28. The Belated Judgment (I, an Old Dog Grows New Teeth)

Lion Aljonsen frowned, staring silently at the vertebrae laid out before him. The flesh had been completely removed, leaving it clean and white like a specimen, yet it emitted a pungent, bloody odor.

The pitch-black smoke, like that emitted from a giant factory chimney, slowly rose from the gaps in the joints. The originally harmonious warm light was distorted within it, and to the naked eye, one could see a wailing human face churning inside.

Corruption, depravity, distortion. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, who would believe that this vertebrae once belonged to a human?

The Lion El'Jonson suppressed the urge to destroy it and spoke in a more peaceful tone, "Speak, Serrano. What are your thoughts on this so-called horn?"

Beside the cold iron table, the female Inquisitor, whose name had been called, stepped forward with a serious expression and fearlessly reached out to pick up the vertebra.

The pitch-black smoke immediately surged towards her, as if it had a mind of its own, trying to penetrate her mouth, nose, eyes, and ears.

This attempt failed as expected, and with a low thud, Serano van der Leyef extended his free left hand, the insignia of the Inquisition trembling rapidly in his palm.

A burst of light quietly bloomed, and the human face in the dark smoke screamed as it returned to the spine, showing no sign of life again.

Serano spoke slowly.

"First, let's make one thing clear, sir: this object was created by evil magic. It originated from human flesh and blood, but through years of betrayal and blasphemy, it has become a twisted and evil thing. Even if that heretic claims it is a horn, we cannot interpret it with common sense."

"The horn is likely just a vague description. The pious finger bone my Black Sable used during her interrogation could only keep the traitors somewhat honest; what she said may not be entirely true."

Therefore, I strongly suggest that you seal or destroy this item.

"Don't you intend to take it back to the Inquisition, or keep it for your own use?" the Lion El'Jonson asked seemingly casually.

"No," the female Inquisitor replied sternly. "We have no right to decide how far we can go down the path of exploiting taboos. Besides, I don't believe this so-called clarion call deserves to be included in the <Taboo List>."

The Lion El'Jonson narrowed its eyes, then suddenly reached out and grasped a spear. When it spoke again, its voice had become firm and unyielding.

"Serrano, I grant you the authority to mobilize resources aboard the Edge of Reason. You may also seek out Inquisitor Shefa and cooperate with him; I don't care, as long as you bring me the truth about this so-called horn before we reach Kamas."

"Yes, sir."

The Lion El'Jonson nodded slightly to her, then gripped his spear and hurriedly left the rather empty room. The deck outside was deserted; even the guards responsible for protecting the Primarch were not on duty.

This was one of the Lion El'Jonson's orders; he emptied the sixty-fifth deck of the Edge of Reason. This deck, which used to be a separate supply storage deck, was filled with all kinds of food and other necessities for the voyage, but was now incomprehensibly empty.

The room where the Lion El'Jonson had just met with the female Inquisitor was the only one occupied on the entire deck.

"Brother," a voice whispered in his ear. "Listen, we need to talk."

The Lion El'Jonson, gazing straight ahead, calmly asked, "What is there to talk about?"

"Are you serious, Kamas? You're going to take that traitorous Thousand Eyes Warband to your second Caliban?"

The Lion El'Jonson took a deep breath at those words.

"It's not a second Caliban, it is Kamas," he replied, enunciating each word clearly. "Don't confuse things, Russ. You know perfectly well that I never intended for Kamas to replace Caliban, even though the similarities between them are striking."

"Say what you will, but do you really intend to sound this so-called clarion call there?"

"No," said the Lion El'Jonson. "To sound it requires the sacrifice of human flesh and souls. I want to solve the problem at its source."

So you really intend to blow it.

Leman Russ Russ spoke thoughtfully, his voice echoing with unusual clarity in the Lion El'Jonson's ears. At first, his voice was serious and cold, but just seconds later, the Fenrisian burst into laughter.

"So, you plan to call upon your rebellious offspring like a knight, and then gamble that they'll come to Kamas to be slaughtered? Allfather, Lion, are you insane or am I?"

The Lion El'Jonson let out a disdainful snort, and then bluntly uttered an insult.

"You fool, Russ. Returning to Kamas and sounding that Kamas there were merely a smokescreen. I have already sent the signal and mobilized a large number of troops to garrison the area around Kamas."

"Whether they come or not, this part of the force will not leave unless I completely resolve the problem."

"Solve the problem?" Russ asked softly. He seemed completely unconcerned about the Lion El'Jonson's rudeness.

"That horn allows them to know where the traitor is calling them from, which suggests it must possess some kind of location magic I don't understand."

"Therefore, my tactic is very simple: discover the nature of that horn, force it to make the call, and pinpoint the current location of the Thousand Eyes. Like you, I don't believe they will actually come to Kamas, so I will go directly to them."

Russ chuckled twice, and before the laughter faded, the Lion El'Jonson heard him smack his lips in apparent dissatisfaction. "Not bad tactics, Lion. But I have a question for you: what will you do if they really come to Kamas?"

"I know you'll say you can rely on your talent to lead the troops back to Kamas quickly. But if they really dare to come, what will they bring with them?"

The Lion El'Jonson didn't answer the question, but simply kept walking. He seemed determined to end the conversation, but Leman Russ Russ always liked to tear away the veil that concealed the truth.

The Lion El'Jonson suddenly raised the Dionysian Spear, which it gripped tightly in its right hand, pulling its arm down heavily to the ground. Its weight, combined with a portion of the Lion El'Jonson's strength, should have caused the ground to collapse, but for some reason, this did not happen.

The Dionysian Spear stood upright in the Lion El'Jonson's paw, its blade emitting a soft hum.

The Lion El'Jonson frowned.

The Fenrisian spoke again in a firm tone.

"I know you're already annoyed, brother, but I have one last question—about that horn. You could have easily asked Karyl for help, couldn't you?"

"I can't think of any reason why he would refuse, and if you had his help, I think you could find out their location without Thousand Eyes knowing."

The Lion El'Jonson slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, and its expression finally changed, a chilling rage fully blooming on its face.

"Are you treating him like a god, Russ?"

"No," said the Fenrisian. "I never thought that way."

"Very good, we've reached a consensus once again. You agree that he's not a god, so naturally he's not omnipotent. I wouldn't say he's just an ordinary person, but he is indeed human, just like you and me."

"But what does this have to do with him? He's the witness I invited. This is my business, and the sins and bloodshed should be attributed to me. If I need his help and involvement in everything, then what am I?"

"Don't bring up anything like that again, brother."

The Lion El'Jonson spoke to Russ in a colder tone, gripped his spear tightly, and strode forward again. This time, Russ did not obstruct him or make a sound until he reached his meditation room.

But is that really the case? Was he persuaded by the Lion El'Jonson?

The answer is probably different from what the Lion El'Jonson himself imagined; in his mind, Russ had already been convinced by his words.

But the truth is, Russ was sitting on a dirty wooden Throne, gently swirling a long-dried wine glass in his hand.

His posture was quite relaxed, like that of a lazy drunkard. Countless empty tables lay quietly beneath the Throne, with many old flags fluttering above them, as if they had been waiting for many years, but their coats of arms were blank.

Russ propped his chin on his left hand, gazing at the tables, listening to the wind whistling outside the fortress, and smiled calmly—a smile that could almost be called a snicker.

They also say old dogs don't grow new teeth, Lion Fenrisian thought with glee.

--

Holding a book with a black cover, Karyl slowly fell into deep thought.

The book in his hand, strictly speaking, had no name, but it was an absolute bestseller within the Imperium —at least ten thousand years ago.

Nowadays, even the most high-end black markets dare not auction this book, or any other works by this author. Karyl had long heard of its fame, but unfortunately, only today did he finally have the time to read it.

To be honest, this book evoked some memories for him.

From the bridge to the dueling cage, from casual banter to the blood and fire on the battlefield—it sounds daunting, but it's really just everyday life, at least for a Legionnaire.

Yes, you've probably already guessed what this book describes and who its author is.

Karyl found the book in a library aboard the Edge of Reason. The Dark Angels were surprisingly fond of books; they built almost as many libraries as armories, and the books within were used as frequently as weapons.

The same is true of this book; its cover, made of some kind of tough animal hide, is already wrinkled and has holes, suggesting that someone must have used too much force while reading it.

Thinking of this, Karyl couldn't help but chuckle—for those who hadn't read the book, or weren't familiar with Jago Sevatarion, every sentence in it probably deserved a shocked grip or a furious tear.

"He's really famous," Konrad Curze Curze said.

"Can you really bear to mock him like that?" Karyl asked without looking up.

"I'm just stating the facts. Isn't he famous? Eight out of ten Chapter Master know him, and the other two are people he's watched grow up."

"What a high-ranking official, Karyl. I can already imagine how those poor, loyal soldiers are bullied and oppressed by him—alas!"

The Night Haunter in the Shadow sighed heavily, then switched to an exaggerated aria.

"Look what kind of monster we've created! A monster that's been left unattended and without companionship!"

Karyl closed the book and shook his head calmly.

"If you want to speak up for him, you can just say so, Konrad Curze. There's no need to use this kind of rhetoric, even though it is indeed the truth."

"Really, Father? Is it really possible?" Curze asked sadly. "Won't this incur your wrath?"

"Just say what you have to say."

"Then I shall accept it, Father."

Karyl stood up and looked down at his Shadow, which began to swell. A phantom, tall figure slowly rose from within it and stood before him, its expression unsettlingly calm.

A few seconds later, the Night Haunter removed his crown, suddenly bent down, and began to look at Karyl. The two of them once again played out that familiar, bloody scene of dissecting each other's hearts with sharp knives.

"Father."

"I am here."

"What are you planning to do this time?" Curze asked in a gentle tone. "You've been invited to be a witness, but I don't think you'll be content with just being a witness. You'll definitely contribute something that others simply can't do."

"I won't do anything unless Lion needs me to."

"He needs it?" Curze laughed. "Well, does he need it, or do you think he needs it?"

"He needs it," Karyl repeated slowly. "Trust me."

"So, you've finally made up your mind? That really surprises me. My incredibly arrogant father, with his self-sacrificing tendencies, has actually learned to respect."

Karyl narrowed his eyes and couldn't help but laugh. Under Curze's questioning gaze, he deliberately drew out a question.

Which one?

"You old bastard!"

Curze flew into a rage, donned the crown, and returned to the Shadow. Karyl, however, remained unperturbed, simply strolling through the deserted library. A few minutes later, he returned the books he was carrying to their rightful place.

Konrad Curze

"What are you doing?" came an annoyed voice from the Shadow.

"Did you foresee something?" Karyl asked, his eyes deep.

He stood between large bookshelves, his face divided by obsidian and steel, the faint reflections and the slowly shifting dust in the cold air. He was speaking, exhaling, but the dust floating in the air before him remained completely unmoved.

Everything gradually fell into stillness, including time itself.

"Yes," Curze said.

"Will the ending be good or bad?"

"Do you really care?" Curze retorted with a sneer. "Don't bother me now. I'm digging someone's grave; I don't have time to talk to an annoying old man like you."

Karyl sighed helplessly. The stillness dissipated, and time returned to normal. He walked slowly out of the library with his hands behind his back. A verdant planet was slowly emerging outside the porthole in the corridor.

Kamas.