Sanguinius gently patted Dante's shoulder, his sky-blue eyes full of tenderness and understanding. He looked at the warriors before him, clad in blood-red power armour, their faces etched with the marks of time, their souls seared by countless battles. Yet, deep in their hearts, their loyalty and longing for him had never extinguished.
"You all…" he began softly, his voice young but containing a reassuring strength, "have worked hard."
These few simple words, like the dawn breaking through a long night, made the Blood Angels warriors unable to suppress their emotions any longer. Their Chapter Masters—Floggin of the Lamenters, Gabriel Seth of the Flesh Tearers, Sentikan—all the leaders of the successor Space Marine Chapters, knelt with bowed heads, tears dripping onto the cold ground, mingling with the blood they had shed in the past.
"Father…!" Floggin's voice was choked with emotion, "We… we have been waiting for you… We have… we have waited too long…"
Sanguinius paused slightly. He looked at these massive and powerful warriors before him, clad in crimson battle armour, wielding destructive weapons. They had slain xenos, Chaos, and traitors on countless battlefields, guarding the Imperium's borders.
But at this moment, they were like lost children who had found their way home, kneeling vulnerably before him, just to confirm that he had truly returned.
His heart tightened slightly, a strange yet familiar emotion surging within him.
Sanguinius sighed softly and, with small steps, walked to each of them in turn. He reached out and gently wiped away Dante's tears, then gently pulled Floggin's arm, helping him to stand.
"You have all done very well," he said softly, his young voice like a sacred command, making every Blood Angels warrior's heart tremble fiercely.
"I have been watching you," he smiled slightly, "Even in the dark years, you never lost your way."
He lowered his head, looking at the warriors still kneeling, immersed in ecstasy and sorrow, and his voice grew even softer: "Rise, my children, you are the Emperor's most glorious warriors, you do not need to kneel to anyone."
Dante choked back a sob, slowly rising, clenching his fists tightly, trying to control his emotions. Floggin, Seth, and the others also trembled as they stood, still daring not to look directly at the figure before them, fearing that it was all just a dream.
However, Sanguinius merely smiled and opened his arms.
"I am back."
This time, no sacred light fell, no vast wings spread, no golden armour reflected through the ages, but these few words alone were enough to dispel the millennia of pain in their hearts.
The Blood Angels looked at the small figure before them, their eyes no longer filled with confusion or sorrow, but only with fervent faith and ecstasy… Sanguinius slowly moved forward, surrounded by his children, walking towards his temporary room. The warriors beside him were tall and mighty, their blood-red armour reflecting a solemn glory in the chapel-like light, every eye filled with unspeakable reverence and cherish.
Dante gently bent down, a smile on his face, then effortlessly lifted Sanguinius, letting him sit astride his broad shoulders.
Once, this great Lord of the Blood Angels was tall, heroic, and naturally majestic, but now, he was being carried forward in such a small body. However, this did not make the warriors feel any sense of incongruity; on the contrary, their gazes became even more fervent, as if witnessing some sacred miracle.
Sanguinius did not speak, merely quietly looking at these faces—these battle-hardened faces were filled with piety and longing, and that deep affection made his heart tighten slightly.
Along the way, whether new recruits or veteran warriors, whether from the main Blood Angels Space Marine Chapter or its successor Space Marine Chapters, they all stopped, silently watching this scene. Many even covered their chests, unable to hide their excitement, as if fearing their hearts would stop from sheer joy.
Finally, they arrived at the door of an elegant and solemn room. The door slowly opened, and Dante gently set Sanguinius down, solemnly kneeling on one knee, placing him at the doorway.
"Father, the ceremony will begin soon, we will wait for you outside," Dante's voice was still gentle, carrying a sense of contentment.
Sanguinius looked up at him, nodded slightly, and then entered the room. The door slowly closed behind him, the heavy sound of the mechanical lock clicking shut sounding particularly muffled in the silence.
In an instant, he was the only one left in the room.
The innocence and cuteness that had been on his face quietly faded the moment the door closed, replaced by a deep weariness.
He gently exhaled, as if shedding an invisible burden, his small figure appearing particularly lonely in the vast room.
He looked around; everything here was strange yet familiar, as if it were a sanctuary tailor-made for him, yet at this moment, he felt no peace whatsoever.
He slowly walked towards the long bench in the center of the room, his legs gave way, and he sank heavily onto it, his small hands covering his forehead, his fingertips weakly rubbing his temples.
A world ten millennia later, children ten millennia later, an Imperium ten millennia later… He had returned, but had he truly returned?
His reflection was in the mirror.
A young face, golden hair slightly disheveled, and a hint of an unspeakable complex emotion in his blue eyes. He looked at himself in the mirror, his gaze wavering slightly, finally turning into a helpless sigh.
Sanguinius exhaled deeply, the innocence and gentleness from his young face fading, replaced by an unspeakable weariness.
He sat on the long bench in the center of the room, his small hands covering his forehead, closing his eyes, allowing himself a moment to breathe from the overwhelming emotional torrent.
He could, of course, feel the children's ecstasy, excitement, and reverence, but at the same time, he could also feel their pain, loneliness, and torment. This heavy emotion weighed on his heart, making him immensely clear about the meaning of his return.
But… could he truly still be the Sanguinius they expected?
"I truly am… like a joke," he muttered softly, a hint of self-mockery in his tone.
The Emperor's Angel had returned, the great Sanguinius had resurrected from death, yet now he had to wear a "child-sized" power armour to attend the ceremony, to be surrounded and looked up to like a worshipped idol.
Was this the will of Father, "male father," and "female father"? Or was it fate's cruel humor?
He leaned back wearily against the chair, looking up at the ceiling, trying to sort out his thoughts a bit. He didn't dislike the adoration of his children; on the contrary, he understood that this was one of the meanings of his existence.
However, ten millennia later, his return was not just as the leader of the Blood Angels, but also as a being with a young body, a "child" who needed to adapt to this current world.
This "female father" who resurrected him certainly had a very strange sense of humor… to make him return in the appearance of a young boy, and he actually had to pretend to be a young boy every day.
And when he didn't understand something, he even had to say, "Huh?"
He took a deep breath, re-composed himself, and turned to look at the exquisite, small power armour placed nearby—a symbol of his identity, even if it was ridiculously small, it was still his battle armour.
"Oh well…" He chuckled softly, reaching out and gently stroking the surface of the power armour's chest plate, "At least this is much better than wearing children's clothes."
After adjusting his mindset, he stood up and began to don his equipment.
Regardless, he was Sanguinius, the Father of the Blood Angels, the Emperor's most perfect warrior. No matter what his current body was like, his soul still belonged to the battlefield, belonged to the Imperium.
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