157 Terra (28)

Ahzek Ahriman does not believe in atonement. ☺🐯 💲🐉

Frankly, he doesn't believe that a person's sins can be quantified, nor does he believe that sins can be erased in any form.

If he had the time, he could delve into this topic in depth, until he wrote a densely packed analysis that filled more than a dozen parchment scrolls, or until he drove himself completely insane. But he has neither the time nor the energy to do so now.

He has lost his former glory.

Ahzek Ahriman – a traitor, a liar, a fool, a cripple, a blind man. He sacrificed the Legion with his own hands, and murdered his own father.

So, what gives him the right to stand with these people?

Bjorn, a member of the wolf pack. Strong, savage, seemingly foolish yet wise, like all Space Wolves, and like their father. A stubborn man, the one who crippled him, but also the one who protected him along the way.

Sol Tavitz, Emperor's Children. Elegant yet deadly, with a marble-sculpted handsomeness, he stood out even among the Emperor's Children. But those were Ahzek Ahriman's impressions of him; now, he could only hear Sol Tavitz's voice.

In the pitch-black world after the blinding, Sol Tavetz's image has transformed into a blood-covered man with long, disheveled hair, wielding a sharp blade. His swings are no longer elegant, but filled with increasingly violent roars.

Sigismund, a company commander of the Imperial Fists, was one of Rogal Dorn's most beloved sons. He loved fighting, was loyal to challenges, and was unmatched in dueling skills. Now, Ahzek Ahriman had hardly heard his voice.

Sigismund had changed. He became silent, utterly mute, even in battle. Only when he fell would he let out a soft cry of pain. Then, he would rise again.

Last but not least, there was the Thunder. Ahzek Ahriman had never met him before, but he had heard of the phrase "for unification" from some books that shouldn't have been read.

Therefore, he vaguely understood Thunder's identity, but he couldn't construct a reasonable image of him in his mind. Thunder seemed to be just Thunder, a golden bolt of Thunder that should have died but was standing there.

And they are still chanting for unification.

His open-mindedness was incomprehensible, or perhaps it was simply because he had come to terms with everything. Just as he had heard about Ahzek Ahriman's actions, he still only referred to him as the blind man with a slight sigh.

There was no insult, no contempt, only a dismissive "blind man," as if trying to explain his crimes and attributing his foolish actions to his disability.

But that's not the case.

The truth is...

"The magazine!" Bjorn roared.

Ahzek Ahriman tossed him the magazine and then began loading the next one.

He knelt on the ground, his hands trembling uncontrollably. Bullets flowed between his fingers like metallic water, blood staining them. One bullet after another was loaded into the magazine, yet his trembling fingers felt a terrible pain.

The aftereffects of his disability continue to torment him, even though he is Astartes.

When had Ahzek Ahriman ever experienced anything like this before? Loading ammunition was the Servitor's job; his job was killing, fighting, and gathering knowledge. He should have been strolling gracefully among the corpses of his enemies, the cold glint of lightning still lingering on his fingertips.

"Get out of my head," Ahzek Ahriman thought angrily, and then it came out of his head naturally, as if it were a curse word that was born to him.

You better not fucking come back.

He didn't say it aloud, but coughed out two muffled sounds in his throat, as if he were struggling to breathe. That was all, followed by a gritted teeth, which he used to completely banish the thought from his mind.

He knelt on the ground and began loading magazines with greater concentration. Eleven magazines lay scattered around him, compared to twenty-six just thirteen minutes earlier.

He didn't know how long the magazines and the scavenged bullets ejected from the gun barrels would last, but he hoped they could survive this wave of demons.

"Gar magazine!"

Bjorn roared again; he only spoke when he ran out of bullets. An empty magazine fell to the ground, and without looking up, Ahzek Ahriman tossed him a magazine already loaded with explosives and began to rummage through the pile of bullets again.

The hell they inhabited lacked everything except corpses. Thousands upon thousands of bodies, seemingly from nowhere, lay quietly in the darkness, alongside broken weapons and unexploded ordnance -Boltgun, making everything seem perfectly natural.

"Back off!" someone suddenly shouted.

The gunfire stopped immediately. Bjorn pulled Ahzek Ahriman up from the ground without a word and dragged him backward. Thousand Sons ignored his rough behavior and listened intently.

He successfully heard Sol Tavitz's voice, and something else's deafening roar.

"Stay here," Bjorn said, then released his hand.

As Ahzek Ahriman swayed, before he could even regain his footing, a combat dagger was shoved into his hand. It was cold and sticky to the touch, and the smell of blood assaulted his senses.

Bjorn turned and left, joining the battle; in fact, they all joined the battle.

Except for him.

Ahzek Ahriman knelt on the ground, overwhelmed by shame and humiliation, which forced him to clench his teeth.

He cannot stand for long periods of time, and the injury to his ankle is not healing. It is unknown what kind of cruelty Bjorn committed, but his ankle can no longer bear weight for long periods of time.

Ahzek Ahriman immersed his hands in the pool of blood, feeling the chilling stench of the blood, using it to distract himself.

He listened intently to the distant battle; Astartes' unique physiology allowed him to easily discern the current situation. Thunder and Sigismund were at the forefront, drawing the behemoth's attention together.

Sol Tavitz pulled at him from the side, swinging his sword. Bjorn was still running. What was he going to do? Half a second later, Ahzek Ahriman got the answer: he heard a howl that belonged only to the wolf pack.

"For Russ!"

Then came a heavy, muffled thud.

Something was sent flying, whistling through the air like a cannonball. Ahzek Ahriman swayed to his feet again and stumbled over. A pungent smell of blood assaulted his nostrils, accompanied by a series of strange murmurs.

Bjorn?

The lone wolf answered with a cough.

"How are you?"

"I won't die," Bjorn said clearly. "Give me that knife."

Ahzek Ahriman did as he was told, handing the knife to the lone wolf, who took it and ran off again. Ahzek Ahriman, however, didn't stay put; he followed.

He reached for his waist, where a book lay quietly waiting. A book—at this point, it was still just a book. Unconsciously, Thousand Sons's lips twitched, a sense of maddening absurdity washing over her.

Humanity left Terra and, under the Emperor's leadership, attempted to conquer the entire galaxy. How long did the Great Crusade take? And before the Great Crusade, how long did it take the Emperor to get humanity out of Terra?

Now everything returns to its starting point: the galaxy is burning, Terra is burning, and humanity is fighting on their home planet, facing their ultimate enemy together.

Facing Chaos.

Facing those monsters in the Great Ocean.

The Great Ocean — Ahzek Ahriman's thoughts drifted away; he was still walking, but he was no longer there.

He recited this word, "Great Ocean".

What a beautiful name! So beautiful that it makes one forget everything. Knowledge is an ocean, and so is it. But the ocean is dangerous.

In Ancient Terra, people worshipped gods, offered sacrifices, practiced superstition, and observed numerous taboos in their efforts to explore the oceans. However, the Ancient Terra never truly conquered the seas, not even for a moment.

Like the Thousand Sons, they also used sacrifices, spared no expense, and set many taboos. All of this was for the purpose of venturing into the Great Ocean and exploring its mysteries.

They arrogantly believed they were a special group who could take whatever they needed without paying any price.

But how many chosen ones throughout history have explored that ocean? Across the entire galaxy, Psyker are by no means rare talents. How many people predated them to venture into that ocean, and how many, forever lost within its depths?

Ahzek Ahriman returned to the real world.

He heard Thunder roaring, still those four words, still for unification. He almost laughed—God, aren't you tired? Why do you keep chanting this outdated slogan?

Then he heard Sol Tavetz's voice, firm, stubborn, just like Sigismund's.

"Hold the line!" shouted the Emperor's Children, sounding like the Imperial Fists, while the real Imperial Fists remained silent, only swinging his sword. Each swing was faster than the last, the blade cutting into the flesh of a monster like a storm.

The thing roared, and a whooshing sound filled the air with its fury. Then, in that instant, Ahzek Ahriman saw it.

He has lost his sight, but he still sees.

He saw a distorted face covered in stiff, black hair, and a split jaw. He saw the flesh and blood remaining between its sharp teeth, and the eyes above its forehead, covered by human skin. Those eyes were densely packed with blood, entrails, and rotting teeth.

Those eyes were fixed on him.

Ahzek Ahriman instinctively rubbed his fingers together, a spell about to be cast. His anti-psychic collar had disappeared during the fall, and interestingly, he hadn't used a single spell since.

Humans can be trained to be servile; some prisoners, after their release, will continue to live according to their prison routines and habits. But Ahzek Ahriman is not like that. He doesn't use psychic powers not because he's been tamed, but because he's afraid.

On several occasions, he tried to use magic—then he thought of the consequences, and fear followed.

What price are you willing to pay for your Primarch and the Legion?

"Everything," Ahzek Ahriman murmured to himself. "I'd give anything."

He lowered his head, his left hand trembling as he reached for a book strapped to his waist.

It had been submerged in the river of blood countless times because of Ahzek Ahriman's kneeling posture, yet it had never been stained with a single drop of blood. Its surface remained rough, and the cruel marks left by the knives and axes were too obvious even for a blind person.

Ahzek Ahriman ran his fingers over the wounds and heard another roar.

"For Russ!"

Then came a strange sound of a blade entering flesh, very distinct and unforgettable because, immediately after that thud, something struggled violently, followed by a series of muffled explosions.

"You reckless bastard!" Sol Tavitz cursed. "If you do that again, I'll skin you alive!"

"Bring a Night Lords! Their skills are even better than ours!" Bjorn howled happily.

Ahzek Ahriman heard him laugh. He wanted to say something, but before he could, someone pulled him away again. Judging from the calm breathing, the person who did this must have been Sigismund.

Then came more running sounds; everyone was running, but Ahzek Ahriman had no idea why. He gritted his teeth, enduring the sharp pain in his ankle, and barely managed to maintain his balance as Sigismund dragged him along.

A dozen seconds later, they stopped, but Thunder suddenly burst into laughter.

"How interesting!" he said with a laugh. "That thing's weakness is actually on its head!"

"Everything's weakness is in its head," Sigismund said hoarsely. "Decapitation or a pierced heart, there's always a way to kill them."

"So—" Ahzek Ahriman began, coughing, "—you won?"

"It was us," Sol Tavitz corrected. "Yes, we won, but that's not the point, because the stench of Chaos hasn't gone away. It'll be back; it's only a matter of time."

"Their numbers are decreasing," Sigismund said. "This is abnormal, but considering the changes to the terrain of Fortress of Despair, I think this abnormality is acceptable. They and we are all in Terra, so if Terra and we accept this change, then they must accept it too."

"What do you want to say?" Bjorn asked, his interest waning.

"I believe they should no longer be able to operate as they used to."

Sigismund carefully considered his words before speaking slowly.

"They need to find the entrance to the Astronomican, they need to find a path to enter the Astronomican, and we are some kind of beacon; they need to find us first."

If Ahzek Ahriman could still see, he would see the bewilderment on Bjorn's face, the silent sigh of Sol Tavec, and the calm on Thunder's face at this moment.

Bjorn and he couldn't understand what Sigismund meant, but the other two did. They knew perfectly well what was going on, but chose not to expose it until now. Sigismund tore apart the lie and brought the truth to everyone.

They stared at each other in silence, about to say something, but another voice rose from the darkness.

They grabbed their weapons, ready to fight. Only Ahzek Ahriman knelt in the pool of blood, silently clutching the book.

This chapter is 4k words long, and there's probably more to come. I hope I can write another chapter.

There was supposed to be more yesterday, but I didn't write it down.