146 Terra (21)

"You know, Russ?" the thing asked politely. "At first, when you said you were going to kill me, I didn't believe you."

"So now, do you believe me?" Russ asked.

He carried a spear, its sharp point stained with blood. His fur cloak was gone, and his armor was tattered and battered, a pitiful sight, yet strangely amusing. Fragments clung to the blood-soaked wolf carcass, revealing raw, blood-stained skin and muscle beneath.

"I believe you," the thing said. "You do indeed have the ability to kill me."

As it spoke, it kept its eyes fixed on the spear in Russ's hand— the Emperor's Spear, the Dionysian Spear, the Spear of Destiny. Russ gently twirled it, rubbing it between his palms.

Yes, he wasn't wearing gauntlets, largely because his armor was damaged and the Power Armour could no longer accurately track his thoughts, so he simply ripped off the gauntlets and decided to wield the weapon with his own hands.

Otherwise, where do you think that blood came from? From the very core of Horus Lupercal's being?

No, it hasn't shed a single drop of blood since the battle began.

"I think," Russ answered slowly, "It's not that I have the ability, it has it."

"There's no difference, brother." It shook its head, denying Russ in a very gentle yet serious voice.

"Essentially, whether I hold it or you hold it, it's just a spear. Its power comes from your heart, from the one and only act of defiance against your father in your life, from your determination to sacrifice yourself to save everyone else. It is indeed a sharp weapon that can cut a hair in two, but on a mundane level, it's nothing more than that."

Russ almost laughed.

"Is that what you're thinking?" He tilted his head slightly defiantly, his blood-stained hair falling to the side of his head, obscuring a gruesome wound. "Want to try getting stabbed by it once?"

I would be honored to decline.

The thing forced a fake smile, its pale face gradually being swallowed by the red light. Everything vanished, becoming tiny details within that light; even if one held their breath and observed patiently, all one could see was a deathly stillness of destruction.

"So you're lying," Russ said. "You know what this spear is, you know what the consequences of being stabbed by it will be."

"It is," Horus said carefully. "How should I describe it to you?"

He paced back and forth in distress, gently shaking the Worldbreaker in his hand, but the arcs of electricity on the Lightning Claw disappeared, leaving it perfectly still.

Some corpses dressed in Ceramite or Adamantium lay around them, their armor painted in various colors. Russ reluctantly saw this again out of the corner of his eye, and a rare surge of sentimentality rose within him.

In ancient times, people fought each other to the death wearing armor like this. And now, what we do is not much different from what they did.

"Forget it, brother," Horus sighed in annoyance. "There's no point in saying any more. It's your own business if you don't want to join me. Why should I correct a bunch of blind people who would rather live in lies?"

"I'm tired of you mentioning the word 'lie'," the Wolf King retorted seriously.

He rushed up to Horus, whose eyes, burning with a crimson Radiance, looked at him with utter disdain, and Russ had no objection to it.

This monster certainly had the right to despise him; in this bloody battle, it was the only warrior who appeared relaxed and unhurried. The Wolf Guard won a hard-fought victory, while the Justaerin Terminators fought in a coordinated attack.

They were all named warriors, yet in this battle they behaved as if they were soldiers entering the battlefield for the first time. In Lupercal's Court, they fought and died pointlessly against each other.

Even the Wolf King himself seemed a little uneasy. He never thought too much when he was killing, but this time he seemed hesitant. If an old Fenrisian were here, he would probably say that Russ was like a wolf cub experiencing a harsh winter for the first time.

The tribe is gone, reduced to pitiful, emaciated corpses in the wind and snow. Fur and bits of flesh cling to the massive bones, freezing in the cold wind.

This wolf will have to face a predicament he has never experienced before. He will either have to learn the only way to survive on his own and endure the blizzard amidst the bloodshed, or he will have to run to the nearby human village and beg for mercy from the villagers.

They must either actively resist or actively be tamed; they have no other choice but to do so, otherwise they cannot survive.

"Which one do you choose?" Horus asked patiently.

The Worldbreaker was cruelly manipulated, without a sound; all noise was compressed. It arrived without any warning. Russ was somewhat dazed; he didn't even realize it was an attack at first, but fortunately, he remained vigilant enough.

He leaped to the other side of the battlefield with light, dance-like steps, which looked almost like a bizarre glide.

At the same time, the spear hummed in his hand, its surface gleaming with a golden Radiance, almost as if it were burning.

As Russ dodged, he thrust it out, Horus sidestepped and blocked the series of thrusts with his shoulder armor. Brilliant Mars flew from the point where the shoulder armor and the spear tip made contact.

He laughed again, and surprisingly appeared pleased.

"I've always liked you, Russ. Although I never contradict the brothers' prejudices against you, I know in my heart that you are indeed very intelligent. This pace and speed are quite different from your past fighting style. Where did you learn them from?"

Russ retreated, baring his fangs.

"Konrad Curze Curze, and Koulos Corax."

"I've already dealt with our crow; he's a deadly killer, but unfortunately, he's not well-suited for direct combat, especially not for fighting me."

Horus curled his lips, revealing his teeth as well, but this was deliberate, unlike Russ's instinctive baring of his teeth. This strange, ferocious smile was full of contempt.

"I proved it, brother, and without hurting him."

Why don't you Konrad Curze?

"Because there's no need," Horus said. "I can't imagine what it would be like for me to fight him."

"What? Are you scared?"

"A clumsy attempt at provocation, but yes, it is indeed a pity that I could not fight him with that blade in hand." Horus snorted and stepped forward casually.

He made no attempt at defense, simply raising his Warhammer high before brutally slamming it down. Russ dodged the blow, as well as the subsequent nineteen attacks.

Each time it was faster and more terrifying than the last, and several times it even grazed his pubic hair—a sensation that made his hair stand on end and his heart pound, but it also forced him into a completely new realm under the pressure.

Horus looked at him with appreciation and nodded approvingly.

"Great job, bro, great job!"

His arrogance stung Russ.

"You"

The Wolf King, panting, recovered from his exhaustion. His body was not letting him down and was recovering rapidly. However, hidden beneath this seemingly inexhaustible energy was a growing sense of helplessness as he was being forced into a predicament.

That thing had the ability to end him instantly, and the only reason it didn't was that it didn't want to be pierced by the spear in Russ's hand.

From the very beginning of the battle, Russ made this attitude very clear: if necessary, I will stab you at the cost of my life.

It was a high-stakes gamble, and he won.

"What's wrong with me?" Horus asked. "You'd better think things through before you speak, brother. Those who can't say what's in their hearts at once are pitiful, but also despicable."

He couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm reminded of those mortals—the officials. They all seem to be like that. When they see you or me, or our offspring, they become timid and hesitant, even their gait changes. Shoulders hunched, backs stooped, eyes constantly glancing downwards—it's quite amusing; they're afraid of us."

"I'm just afraid of you," Russ retorted.

He had rested fully, and his strength had been completely restored in those few seconds. Horus grinned again and swung his hammer.

This time he held back; the Worldbreaker's strike actually made a sound, like a burst of lightning whipping through the air. The Wolf King growled, thrusting his spear backhand, viciously aiming for Horus's face.

Radiance light suddenly blazed forth, like a dazzling sun. Horus narrowed his eyes and, for the first time, took a defensive stance—he raised his Lightning Claw, which miraculously blocked the spearhead at the most crucial moment.

Russ had no time for regret; he simply sheathed his spear and retreated to a safe distance. Horus, however, did not pursue. He stood there, displaying the composure of a victor, as if victory were already in his grasp.

That may not be the case, however, a ball of golden flame did indeed float in the palm of his Lightning Claw, scorching his black armor.

"No." Horus shook his head after a few seconds.

"What?" Russ sneered.

"They are not afraid of me," Horus said calmly. "But they are afraid of what I can do to them. They possess a rare intelligence among mortals, and therefore they know what I can do to them—these men are not afraid to die, Russ."

"The only thing they fear is losing power. And I happen to be able to do just that. With just a word, a glance, or a gentle push, I can bring them crashing down from their pedestals."

"For these kinds of people, losing power is like losing everything; they can't accept it, so they have no choice but to try every means to please me."

"I thought we were at war," Russ scoffed. "What brings you to the philosophical world all of a sudden?"

"This isn't philosophy, it's just simple thinking," Horus said. "You know what, Russ? I actually have great respect for those mortals who dare to defy me—their resistance is certainly foolish and pointless, but they at least understand one thing."

"In other words, the sooner my conquest will succeed, the less futile this resistance will be. With each of their deaths, my steps become heavier with bloodshed. It is a desperate act born of despair, but also one of great courage. In Cthonia's words..."

The expression that once belonged to Warmaster gradually faded from his sinister face, replaced by a simple, pure, and vulgar smile. It was full of banditry and gangster aura.

"These guys are fucking audacious," Horus said. "Just like you, you stray dog, Russ."

He gripped his Lightning Claw tightly, and the light faded. He charged towards Russ, his nonchalant demeanor vanishing in an instant, leaving only a savage killing intent.

Russ sensed the murderous intent and could even discern a faint hint of apology hidden within it: I didn't mean to kill you, it's just that your survival would harm my interests.

The Wolf King felt a surge of blood rush to his head, but he was not provoked.

Everyone can pretend, and Russ was a master of it. He played the role of a barbaric king for over a century, but that didn't mean he was actually a barbarian.

Otherwise, he would never have given the order to attack in advance—he saw Jaghatai's fleet surrounded and attacked before deciding to launch a surprise attack from the rear.

Three hours ago, he was still on his flagship, donning his armor, preparing to launch an attack with the wolf pack. Now, he has fallen to the ground of Terra along with Vengeful Spirit.

The situation hadn't improved, and his tactical objectives hadn't been achieved; however, he was still able to remain calm.

He always can.

Russ laughed as she backed away, her gliding movements reappearing—in the past, they had been incredibly powerful on an ordinary person tormented by himself.

Now, the one who uses it is an extremely strong and dangerous Primarch, the Wolf King of Fenris, the leader of the Space Wolves.

His footsteps echoed heavily on the ground, each toe striking the earth sounding like a cannonball being fired. Horus looked at him unhappily, a fleeting, violent urge that was definitely not his own flashing in his eyes.

"I'm afraid I must kill you as soon as possible, Russ," he said emotionlessly. "Fifteen minutes left. I will fight you fairly in these fifteen minutes, and I will kill you in the way only a warrior can do. I respect you, Russ, you are my brother, and this is the last thing I can do for you."

"What makes you so eager?" the Wolf King asked with a loud laugh.

Horus did not answer. Above them—to be precise, in this dark labyrinth, on the Terra battlefield shrouded in the Vengeful Spirit, in the burning sky—a Warp Storm far exceeding anyone's imagination was brewing.

Right in the center of the storm was a wrecked fleet, and Sanguinius was among them.

How did he manage to get to Terra?

One more chapter.