Meanwhile, inside the Incessant's power core.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The Blood Angels Astartes, wearing golden helmets, strode rapidly through the corridors of the Incessant's cabins, their boltguns ceaselessly spewing fury.
This place was completely different from the battlefield Horatio faced.
The Space Marine rapidly interpreted the readings from his helmet with superhuman reaction speed; the helmet's holographic aiming projection perfectly aligned with the muzzle, allowing him to hit targets without aiming, simply by raising his hand, unleashing a terrifying one-sided slaughter.
The boarding enemies, before even seeing a figure, instantly perished the moment they heard the heavy, terrifying footsteps approaching, blown into fragments by the massive.75 bolter rounds.
The Blood God servants, intending to destroy the plasma engine, never expected that this Imperial Navy battlecruiser would host dozens of Blood Angels Astartes.
More than the Blood God apostles who had boarded with them.
This filled the invaders with deep despair and powerlessness; they felt like they were playing a cat-and-mouse game with no chance of winning.
They searched for their target to destroy within the complex ship compartments, but once they ran into the Blood Angels hunting them, they would be mercilessly torn to shreds.
In the corridor, a small squad of scrambling Blood Pact Army soldiers rounded a corner and collided with several scarlet Astartes Monks, drenched in blood.
Their power armor, when stained with blood, particularly resembled the color of a Khorne Space Marine, and their 'grimacing' MK7 helmets added to the illusion that they had pledged themselves to Khorne.
As a result, when these invaders saw the crimson demigods, their first reaction was to assume they were the Blood God's envoys they served, and they all saluted.
But they were wrong; their master had never drawn any sub-chapter of Sanguinius's Blood Angels from the thousands of Space Marines in his pool.
"My lord! Finally…" Before the leading Blood Pact Captain could finish his ecstatic words.
The respectful salutes of these Blood God servants were met only with a punch that shattered the grotesque mask on the man's face along with his head.
Immediately after, the other Astartes raised their roaring Chainswords and strode forward, dismembering the dozens of men before them.
The enraged Blood Angels were even more brutal than Khorne's apostles, and the accompanying Sailors dared not approach, fearing to be caught in the crossfire.
They followed a few meters behind, watching with wide eyes as these terrifying death angels calmly sliced every enemy they encountered along the way into pieces, as easily as a kitchen butcher carving melons and vegetables.
Even now, at the end of the 41st millennium, Sanguinius's Blood Angels have never, to this day, experienced any organized defection to Chaos.
Their hatred for the slayer of their Gene-father outweighed the temptation of all the favorable conditions offered by the four Chaos Gods.
Even if Slaanesh coveted their aesthetic refinement and appearance.
Nurgle desired their abundant vitality and the strange Bloodthirst.
Tzeentch admired their wisdom and was curious about the visions during the Black Rage.
Khorne, even more so, hungered for their explosively high martial prowess after the Black Rage.
But Sanguinius's Blood Angels remained treasures they could only admire from afar, never defile.
Even if every Blood Angel could become a nightmarish, bloodthirsty monster, after the Bloodthirst, they would not hesitate to treat loyal Imperial mortals as mobile blood bags, draining them into mummified corpses.
There might even be terrifying situations like Roman Roland, who, experiencing the Black Rage, completely lost all distinction between friend and foe, treating all Astartes, loyalist or traitor, equally, slaughtering them all, leaving only the Black Rage Blood Angel standing there, roaring in agony.
But having never betrayed the Imperium, they could still proudly and unashamedly roar:
"I am a monster, but I am Sanguinius's monster!"
With Blood Angels leading the charge, the casualties among the Sailors were even lower than in Horatio's team.
The surrounding mortal warriors became mere backdrops, transforming into spectators enjoying a show of slaughter.
Among them, there was an even more terrifying presence.
The mortals watched in horror as a blindfolded Astartes Monks, without a helmet, his features exquisitely handsome, like an angel descended from the Ecclesiarchy's scripture.
The white rose blindfold over his eyes added a unique sense of mystery to him.
But before the mortals could admire him, Roman Roland's brutal slaughter made everyone flee from his side in terror.
He was like a Chainsword whirlwind charging into a crowd; though blindfolded, his moves were incredibly ruthless.
He could precisely cut down any enemy near him, whether mortal or traitor Astartes, relying only on sound and vague light outlines.
Blood, severed limbs, and shattered organs flew everywhere; his blade was a blur, and standing too close meant being unluckily caught in the spray.
The gentle, elegant angel instantly transformed into a cold, ruthless butcher, making the mortals fully understand why they were called the Emperor's death angels.
Even more incredible to them was that even the golden-armored Astartes, fellow Blood Angels, maintained a certain distance from the blindfolded warrior in combat.
His battle brothers would only move forward to continue the advance after the blindfolded Astartes had finished his cutting.
Bang! A sudden explosion echoed from ahead.
A crimson bolter round flew at Roman Roland's head with extreme speed.
But he simply raised his Chainsword with ease, effortlessly exploding the incoming bolter round in mid-air.
The flying shrapnel grazed his handsome face, but he remained unmoved, never uttering a single word or cry from beginning to end.
He remained silent, approaching his enemies with a chilling coldness.
A Khorne Space Marine, wielding a Chainaxe, swung at him, and through the whistling of the wind, the blindfolded Astartes precisely anticipated his swing trajectory.
In his darkness, the enemy was merely a matchstick figure emitting a crimson glow; his every movement, through sound, the smell of blood, and light, could be controlled.
Roman Roland dodged, then raised his sword and swung. The immense force made his opponent stumble back a few steps as he blocked.
Although the Black Rage seemed to have vanished, and the accompanying combat power dissipated, a small undercurrent of power still flowed in his blood.
He didn't know what this power was, but it certainly made him swifter than before.
Perhaps the Black Rage had not completely disappeared, and had already sown its seeds within him.
Roman Roland himself did not know if it would recur in the future, and he had no time to ponder such questions.
The yearning for battle, the fury of revenge, the shame of humiliation.
In battle, he felt his emotions grow numb, leaving only these three feelings lingering in his heart.
But as if he had been force-fed a tranquilizer, he did not howl as he swung like before; there was only terrifying stillness.
The only sounds were the roar of the Chainsword and the clanking of his armor plates.
After several exchanges, the Khorne Space Marine was forced back against the bulkhead.
The inescapable predicament interrupted his parry.
In the brief moment he glanced to find his footing, Roman Roland lunged forward, using immense force to cleave through the Chainaxe attempting to block his blade.
"How is this possible! You're blind!!"
Before the blasphemous traitor could register his shock, the blindfolded Astartes plunged his sword through his chest, destroying his secondary heart.
With a reverse motion, a hand-strike plunged into the wound, and an iron hand, covered in ceramite power armor plates, brutally tore out his primary heart from the traitor's chest.
Before the traitor bled to death, Roman Roland crushed the entire beating heart in front of him, and the splattering blood drenched his handsome face.
Bang!
Roman Roland swept his left hand, caving in and shattering the traitor's head; a small piece of tendon and flesh, dragging the collapsed head, dangled from his muscular, broad body, and then he bit into the wound with sharp fangs, sucking the blood.
A golden-armored Blood Angel Sergeant scanned the surroundings; only when everything had returned to calm did he nod to the mortals.
They all removed their helmets; their handsome faces had become hideous and repulsive, like vampires from horror legends.
Then, they took out blood plasma from their waist, which they had brought from the infirmary, and began to drink deeply where they stood.
Soon, their fangs began to retract, and their faces returned to the appearance of peerless handsome men.
The dumbfounded Imperial Navy Lieutenant nervously connected to the armed forces command center, breathlessly reporting the great victory of annihilating all enemies in the power core to the Captain of the armed forces.
The Incessant was safe.