How can a retired savior be considered retired if his price drops to 40,000?

Chapter 346: An Uneasy and Unpleasant Meeting
As descendants of Sanguinius, the members of the Blood Drinkers naturally inherited the handsome looks of the same genetic father. However, the mutations accumulated in the gene seeds due to the separation of tens of thousands of years still made their appearances obviously different from those of the Blood Angels: although the Sons of the Holy Blood were equally perfect, the skin and hair of the Blood Drinkers had a strange dryness - the strange thing was that this dryness did not affect their beauty, but could still be easily noticed by everyone.

Due to the strong request of the Blood Drinkers, the meeting eventually included all the Astartes on the Noble Blood. After the ceremonial greetings, the first person to speak was Chapter Master Orlok. His voice was steady, loud, and convincing, with the same eloquence as the virtues that the Sons of the Holy Blood should have, but the breath that came out of his mouth was like a dry burning wind. It was as if the scarlet desire rooted in the souls of all the Sons of the Holy Blood turned into a dry desert under the scorching sun in his chest, a metaphor for the thirst that the cursed angel children could never fill.

"We are here in response to the call of the Supreme Priest Astorius." Even in front of Dante, Lord of Baal, he still held his head high with pride, and fearlessly scanned all the Blood Angels lined up in front of him with his pale eyes one by one, "But we are not here to prove anything."

The Holy Blood Guard intended to react to this obvious transgression and arrogance, but before their intention could be realized, Dante waved his hand to stop them from taking further action. He had seen too much in his more than 1,600 years of service, and this arrogance of Orlok did not arouse his anger. The Dark Regent of the Empire was not offended by this. Before this scene, he just felt that both of his hearts sank, as if they were immersed in a bitter and sticky quagmire.

He knew too well the fine line between arrogance and hubris, including the one that Orlok had. A similar expression often appeared on the faces of men and women who were about to be engulfed by the enemy, but remained loyal to the Empire and were ready to fight to the last moment of their lives. They knew that they had no hope of winning or surviving, but they still proudly held contempt for the enemies of the Empire, and before they died, they were mentally prepared to teach the other side a good lesson with their lives.

"What happened? Orlok? What makes you so hostile?" Dante didn't understand why the Blood Drinker Chapter Master showed such a mental state at this time and place, so he asked, "Is it because I ordered you not to dock directly in Baal? I promise this is only a temporary-"

"Please don't say that, Lord Commander. You are too self-deprecating." Orlok used quite humble words, but from the tone, the word he actually wanted to use might be "arrogant". "This has nothing to do with the decision and judgment of you or the Blood Angels. This is the result of careful consideration. I have been thinking about this matter since these new Primaris brothers joined the Chapter."

He said so, but the faces of the fifth and tenth captains of the Blood Drinkers - the "new Primaris brothers" - showed obvious confusion. They didn't know what their chapter leader was talking about, but the third captain, as the firstborn, cast a look of mixed jealousy and envy at them.

They were Primaris warriors brought by Guilliman from the Indomitus Crusade, born directly from the genetic template of ten thousand years ago at the hands of the Archmagos Cawl. Every Blood Child was perfect, but they were obviously more perfect than the others among the Blood Drinkers. Their skin was smooth and full, their hair was smooth and shiny, and their chests did not look like they were carrying an entire arid desert. Apart from the emblem of the Blood Drinking Chalice on their shoulder armor, they would only look out of place when put together with their predecessors in their own chapter.

Dante took in everyone's reactions, which was enough for him to realize that the Blood Drinkers came prepared this time. Although he didn't know what the other party wanted to do, it was enough for him to strangle the optimism that had grown recently under the promotion of a series of events, and give his place to the pessimistic old friend who had been with him since he became a Blood Angel, while trying to make a final struggle:

"Whatever you want to do, O'Rourke, I ask you to think again: Is it really necessary?"

"You don't understand what I'm carrying." O'Rourke's tone was filled with disgust, "So don't act like you know what decision I made."

"I really don't know. I just sensed your desperate spirit and the rage burning in your soul." Dante answered as calmly as possible, trying to soothe the other party's increasingly agitated emotions. "I don't know what has happened to you and your regiment in the hundreds of years since we last met, but for the sake of the blood of Sanguinius, since we are descendants of the same bloodline and brothers with the same genetic father, if you encounter any difficult problems, just raise them and we will help you to the utmost."

If we ignore the sound of Astorius's executioner's axe slamming to the ground beside him, Dante's words still sound very sincere.

This was not a failed negotiation between the Blood Angels' high-ranking officials. The High Priest did this because he judged from the increasingly impatient expression on the Blood Drinker Chapter Master's face that "sincerity" could no longer solve any problems at this moment.

"When you agreed to board the Noble Blood and return to Baal with me to report, you did not say that, Chapter Master Orlok," Astorius said in a deep voice. "You said at the time: According to the prophecy made by your Chief Librarian, you will bring the backbone of the Legion to meet the Lord of the Blood Angels, wash away the stigma of the curse, and give the Chapter a new life."

Orlok showed a savage smile that was almost like a predator's. "That's what I said, but you are wrong about one thing, High Priest. Because I am actually doing that."

“I don’t see that,” Astorius retorted. “That’s not the right attitude to accept scrutiny and questioning.”

"But my Chief Librarian Avernis told me that from the moment we gathered here, the beloved Chief Librarian of the Blood Angels has been checking us." Orlok turned slightly to the side and nodded slightly to the blue figure in the Librarian armor on his side, then locked his eyes with Mephiston with an almost mocking look, "Isn't that right?"

"I have indeed reached a conclusion." Mephiston admitted his little move frankly, "But no matter what, the only person who is qualified to make a decision based on this conclusion is the true Lord of the Blood Angels. And I am 100% sure that your interpretation of the prophecy is wrong."

A sneer emanated from Avernis's chest, which was covered in blue armor. "No offense, you may be a great psychic, but you don't even know the full picture of this prophecy, let alone interpret it correctly."

"Just a glimpse is enough," Mephiston responded. "The situation is always changing. Due to the lack of information, you can only make wrong judgments based on your own understanding of the current situation based on the part I heard. Moreover, this prophecy itself may be wrong and was deliberately known to you with evil purposes."

"A qualified prophet would not easily question the conclusions he had drawn from the waves of the vast ocean."

"Even though you know that this conclusion was handed to you by the servants of the Lord of Change?"

The moment the words fell, the temperature in the cabin literally dropped to freezing point. The two think tanks had a momentary conflict in a dimension that ordinary people could not perceive, and the tumbling and extracted power of the subspace caused the temperature in reality to drop sharply. After the confrontation that no one except the psykers could observe, let alone understand, it was obvious that Mephiston was the better: while a trace of water vapor condensed and frosted on the cold metal surface, Avernis shook dangerously, lost his balance, and staggered to his knees, with several lines of blood flowing from his congested eyes and nose.

At this point, everyone present in the Blood Drinkers put their hands on their waists out of habit, even the two Primaris Captains at the end of the line who looked uneasy because they knew nothing. But that was all they could do - first, because they were only allowed to wear armor and not weapons in this meeting; second, because an unknown force pressed down heavily, holding them down tightly, preventing them from making any further moves.

"Chaos contamination." Mephiston, who had completed the above actions in a flash, acted as if nothing had happened, as if he had just walked around the room. "Except for the two Primaris Captains, everyone else has some - very slight, not enough to cause mutations or distort thoughts, more like a mark, but still exists." Dante nodded. Covered by Sanguinius's death mask, others could not see his true expression. Perhaps because of this, Orlok spoke in a stressful manner:

"This has nothing to do with them." His huge body trembled under the suppression of spiritual energy, as if struggling hard. "Brothers Akior and Haratir know nothing. They are here to witness!"

"Witness what?" Dante asked.

"They must keep all of this in mind, learn from it, and live on as the clean new blood of the Chapter." Orlok's answer was full of strong will. "The Chapter has been walking on the edge of a cliff for three thousand years. The deception suffered by our predecessors, how the conspiracy of Chaos is rooted in the curse of our bloodline, and how we can put an end to all this in front of the Lord of Angels and wash away our sins - and the truth of the Horus Ritual!"

"What? No!" The fifth captain of the Blood Drinkers - it was unclear whether it was Akio or Haratir - exclaimed without regard for etiquette. Even if he didn't know what his chapter leader was thinking, no matter how dull a person was, when things progressed to this point, he would still realize what bad things would happen next. "Lord Orlok, this is impossible! We have never even participated in the chapter's Horus ceremony! You have never even allowed any of the Primaris brothers to participate in the chapter's traditional rituals!"

“Hahahahahahahahahahaha—” The Chapter Master’s laughter revealed a kind of relief that came from knowing that his end was near. “I did it on purpose, kid.”

"As a descendant of Sanguinius, a relative who shares the same bloodline, and a brother of the same father, I do have a request." Orlok turned around and turned to Dante, "Lord of the Blood Angels."

A cold feeling crept up Dante's spine. He instantly realized why Mephiston could realize that the Blood Drinker's interpretation of the prophecy must be wrong based on the other party's brief narration.

But Orlok didn't realize this. He still followed his own thoughts and continued to advance his plan: "Please break this curse chain for us completely."

"It's not what you think, O'Rourke, stop it—"

"Do it!"

The violent explosion of psychic energy brought a kind of spiritual shock, and the influx of immaterial emotions in the Supreme Heaven caused everyone's thinking to stagnate for a moment. People without the corresponding talent could not understand what happened at this moment. Dante only knew that when he opened his eyes again, his Ether Archon took a step back, and the Blood Drinker's Think Tank Chief Avernis had his neck deeply cut by a bone ritual dagger.

He decided to do this himself, and he did it without hesitation. The gushing arterial blood temporarily disabled the blood coagulation mechanism, and he even tried to expand the wound. The concept of "suicide" could not exist in the brain of the Astartes, which had been thoroughly adjusted by biological alchemy, but "sacrifice" could. The life pulse gushing out of the blood vessels stimulated the nerves of all the descendants of the Holy Blood, and the sweet iron smell drove them to instinctively secrete saliva and extend their canine teeth. The curse in their genes whispered and urged them to feast, and they had to use their own reason to exercise self-control - and at the moment when the Blood Angels could not react immediately because they had to exercise self-control, a spell took shape with the blood.

"Be worthy of the blood of Sanguinius," Orlok said. As the power of Chaos surged through the Warp and filled the reality within the cabin, the war cry sounded particularly ironic. "This is for you. Lord Dante, Astolas the Grim, and Mephiston the Lord of Death."

His already dry skin became even drier during these few sentences, and the originally plump muscles on his face also shrank rapidly, making him dry, yellow and cracked, as if someone had used some invisible means to drain all the water from his body in an instant - not only him, but also all the other firstborns of the Blood Drinkers. Except for the two Primaris Captains, all the Blood Drinkers withered rapidly under the self-sacrificial ritual of their Librarian.

"You got the prophecy wrong, Orlok." Dante said, his tone still calm. No one knew whether his expression under the mask was pain or sorrow. "Now, I can no longer be called the Lord of the Blood Angels."

The true Lord of the Blood Angels is about to return, and this should be good news that everyone should celebrate.

"What?" he asked. The Blood Drinker's Chapter Master had reached the brink of death in a few seconds. He might not have heard clearly, or he might simply not have believed it. But at the last moment, he still showed a dry and cracked smile:

“You have to win.”

Those were the last words Orlok spoke. Then, his life left him, and so did all his Firstborn brothers who had fought beside him for centuries. A rift in the Warp slowly opened as the sacrifices vanished from their place, and the laughter of imps could be heard from behind the veil. A pair of blue bird claws slowly emerged from it - then arms, a mutated head and torso, and wings on its back: a Daemon Prince of Tzeentch, an abomination corrupted by Chaos.

In the last bit of time before they drew their weapons and armed themselves, all the Blood Angels present gasped almost simultaneously after seeing the enemy's figure clearly:
It - although it had been twisted and deformed by the influence of Chaos, all of them could still clearly recognize: the armor on this demon prince was derived from the blue armor of the Blood Angels Think Tank.

As the chief think tank, Mephiston, who had always remained calm in the face of a catastrophe, lost his composure because he could quickly understand the essence of the other party:

"Antros?" he almost exclaimed.

(End of this chapter)