With just a flick of Alexander's thought, an inspiration sparked in the minds of everyone in the tavern. *It's time to go home.* Various reasons to return sprouted in their minds like mushrooms popping out of muddy soil after a rain. The crowd dissipated like a receding tide, exiting through the tavern doors until only the somewhat lonely silence remained.
Alexander took a slightly crude glass from the rack, wiped it clean, and turned toward the liquor cabinet behind him. His gaze swept over the shelves until he found a square, greyish glass bottle. A label was affixed to it, noting the brewing date and a message from Old One-Eye.
> "To Alexander: This is the most satisfying bottle of wine I have brewed since coming to Baal."
Old One-Eye had passed away during the years Alexander was in slumber. He could have undergone rejuvenation surgery—Dante was more than willing to have the Sanguinary Priests perform the procedure—but the old man eventually refused. He felt his life and his responsibilities had come to an end; there was no need to stubbornly linger in this world.
In his youth, he had been a guard at the Governor's Palace on Asphodel, one of the most skilled among them, with a bright future and the Governor's absolute trust. But the Governor and his wife were infected by Genestealers during an interstellar voyage, giving birth to a blasphemous xenos scion, Tiberius Frax—who later became the Genestealer Patriarch, the "Worm of the Crypt." The Governor's eldest son, Augustus Frax, secretly gathered the guards to launch a rebellion, killing the corrupted couple. However, when facing the young Patriarch, Old One-Eye had been paralyzed by the fear the creature radiated, letting the monster slip away. He always believed the disasters that followed were his fault. For that reason, he had voluntarily left the spire, diving into the underhive to hunt the Worm of the Crypt.
Later, Asphodel was destroyed, the Worm died, and Old One-Eye established the earliest Church of Saint Doraemon, gathering strength to fight the hidden cults and the later Tyranid invasion. He finally believed he had done all he could. His duty was finished.
He accepted death peacefully, leaving only this tavern for Alexander.
Alexander unscrewed the cap. A strong scent of alcohol wafted out, followed by the slightly bitter aroma of grapes and a near-strange fermented fragrance.
He glanced at the label. When brewing this, Old One-Eye had used Baalite grapes but had not followed the Blood Angels' methods. He had discovered special fungi in the caves of Baal. The hive residents of Asphodel often used mushrooms from dark tunnels to ferment spirits, and Old One-Eye was a master of the craft. He blended the fungi with the grapes, fermenting the tannins into unique aromatic compounds.
Alexander poured himself a glass, gently swirling the crimson liquid. He took a sip. First came a sharp bitterness, which quickly faded into a metallic iron taste reminiscent of blood. Finally, a slightly astringent, exotic fragrance filled his mouth and reached his sinuses, eventually turning into a sour pang that slipped down his throat and into his stomach.
> "Old One-Eye named this wine 'Responsibility.' The Emperor's deepest teaching to us is responsibility."
> "We find our responsibility in this world, we fulfill it, and finally, we return our souls to the Golden Throne with a clear conscience."
So, what was Alexander's responsibility in this world?
Alexander pondered this. He wasn't a person easily bound by responsibilities assigned by others. Reaching this point was likely as Dante suspected: because he happened to be in this position and accepted the prayers of others, responsibility arose naturally. A person's responsibility is something they find for themselves...
Rag believed his responsibility was to drink a cup of amasec before he died; Old One-Eye believed his was to make up for past mistakes; Lena believed she was born with a duty from the Emperor; Jeanne had long prepared for the duty of hosting the Emperor's power; Sanguinius felt responsible for all of humanity; Guilliman felt responsible for making the world better; and El'Jonson believed it was the duty of the strong to protect the weak...
Since people called him Doraemon, he naturally wanted to do things that fit that identity. When the people of this galaxy cried out "Help me," Alexander naturally went to help.
If it were a short time ago, he wouldn't have considered these questions. At that time, his divinity was vast and his humanity weak, causing him to act without hesitation. Now, because of the decision he made recently, his humanity had overwhelmed his divinity...
"Satisfied?" Sanguinius appeared behind him.
Alexander couldn't help but laugh. "I feel quite good. Having come to this world, if I didn't sell meat sauce on Baal at least once, I'd feel like something was missing."
Sanguinius didn't laugh. He simply watched Alexander with a gentle gaze. After a few minutes, he spoke softly. "What has gone wrong with your inner self?"
Alexander blinked. "Do I look like my humanity is fading?"
"No, quite the opposite. You have an abundance of humanity right now, which is why it feels strange."
Sanguinius shook his head slightly. "As you just told Dante, a person is supported by their past self."
"But as a being of the Warp, you and I are the same; we aren't just supported by our own pasts."
"Those who believe in us, who have faith in us, their souls merge with ours. Their pasts are our pasts, supporting me at this moment."
"Even I cannot say I am exactly the same as the Sanguinius of old. Yet you are acting exactly like the Alexander I first met."
Facing Sanguinius's gentle gaze, Alexander only smiled slightly.
Sanguinius's eyes suddenly turned sharp. "Either you are currently quite mad, or you are pretending to be human."
"Even just recently, you were being polluted by faiths from Chaos... You rid yourself of those faiths too quickly. What have you truly become?"
Sanguinius's tone was urgent, sharp, and restless. Buried beneath was a sliver of self-blame. In his eyes, he was the one who pushed Alexander onto this path; he had nudged Alexander to act for the sake of a greater responsibility...
If Alexander had truly descended into madness...
Sanguinius felt as if his heart were weeping blood.
"It's not that complicated. You're right; our inner selves are complex, especially after becoming gods."
"Alexander is only one part of the 'Omnissiah' and the 'Eternal Dragon.' Perhaps I used various means to ensure I was the dominant part, but I am still just a part."
Alexander looked away, glancing at his own arm. "The more I resist, the more the other parts of me object. I have to rely on long slumbers and self-hypnosis to maintain this state."
"But I can't do this forever. I need a period where the 'Omnissiah' and the 'Eternal Dragon' are completely Alexander."
"So, when the faiths from Chaos poured in, I took the opportunity to strike a deal with the other parts of my inner self."
"I demanded complete control over the 'Omnissiah' and the 'Eternal Dragon' for a set period. The other parts must enter a slumber and cede their power."
"The price I pay is that after that period ends, I will no longer suppress them. I will merge into the infinite tides of the Warp, into Chaos."
"How long?" Sanguinius felt his throat go dry. He felt the blood throughout his body surging.
"Twenty-two days."
Alexander spoke with near-indifference. "Five days have already passed."
"Have you truly gone mad?" Pain flashed across Sanguinius's face. He didn't even criticize Alexander for wasting precious time; he only felt a heart-wrenching bitterness.
"You don't need to feel it's because of you," Alexander shook his head. "One of the few values I accepted after coming to this world is that everyone has a responsibility."
"I was once angry because the Governor of Asphodel betrayed his duty. Now, I must unify my knowledge and action to fulfill my own."
"But only twenty-two days... can you..." Sanguinius felt dizzy.
"It's enough. The other side doesn't have much time left either."
Alexander chuckled. "The God-Blight. The moment the Angel of Extinction was born, the God-Blight was transmitted into his body via the 'mother.'
"He only has seventy-seven days left. He must be terrified right now, thinking he has no time for other plans. His only choice is to use the time window to complete his original plan as quickly as possible."
"But he doesn't know my time is also limited, nor does he know I am currently in a state of absolute control... Honestly, if he did nothing and just hid for twenty-two days, I might actually fail. But right now, I have the information advantage."
"So, do not worry. On the twenty-second day of this Terran month, either I will achieve victory and lead us into the 22nd Century, or I will fail and let the Dark King bury this galaxy."
"Whichever it is, this world, this universe, this galaxy—the countdown has already begun."
"My friend."
Sanguinius nodded slowly and then knelt on one knee so his gaze was level with Alexander's. "I once swore an oath to one of my brothers that no matter how much time it took, I would do everything in my power to help him. In the end, for the sake of responsibility, I failed that oath."
"Now, I swear to you: in the final hours of this galaxy, I will do everything in my power to help you. This is not just out of responsibility, but out of our friendship."
"No matter the odds, no matter the outcome, I will fight for you with all my heart."
"Go and do what must be done."
---
Roboute Guilliman looked at the documents before him with exhaustion. Great changes had occurred in the galaxy, catching even him off guard. The Black Legion was gone—destroyed almost instantly. Every renegade Astartes of the Black Legion had died simultaneously at a single moment. Only the World Eaters following Corax and the Thousand Sons under Ahriman, who had long detached themselves from Abaddon, escaped the disaster.
But this didn't mean the traitor Astartes had disappeared completely. Many Chaos warbands not affiliated with the Black Legion began to seize the ecological niches left empty, taking over derelict ships, fortresses, and worlds.
Guilliman had to rearrange the entire Imperial military deployment to adapt to the new situation. Furthermore, he had to be wary of the largest traitor Astartes force remaining...
Guilliman's gaze fell upon the starchart, specifically near the Solar Segmentum in the Ultima Segmentum. The Maelstrom. Once the largest Warp rift in the galaxy besides the Eye of Terror. It was home to the largest traitor force outside of Abaddon's—the Red Corsairs warband and their master, the Lord of the Maelstrom, Huron Blackheart.
This warband originated from the former Astral Claws Chapter. After the Imperial civil war known as the Badab War, the heavily wounded Chapter Master Huron and two hundred Astral Claws fled into the Maelstrom. In just a few hundred years, they had grown into a Chaos Astartes force nearly at Legion strength.
Guilliman couldn't help but laugh as he looked at the letter by his hand, written personally by Huron Blackheart. The Tyrant of Badab's political and military instincts were truly sharp. Upon realizing Abaddon was dead and the Black Legion had vanished, his first reaction wasn't to seize territory like other traitors. Instead, he wrote to Guilliman with the utmost speed.
In the letter, written in a sincere tone, Huron described his hardships. He claimed they had always been loyal to the Emperor and humanity; they were merely victims of groundless persecution by the High Lords, much like the Inquisition had tried to persecute the Space Wolves. Except, the Astral Claws were small and weak.
They didn't even know who their Gene-Father was (Huron hinted here that their origin was intentionally hidden by the High Lords) and thus couldn't contact other blood-brothers for help. Powerless against the persecution of the foolish High Lords, they were forced to feign rebellion and flee into the Warp. But in reality, they had never turned to Chaos.
They had maintained their loyalty in secret, fighting xenos pirates, slowing Abaddon's progress, and secretly sending information about Chaos warbands and even Abaddon himself to the Imperium.
Huron even provided a list of information he had supposedly supplied. Most of it was true, but Guilliman suspected Huron was using the Imperium to eliminate his rivals. On several occasions, when the Imperium was about to destroy a warband based on that info, Huron had swooped in like a "savior" to help them, naturally absorbing them into his own ranks afterward. Huron further claimed that he had used a ruse to trick Abaddon out of the last Blackstone Fortress, which he now intended to present to Guilliman as a flagship.
After reading just the first half of the letter, Guilliman couldn't help but marvel: *There is a lonely loyalist in the Maelstrom.*
Further down, Huron went even further. He claimed that according to his investigation, the Astral Claws... were actually a successor chapter of the Ultramarines! They were Guilliman's own scions! Huron claimed that upon hearing of Guilliman's return, he wanted to lead the Red Corsairs back to their father's embrace, but was prevented by Abaddon. Now, they could finally return to Guilliman's side.
Guilliman's response was... *Wonderful, wonderful.* He wrote an equally sincere personal letter to Huron. He praised Huron's loyalty, pitied the grievances he had endured, and expressed a desire to reward and compensate him. He requested that Huron come to the *Macragge's Honour* in person, where Guilliman would crown him the Hero of the Maelstrom...
*But please do not wear armor.*