Chapter 43 Ascent to Godhood Bonus

This is the bonus chapter for reaching 600 Powerstones.

— The physical remains of the Great Angel Sanguinius were eternally entombed deep beneath the Arx Angelicum, secured within the Grand Sepulchre.

The security measures protecting the tomb were arguably second only to the Golden Throne on Terra.

To prevent the absolute, apocalyptic desecration of the Great Angel’s remains, the Sepulchre was wired to a catastrophic auto-destruct sequence.

If the Fortress ever fell and the final defensive perimeter was breached, the system would immediately detonate, completely annihilating the entire planet of Baal to ensure the Primarch’s body never fell into enemy hands.

“Forefather, right this way.” Dante led Vane, accompanied by the entire High Command of the Blood Angels and the visiting Chapter Masters, through the echoing halls of the Tower of Amareo and descended into the Catacombs of the Fallen.

This was the final resting place for the greatest heroes of the Blood.

It was also the only physical route that led to the Grand Sepulchre.

As they walked, Vane noted that the sarcophagi lining the walls were heavily inscribed with litanies of devotion and glowing runic scripts detailing the heroic deeds of the interred.

The closer a hero was entombed to the Grand Sepulchre, the greater their legendary status.

Therefore, as they ventured deeper into the catacombs, the sarcophagi became increasingly ornate, practically covered in glowing text and purity seals.

They descended deeper into the bedrock, marching down a heavily reinforced adamantium corridor.

Motion-sensor lumen globes flickered to life as they passed, casting harsh, flickering light against the oppressive, suffocating darkness of the crypts.

At the very end of the corridor stood a colossal, immensely thick vault door forged from pure adamantium, embossed with the Chapter’s heraldry: a winged blood drop.

Dante approached the vault.

He unclasped the locking mechanisms on his golden bracer and smoothly removed his right ceramite gauntlet.

Directly in the center of the blast door was a fist-sized aperture.

Dante inserted his bare hand, waiting for the biometric verification to initiate.

With a sharp, mechanical click, a set of heavy steel clamps extended from within the aperture, brutally locking Dante’s forearm in place.

A split second later, a highly sterilized adamantium needle punched cleanly through Dante’s superhumanly dense skin, burying itself into his primary vein to extract a significant blood sample.

“I am Dante, Lord of the Blood Host.

In the name of Sanguinius, open.” Dante spoke clearly, allowing the localized cogitator to analyze and verify his vocal harmonics against a ten-thousand-year-old genetic cipher.

Following a series of rapid electronic chirps, a small armored panel on the door slid back, emitting several concentrated beams of golden light that aggressively scanned Dante’s retinas.

A tense moment passed.

The indicator runes flashed from cautionary amber to verified green.

The blood-extractor needle smoothly withdrew, and the clamps released his arm.

Biometric verification confirmed.

The deafening, grinding roar of colossal subsurface gears echoed through the bedrock.

RUMBLE…

The massive adamantium vault doors slowly slid apart, retracting deep into the reinforced walls.

As the entourage stepped through the threshold, the low, claustrophobic ceiling abruptly opened up into a breathtaking, cavernous dome.

The walls and ceiling of the massive chamber were covered in impossibly intricate, breathtaking murals depicting vast cosmic landscapes and the swirling arcs of the galactic spiral.

Crafted entirely from precious gemstones, crushed diamonds, and rare metals, the mural flawlessly depicted the exact stellar alignments of Terra, Ophelia, Sabien, and countless other systems, mimicking the exact view of the night sky from the surface of Baal.

Suddenly, the heavy, earth-shaking thud of massive metallic footsteps echoed from the shadows.

Two hulking, crimson-painted Castraferrum Dreadnoughts lumbered out of the darkness, their heavy assault cannons and power fists aggressively tracking the entering party.

These were the eternally vigilant Guardians of the Sepulchre.

Ancient, crippled heroes entombed in walking sarcophagi, forced to endure infinite, suffocating isolation in absolute darkness just to stand watch over their father’s tomb.

Honestly, Vane was genuinely impressed by their sheer mental fortitude.

If it were him, standing completely alone in a pitch-black basement for ten thousand years?

He would have absolutely lost his mind within the first two months.

After confirming the biometric identity tags of Dante and the other Chapter Masters, the two Dreadnoughts silently lowered their weapons and stepped back into the shadows, clearing the path.

Dante and the Astartes paused, offering crisp, deeply respectful salutes to the ancient Ancients before proceeding deeper into the chamber.

Beyond the Guardians lay a sweeping, spiraling ramp that descended into the absolute lowest level of the bedrock: the sacred resting place of the Primarch.

The entire Host of the Blood halted behind Dante, staring in absolute, suffocating silence into the shadowy abyss below.

Down there lay their father.

Moving with perfect, synchronized reverence, Dante dropped to one knee and formally traced the sign of the Aquila across his chest.

Behind him, every single Chapter Master, Captain, and Sanguinary Guard immediately mirrored the gesture.

“Well, well.

So this is where the Great Angel takes his eternal nap?” “Why is it so damn dark in here?

Somebody turn a light on.” An aggressively loud, incredibly casual voice completely shattered the suffocating, holy reverence of the moment.

Without waiting for permission, Vane casually pulled a stack of Glowstone blocks from his inventory and began rapidly slapping them onto the ancient, sacred walls, instantly flooding the gloomy crypt with bright, warm light.

The architecture of the tomb was actually relatively simple.

In the exact center of the chamber stood a massive, towering obelisk carved from a single, flawless piece of red granite, polished until it gleamed like a mirror.

At the very apex of the obelisk rested a colossal, priceless ruby: the Eye of Terra.

Extending from either side of the granite obelisk were two breathtakingly massive angelic wings.

Every single ‘feather’ on the wings was individually forged from pure silver, auramite, or brass, and every square inch of the metal was meticulously engraved with litanies of remembrance and mourning.

According to Chapter chronicles, these metallic feathers had been personally gifted by the surviving loyalist Primarchs, the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes, and the highest-ranking commanders of the Imperial Army immediately following the Horus Heresy, permanently etching their grief and reverence for the fallen angel.

The massive metallic wings curved upward, forming a protective cradle.

Resting within that cradle was a colossal, glowing halo forged from pure bronze.

And hovering perfectly weightless within the center of that halo was the eternal stasis-casket of Sanguinius.

It wasn’t a traditional stone sarcophagus.

It was a massive, perfectly spherical orb of molten, liquid gold, permanently frozen mid-surge by the most powerful, hyper-advanced stasis field the Imperium had ever produced.

Because time within the field was absolutely, permanently stopped, the physical state of Sanguinius remained exactly as it was the microsecond he died.

“Well…

that is incredibly hard to look at.” Staring through the golden stasis field at the mangled remains of the Primarch, Vane muttered under his breath.

Hearing Vane’s blunt assessment, Dante and the other Astartes let out a collective, deeply exhausted sigh, their expressions twisting into absolute resignation.

The Forefather is an absolute among men.

He possesses ultimate power and profound wisdom.

His only flaw is that his mouth has absolutely zero filter.

“Forefather, how exactly do you intend to resurrect the Great Angel?” Dante stood up, shaking off the momentary despair and asking the critical question.

“I mean, look at him.

Horus literally beat his physical body into a bloody paste with Worldbreaker.

Furthermore, his soul was violently shattered into fragments by the Chaos Gods upon his death.” “Given these extreme variables, resurrecting him is absolutely not going to be a simple, ‘click-and-revive’ scenario,” Vane stated, his tone unusually serious as he analyzed the mangled corpse.

Hearing Vane’s grim assessment, the hearts of every Blood Angel in the room collectively plummeted into their stomachs.

If the Forefather—a being who casually wielded absolute, reality-warping power—was saying this was difficult…

was it actually impossible?!

“Is it…

is it truly impossible?” Mephiston’s voice trembled, heavily laden with profound despair.

Vane calmly walked over to the Chief Librarian and casually slapped him in the back of the head.

“Ow!

Forefather, why did you hit me again?!” Mephiston clutched the back of his head, looking incredibly wronged.

“Never question if a man ‘can’ or ‘cannot’.

A real man can always get the job done.

Understand?” Vane scolded.

“If you run your mouth like that again, I’m adding another fifty years to your reservoir duty.” Mephiston: “…” Wait, why did I just get slapped with another fifty years?!

You were literally the one who just said it was going to be difficult!

I just agreed with you, and now I’m the one getting punished?!

When will the bullying stop?!

I’m just a fragile, physically weak Librarian!

“Forefather, what is our next course of action?” Dante asked incredibly carefully, absolutely terrified that Vane would randomly slap him with another fifty years of reservoir duty.

He wasn’t going to gamble on the Forefather forgetting the joke.

Vane stared at Sanguinius’s corpse, his mind racing through his available modded mechanics.

After a few seconds, he spoke.

“Given his current physical and spiritual state, standard resurrection mechanics won’t work.

The only viable path is to construct the Steps of Ascension and forcefully initiate an Apotheosis Ritual.” “We’re going to turn him into a literal god.” An Apotheosis Ritual?!

Hearing those words, Dante and the Chapter Masters instantly tensed, their expressions turning incredibly grim.

“Forefather…

is this Apotheosis Ritual exceedingly dangerous?

Are there catastrophic side effects?” Dante asked, his voice tight.

Based on his fifteen hundred years of combat experience, any time the word ‘godhood’ was thrown around, it was almost exclusively a trap set by Chaos.

He didn’t genuinely believe the Forefather harbored malicious intent.

With the Forefather’s sheer, incomprehensible power, if he wanted to destroy them, he wouldn’t need to bother with an elaborate ritual.

He could just snap his fingers.

But a ritual to ascend a shattered soul to literal godhood?

That sounded incredibly, profoundly dangerous.

“Dangerous?

No.

Are there side effects?

Also no,” Vane shook his head dismissively.

“As for the crafting materials, I can probably synthesize everything I need in about two or three hours.” “Then…

why did you look so grim a moment ago?” Dante asked, deeply confused.

“Because if I made it look too easy, it would make all of you look incredibly incompetent.

I was just trying to protect your fragile egos.” Dante: “…” Mephiston: “…” Corbulo: “…” Every single Blood Angel in the room: “…” Honestly, Forefather…

you really didn’t need to add that last part.

“Just sit tight and wait here.

I need to synthesize the required items for the Apotheosis Ritual.

Once I’m done, we’ll resurrect your dad.” Vane had previously cleared a highly volatile, endgame progression dimension governed by the ‘Overture of the End’ modpack.

He had successfully defeated the reigning deity of that dimension—Abaddon the Despoiler of Worlds (not the Warhammer one, just an unfortunately named boss)—and looted the complete blueprints for the Apotheosis Ritual.

He had since heavily modified the code to suit his needs.

By completing the ritual, the target would be granted the Halo of the End.

The moment they equipped the Halo, they would instantly absorb a complete Divine Spark.

Of course, Vane possessed several other Apotheosis mechanics from other modpacks.

He had the ‘Path of the Fool’ from a deception-based modpack, the ‘Usurpation of the False Creator’ from a sci-fi modpack, and the ‘Titan Rebirth’ protocol.

All of these mechanics could grant a powerful Divine Spark and forge a god.

However, after carefully reviewing the stats and lore implications, Vane decided the ‘Divine Spark of the End’ was the absolute, perfect thematic fit for Sanguinius.

To craft the required items, he needed: the Chrono-Watch, a Stinger of the Nightmare Hive, the Will of the Dimension, and the Ring of Ascension.

Once he synthesized those components in an Altar of Apotheosis, he would obtain the Halo of the End.

He would then forcibly equip the Halo onto Sanguinius, triggering the Apotheosis protocol and granting the Primarch the Divine Spark.

There was, however, one minor catch.

Because Vane was the one crafting the item and initiating the ritual, the moment Sanguinius accepted the Divine Spark, he would automatically be bound to Vane’s command structure.

In MMO terms: Sanguinius was about to become Vane’s permanently summoned combat npc.

— Next Bonus at 700 Powerstones!

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