Sukuna raised a brow as Sanguinius descended from above, wings softly beating as he touched down beside him and the Khan. Their spar had just ended. Neither of them had won, but neither had sought victory in the first place. For Sukuna, it had been an introduction, a silent exchange that only warriors understood – a mutual understanding gleaned through the rhythm of strikes and counters, breaths matched in intensity. It reminded Sukuna of the rituals of his Heian Era, where powerful sorcerers would test each other's strength by sharing their domains, finding insight in the clash of wills.
Sanguinius folded his wings close to his body, his eyes flicking from the Khan's calm stance to Sukuna's sharp grin. He watched them both with a kind of reverence, but Sukuna detected something beneath that serene surface, a faint glimmer of doubt. The Khan had seen it too, though he remained silent, his gaze steady as he met Sanguinius's stare.
Sukuna tilted his head, sizing up the winged Primarch. The Khan, for all his mastery, would never reach the pinnacle of raw strength among the Primarchs. His power lay in precision, in a kind of calm acceptance of his own limits. His speed and skill could hold their own against nearly any foe, but without a core ability, his peak would always fall just short. A small part of Sukuna had hoped their spar might push the Khan into a breakthrough, that some latent power would emerge in the heat of battle. But it seemed the Khan's journey to his true self was destined to be slower, more deliberate.
During one brief, locked moment of grappling, Sukuna had sensed it – the true shape of the Khan's soul, a glimpse of something vast, fluid, unrestrained by flesh and bone. For a second, Sukuna could almost see it, a form larger and more ferocious than the man standing before him. He had felt his own pulse quicken at the thought of fighting that true self, a spirit unbound. Among all the Primarchs he'd met, including Vulkan and Horus, the Khan truly was closest to becoming his true self...
A shapeless storm, an endless hurricane of blades and spears and spectral horses and metal hooves. He wouldn't even know how to fight something like that.
Now, Sanguinius stood there, his true self similarly hidden behind a wall of hesitation. Sukuna could see it in his stance, the subtle way he held back, grounding himself as if afraid to let go completely. With those wings, with the sheer potential that radiated from his being, Sanguinius could be more – much more. But the cracks were evident, the weight of his insecurities casting shadows over his power. What a shame. He'd expected far too much of his angelic relative, it seemed.
And yet, even Horus believed that Sanguinius remained the deadliest of the Primarchs, a fact that apparently remained true even after Vulkan and Horus discovered their Jujutsu, though it likely had to do with the fact that Vulkan simply did not seem like the type to blast apart entire worlds with his supernovas.
Sukuna smirked, his voice a low challenge. "You wanna spar too?"
Sanguinius's brow furrowed, but a small smile played at his lips. He seemed to take a half-step forward before pausing, his gaze drifting to his own hands, then to the feathers of his wings, like he was weighing the consequences. Idly, Sukuna wondered if Sanguinius' wings were entirely physical and if he could still fly if he ripped both of those things right off his back.
"Is that an invitation?" he replied, his voice steady but lacking its usual confidence.
The Khan glanced between them, his expression neutral but watchful. Though, that had been his expression since they first met.
"It would be interesting to watch," he murmured, though his eyes held something sharper, a glint of anticipation, as he returned the practice swords to the weapon rack.
Sukuna shrugged, raising a pair of his lower arms in a loose, inviting gesture. "Why not? You've got the power and the skill. And, besides, what have you got to lose? It's not like Magnus is arriving in the next few minutes anyhow."
Sanguinius's jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed torn. Sukuna caught the flicker of uncertainty, a sliver of fear behind his composed exterior. His wings flexed, feathers rustling, and a faint ripple of energy brushed against Sukuna's senses - a hint of the force hidden beneath his restraint.
He gave Sanguinius a wry smile. "You're holding back. I can feel it. You want control, I get it. But if you're that afraid of losing it, you'll never find out what you really are."
Sanguinius met his gaze, his expression hardening. "And what do you think I am?"
Sukuna's eyes narrowed, a spark of challenge flashing there. "A monster. A creature of war. Just like me. Only difference is, I don't pretend otherwise."
For a beat, the air between them felt charged, like the stillness before a storm. Sanguinius's hand hovered over the hilt of his sword, but then he looked down, the moment slipping away. He shook his head, his wings folding tighter against his back, the flicker of raw energy fading.
"I... don't think that's who I am," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sukuna sighed, his grin fading to a look of mild disappointment. "Suit yourself. Just know that fear? It's a chain. A weakness. When you're ready to let it go, maybe you'll actually find your strength."
Sanguinius's gaze swept across the open wasteland, his eyes narrowing as the ground beneath his feet trembled slightly. His wings flexed outward, feathers rippling like waves, catching the faint, ominous energy gathering around him. The other Primarchs stood in silence, their eyes fixed on him with unblinking intensity. Even Horus, usually quick with a quip, said nothing, his arms crossed as he leaned against a jagged rock formation, watching.
Sukuna's grin only widened as he settled back onto the ground, one hand propping up his chin. He tilted his head slightly, studying every subtle movement. He tapped his fingers against the dirt, waiting, amused.
"Take your time," he said, voice light, though his four arms twitched in anticipation. "I want to see it all."
Sanguinius closed his eyes again, his chest rising and falling in a deliberate rhythm. His breathing slowed, almost unnaturally so, as if he was sinking into something deeper, darker. His fingers uncurled from the spear he held, the weapon remaining upright in the ground, untouched.
Then, the air shifted.
It was subtle at first – a faint vibration, a whispering hum that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. The ground around Sanguinius darkened as if the very soil was recoiling. A chill rippled outward, brushing against Sukuna, who raised an eyebrow, his grin never faltering. The other Primarchs adjusted their stances, some leaning forward, others stepping back slightly, as though they sensed what was about to unfold.
Sanguinius's skin began to pale, the healthy tone draining away like water slipping through cracks. His cheeks hollowed, and shadows deepened around his eyes. The lines of his face grew sharper, almost skeletal, and his expression became unreadable. His wings spread wider, the silver-white feathers beginning to shift, their luster fading. A faint crimson began to seep into their edges, spreading like ink in water.
The swirling air around him thickened. The faint hum became a low, throbbing pulse, rhythmic and relentless. Sukuna leaned forward slightly, his four arms resting on his knees, his eyes narrowing. The shift in energy wasn't just powerful – it was raw, untamed, like a storm forming in real-time.
And then the first drop of blood fell.
It hit the ground with a sound that seemed impossibly loud, echoing in the stillness. Another drop followed, and then another, until they became a steady stream, dripping from the tips of Sanguinius's wings. The crimson stain spread rapidly, his wings turning from silver to blood-red, each feather glowing faintly as if infused with their own light.
The air around him shuddered, vibrating with intensity. Sukuna felt it in his chest, a deep, primal thrum that resonated in his bones. He grinned wider, his fingers tapping faster.
"There it is," he muttered.
Sanguinius exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the air despite the lack of cold. His head tilted slightly, and his eyes snapped open. They were no longer the calm, reflective gaze of the Angel everyone knew. They glowed with a burning crimson, the pupils narrowing into slits. There was no hesitation in those eyes, only boundless fury and a focus so sharp it seemed to cut through the very atmosphere.
An ocean of blood erupted around him.
It surged outward like a tidal wave, consuming the ground in every direction. The blood churned and roared as if alive, the crimson tide bubbling and swirling with chaotic energy. Sukuna didn't move from his spot, though his eyes gleamed with interest as the ocean stopped just short of touching him. The other Primarchs stepped back further, their gazes unflinching but their postures guarded. Even Vulkan crossed his arms, his jaw tightening slightly.
The blood seemed to form patterns, spirals and sigils rising and falling within its currents, glowing faintly as they pulsed in time with the steady thrum of energy around Sanguinius. The Angel's wings, now fully crimson, spread even wider, casting a shadow that seemed to stretch endlessly across the plain.
Sukuna's voice broke the silence, his tone almost playful.
"Not bad. Not bad at all." He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his four arms stretching lazily as if preparing for a casual stroll.
Sanguinius didn't answer. He tilted his head, and the blood around him surged higher, towering like a living wall. The Positive Energy leaking from him intertwined with the raw, unfiltered rage of his Cursed Energy, creating an intricate, swirling storm of light and darkness. The two forces clashed and merged, feeding into one another, creating a presence so overwhelming that the ground beneath them began to crack and split.
Sukuna's grin widened further. He cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing like thunder. "Now that's more like it. But are you sure you're not a vampire?"
Sanguinius raised his spear, his fingers tightening around the haft. The weapon gleamed with a faint, radiant light, pulsating in time with the energy coursing through him. His wings beat once, sending a shockwave rippling outward. The blood beneath him surged higher, spiraling into the air like a crimson tornado. His lips parted, and for the first time, he spoke – his voice a low, resonant growl that reverberated across the plain.
"Prepare yourself, brother."
Sukuna let out a sharp laugh, his four arms raising in an open, inviting gesture. It seemed that he might have to take this rather seriously. The ridiculous amounts of Cursed Energy he was feeling from within Sanguinius was greater than that of Malcador's. "That's the spirit! Show me everything you've got!"
The bloodstorm surged forward and roared toward Sukuna, a writhing mass of crimson fury. It twisted and churned, spiraling with sharp edges that gleamed like blades. Sukuna didn't move at first, letting it rush closer. His grin deepened as he raised a hand, his fingers twitching ever so slightly.
A massive burst of Cursed Energy erupted from him, splitting the bloodstorm in two. The crimson wave parted around him, spraying high into the air before slamming back into the ground on either side. Sanguinius flapped his wings once, launching himself forward with a speed that cracked the air. His spear gleamed with power, thrusting toward Sukuna's chest.
Sukuna leaned back, his upper arms crossing to block the spearhead with his bare palms. Sparks erupted from the impact, the force pushing him back several paces, his heels digging trenches into the ground. His lower arms shot forward, aiming for Sanguinius's torso.
The Angel twisted midair, the crimson feathers of his wings slicing through the air like blades. Sukuna ducked under the sweep, his grin widening as he countered with a brutal uppercut aimed at Sanguinius's jaw. The blow connected, sending Sanguinius spinning upward, but the Angel recovered instantly, flipping midair and diving back down, his spear thrusting like a bloody comet.
AN: Chapter 46 is out on (Pat)reon!