her words were truly false, then chaos cults would not exist, rebellions would not exist. The entirety of the Traitor Legions would not exist.
Therefore, Valerian did not speak. He would listen to everything Mal said. Not only because of the fact that he agreed with her on some parts, but also so that she could relieve herself of this seemingly pent up stress. It wasn't just humanity, there seemed to be something else troubling Mal, something that seemed to cause her pain.
"How long has she been hiding this? How long has this anger, this sorrow, been concealed within that tightly maintained smile of hers?"
Mal hid it well, but with this outburst, the truth was revealed. Valerian was not a therapist, but he knew that Mal needed to finish talking with just one look at her. Those smiles he saw aboard his ship, those times he had seen her joyful face, eagerly moving on to her next objective. This ugly darkness was hidden deep in those expressions all along, demanding to be released. This conversation seemed to be Mal's breaking point, the time where she snapped and came clean with everything.
"He suffers, you know."
Mal's head remained lowered, but Valerian didn't pay that any mind. He continued his silence, giving Mal all the time she needed to let out her emotions.
"Every time He thinks of his sons, that expression would come. That face, that face which reeks of the stench of apology and regret. I know that when He thinks of them, He always wonders how it could have been, how things could have been better if He formed a different relationship with them."
Mal sighed.
"The Emperor never thought that Horus would be the one to defect. Even with such great powers of foresight, He simply laughed off that possibility. That was the reason for His downfall."
A hollow chuckle escaped Mal's lips.
"I once asked Dad whether He hated Horus for what he did. I asked Him whether He hated any of His sons because of what they did."
Valerian tensed in further anticipation.
"Do you know what He said, Valerian? These were his exact words, 'The ruin of my empire is a responsibility shared by me and my sons. However, my part in its downfall was much more intensive than theirs. Ultimately, it was my fault.'"
She covered her face with a hand.
"I can't deny His part in it, but Dad blames Himself far too much than He deserves to. Every day, the Emperor woefully ponders over what he could have done differently, what he could have changed, if he could have prevented his sons from betraying him."
Mal tilted her head up to face Valerian. It seemed as if tears of grief would drip from those amethyst orbs any moment now, an unbelievable contrast to the dark pits of spite previously shown.
"He was the one who was betrayed. He was the one who was hurt the most. And it is He who is suffering the most after the whole ordeal. Even so, Dad is willing to admit his faults and reflect upon the past. All while those brothers of mine are still throwing their silly little temper tantrums in the Warp, announcing their so-called pain to the rest of the galaxy like spoiled brats flaunting a large allowance. They have learned nothing, letting their pain and bitterness consume them. Now, they are beyond redemption, while He still mourns their loss."
A wistful smile graved Mal's lips as her eyes seemed to brim with pain.
"Just thinking of them hurts Him. When he is reminded of his sons, Dad always puts on that expression, like He's reminiscing of what could have been. I don't even have to be a psyker to know that the emotional pain he feels from his own mistakes tears him apart from the inside."
Mal's voice became quiet, to the point where it would barely be heard by human ears. Her words came out in distorted murmurs, as if she didn't want to speak anymore.
"I don't want Him to feel this pain, this overwhelming amount of mental agony. The damnation of His sons pains Him more than we will ever know, and the fate of His empire burdens Him to no ends."
A single tear fell to the floor, shocking Valierian.
"I would rather die a thousand deaths than to let Dad keep feeling this pain. I would scour a hundred thousand worlds clean to ease his burden, if just a little. However, that wouldn't work. No, the only way I could possibly help my father in any way would be to follow his orders and fix this blasted Imperium to the best of my ability, a process that will take much longer than a few millennia."
Another hollow chuckle resounded within the cruiser as the words of a grief-torn girl echoed across its hall.
"I could tear a man's soul from his body, drown whole worlds in holy fire, and inspire courage and valor into the hearts of millions. Yet, for all that power, I can't repair my own father's broken heart. Pathetic, isn't it. Go on, laugh if you want."
A pained grimace sat upon Mal's face, as if she expected Valerian to do just that.
However, no laughing could be heard, only silence as the custodian composed himself.
As Mal laid her heart bare for all to see, Valerian was not disillusioned, nor was he judgemental of his mistress. No, instead, the guardian was moved and humbled by her words.
After all, Mal spoke of things a custodian would never even think of. Their kind consisted of guardians, bodyguards ready to throw their lives away for the Emperor's wellbeing. However, what exactly did that mean? The ten thousand acted as their sire's personal shields, protecting Him against any and all enemies who would threaten His safety.
However, that only applied for physical enemies. They did nothing for the ailments of His heart. How could they, as the Emperor often acted like an uncaring machine, seeming bearing no signs of insecurity or mental pain. They thought that the Emperor's human side did not even exist, that the robotic side of him was all there was.
That notion was proven false by the entity known as Mal.
Valerian now knew that this was not the case, that there was a kind part of the Emperor which cared for his subjects. After all, Mal's words were definitely not lies. It would seem as if his sire did possess human attributes after all.
The custodian looked to the skies, letting out a ragged sigh, reminiscent of the horrors of the past ten thousand years.
"It would seem our failures were more extensive than previously imagined, Captain-General. If there was truly a hidden side to the Emperor, a side that we failed to consul, then we are no better than the filthy traitors who dirty his name. We of the ten thousand were closest to him, therefore, we should have been present to advise and protect him not only against the enemies of humanity, but the insecurities of his own mind. Even if the Emperor wished to hide this side of his from us, we should have been there for him. We should have been there to save him."
Even so, it was not to be, as the Emperor was betrayed in the end, His downfall attributed to the most enigmatic of His sons.
As Valierian thought of this, he addressed Mal with a strained tone, struggling to expel the words from his mind.
"My lady, there is no matter deserving of my laughter. In fact, your humble words have inspired in me even greater devotion to your protection."
Wistfully, Valierian whispered,
"Perhaps, the Horus Heresy could have been prevented if you were present during the time."
Mal did not show any signs of hearing this, but her superhuman ears should have been able to easily gather the sounds. She simply looked up, stunned at the previous words of the custodian.
Shocked lips curled up in gratitude as Mal smiled with warmth.
"Thank you Valierian. You always know what to sa-"
At that moment, Mal's eyes went wide as she violently flinched backwards, as if some illusionary spell had been broken.
She gaped at Valierian for a few seconds before coming back to her senses.
Chuckling with embarrassment, Mal's voice was now back to its cheery, normal form.
"Sorry Valierian. I got way too offtopic. Thanks for hearing me ramble."
The custodian blinked in confusion. Had the grief in Mal's mind possessed her?
No matter, his lady was back, and it was Valerian's duty to aid her. He had no time to entertain his petty questions, not when an operation was about to begin.
Mal continued to walk towards the front of the ship, the Custodes tightly following behind her.
It did not take long to reach their intended location, as they were greeted with a compacted double door leading to the bridge. As she saw this, Mal stopped in her tracks, scratching her head nervously before turning back to face the Valierian.
"Oh, and I forgot to mention…."
Valierian tensed. He had a really bad feeling about this.
"This won't exactly be a diplomatic mission…"
He had a really bad feeling about this.
Mal's gaze frantically danced around the corridor, looking at everything but Valerian.
"Well, I said I was here to meet Lion, but actually… I'm actually here to sneak aboard the Dark Angels' base and wake him before they notice me."
Valierian used ninety percent of his self-restraint to hold back from slapping his face.
However, after thinking about it, he saw the logic in Mal's plan. It seemed crude and unrefined, but for someone like Mal, it was possible. It could also be the best course of action.
If they were to land and meet with the Dark Angels and tell them that the Primarch they thought to be lost was literally sleeping peacefully in their base, they would be met with only outrage and hostility. Even if a custodian is there to confirm Mal's claims, it would still not be enough to overthrow ten thousand years of religious belief and fanaticism.
However, if Mal were to sneak aboard and use the awakened Lion himself as proof of her claims, then the result would be obvious. Whatever hostility they may have would be completely drowned in the sheer joy at his return.
The only problem lay in the stealth part of the mission. Would someone with an aura as impressive as Mal's truly be able to conceal themselves?
In the end, that wasn't something he should be concerned with. The fact was, if he was there, then the stealth mission would be much more difficult. Even if Mal had a technique to conceal both of them, she would just be slowed down by his hulking mass.
While the Custodes are surprisingly silent and stealthy when they wish to be, Valierian could tell at a glance that Mal would do much better on this mission without him.
He wished to quell his mistress's eagerness and to urge her to create a more elaborate and foolproof plan, but stopped himself just as the words were about to exit his mouth.
Widening his eyes in thought, the custodian nodded to himself.
It is my lady who is being addressed. She is a genius hand-crafted by the Emperor himself. She would not simply allow so many flaws in her plan! Unless…
Valierian resisted the urge to chuckle.
Of course. How foolish I am. An entire strategy must already be positioned insider her mind. There is no need to create a plan when it already exists. To even suggest that a genius like her to do so is the epitome of insults. My lady must already have a thousand detailed contingency plans for the situation ready to use at all times. That is simply who she is.
The custodian, coming to his own conclusions about Mal's plan, gave his consent for the mission, as he assumed that she already had a four-dimensional map of all the events that would come to pass in her mind, such was her tactical genius.
Therefore, there was only one thing to say. A simple farewell to his brilliant mistress.
"Then I bid you farewell, my lady. May you achieve your goal without delay."
Mal's embarrassed grin froze in place for a second.
"Eh?"
When the custodian did not say anything more, she asked, bewildered,
"You're not mad?"
It was difficult to interpret the custodian's body language, but it would seem that he was confused.
"There is no reason for my anger, my lady. If anything, I should be praising your genius in such a detailed strategy."
Mal blinked twice, the world utterly silent around her.
"But the only thing I said was that I would sneak aboard The Rock. What strategies are you talking about?"
"Surely you jest, my lady. I am referring to the grand plan you have in store for this mission. Every single possibility in this endeavor must be already predicted in your ingenious mind."
Mal gaped at her bodyguard in shock, whole seconds passing by.
"Uh... you seem to be overestimating me, Valierian."
The custodian chuckled.
"I will strive to meet your humble example, my lady. I wish you the best of luck."
The left side of Mal's face twitched repeatedly as her confused expression lingered on her face. Slowly spinning her body away from Valerian's direction, she said,
"Uhh… Ok then…"
Soon, the double-door opened with a glorious metal creaking, surprisingly dignified for such a noise.
Walking inside the room which lay beyond, Mal said her farewells, confusion still present on her face.
"Well, see you later, I guess…."
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With a flash of psychic might, Mal teleported herself onto the surface of The Rock. She used the least amount of psychic energy necessary to do this.
She had to do so from an enormous distance from her ship which was parked extremely far from the Dark Angels' base to avoid suspicion. However, when Mal used the powers of the Warp to enhance her vision, she saw the large base as if it was right in front of her, enabling her to teleport onto it.
Well, with the burst of power released during the teleportation, the librarians in the base must have sensed her. Mal knew that was going to happen a long time ago.
It just meant that she would have to avoid them more than everyone else. Sure, those librarians may raise high alert, but with what she was planning, it shouldn't matter.
Right now, Mal was already suppressing her own power, so no psyker around should have been able to sense it. At least she thought so.
Focusing on the area around her, Mal thought back to the words of her father.
Back when they were training, the Emperor had taught her an extremely valuable stealth maneuver.
Yes, it was extremely taxing and difficult to maintain, but for such a high-quality stealth tool, the preparations would be worth it.
Channeling the power of the Warp, Mal enforced her will upon the eldritch energies around her, transforming it into dazzling gold. She solidified the energy into a barrier which appeared around her in a translucent oval shape, obscuring her body from every angle.
The girl floated into the air in order to travel faster, credited to her telekinesis. Again, just something else for the Librarians to pick up on. However, she would restrict her powers to the absolute maximum, so the effect shouldn't have been that bad.
Closing her eyes, Mal delivered her will within the energies surrounding her, changing the properties of the barrier surrounding her.
The result was simple. The golden bubble around the girl, stretching out for three inches around her, had now become an information-altering barrier.
As in, any information gathered from the eyes, nose, skin, tongue, and ears within the barrier would be altered into information benefitting Mal.
All sensory receptors in the body receive information from outside the body, which is processed by the brain and converted into comprehensible knowledge.
The stealth tool created by Mal uses that function to serve its purpose.
Human eyes are lined with photoreceptors in the back to allow the capability of sight. Called rods and cones, these tiny devices are responsible for the grand view allowed to humans, granting the power to perceive everything in front of them. However, in the body part known as the eye, there is a blind spot. A small space where the optic nerve intrudes upon the back of the eye, denying the placement of photoreceptors on that specific location.
The non-vision of the area in which vision would be allowed if photoreceptors were present, is called the blind spot, a specific point in human vision which does not allow the enlightenment granted by sight.
Now, if the human brain was cruder, less sophisticated, then that spot would be rendered a black dot by the eye. After all, vision in that specific area did not exist, right?
Wrong. Unfortunately for many, the human mind is not truthful to its master.
The organ is a primary example of human arrogance, painting a sculpture of false extravagance to attempt to explain what it simply does not know. The simple blank in vision could not be accepted, no, would not be accepted, as the brain was far too conceited to allow it. Instead, the brain projects an illusion in the blind spot, covering it up in a portrait created by the most likely colors and shapes that would be in its place, effectively removing the hole.
Of course, the human has no idea that this is happening, unknowing of the fact that his own eyes are partially deceiving him.
Mal was essentially taking advantage of the brain's biological ignorance, using it to fuel her illusionary barrier.
The Warp energies in the oval shield around her would infiltrate the minds of humans who sensed it, completely obscuring it from their view, rendering the area within it a null void.
Of course, if it was just a regular shade of black, then it would be picked up by the eyes of any a man.
However, the hidden things within the barrier were not simply just black. They were null, completely dark to human senses, which in effect, is the same as the blind spot in human eyes.
Of course, this meant that the illusionary veil provided by the brain for the human eye's blind spot would also appear for this case also, except for all the senses. It was simple science, and a little loophole around Mal actually mastering reality-breaking stealth spells.
For the conjuring of spells, the laws of the materium could be a useful crutch that would save you from expending an unnecessary amount of power, if you knew how to use them correctly, of course.
Willing herself to fly forward, Mal traversed the stone surface of The Rock, paying barely any attention to the mechanical contraptions and additions on the base.
Frowning, Mal sighed in acceptance, as she realized just how daunting her mission was.
As her genetic origin is extremely similar to that of a Primarch's, Mal's body instinctively told her if one of her brothers were nearby, a function that seemed to be built into it. Furthermore, she was now a psyker, which meant that she could sense Lion's presence, as he was created with a combination of science and sorcery. Mal could quite literally feel her brother's shining presence from the edge of the solar system. It was like a flame in a sea of darkness.
Mal could sense the souls of mortals and psykers, but only at certain distances unless if she were to actively seek them out. But, Lion's presence took no effort to find. It just kept shining in its location, the flame-like substance dancing merrily, as if it were eager for her presence.
Mal's displeasure was thanks to the simple fact that the inner chamber which held the Lion was hundreds, if not thousands of kilometers underground. The Rock was practically a whole continent, holding possibly millions of servants and servitors.
"I thought it would be big, but not this big…"
Rubbing her forehead, Mal sighed again.
"I probably shouldn't go faster than the speed of sound for this. Even if I'm flying, there's still a chance of bumping into someone in the air. I'm really sure that they wouldn't survive the impact, no matter how many augmentations they might have."
And so, the extremely slow, dull, and overly vexing journey began.
Mal slowly (by her standards) floated forward, traversing the barren surface of the base. There really wasn't much to see, just a sea of endless stone, formerly polished, now chipped and damaged thanks to the winds of time. It seemed to cover gunmetal grey spires and buildings, leading to the inside of the base, giving off an almost barbaric appearance.
She quickly flew into a landing dock for starships, which Mal presumed to lead to the inside of the base.
However, as she walked into the metal building, Mal soon realised that she had no way of getting in.
The metal doors leading to inside the star base was closed off, as no starship pilots needed to get in.
Mal sighed. She expected something like this, but it was still annoying to see.
"Well, looks like I need to break through after all."
Truthfully, she did not want to destroy Dark Angels' property, but since the Librarians were probably on to her already, Mal had no time to waste by waiting for a pilot to dock their vessel.
Pulling out her power-saber from her Warp-storage, Mal cut a square chunk of the skull-decorated door, the power field around the weapon separating solid pieces of sacred adamantium with surprising ease.
Mal had already checked for the presence of people near the location, and decided to act, as there was no one close. Simply put, a single door could not blind Mal's psychic sight, which saw souls as torches of flame in the sea of nightmares.
As she stepped through the hole in the door, Mal quickly extended a hand, inserting the melted piece of carved adamantium back into its previous position. Sending a stream of psychic energy into the metal, she willed it to cool, neatly compounding the separate part into the whole. Of course, Mal cut the part of the door with the least amount of detailed engravings and designs, as she didn't want to waste the time repairing such complex images.
As she entered the inside of the base, Mal quickly flew forward, uncaring for the many intimidating pieces of metal architecture around her.
She flew into every open path which lead to lower levels, quickly traversing the maze-like layout of The Rock.
Mighty stone and metal pillars and hallways were ignored. Impressive golden statues of the Lion and the Emperor were not even spared a glance. The large amounts of servitors and chapter serfs were barely even present in Mal's mind, the same for the musty incense and oil stench that enemated from every single one of them.
Mal had been to a Chaos Space Marines' headquarters. Odors like this were already nothing to her. Besides, almost every part of her mind was now focused on reaching her brother.
As the girl turned past the last piller-filled hallway, she realised that it lead to a large area, possibly a whole city wide. In that area, there were Space Marines, servitors, and a plethora of other humans. Each one of them seemed to be performing their duties, training, polishing, eating, along with many other things. Vehicles zipped through the air on heightened roads and streets, as if there were multiple layers to the city-like complex.
There were mighty buildings, made for war, where each of them rested in. Rhinos tanks, land speeders, along with other wartime vehicles were being polished and repaired within some of those structures. If Mal was paying more attention, she would have noticed the fervent chanting of the machines' caretakers, probably litanies of cleansing or something of that sort.
However, in this situation, Mal didn't bat an eye at any of this, instead continuing to fly forward, seeking hidden stairways or other paths to areas further underground. None of the airborne vehicles came close to hitting her, as a demigod's enhanced reaction speed made short work of their non-existent swiftness.
Eventually, she found one. It was some sort of stone stairway with two sword-grasping hooded statues to both sides, apparently as a decoration or as a warning. It could have been both.
Mal had less than a millisecond to admire the beautiful, completely symmetrical statues as her bullet-like speed forced her body speeding down the steps and to the structures further within. Mal was once more traversing corridors and hallways, with even more stone and metal before. To a lesser human, the area would have induced a sense of claustrophobia. To Mal, who almost had tunnel vision at this time, it might as well have not existed.
"Ok, I really gotta hurry. There's no doubt the Librarians caught on to me now. They probably know exactly where I am. No choice, I'm going to have to go even faster!"
Accelerating her already impressive velocity, Mal found herself pushing against an invisible wall with almost elastic properties. An invisible wall that seemed to be intent on following her for some reason.
Grinning at the challenge, the champion stretched her hands out to the apparent wall, pushing against it with all her accumulated speed.
As Mal's speed increased even further, her hands reached the wall, punching forward into it and stretching out the elastic material.
"Not enough. Just a little more then."
In another second, the elastic barrier's integrity began to fail, as the part stretched out by Mal's fists became thinner and thinner.
It did not take even a microsecond for Mal to burst through the wall after that, leaving the remnants behind her. The remains of the wall seemed to disperse to the sides of the hole through it, forming an enormous circular shock wave.
Suddenly, a gigantic burst of kinetic energy shook every single component of the corridor Mal seemed to be speeding past, like some sort of twisted combination of earthquake and avalanche. A booming wave of sound exploded in every direction, as if broken free from a prison.
The resounding shockwave could be felt for miles and miles away, leading many Dark Angels to investigate, wondering if there was somehow an enemy attack coming from inside the base itself. Of course, it did not destroy any rooms or topple any structures, credited to the immense durability of Imperial engineering.
Mal somewhat knew this was going to happen, but she didn't care. If the Librarians were already onto her, the rest of their brothers would not be too far behind. Besides, she was now officially too fast for them to catch, so it didn't even matter. They would not be able to react to an invisible opponent traveling faster than the speed of sound, and even if they could, they were not fast enough to do any real damage.
Nodding at her logic, the girl sped forth, the sound left behind by her movements futilly attempting to catch her accelerating body.
Naturally, at the speed Mal was traveling with, it only took a minute for her to reach a door. However, she was prepared for this.
Perhaps it lead to another level downstairs? Or maybe simply nowhere important. It didn't really matter. Mal was moving faster than the speed of sound, and she didn't feel like stopping.
Eyes glowing with golden power, a wall of blue fire three meters wide was sudden brought into existence in front of Mal, following her at an unbelievable speed.
Eyeing the billowing flames with satisfaction, Mal began to spin, her form contorting into that of a speeding bullet's. Of course, the flame followed her movements.
As the girl reached the metal door, her rotating appearance was already unlike that of a human's, resembling a whirlwind of gold. She brought about regular realspace flames to conceal her location from the Librarians.
The flame, however, became a literal whirlwind, as it spun and spun, becoming a rotation of unceasing fire. Soon, the flames were spread thin in all directions thanks to the speed at which it traveled, covering Mal's whole body as if it was protecting her in some way.
The resulting phenomenon resembled a tornado if it was flipped sideways, the base of the swirling flames becoming its head.
This result was indeed what Mal wished for, as she did not wish to slam headfirst into the adamantium door. It would hurt even if she had her current body. Besides, the impact would slow her drastically, which she did not want.
Therefore, Mal sped into the door with her fire-drill in front of her, the girl smiling at the anticipated result.
The door was almost completely burned away, a molten hole the size of a venerable dreadnought in its middle.
"Hmm. Maybe I shouldn't have done that… Oh well, it doesn't matter. It's nothing out of the Imperium's wallet. The Dark Angels could just have it replaced easily."
There was no chance the Astartes would complain about a sealed door if their Primarch was revived. Mal just needed to find the Lion and everything would be just fine.
Thinking this, the girl continued to speed forward, busting down all the doors in her way. Of course, since she did not have a map, Mal would run into many dead ends and wrong pathways. Therefore, it would take a long time for the girl to find the Lion's room. The doors weren't that big of a deal. She could just fix them later.
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Chapter Master Azrael was meditating in his champers, resting after his victorious return from a faraway campaign. Dressed in clear white robes, the man sat peacefully, sword and combi-bolter by his side.
He prayed for wisdom from the Emperor and the Lion, wishing for some sort of hope in these dark times. The sheer urgency of the Imperium's situation could have been seen just from a glance at the remains of Cadia, a glorious bastion defended by countless generations of loyal Imperial soldiers for thousands of years. For a long time, the planet was the pride of humanity, surpassed only by glorious Terra and wondrous Mars.
Now it was just a collection of lifeless rocks, drifting aimlessly in the void.
The sacrifice of all those loyal guardsmen, who had fought to the last man, completely invalidated by the Imperium's most disgusting foe.
After the revival of Guilliman, a small part of Azrael was overjoyed, believing that the previously bedridden Primarch would be able to unite the fractured Imperium and remake it into a better place, an empire that the Emperor would be proud of.
The Indomitus Crusade was shockingly close to fulfilling this secret wish. Guilliman had become the Imperial regent, arguably the most powerful man in the Imperium.
However, in the end, even the efforts of a living god like Guilliman was not enough to save the flawed empire, as a shocking number of high-ranked planetary governors and officials protested his wishes although he was the Emperor's son. Their refusal would daunt the regent's plans, bringing ruin to all.
It was truly despicable how humanity could do such a thing, placing their own wellbeing over the good of the whole Imperium. However, that was just how it was, and how it will always be. Azrael accepted this fact already.
Even so, that did not mean he had to like it.
However, he was duty bound to his brothers and the Imperium, and Azrael swore to serve both to the end of his days.
Inside of his meditative trance, the Dark Angel sighed as he could hear the doors to his chamber being opened by one of his brothers.
To his ire, a Librarian burst through the door, addressing him with a slightly panicked tone.
Azrael frowned. The young Space Marine in front of him was Brother Kalidian, someone who was usually calm and collected no matter the situation.
This battle brother would not panic even if he had to single handedly combat a horde of ferocious Tyranids. However, with a glance at his current condition, Azrael could not believe that this was the same Space Marine.
Disheveled parchments hung loosely from wrinkled robes, torn and ripped from careless sprinting. There was even a stain of blood at his sleeve, greatly bleeding into the fabric. It could be assumed that he either scraped it against a jagged surface, or that he fell. Neither was likely. Hard, scarred muscles were completely tensed and sweaty, almost as if the Astartes was in a state of fear.
Urgent eyes peered into Azrael's own from a pale face as the Librarian reported to him.
"Grandmaster! The situation is urgent! An intruder is on our base!"
Azrael's eyes snapped open in an instant as the Space Marine practically leapt from his sitting position, standing tall with the Sword of Secrets unsheathed, firmly grasped in one hand, Lion's Wrath in the other.
The man who stood was no longer a peaceful monk in a state of rest. He was Azrael, Grandmaster of the Dark Angels.
His eyes narrowed, emitting a calculating light. His body positioned itself with dignity, forming a perfect standing stance fit for the most beloved of Saints and politicians.
Whoever could bring Brother Kalidius to this state would not be an easy foe.
"Tell me everything."
Those simple words, spoken with the Chapter Master's rich voice, containing the charisma of a legend amongst men, calmed the heart of the Librarian better than any medicine. The man immediately relaxed his body, devoting his whole being into the report.
"Grandmaster, I believe the intruder is a powerful psyker. Their origins and purpose are unknown."
Azrael grit his teeth before taking a deep breath. No matter how unbelievable the claims, he would not doubt his brother. After all, Brother Kalidian had proven himself time and time again in battle. While he was not extremely promising as a psyker, the Librarian was a good soldier, and a decent strategist.
Azrael's gaze seemed to piercing all lies, arriving only at the truth.
"You are sure of this?"
"I swear in the Lion's name."
The Chapter Master sighed.
"How powerful is the enemy psyker, and what method of sorcery did they employ to evade the security of our vessel?"
Kalidian could only shake his head.
"It would seem that they employed teleportation to board The Rock."
Azrael frowned.
"Either there is a teleportation beacon on our vessel, or the enemy is simply an extremely powerful psyker. The second theory is the most likely one."
Kalidian shuddered.
"In that moment, it's soul was revealed to me. Grandmaster, it was akin to staring into a sun. I cannot be sure, but the enemy is possibly an Alpha level psyker. An instant after the teleportation, their presence completely disappeared. I could not detect it ever since."
A chill crawled up Azrael's spine. How was this possible? Any Alpha level psyker would surely be driven insane by their own power. Surely they would not be capable of stealth.
No matter, there was still a dangerous intruder aboard the Dark Angels' headquarters. His priority should not be to identify the nature of the foe, but to protect the Chapter's secrets from them.
"I see. Then we are in dire straits. Assemble all able-bodied Space Marines and combat servitors in The Rock. Have them patrol every single authorised location in the base. Assign guards to the entrances to the restricted sections. Even the ancestral gates of ancient times cannot withstand the might of such a powerful user of the Warp."
Kalidian bowed.
"It shall be done, Grandmaster."
Azrael nodded. He began to walk out of his champers, following the Librarian who was steps ahead of him.
Suddenly, the ground itself began to shake and tremble, emitting a furious roar ahat barbaric cultures would have announced to be the anger of their gods.
Any other man would have had their balance utterly destroyed, falling to the ground instantly. Azrael was exempt from their weakness.
Cursing, the grandmaster looked at his bare feet as if they presented a grave danger.
"That came from beneath us. The enemy is already beyond the restricted section."
The Librarian's eyes widened as he struggled to keep his footing on the shaking ground.
"Change the orders! All forces are to converge at the entrance to the first restricted point! Those qualified to advance will join me in the slaying our foe!."
Azrael grimaced at the situation. Just how was the enemy so swift? Moreover, why had they created that shockwave? The implications were grim, and the Grandmaster was almost baffled.
Never in the history of the Dark Angles had they encountered a situation as bizarre as this. However, if there was any man qualified to bring his Chapter to victory in this situation, it was Azrael. His ability to quickly adapt would surely bring them to victory once again.
Right?
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Mal hit her head. That was the only way to say it. She hit her head.
A few seconds ago, Mal came across this large and intimidating gate, decorated by extremely fancy engravings and archaic technology. It seemed to be made of something different than the regular ceremite of the other doors, something much stronger.
In the end, Mal's fire drill was not able to bypass the sturdy wall, and she crashed headfirst into it at the speed of sound.
"Ahh! I can feel it in my brain!"
Her skull had fractured and a shard of it impaled itself in her brain.
It only took a second for it to heal, but Mal still grimaced at the pain. She was not used to this much of it, just like any other person originating from the second millenium. The fact that her pain sensitivity was much higher than a normal human's didn't help either. However, simply the knowledge that she was immortal reduced the extremity of the experience. After all, there would be no lasting consequences, so any worries would be unjustified.
Rising up, Mal wiped the blood that had dripped near her eyes as her skull reassembled itself.
She began to stare at the archaic door, which seemed to have a sword-shaped slot in it.
"I think that this leads down… Yeah, it should."
Mal decided not to break the door down, as she wasn't sure if she could fix it. This entrance was possibly irreplaceable, so she quickly found another way.
"Guess I'll just go around then."
Mal dispelled her invisibility barrier, as it was now unnecessary. Forcing nearby material to combine with the oxygen in the air, she created a brilliant blue flame on her palm, burning at temperatures that would melt stone.
Focusing on the area beside the door, Mal thrust the flame forward at the stone wall.
Instantly, the size of the fire expanded, becoming a raging inferno. In an instant, the stone making up the wall had been reduced to dripping magma, a large hole burned through the structure.
With no time to wait for the magma to cool, Mal dissipated her flame and leapt forward, not touching the burning rocks in her path.
What awaited her was simply another room, albeit with an empty prisoner's chamber this time. It was effectively a dead end.
Mal's eye twitched.
"This is the last pathway I haven't explored yet. This means that there are literally no paths to Lion's chamber. I just wasted a whole five minutes of my life unnecessarily breaking through doors."
Bringing a palm to her head, Mal depressingly sighed. She could feel the start of a migraine.
She could sense Lion's soul beneath her, for surely twenty meters at least.
Glaring at that elegant light for a few seconds, Mal slapped herself to the point where her forehead fractured.
Completely ignoring the pain, the girl muttered angrily,
"For frakk's sake! I could've just done this at the start!"
Forming two azure flames in her hands, Mal continued to glare at the ground beneath her, almost as if it were her enemy.
"Yeah, I think this will be better."
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Azrael gritted his teeth as he burst through another ruined door with his company.
The mysterious intruder had melted circular holes in every single of the adamantium devices, somehow reducing sturdy, ancient defenses into molten puddles.
The Chapter Master continued to descend further down the base, passing by more and more ruined doors by the minute. He was sprinting the fastest speed of an Astartes, the world becoming almost a blur around him.
Azrael was still in his simple robes, now torn and ripped thanks to his physical exertion.
He had brought along a company of Space Marines, veterans who had access to all but the most sanctified of sections. Some of these Astartes were fully armored, some in robes just like him.
They had no time to dress, as the intruder was already deep within their headquarters. Naturally, Azrael spearheaded his forces even in his unarmored state. He was Chapter Master after all.
After they sprinted for a few more minutes at maximum speed, Azrael suddenly stopped, his bare feet refusing to move, even when the kinetic energy of his sprint tore their skin, spreading it in a bloody mess across the stone ground. He paid it no mind, as the wounds were already scabbing, only for the hardened tissue to fall off and transform into healthy flesh mere seconds later..
Eyes wide, the Astartes eyed the sturdy adamantium door in front of him, specifically the sword slot positioned there as an activation key. This was the entrance to the former cell of Luther, the former right hand of the Lion himself. If the foe managed to reach this point, then they were not to be underestimated.
His head turned sideways, eyeing the hole made in the stone wall right next to the door.
Perhaps the foe was unable to destroy the door and instead settled for an alternative? If so, then this psyker was much less capable than he thought. Thinking of this, Azrael gained a shred of confidence.
He did not turn to regard his companions, stating his commands while facing away from him. Even in such a dire situation, the Chapter Master's form remained stoic, his voice calm and sturdy like a tranquil waterfall.
"Interrogator-Chaplain Asmodai, contact the rest of our Chapter. Only I alone am allowed to advance further, as so dictated by our traditions. However, if I fail to return within thirty solar minutes, you have permission to advance with all battle-brothers present. Purge the chamber in the Emperor's fire if necessary. This threat needs to be eliminated at all costs."
The hooded giant seemed to be discontent from this, foretold by the slight squirming in his body and a deep, metallic sigh. He was clearly pushing down feelings of agitation and disagreement. Perhaps he wished to torment the intruder?
"It shall be done, Grandmaster."
As the Chaplain turned on his heels, so did the other Space Marines who accompanied him. They began to sprint in the opposite direction, leaving Azrael in their wake.
Silent and alone, the Chapter Master wore a grim smile on his face, devoid of humor, for he was sure whatever lay beyond the hole in the wall would be something almost certainly beyond him.
Azrael was a veteran of many battles, commander of legions, and slayer of Daemons. While the mound of his achievements was so high that they would have taken several lifetimes for a man to count, the Space Marine was not arrogant. No, Azrael had always been overly humble for someone of his station, a feature that has aided him many times in his life.
This is why he knew, he knew that this battle would take every ounce of his strength and then some. Thinking logically, that would not be the only conclusion. After all, the enemy was supposedly skilled in the art of stealth, possessing such skill that they were able to conceal their presence from an entire bastion of Dark Angels security, not to mention the minds of several experienced Librarians, who had lost them after a brief period of time.
Yes, the sheer speed in which the intruder reached the restricted level was astounding. It took them mere minutes to traverse most of The Rock, something not even the Eldar would be able to do.
However, even if that was the case, it did not prove anything of their might in combat. After all, an agent or a group of agents skilled in stealth would likely not be as well trained in combat. They would certainly not be ready for a Chapter Master.
Even so, Azrael's innermost instincts as a warrior told him otherwise. Somehow, the veteran's gut told him that his fate would not be a pleasant one even if he took one step beyond the hole beside the prison's door.
While the Chapter Master's logical side wished nothing more than to bring an entire company into the room which lay in front of him, his spiritual side told him to at least attempt to respect the holy traditions of the Dark Angels.
Therefore, he compromised. Azrael would send himself into the fray akin to a guinea pig, as he was the only one who could go forth according to traditions. No one else in the chapter was qualified to enter Luther's former jail after all.
Sighing, Azreal peered into the molten hole in which the intruder used to enter the sacred prison.
It was the same exact room he remembered, and from what could be seen, devoid of life. No heartbeat nor breathing could be heard by the Astartes's ears, no killing intent to be found.
Azreal found this lack of presence more suspenseful than any other alternative, mentally preparing himself with a deep sigh.
Eyes determined, the Chapter Master stepped forward past the makeshift entrance, drawing his combi-bolter and power sword, tense and ready for battle at any given moment.
As he entered the room, Azrael's eyes darted around, narrowed gaze seeking out its target with sensor-like precision.
After all, there was a chance that the enemy lay in wait, camouflaged and ready to attack.
Azrael's grip on his weapons tightened, his senses stretched to their limits, attempting to find the hidden enemy at due haste.
However, there was no enemy to be found, proven as Azrael stepped beyond Luther's former cell, still bearing the damage of his jailbreak.
Eyes widening, the Space Marine could not help but exclaim,
"By the lion!"
This reaction was understandable, as a large circular hole was formed on the ground itself in front of him, wide enough for even the physique of an Astartes to fit through.
However, it was not the unruly entrance that captured his attention. No, it was what lay beyond that point.
As Azrael's eyes traveled several meters down the hole, they stopped at the shining glint of a piece of pitch-black metal.
After a closer examination, it didn't seem to be just a single piece of metal. No, rather than that, there seemed to be a smooth and polished surface, comprised of the same substance. It was a well-maintained and dustless work, devoid of any age and signs of ill-maintenance.
According to all logic in Azrael's mind, there could only be one conclusion.
There was a hidden chamber below the most sanctified room in the entire Dark Angels Chapter's headquarters.
Moreover, it remained undiscovered for possibly more than 10,000 years, seeing that The Rock itself was ancient even before the arrival of the Imperium on Caliban. Perhaps the ancestors of the original settlers of the deceased planet built this hidden room, or perhaps it was created in secrecy in later times.
This did not matter. What did matter was the fact that this room was undiscovered for so long. Such incompetence brought shame to the Dark Angels' name. By all rights, the mechanical sensors of the tech-adepts should have found this room ages ago. Then again, perhaps the unknown ebony material of the floor served to hide it from the sacred technology. There was no way to know for sure.
However, the fact that the intruder knew about the room which even the Dark Angels did not was very troubling. It was most likely that the target was a Daemon.
Azrael sighed. He truly wished Ezekiel was here. Unfoundedly, the Chief Librarian was off on some campaign to slay a group of Chaos cultists. It was a shame. His expertise would have been helpful in this situation.
While Azrael was not adept at slaying Daemons, he could still manage. Even so, that did not make it an easy experience.
Well, there was simply no helping it in this situation.
Bracing himself, the Dark Angel glanced at the ominous hole again, this time with trepidation. He knew that if he jumped down, he might never come back again.
But since when something as insignificant as the threat of death ever threatened an Astartes?
Taking a second to brace himself, Azrael jumped down, his fears all but banished.
He would be ready for whatever that came at him.
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The room was impressive, to say the least. Not in the glorious, power showing way that regular Imperial architecture seemed.
No, the room was far more futuristic than anything Mal had seen so far.
A five by five by five meter cube, the chamber was clad completely in a sturdy, black metal, lit only by the light which originated from the hole Mal made through the roof.
For any normal human, everything would be dark, akin to the view of a moonless night.
For Mal, it was as bright as a sunlit beach.
The room was near-barren, devoid of any decorations, engravings, or runes depicting past glories and prideful arrogance.
There were just those barren, spotless walls, the floor devoid of all dust.
In the center of the room, however, there was a black stone pedestal holding a large object.
It was a makeshift bed. A makeshift bed for a giant. It seemed to project a black psychic field around its inhabitant, possibly containing stasis properties.
Over ten meters in length and five in width, a silken platform lay on top of the pedestal, a sponge-like substance separating it from the stone of the pedestal.
Despite the apparent comfort of the makeshift bed, it was inelegant. The flat slab of raven-black silk was devoid of a pillow and any patterns. To anyone's eyes, it was simply a sheet of black.
It was more of a glorified pedestal than a bed.
The giant who slept evenly on that same bed did not offer much contradiction to the simplicity of the room.
He wore a simple brown robe, devoid of all other clothing. While the robe itself was created using the highest quality materials, offering incredible comfort, it did not seem so from the outside.
The giant himself, however, was a whole other matter entirely.
Pale, fair skin seemed to glisten even in the dimness of the room, a healthy glow emanating from the near-perfect flesh.
Curvy blond locks flowed freely from the Lion's head, resembling only the purest of gold. Countless nobles across the Imperium would put their own families to death for hair so fair.
A peaceful expression was depicted on a face torn by the fires of war. It was the face of someone who would never truly find peace anywhere else than the realm of dreams.
The rhythmic pounding of two steady hearts echoed across the room, mesmerising to Mal's ears.
The girl's expression softened as she eyed her gene-brother. She was having second thoughts of interrupting his slumber, and whatever dream he was experiencing.
"I feel really sorry for doing this. Just seeing that face, I already want him to sleep more. His expression looks so peaceful. I wonder if that will still be the case if I show him the Imperium as it is now. No, I already know it won't, that is a definite fact."
Sighing with regret, Mal stepped forward.
She wondered how she would do it. Perhaps a nudge on the shoulder, a tickling of the feet? The stasis field did not seem to be too strong, so anything would do. The black material making up the room seemed to protect it against most outside influences, such as sound, energy, vibrations, so forth. What was inside probably did not change for the past ten thousand years.
Mal was really surprised when she reached the walls while digging down. She was forced to use warpfire to melt it, an extremely concentrated burst at that.
Stepping forth, Mal almost reached the pedestal, deactivating her sensory-deceptive shield.
However, the sound of something dropping from the entrance she made on the ceiling stopped that, freezing her in her tracks.
Sighing again, this time with annoyance, Mal said without looking back,
"I can expla-"
She was cut off by the sound of bolter fire.
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As Azrael jumped down from the pedestal, his eyes immediately narrowed.
He seemed to be in a barren room, comprised of the metal he had observed earlier, proving his hypothesis.
There seemed to be a pedestal in the center of the room, with a man on it, laying down.
However, the view of the man's full body was obscured by a girl standing in front of it.
Dressed in civilian clothing, her long hair resembled the jet-black of the room, blending in with the room. She seemed to be somewhere between her teenage years and adulthood.
The girl's mere presence filled Azrael with a sense of familiarity, quickening the beat of his heart. He seemed to know it from somewhere, even when in actuality, he didn't. It was simply the blood in his veins reacting to the strange pressure.
There was something in Azrael's heart that condemned any possible aggression that he had towards the girl as evil, an act that goes against his very nature as a human.
Moreover, a strange sensation intruded upon his senses. It was murky, diluted to the point where he could not tell what it entailed.
What every single one of his senses told him was that the person in front of him radiated order. That was the only way to describe it, as it was the closest his body could translate the concept.
How could his body's five senses detect something like the concept of order? Azrael did not know the answer to that question.
However, somehow, this seemingly fragile girl struck more unease into the Dark Angel than even the most powerful Daemons that he faced.
Against them, he could simply fire away with his bolter, their meaningless attractive feats useless before his ideals.
They had attempted to tempt Azrael using his own bloodlust, his greed, his arrogance. Such seductions were easily perceived by the Chapter Master, and subsequently crushed underfoot like the unworthy aspirations they were.
However, the temptations released by the girl appealed even to someone like him.
It was as if Azrael's heart was being persuaded to protect his loved ones, to defend the things he cherishes with all of his power.
To his shock, the Dark Angel actually thought of conceding to the figure in front of him, ceasing their hostile relations. His lips curled up into a snarl as he focused his mental defenses.
Such "good" temptations couldn't be all, right? There must have been some underlying truth, like sacrificing millions to some false god, or to go against the words of the Emperor.
Right now, Azrael could not find any of that hidden dark side. All he felt from the girl was good, and that unnerved him. After all, a creature like her was just too good to be true in this horrifying galaxy.
It is a common lesson in the 42th millennium that hope is rarely anything but a bridge to despair. Azrael knew this, and decided that he would not let the enemy deceive him into failing his duty.
Aiming his combi-bolter before his body could betray him, the Chapter Master fired three rounds instantly, each one directly aimed at the back of the girl's head.
He would be damned before he fell to the temptations of a witch. Even as she attempted to speak to him, he still shot.
As the bolt shells flew through the air, swift red blurs across the air, they swiftly vanished into nothing right as they were about to hit the girl.
No, as Azrael looked closer, he found that there was smoke rising from the girl's now clenched fist, which was now shining a perculier shade of gold.
The girl lowered her head to sigh before stating,
"Nobody ever listens, do they? That's the whole problem with this place."
Then, the girl seemed to disappear into non-existence, although Azrael felt a large burst of energy from her location.
Now that the girl was not blocking the view anymore, the Chapter Master saw the man resting on the stone pedestal as clear as day.
Beautiful golden locks rested on fair, luscious skin, decorated by many battle scars. A peaceful expression from a face resembling Azrael's own greeted him in an unmoving state.
As his eyes widened to their limits, the Chapter Master astonishingly whispered,
"Father?"
This was to be expected. Even if Azrael had never seen the Lion in his life before, there was still something like a telepathic connection between them, as Primarchs were inherently psychic in some ways. There was no way a Space Marine would ever mistake their sire for another.
Just when he was about to take a step closer to his father, a gentle, silken voice whispered behind his ear.
"Sorry about this, but can you sleep for a little bit?"
Reacting instantly, the Space Marine swung his Sword of Secrets in an arch, turning backwards so he could slash at his attacker.
Instantly however, a small limb struck Azrael's sword arm, packing the force of an accelerated bolt shell. This movement threw the sword in the air, flying in the Lion's direction.
Before the Dark Angel could act any further, he felt a great burst pressure on the back of his neck.
The last thing Azrael saw before blacking out was the apologetic face of a beautiful girl, patting him on the head with a gentle hand.
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As Mal stared at the fallen body of the Chapter Master, she could only smile apologetically.
"Sorry Azrael. Fighting with my brother in the room would be too dangerous for him. I can't have anything happen, you understand."
Fondly patting the hooded head of the Space Marine, Mal turned her head up.
"Now, time to wake h-"
Her smile was frozen on her face, her eyes wide.
This was to be expected. After, the Lion was standing in front of the pedestal, staring at her with those beautiful emerald eyes. His expression was even, a perfect poker face.
Perhaps he was woken by the sounds of bolter fire, maybe by the sound of the sword meeting the metal floor mere feet away from him. It did not matter. He was awake now. Still, standing up so silently that even Mal's ears could not sense him. Primarchs truly lived up to their name.
His eyes narrowed, as if he was scrutinising Mal. A fair expression turned suspicious as he eyed the sword in front of him, picking it up.
After examining it for a few seconds, noting the special and decorative features of the power sword, the Lion stepped towards Mal in those surprisingly fashionable robes, his footsteps so silent that not even the champion's ears could hear them.
Mal stared into those beautiful emerald orbs with her violet ones, drinking in their beauty. It was like they were sculpted by a great artist, attractive, perfect, almost unnatural.
Completely mesmerised, Mal's gaze didn't leave those eyes. She barely noticed when the Lion stepped towards her.
In those eyes, she saw a warrior's spirit, a father's concern, a strong sense of justice, a heart of gold, absolute loyalty, and…
"Hold your horses! Is that killing intent?!"
Only now realising the fact that the Lion had a sword in his hand and was walking towards her, Mal quickly backed herself into a wall, a feeling of unease creeping up her spine.
Her smile was extremely strained now, her hands touching the wall.
The Lion followed her retreat in a steady pace, glancing at the falle body of Azrael on his way.
After he did so, a frown appeared on his face as his pace quickened.
This monotonous act served to unnerve Mal even more as she began to talk.
The lion was ten feet away from her.
"I've"
Eight.
"Come"
Six.
"To talk"
Four.
"To you!"
Zero.
From four feet away, the Lion pounced like his namesake.
To Mal, who did not boost her body with psychic power, he was extremely fast, still perceivable, but fast nonetheless.
As the Lion stopped in front of Mal, emitting a sharp wave of kinetic energy from his swift movement, she shivered in surprise. Just why was her brother acting like some sort of horror movie villain?
She could feel his warm breath on her face, the killing intent in his eyes becoming two red glints in the darkness of the room.
Mal desperately tried to defuse the situation.
Waving her hands in front of her, she attempted to reason with the Lion.
"Hey, calm down ok? I don't mean you any ha-"
Something seemed to be wrong, something Mal could not place.
Looking into Lion's eyes, filled with hostility, Mal just found herself mesmerised again.
Then she looked down.
"Ack!"
A large glob of blood exited Mal's throat, splattering all over the Lion's robes and face.
He did not seem to mind.
He was the one who shoved Azrael's sword into Mal's stomach after all. There was no way he would mind.
Suddenly, an eruption of pain entered Mal's mind as her body registered the Lion's almost phantom-like attack.
Gritting her teeth, she found herself pinned to the wall behind her like some sort of twisted kebab.
Pain shot through her body as the activated power sword burned her regenerating flesh like a torch. It had punctured her stomach.
Resisting the urge to scream, Mal took a deep breath.
"Remember Mal, pain is just a useless signal your body sends you. Just a signal Mal, it doesn't matter since you're immortal."
Taking a deep breath, Mal spoke through the agony.
"Can you not? My stomach acid is literally spilling out right now. I can feel it eating away at my frakking kidneys already, so can you take this damned sword out of me?!"
If the Lion was surprised at this, he did not show it. Instead, he simply replied with a monotone voice,
"Who are you?"
The voice was rich, sturdy, and masculine.
Any normal woman would instantly be instantly entranced by the sheer beauty of it, reproductive instincts flaring past the point of no return.
But Mal did not have such feelings for her brother, so she was barely affected.
"Is that really the question you should be asking me right now? Just randomly impaling someone to a wall and saying intimidatingly, 'Who are you?' This is why you don't have a girlfri-ugh!"
Mal's sarcastic response was apparently not the right thing to say. The lion's eyes seemed to narrow before he twisted the power sword with Mal impaled on it, causing the girl to hiss in pain.
Mal's eye began twitching as she stared at this annoying brother of hers. She was a little bit angry.
"Alright. I'll tell you who I am if you take this damned sword out of my gut. Good deal, right?"
There was no answer.
Calming herself, Mal sighed again. This was getting beyond annoying and reaching the point of infuriation.
Lion did not listen to what she had to say even when she came all this way for him, literally pinning her to the wall like some sort Slaneeshi kabe-don. He didn't even like her either.
Well, Mal did knock out Azrael, but it was just a chop to the neck. He would wake up in a few hours without any other side effects. The Lion would be easily tell that such a weak blow would not be fatal.
Still, this was the first meeting between Mal and one of her brothers. It wasn't exactly awkward, but having a sword in her stomach was not the way she thought it would go.
Well, Mal understood why Lion didn't want to let her go. She was an unknown factor to him. Since Mal was hiding her powers, he didn't know that he was the Emperor's daughter.
For all he knew, Mal could be an agent of Chaos, or just a really powerful rogue psyker. Lion probably took her incredible regeneration as a product of biomancy, so he would not be too curious about that particular aspect of her body.
Still, even if all this was true, Mal didn't want to stay impaled to a wall for much longer. It hurt after all.
"Three seconds Lion, that's the amount of time I'll allow this blasted sword to stay in my stomach."
Mal stared at her nails, as if checking for impurities.
The Lion began to tense his body, sensing danger from the person in front of him.
"Three."
Mal began to check the nails on her other hand.
"Two."
Lion gripped his sword with one hand, his other curled into a fist. He would be ready if Mal tried anything.
Mal stared at Lion's eyes, violet orbs scrutinizing green.
"One."
A golden aura formed around Mal as her gaze suddenly became more penetrating than a boarding torpedo.
"Zero"
A massive fist flew towards the girl's face at a supersonic speed, only to be deflected by a golden barrier that seemed to form around her. It bounced off harmlessly, the signs of swelling already appearing.
Lion attempted to drive in the sword in Mal's stomach even further, but found himself stopped easily by one of her hands, gripping the blade of his power weapon, completely ignoring the molecule-separating field around it.
A seemingly fragile hand, belong to what appeared to a delicate maiden, was covered in a sheen of light gold. It forcefully drove the blade out of its owner's stomach at a slow, but steady pace.
To his growing concern, Lion found that even with all his strength, he could not make Mal's grip on the weapon falter.
He struck at her several more times to no avail, the blows deflected easily by her force barrier.
As the blade finally exited Mal's body, causing the girl to sigh in relief, the lion decided to cut his losses and jump back, bringing his body into a fighting stance in a millisecond.
Mal began to walk forward after throwing the sword in the air and catching it by the pommel. She threw it into the air again, catching it with her other hand. This motion was repeated as Mal continued to walk, creating the image of a flamboyant juggler.
She stopped five feet from Lion, neither of them making a move. No doubt that thousands if not millions of combat scenarios were running in the giant's brain. His complexion was weary and tense. There seemed to be a hint of familiarity in his eyes, but he was surely suppressing it.
Without warning, Azrael's sword was thrown blade first at Lion, the power field deactivated.
Smoothly catching the weapon by the hilt, Lion instantly reactivated the ower field.
However, Mal was nowhere to be seen, only the remnants of a psychic flash of gold in her wake.
Eyes narrowing, Lion swung his sword in a large arc, spinning backwards to hit the target that was behind him.
The strike cut nothing but a bright golden light. The Primarch cursed before attempting to turn back, as he once again knew the position of his foe.
However, he was not fast enough, and the girl's arms locked around his tree trunk-like neck.
Mal affectionately nuzzled her head against her brother's mountain-like shoulders as she sighed in relaxation. Agitation turned to fondness as fun seeped through the cracks of duty.
"Having a brother sure feels nice, even if he's trying to kill me."
Snarling, the seething wild animal in front of her attempted to rip her arms off of him to disable what he perceived as an extremely ineffective choke hold.
However, Mal had reinforced her arms with biomancy, and nothing short of a Warlord Titan could pry them off.
It was like one of those games they used to have in her world, the one where a person hung on to the back of an angry bull, giving their all into not falling off.
Mal 's eyes seemed to gloss over as she dreamily purred with satisfaction.
"Ah, making first memories with my brother. I've dreamt about this for years."
However, reality was not that sweet, and Mal couldn't afford to be either. Unfortunately, she would have to end the pleasurable sibling bout.
Her face became serious.
Letting go of the Lion's neck, Mal landed on her feet, elegant and tall.
Loosening the barrier on her powers, she allowed two flickering angel wings to spurt from her back, along with a weakly-glowing halo and pale yellow eyes.
Her voice became deep and rich, the sound of a hundred saints speaking as one.
"Enough!"
Suddenly, Lion found himself pushed to the floor and unable to move, his movements restricted in every way. It didn't matter what he did, movement was impossible. Limbs spread out in a star shape, he saw a golden aura around him, a side effect of Mal's abilities.
Mal's brows were furrowed, her eyes glaring.
With the Lion immobilized, he would have to hear everything she had to say. However, she could not do this. After all, forcing him like this would make her seem like a tyrant, and Mal did not want to appear authoritarian, not to her brother.
"Please listen to what I have to say, you can do anything you want to me later."
Suddenly, the golden wings and halo worn by Mal all disappeared, her eyes returning to their normal shade of violet.
Lion's immobilization was suddenly removed. However, he did not seem to be getting up, as if he was surprised by what Mal was said.
Eyes wide, the Primarch simply stared at Mal from his fallen form, as if he wasn't quite sure what she was. The similarities of her powers and the Emperor's must have played an important part as well.
Mal stepped forward to the fallen form of her brother, bending down.
Putting on the brightest smile she had at her disposal, the girl stared at lion in his eyes, offering a hand to him.
With a playful and cheerful voice, she spoke softly.
"Welcome back, big brother."
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As Azrael's eyes opened, he realized that he was lying down on a bed in the apothecarium.
"T-The apothecarium?"
Suddenly, the memories of his failure registered in his mind. Thanks to this, Azrael immediately sat up, glancing at his clean robed form.
"I failed, therefore the enemy escaped? No, maybe my Chapter captured them and subsequently recovered my body."
Even so, that still didn't make sense.
"Why did the enemy not immediately slay me? There would be no reason to keep me alive. I told Asmodai to take his company only if I did not return in thirty minutes. What enemy would leave my condition stable for that long?"
Flexing his body, Azrael's eyes widened.
He could not feel the aftermath of any injury. The part of his neck where the enemy struck wasn't even sore. In fact, he felt wonderful, almost as if he was a newborn baby.
"What? Just what?"
However, such thoughts were immediately ignored when another memory secured its presence in Azrael's mind.
"The Primarch! Is he injured?!"
As Azrael asked this question to the open air, the door to the apothecarium suddenly opened.
The Chapter Master sucked in a breath to shout orders to the man he assumed to be the apothecary before he was revealed. After all, the state of the primarch needed to be known.
Azrael didn't even care that the Lion was hidden inside of his own base all this time. All that mattered was his safety.
However, instead of the chief apothecary, a near thirteen-foot tall man entered the room, clothed in the dark monastic robes of Caliban.
Azrael's mouth immediately stopped moving as his eyes became wide.
The Lion's lips curled up into a slight smile.
"What about me being injured?"
Strong emerald eyes greeted Azrael's own, accompanied by flowing golden locks resembling golden string.
The Lion stared proudly at the Chapter master, showing approval for his feats.
Azrael's eyes began to fill with liquid as he gazed hungrily at his gene-sire.
Countless years of stress, secrecy, and responsibility that had been weighing on the man's heart dissipated in a single second. The feeling of relief which was not present in Azrael's body appeared in a raging tsunami, filling him with well-deserved pleasure.
Finally, the Fallen Angels could truly be brought to justice. The traitor Luthor could finally be recovered, and the Dark Angels's honor could finally be restored. The Imperium was officially a step closer to salvation.
Surrounded by the sounds of bubbling chemicals and the smells of disinfecting chemicals, and most importantly, his father, Chapter Master Azrael genuinely cried for the first time in centuries.
Hopefully I got Azrael's personality at least semi-corect. I can't find any books about him, so I had to improvise.
This chapter was really hard to write, due to my sickness and lack of information. Sorry.
