Interlude 151: Wolf, Lion, God

Russ slowly raised her head. 🐚♠ ♥😂

In his line of sight, he saw a beast perched high above. It possessed everything a predator and beast should have: sharp claws or fangs, powerful limbs, and instinctive reflexes.

But it was not any of the ferocious beasts Russ had imagined; it was a terrifying monster created by an evil creator, its eyes gleaming in the darkness and its mane dancing in the bloody wind.

It stared at him with disdain, then pressed down with its right paw.

Russ heard a scream, followed by pain—unfortunately, it took him several seconds to realize that the scream was actually his own voice.

He vomited a mouthful of blood, and in the strange, sweet-smelling stench, he briefly lost the ability to think. Before him was a chaotic blur of light, and fueled by the frenzied instincts that surged after his injury, he staggered to his feet.

"Fourteen minutes have passed, brother," the beast spoke in human language. "And you're still alive? I'm surprised."

The Fenrisian watched it silently, saying nothing. He still held the Dionysian Spear. This spear was his life, his everything—if he let go, he would die instantly.

He couldn't die yet, Russ strangely and consciously told himself: he couldn't die yet, unless...

He gripped the spear tightly.

"The last minute," the Beast said. "I'll leave you a whole corpse, brother."

Without a shred of pity, it charged at Russ as soon as it finished speaking. The beastly exterior was gradually stripped away in the process, the light twisting and dancing wildly, and the once immovable laws of reality were now being distorted one by one, as if deliberately manipulated.

Russ's sense of smell told him the enemy was ahead. However, his intuition gave him the exact opposite answer. His hearing told him the enemy was on his right, but he couldn't see where the enemy was at all.

So the truth is this: the enemy is everywhere, the enemy is omnipresent, and the enemy can launch an attack from any angle without incurring any responsibility.

"It could have killed me from the start," Russ thought absently, but the spear instinctively began to dance along the mutilated hand.

He didn't feel ashamed, just a little regretful; perhaps the hunt would have turned out differently if he had done more preparation and research.

However, one cannot go back to the past.

So he simply brandished his spear, and then had his chest pierced by claws.

Horus lifted him up and examined his brother closely. The latter was coughing up blood, his body trembling convulsively.

Fifteen minutes of fighting, and Leman Russ Russ is already in this state?

Horus sighed regretfully, slowly lowered his hand, gently withdrew his claws, and placed Russ on the ground. He knelt down, waiting for his brother to exhale his last breath.

Russ's pupils were beginning to dilate; the once proud barbarian king was now covered in wounds and blood. Yet, even in this state, he still gripped that damned spear in his hand.

Judging from the activity of his fingers and forearm muscles, he still hasn't given up on using it.

Horus gently reached out and pressed his hand down on Russ's.

"Just lie there, brother," he said with a surprising calm. "There's no need for these impossible attempts anymore. Your attack was utterly foolish. You saved Jaghatai, but I never intended to hurt him."

"At least we didn't think about it then. We are human, born on Terra, and naturally we should die on Terra."

Russ slowly turned her eyes to look at him, still remaining silent. There was no will to survive in her eyes, only an extreme simplicity.

Horus could only think of one word to describe this: loyal dog.

But he didn't say the word, lest he use any more insults. Leman Russ Russ to their father, and everyone knew that. In some ways, he appreciated that loyalty, but he also felt a deep regret for it.

"Why, Russ?" He frowned, finally showing a hint of heartache. "He doesn't deserve this price. You could have been a free Space Wolves, standing guard for humanity, hunting prey in blizzards. But look at you now."

"You lie here, dying, you're about to die, you won't even see the bright future I've fought for for humanity."

Horus sighed deeply and slowly rose to his feet. He stood alone in his royal court, silently gazing at the scene as the dead, hanging upside down, swayed in the ashes-filled wind.

A burst of white-hot light surged from some darkness, and the omnipresent power of Chaos brought him valuable information: news about the forest and the Lion El'Jonson of the woods.

Horus turned and gazed at his brother with amusement, no longer paying attention to him.

But Russ was far more resilient than he had imagined. The Fenrisian stared blankly into the murky, white eyes of the dead, his breath stuck in his throat, never escaping.

A small act of defiance, a stubborn resistance that will continue even in the last moments of life.

Horus smiled helplessly.

Having come this far, why resist? Every second you live means enduring more pain; why not simply enter peaceful eternal sleep?

But he still ignored Russ; a more intriguing plan kept him occupied for the time being. It was carried into his so-called mind by the sound of a feather scraping against the ground.

A few seconds later, he glanced at Russ, deliberately and slowly raising the Worldbreaker in his hand. At that moment, a damp, sticky smell suddenly emanated from somewhere in the darkness, followed by the rustling of leaves and a terrifying roar.

Someone emerged from the darkness, rushing out of the forest on damp earth and decaying leaves, and slashed at him with a sword.

That sword was truly terrifying—huge, broad, and sharp. Its Auramite hilt reflected the face of the wielder and those cruel, murderous eyes.

Horus squinted, his face illuminated by a pale light. It was the light of a sword, an unparalleled light of a sword.

Horus took a slight step back.

The sword swiftly sliced off a piece of his left shoulder armor. It fell to the ground, and a scarlet eye silently reflected a roaring Lion El'Jonson in the black and gold fragment of armor.

"Lion," Horus called affectionately. "It's a pleasure to see you."

The Lion El'Jonson's response was another strike.

His sword swirled up the ashes that were constantly rising upside down from the ground of the Lupercal Court. The pale ashes flew everywhere with his strikes, their faces fragmented into tens of thousands of tiny pieces from the last remaining bodies of the dead, even their eyes appearing shattered.

Horus did not resist, but was struck again. His armor was hit by the blade, and the terrible sound spread throughout the royal court. Red light came from the broken porthole, making it seem as if one was among the stars.

Despite the successful strike, the Lion El'Jonson's expression did not show any relief, as Horus Lupercal was still strolling around leisurely, as if nothing had happened.

"How interesting." He took a few steps back and glanced down at the sword scar on his chest. "Your power. Hmm—interesting. I don't smell any divine presence. But you are indeed different from before, Lion."

The Lion El'Jonson did not answer, but instead adopted an inviting stance. He stood between Leman Russ Russ and Horus Lupercal, his expression stern.

Horus shook his head.

"I know what you're going to do," he said with a smile. "You'll take him to that forest. You'll take him away, to wherever can help. So go, Lion."

He waved his hand dismissively, like a palace guard chasing away a beggar.

"There's no need to test him with your sword any longer, nor to conceal your true intentions. Take him away," Horus said gently. "I don't have time to deal with you right now; I have other matters to attend to."

Lion El-Jonson remained motionless, merely shifting his sword stance. Horus glanced at him with annoyance, a cold smile playing on his lips.

I won't give you another chance.

The dead closed their eyes in unison, a howling wind arose, and the hissing sound of venomous snakes echoed throughout the darkness. Then, the damp scent of the forest returned. A flash of light, and the Lion El'Jonson and the dying Leman Russ Russ vanished without a trace.

The power of Chaos surged forth from the darkness once more, revealing the scene along the forest path to Horus.

He could clearly see his brothers; Leman Russ Russ aside, the anxiety and worry on Lion Aljonsen's face gave him an urge to burst out laughing.

How amusing, Horus thought smugly. "You used to look down on him, but now you're all flustered, Lion?"

He watched as the Lion El'Jonson carried Russ on its back and ran until they reached a small river. On the other side of the river was a world ablaze, with flames soaring into the sky, while the river remained calm.

A small boat was moored on the shore, with a boatman standing on it, his face obscured by a straw hat. Lion Eljonsson boarded the boat and carefully placed his brother on it. The boatman bent down and began to examine the Fenrisian's injuries.

Seeing all this, Horus's smile grew even brighter.

He took a step, and so easily reached the riverbank from his royal court. Lion El-Jonson turned around abruptly, and it was hard to tell whether his expression was more one of shock or fear.

The boatman silently raised his oar, and at that moment, a terrifying rage burst forth from his eyes, which were hidden by his straw hat.

"Father," Horus nodded politely. "So it was you who secretly guided Lion. I was wondering how he was able to barge directly into my court."

The boatman raised his hand, removed his straw hat, revealing a face weathered and unforgiving by the years. He handed the hat and oar to the Lion El'Jonson, then stepped off the boat. A gentle breeze, seemingly from nowhere, carried the boat across the river to the burning world.

On the surface, it appeared to be the only boat sailing on the river, but Horus could see much more. He saw the knights of the First Legion traveling together in small boats to the other side, a discovery that made him shake his head.

"You always do this, Father," he accused. "Why do you do this, Father? Don't you know they're just going to their deaths?"

The boatman did not answer; his fists were clenched, and a dazzling golden light replaced his eyes, illuminating everything.

In the golden light, he could clearly see the filth beneath Horus Lupercal's skin.

"Why don't you speak?" the vile evil questioned in his son's voice. "Is it because you have no more lies to tell, Father? You're always like this, habitually Deceit us with lies."

"It's a pity I'm only now discovering your weakness. Without those lies, you're nothing; you don't even dare to tell us the truth."

"Russ was so badly injured, and you still didn't say a word to him. Lion was shocked by my appearance, but you sent him away without a word. Liar, Father, you're a liar, you and your damned thirty years are all part of a lie."

The boatman remained silent.

The towering trees cast shadows overhead, and many sharp swords, seemingly from nowhere, hung from their rough bark. Some were rusty, while others gleamed as new. The soil was damp, and pale corpses were faintly visible among the overgrown bushes.

"Father," Horus called out one last time, a glint of fire burning in his eyes. "I want you to understand, I really will kill you. Sending Him here is useless. The Vengeful Spirit is my court, the Vengeful Spirit is Terra, therefore Terra is also my court. Here, I can do anything."

The boatman looked at him and slowly shook his head.

With just a slight movement, his appearance changed in an instant. He became a dark-skinned man, wearing a faded and tattered robe, with a hideous wound on his chest that was still bleeding, and a crown made of thorns on his head.

It pierced his skin, causing thick, fresh blood to slowly drip down.

The thing that was once Horus was slightly stunned, and a sadness that seemed to come from nowhere began to spread in its heart.

"You treated him like a puppet, like a toy made of clay," the man finally spoke, but his words sounded strange. "You wouldn't even give him the last shred of dignity."

Horus staggered backward, feeling dizzy. A million voices began to ring in his ears simultaneously. He could no longer hear the man's voice; he could only feel a surge of anger, a false anger.

Then he spoke, saying things he couldn't hear at all.

"And we won, old friend, while you lost completely."

"I don't think so," the man said. "He ripped a chunk of your flesh out of you, Tzeentch. You've lost a lot of power."

"You've lost, don't deny it," another voice said. "I have sown the seeds of plague."

"Mortarion will collect his own debt," the man said. "Your crops will be completely burned by him."

"And what about me, my dear?" the third voice pressed impatiently. "What about me? Did you see me being slaughtered by him? Oh, and your cold, rough son—I gave him a little gift."

"I have no reason to question Ferrus Manus." The man slowly shook his head. "As for you, Khorne."

Horus laughed a deep, terrifying laugh, and crimson light emanated from beneath his skin.

"Shall we have a battle?" He asked, lifting up the Worldbreaker.

"We will kill you, no matter how powerful you become," the man said.

His voice was cold and lifeless. Flames rose from beneath Horus's feet, brilliant golden flames, scorching heavenly fire, completely driving it away. The stench of Chaos receded, leaves rustled, and the man finally lowered his head, revealing a hint of sadness.

He walked over, knelt on the ground, and dug out a ring that had fallen off sometime during the night with his fingers from the dirt.

He held it tightly in his hand.

Only one update today, starting what I've lost count of how many times I've adjusted my sleep schedule.

That was awful! I didn't get up until 5 a. m. today, and I felt completely groggy.