After parting with the warriors, Sanguinius returned to his home.

Her residence is at the top of the castle.

On a black spire.

The scenery here is very good. Through the window, you can see the undulating outline of the Blood Mountains, like an ancient dragon dormant in the shadows.

The dust and sand stirred up on the painful wasteland farther away, like a hazy red tulle. As long as you are not in it, from a distance, these red sands are actually somewhat indescribably beautiful.

The room was very clean, and there was a faint smell of incense in the air.

There are no additional decorations on the black floor.

Empty.

There are only blankets hanging on the walls and a huge wardrobe in the corner.

There is a night light placed on the bedside, which is powered by a promethium engine disassembled from a scrapped car and is emitting a faint blue light.

Everything is silent.

As he held his breath, Sanguinius could hear the hum of the promethium engines running to generate electricity.

She took off her clothes and cleaned her body with water.

I feel refreshed.

The fatigue after a hard battle has disappeared without a trace.

When wandering in the desert, Sanguinius can also use psychic flames to directly burn away the dirt on his body to ensure that his body remains clean as necessary.

But compared with bathing in the traditional sense, this method always feels less ritualistic.

And now.

When Sanguinius wiped the wet droplets on his feathers with a clean towel.

This missing sense of ritual has finally been completed.

She likes to spend time combing her feathers, carefully cleaning out every particle of dust, and combing out those feathers that are not in their original position.

When his fingers gently stroked the ends of the wings, a pleasant feeling filled the original Superman's perception.

For Sanguinius.

Rearranging her feathers is the happiest thing she has ever known.

The straight feathers at the end of her wings are so huge and directly connected to the muscles on the inside, so they can take care of themselves without extra attention. The outer coverts are much smaller in comparison and are easy to remove.

deviate from your own position, so you need to spend some extra time and energy on it.

Finally——

Half an hour later.

Sanguinius's wet hair air-dried naturally.

Every feather on the wings has returned to where it should be.

Flap your wings and feel the wind flowing through the gaps in the feathers.

Sanguinius' brows relaxed, his body relaxed, and he was very satisfied with the work he had done in the past half hour.

This satisfaction lasted until she lay on the bed.

Wings——

Her wings are of great use in battle.

This allows her to launch attacks from different angles at will, and is very strong enough to withstand bullets and weapons wielded by demons.

Same thing.

Another thing I have to admit.

These wings brought some unexpected troubles to her life.

For example, right now, when Sanguinius is lying on her back on the soft bed with her wings open, she can feel the muscles and bones on her wings becoming sore due to the squeezing of her own weight, and as time goes by

Gradually losing consciousness.

She chose to turn her body sideways.

The feathers that had just been combed left their post again, and their hair was pressed by their shoulders. Unexpectedly, there was a slight tingling sensation.

Okay!

Sanguinius continued to turn around and chose to lie down on the bed.

This time, the wings can be stretched to both sides, and there is no need to worry about suppressing the shining golden hair.

However——

There was a dull feeling in my chest.

It's hard to breathe, and there's a shameful sourness.

She seemed to be angry with herself and persisted for almost an hour.

Drowsily as if asleep, but not at all.

The bedside night light goes out.

The hum of the promethium engine also disappeared, leaving only the rustling sound of gravel rubbing in the wind.

Huh——

The angel finally couldn't hold on any longer.

She slowly got up from the bed and sat down on the bed with a look of despair.

Breathing vigorously the fresh air in the room.

Prophecies and innate knowledge allow Sanguinius to know many secrets.

She clearly knew that she had twenty brothers, and she was the only female among all the Primarchs.

Just like these wings on my back.

It is a unique existence.

During the many silent nights that fell on Baal, Sanguinius thought deeply about this issue.

But now——

A wicked answer appeared in her consciousness.

Her creator, biological father, and the great Emperor of Mankind - in designing her like this, did he deliberately prevent her from enjoying a moment of sleep and prevent her from slacking off?

"Okay,"

Sanguinius said to himself as he put on his clothes, "In this case, at least I have some other ways to try to relax."

Click!

She came to the black window sill.

Push the window outward.

The wind poured into the room, mixing with the smell of rust.

There is no moon on Baal, or Baal itself is the moon of Baal.

Many years ago, Ba moon was called a lucky star.

It is a world as beautiful as heaven.

But a devastating war destroyed all of this and permanently changed the ecology of Bastar.

Turning it into a dead planet filled with deadly radiation and mutant beasts.

The absence of the moon does not mean there is no light.

Red Scar - an astronomical phenomenon caused by Baal's gravity spread across the sky.

Bundles of gauze-like red light hang down from the sky quietly and peacefully.

It's like being fixed by some great force into an eternal aurora.

Looking down from the open window, below are towering iron towers and steep cliffs, with a vertical drop of thousands of meters.

The angel is standing on the black windowsill with his bare ankles.

Stand up slowly.

The snow-white wings are bathed in the cold light of the red scar, and the skirt corners are flying in the wind, outlining the slender curves of the calves.

Whoa!

She closed her eyes and spread her arms.

Fall forward——

Falling!
To be continued...