The night sky was illuminated by the fires of war, casting eerie, dancing shadows upon the surface of the Forge World. The Blood Angels and their successor chapters, while making headway, were still up against an enemy that seemed unyielding in its fervor. The constant din of bolter fire, chainswords, and explosions was a maddening cacophony.

Dante, now refreshed with the vigor of his Primaris rebirth, moved with unmatched finesse, each movement a lethal ballet, but even he recognized the scale of the battle. The World Eaters were not just fighting with weapons; they were fighting with a relentless, chaotic rage fueled by their bloodlust and the dark gods they served.

In a lull between skirmishes, Dante summoned a council of the chapter masters present. The vast chamber they gathered in was a repurposed hall within the manufactorum, its grandeur a testament to the world's former glory. Holograms projected the current layout of the battlefront.

Gabriel Seth, his armor covered in the gore of his enemies, spoke up first, "This is madness, Dante. We're bleeding out there."

Dante responded calmly, "Seth, we knew this wouldn't be easy. The World Eaters have fortified this world in ways we didn't anticipate."

Mephiston, his aura radiating with psychic energy, interjected, "There's more than just fortifications. The Warp energy on this planet is overwhelming. They are close to summoning Angron."

A murmur of unease went through the gathered masters. The Lamenters' Chapter Master, typically reserved, looked up, "If Angron is brought forth, it won't just be this world that suffers. The entire sector could fall."

Dante's eyes flared with determination. "Then we stop it. We combine our strengths. We need to be united, not just in blood but in purpose."

Gabriel Seth stepped forward, "The Flesh Tearers are ready. But we need a plan."

Dante gestured to the hologram. "Here. The cathedral. It's their focal point. We focus our assault there. Seth, I need your chapter to flank from the east. The Lamenters will provide aerial support. Mephiston will lead a contingent to disrupt their summoning ritual."

Each Chapter Master nodded in agreement, accepting their roles.

As the meeting concluded, Dante had one final request. "Before we move out, brothers, let's remind ourselves of who we are. Let us drink from the Grail of Sanguinius, let it unify our spirit."

One by one, they partook in the sacred ritual, each drinking from the revered chalice. A feeling of brotherhood, purpose, and clarity washed over them. They were the sons of Sanguinius, and together, they would face the abyss.

Rejuvenated, the Blood Angels and their successors launched their combined assault, a sea of red, yellow, and black armor crashing against the tide of World Eaters. The cathedral loomed ever closer, and with it, the destiny of a world hung in the balance.

The assault on the cathedral was a spectacle of grim determination and brutal savagery. Everywhere Dante looked, he saw brothers fighting back to back, repelling the onslaught of World Eaters. The walls of the cathedral, once a beacon of hope on this Forge World, now stood defiled with the symbols of Chaos, its spires acting as a conduit for the growing Warp energies.

Landing with a small force on a raised platform overlooking the main entrance, Dante signaled for the attack to commence. Mephiston, radiating a scarlet aura, raised his hand, and a barrier of psychic energy shot forth, shielding the Blood Angels from incoming fire.

"Lamenters! Now!" shouted Dante. From the skies above, a fleet of Stormravens and Stormtalons from the Lamenters descended, strafing the World Eaters' defenses. The yellow-armored Astartes leapt from their transports, joining the fray below.

Gabriel Seth and his Flesh Tearers roared with fury as they charged, their chainswords ripping through heretic and daemon alike. The eastern flank, as Dante had hoped, started to buckle under their relentless assault.

However, the closer they got to the cathedral's heart, the stronger the resistance. Warp-infused World Eaters, their eyes glowing with malevolent energy, fought with enhanced strength and speed. Their chapels, instead of guiding their brothers, now chanted incantations to Khorne, their voices echoing with an otherworldly resonance.

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Suddenly, a guttural roar echoed across the battlefield. Emerging from the cathedral's entrance was Khârn the Betrayer, his chainaxe Gorechild screaming with anticipation. Around him, the very ground seemed to warp and twist, and behind him, World Eater champions followed.

Dante, with a determined look, called out, "Mephiston, with me. We take him down together." The two moved in unison, a dance of death, with Dante's Axe Mortalis and Mephiston’s Force Sword seeking the heart of the enemy.

But Khârn was a force unto himself. Each swing of Gorechild sent Blood Angels flying, their ceramite armor no match for its fury. Yet, Dante, with his newfound strength and Mephiston's psychic prowess, seemed to be a match for him.

The duel was a maelstrom of energy, the outcome uncertain. All around, the battle raged, but for those few moments, all eyes were on the three combatants, each representing the hopes and fears of their respective sides.

Suddenly, a cry rang out from the direction of the cathedral. The summoning was nearing its climax. Time was running out.

Dante's eyes locked onto Khârn's, their mutual recognition evident. The blood-soaked World Eater bore the weight of countless battles, his every motion a testament to warfare perfected. Yet in his new form, Dante felt the marriage of ancient experience with the prime vitality of youth. It was a dance of new beginnings versus the weight of endless slaughter.

With a speed belied by their massive forms, the two lunged at each other, Dante's Axe Mortalis singing as it cleaved the air, seeking the World Eater's heart. Khârn responded with Gorechild, the chainaxe's roar almost drowning out the din of battle, its teeth seeking to tear the life from the Blood Angel's Chapter Master

Blow met blow, sparks illuminating the battlefield as ceramite clashed with daemonic weaponry. Dante struck, his axe biting into Khârn's shoulder plate, only for the Betrayer to counter, his chainaxe skimming Dante's thigh, leaving a trail of molten armor in its wake.

Dante recalled the sensations of his past battles, the rhythm of combat he had mastered over millennia, and channeled that into every swing. He was a whirlwind, his axe's golden blade reflecting the fires of the conflict, illuminating the face of his adversary. Khârn, for his part, fought with the frenzied devotion of a man wholly given to the Blood God, every strike infused with hate and madness.

As they clashed, Mephiston engaged the World Eater champions that followed Khârn, his psychic might holding them at bay. With each passing second, the pressure of the ritual from the cathedral grew, pressing down on them, making every movement an effort.

With a roar of fury, Khârn launched a series of rapid blows, pushing Dante back. Yet the Chapter Master responded in kind, his newfound strength evident as he parried and counterattacked. The two were evenly matched, but Dante could feel the Black Rage gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. He sought to channel it, to use it to fuel his fight without being consumed.

The ground around them began to quake, the ritual reaching its zenith. Dante saw his opening. With a shout, invoking the name of his lost Primarch, Dante struck with all his might, his axe seeking to end the duel. Khârn, realizing the danger, attempted to dodge, but the Axe Mortalis bit deep into his side, sending him sprawling.

But victory was short-lived as the ground beneath them erupted, and a wave of pure Warp energy surged forth. Both Blood Angels and World Eaters were thrown back, their focus shifted to the new threat emerging from the heart of the cathedral.

The tremors from the ritual grew in intensity, threatening to tear the cathedral apart. The ground cracked and heaved, releasing swirls of crimson energy that lashed out, consuming the sacrificial cultists in their fervor. Their tormented screams echoed in a haunting chorus, resonating with the very forces they sought to summon.

From the heart of this tempestuous storm, a form began to emerge. It was a figure whose name once evoked respect and brotherhood but now only instilled dread. Angron, Daemon Primarch of the World Eaters, stood before them. His once noble visage now twisted into a monstrous representation of rage and fury, with Gorefather and Gorechild, his twin axes, eager to taste blood.

His gaze settled on Dante. The red eyes bore into him with an intensity that held eons of hatred and bitterness. Yet, as Dante met that gaze, he felt a torrent of emotions surge within him. Memories of a history he hadn’t lived, of brotherhood fractured, of betrayal and loss.

As the two forces prepared to clash, Dante felt a shift within him. The whispers that had been a constant presence since his transformation grew louder. Memories not his own began to flood his consciousness - visions of Sanguinius, his father, confronting Horus; of the Siege of Terra; of sacrifice and hope. The Black Rage threatened to consume him.

But with it came a power, a strength he had never known. Dante’s vision turned crimson, and the battlefield became a tableau of shadows and blood. The horrors of the past and the fears of the future melded, and in that moment, he was no longer just Dante; he was the embodiment of every Blood Angel who had ever fallen to the Black Rage. He was their vengeance, their fury, their sorrow.

Angron, sensing this shift, roared a challenge, and the entire cathedral seemed to tremble in response. But Dante, driven by the overwhelming force of the Black Rage, met his challenge head-on. It was a collision of titans, a moment that would be etched into the annals of history.

Around them, the battle reached a fever pitch. Mephiston, with a select group of Blood Angels librarians, sought to counter the dark energies, their psychic might forming a bulwark against the tidal wave of chaos. The Lamenters broke through enemy lines, their yellow and checkered heraldry a beacon of hope amidst the carnage. And Gabriel Seth, ever the fierce warrior, readied his Flesh Tearers for the onslaught that was sure to come with Khârn joining the fray.

The weight of Angron's presence, combined with the raw fury of Dante's Black Rage, promised a confrontation of cataclysmic proportions.