Luna Wolves, Angels, Ravens, Bats (III)

Don't be nervous, Jago Sevatarion, don't be nervous.

With a stiff expression, Sevatar raised his hand and straightened his tuxedo. This outfit didn't actually belong to him; it was Shen's.

Naturally, it was a little tight on him, but thanks to its loose design, the outfit was still within the "appropriate" range for him.

As for the original owner of the clothes, Shen was standing opposite Sevatar at the moment, staring at him with slightly narrowed eyes.

"What are you looking at?" the First Reserve asked, slightly annoyed.

Shen shifted his gaze, rolling his eyes upwards to look at the ceiling. He said nothing, yet he vividly and thoroughly presented what he could say to Sevatar in a different form.

The latter took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, and said sarcastically, "Oh, I know you're jealous of me, Shen. So, you don't need to make your resentment so obvious. I can see it."

Sevatar gave a fake smile, revealing sharp teeth. Shen looked at him strangely, and after a long while, he slowly spoke.

"These words actually came from someone who doesn't even have a formal suit. Why don't you take off my clothes and go over in your boots and trench coat? I'm sure this strange trend among Rogue Trader and their thugs will impress the Emperor."

Sevatar shut his mouth, his face pale, speechless for the first time, choked by Shen's words—but what could he do? He needed Shen's suit right now.

With a gloomy face, he turned to the mirror and checked his posture one last time.

He now looks completely different from the Jago Sevatarion he usually is; instead, he looks like a...

"Oh, Terra, you're practically a courtly lover!" Kassati Nuon burst into laughter. "You look fucking stupid, Sevatar, you're completely unsuitable for such fine clothes."

"Shut his mouth, Shen," Sevatar said dangerously to herself in the mirror. "Otherwise, I'll do it myself when I get back."

Shen shrugged and casually pulled Casati out of the room. Even so, Sevatar could still hear their laughter in the hallway—yes, this time even Shen had joined in.

Sevatar closed her eyes and began to convince herself: the reason they were laughing at her current attire was simply because they were jealous that she was able to board the Emperor's Dream.

With this thought in mind, he turned around and left the room. A few minutes later, he arrived at a hangar, where Karyl Lohars had been waiting for some time.

The Night Lords instructor stood with his hands behind his back, his tailcoat impeccably tailored. His usual loose hair was now neatly combed back, not a single strand touching his ears.

"Instructor," Sevatar greeted him somewhat awkwardly.

"Oh." Karyl raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in his voice. "You're dressed like this... Hmm, is this Shen's tuxedo? I remember he bought it from Cortia. He actually lent it to you."

"."

Karyl couldn't help but chuckle, turning to board the shuttle. "You're dressed quite appropriately, Sevatar, but I suppose you'd prefer Power Armour?"

"Yes," Sevatar replied sullenly as he stepped into the cabin. "This outfit is so tight around my back."

"That's how formal attire is; it's not worn for yourself, it's worn for others to see." Karyl shook his head and casually patted the wall separating the cabin from the cockpit.

The hatch slammed shut, and the pilot, having been notified, started the engine. The cabin immediately began to shake. Sevatar tensed his muscles and reached out to grab the handrail that was hanging from the ceiling.

He didn't want to sit down, because that would mean he'd have to buckle his seatbelt. Sevatar wasn't sure if he'd get his clothes all wrinkled from it.

Karyl ignored all that, sat down, and fastened all six seatbelts one by one. Most of the shuttles on the Tredesia were older models, fast but not very comfortable.

The new shuttle is said to allow passengers to avoid cumbersome safety measures and have a "comfortable ride," but Karyl thinks it's unnecessary.

After finishing this task, he looked up at Sevatar straight, and his expression seemed somewhat thoughtful.

"Sevatar"

"What's wrong, instructor?"

"Have you heard anything from the veterans in the legion? For example, the preparations needed before meeting the Emperor?"

"Huh?" Sevatar shook his head blankly and fell silent.

Seeing this, Karyl had no choice but to send a message to someone via psychic communication: I will go see your son, who also possesses prophetic abilities, and do some "things I should do." But remember to calm yourself down after you finish speaking.

Most Nostramo people would go blind if they saw you.

"I understand," the man said. "But you really are a good instructor."

=Same to you, good father.+

Sevatar looked at their instructor, whose smile had suddenly become forced, with a puzzled expression, and remained silent, slightly nervous.

Seventeen minutes later, they were no longer in this turbulent state.

--

"If I had known, I should have sent my entire guard," Horus said, half-jokingly. "What do you think, Sanguinius? Perhaps that would have shown us more respect."

"If Father agrees, you can certainly do so," the angel replied somewhat absentmindedly. "Or perhaps we could change the meeting place to your Vengeful Spirit, but he doesn't seem to be the type like Lion who enjoys watching military parades, do you think?"

"I think there aren't many people like Lion," Horus replied with a slight smile. The angel did not answer him further.

At this moment, Sanguinius was no longer able to fully concentrate on chatting.

A cold, focused intensity appeared deep within his eyes, and abstract images he had once witnessed began to surface in his memory, flashing rapidly before his eyes. Before long, he entered a state of deep thought.

Horus did not disturb Sanguinius during this time; after noticing his brother's condition, he also fell into deep thought.

Karyl Lohars.

He murmured the name, and descriptions of Lorgar, Fulgrim, and Rogal Dorn all came to mind.

He pondered these words, hoping to glean some information from them before the upcoming meeting began, and to arrive at a sufficiently useful, albeit partial, picture.

Their silence lasted for a while, while Azkaellon and Fakus Kebo, standing behind them, exchanged a glance, both looking somewhat surprised.

The Luna Wolves and the Blood Angels were two legions that frequently cooperated during the Great Crusade, and this was not the first time they had seen their Primarch standing side by side. However, in their memory, this was the first time the Primarch had been so silent.

A few minutes later, clear boarding sounds came from the outer side of the boarding deck, which was divided into inner and outer sections. Horus and Sanguinius immediately sprang into action, striding forward and stopping before a heavy metal wall. It was this wall that separated the inner and outer sections.

At that moment, the indicator light on its top had changed from red to yellow. A minute later, accompanied by the sound of gas ejection, the metal wall rumbled and rose. Under the soft light, Horus and Sanguinius finally saw the person they were waiting for.

Horus smiled gently, a hint of surprise in his eyes. He saw a giant no shorter than himself, also over four meters tall. However, this giant's skin was much paler than that of an average person.

To put it less politely, he was almost as pale as a corpse.

Horus strode toward him, observing him in the process.

This man's face was quite thin, but not excessively so. His eyes were completely black, unlike most people who have white in their eyes. Horus could hardly even see the pupils in his eyes. He also possessed an extraordinary charisma.

However, this allure is entirely different from that possessed by the Primarch.

The closer Horus got to him, the more he could sense it. Primarch possessed a kind of connection; they could feel that bloodline link through a simple glance.

But this person is different.

"You must be Lord Horus Lupercal?" the man spoke first, extending his right hand.

His voice was as cold as a glacier, yet it naturally carried a touch of gentleness from somewhere. Horus was momentarily stunned, almost forgetting to extend his hand in response to this ancient greeting.

The Lord of Cthonia extended his hand, slightly embarrassed, and shook it. The hand was as strong and firm as a warrior's, and covered in calluses. However, Horus felt no warmth from it.

The cold is endless.

Horus took a deep breath. "Yes, I am Horus Lupercal, but please do not address me as 'Sir,' even in times of war, I prefer to be addressed by my rank."

"Then I shall accept."

"Thank you, Instructor Karyl." Horus smiled slightly, turned his head, and wanted his brother Sanguinius to finish the task. He had finished his greeting, but his brother hadn't.

However, when Horus turned his head, his pupils suddenly shrank to the size of pinpoints.

He saw his brother silently shedding tears.

Tears as red as blood.

"Sanguinius?" Horus murmured. "What's going on?"

The Baal stared at him expressionlessly, his wings folded securely behind him. After several seconds, he finally spoke, but what he uttered was not a greeting—he even spoke while looking directly at Horus.

"I need to spend some time alone with Instructor Karyl," Sanguinius said softly but firmly.

Horus frowned deeply.

One more chapter.