"God..."
"I've told you many times already. You may call me 'my lord' or the Wolf King, but never God."
"As you command."
Looking at the Slane Theocracy priests kneeling before him, practically wishing they could smash their heads into the ground between their knees, Leman Russ could only sigh helplessly.
He was currently in the underground library beneath this city's burned-out branch temple, leafing through damaged, dust-covered books to better understand this world.
The kneeling priests were survivors rescued by the Space Wolves. They had seen the Space Wolves use unstoppable firepower to mow down the Dark Young, and had come to regard them as angels who had saved humanity. As for Leman Russ, who could overturn a Dark Young through sheer physical strength, they called him one of the Six Great Gods returned to the mortal world.
Angels. Gods.
Leman Russ did not care about such things. Among his brothers, only Lorgar would become deliriously excited over religious terms like those.
Leman Russ corrected the priests—and even the ordinary citizens of the Slane Theocracy—again and again, but with little success. They did not dare call him a god to his face, yet in private, they had already begun preparing statues for worship.
"Hey." Leman Russ flipped open the book in his hand and asked, "Is this all there is to your magic? Fireballs, water balls, floating wooden boards... They look like nothing more than tricks for a street performance..."
"God..." The priest answered instinctively. The first syllable had barely left his mouth before a Space Wolf standing guard beside him glared at him in displeasure. A chill spread from his spine through his entire body, and he immediately changed his form of address before answering Leman Russ's question. "Great my lord, our temple once possessed even third-tier spells.