Chapter 261: The Space Wolves: Something's Wrong, Something's Very, Very Wrong
In the valley, Logan stood guard before a rift bomb, waiting.
This veteran, who had served as Great Wolf for over six hundred years, though not pacing back and forth restlessly like the other Space Wolf warriors, the Axe Morkai in his tight grip silently betrayed his inner tension. In his other hand, he held the detonation key. Only when he and the Dark Angel named Azrael simultaneously inserted their keys into the control panel could the rift bomb's detonation sequence be officially initiated.
Although he didn't know if the other party had left a backdoor to bypass the key and detonate it directly, since the Dark Angels had already handed the key to him... Logan wanted to roar at the other, "Stop playing these boring games," and then, using his 'good' reputation, make a scene and find out the truth for himself.
But reality told him he had to accept this hot potato. The other party had cautiously sought his opinion, had explained in detail the necessity of each step, and had shared the decision-making power. This made Logan fall into a deep thought. If the C'tan shard was as dangerous as they said, then this series of cumbersome protective measures was indeed impeccable. Even he could not find any fault with it.
They were too polite. The Space Wolves had not encountered such—polite—visitors in a very, very long time.
He leaned on the Axe Morkai. This legendary battle-axe, taken from the hands of a Chaos Astartes, had slain countless enemies: Chaos daemons, Orks, Aeldari xenos, Imperial Inquisitors, Grey Knights... Did something that didn't belong get mixed in there?
A hint of self-deprecation flashed in Logan's eyes. No, it fits. It fits perfectly. In this mad age, even the most absurd things seemed reasonable. As time went on, the boundaries of the Imperium's so-called "necessary evil" became more and more blurred. The methods used by the various departments to deal with crises became more and more extreme. The trust between them had long since fallen to a freezing point after repeated conflicts.
At the same time, the rift between the Space Wolves and the other Imperial factions had gradually deepened. More and more people were coming to Fenris to look for a fight, but the guests who came to visit had, at some point, disappeared without a trace. Since the Months of Shame, the Space Wolves had not given a good face to any outsider, not even the Dark Angels. They were used to assuming the worst intentions of every visitor, because these guys had come looking for trouble with just such intentions. That night, they had sent the guests off with a laugh, had closed the great doors of the feasting hall, and had never opened them again.
"The Dawnlight Fleet has already evacuated the living forces from the surface of Midgardia. At present, the only living forces on the planet are us. If the Prince and the others are unable to deal with the C'tan shard, we will immediately evacuate at any time through Lord Ramesses's teleportation," Azrael, who had volunteered to be in charge of the interaction with the Space Wolves, said, sensing the other's tension, and continued in as calm a tone as possible. "Afterwards, the naval cannons will conduct an orbital strike. If it is ineffective, we will activate the rift bomb to banish the shard into the warp. This is our plan. At the same time, the Dawnlight Sector will also be responsible for the Space Wolves' post-disaster reconstruction work."
With Azrael's words, Logan's brow gradually relaxed. "I don't understand," he said.
To avoid losing his composure, Logan had not chosen to speak first when facing this young Dark Angel. He was silent for a moment, then asked Azrael, "What is your purpose?"
Every action had a purpose, whether material or spiritual. And the Dawnlight Fleet's selfless attitude made Logan very confused. If they were planning to use this favor to control the Space Wolves, then they would not succeed. The Wolves would only be loyal to one Primarch—and that was Russ!
His gaze unconsciously drifted to the edge of the battlefield, where a few Blood Angels were standing, eagerly watching the battle. A barely audible snort escaped Logan's nose. Just a handout from the Allfather, he thought sourly.
"Our purpose is to rebuild the mutual trust between the various military forces of the Imperium, to establish a stable communication mechanism, and to popularize various technologies, so that the Imperial combat system can develop in a more professional direction," Azrael replied. He was one of the first Astartes to know the purpose of the Dawnlight Fleet's journey. It wasn't that his political sense was particularly keen, or that he had awakened some precognitive ability. He had directly asked the Prince. And after getting a specific answer, Azrael had immediately understood what he had to do. For this reason, he had volunteered to deal with this group of externally hot, internally cold wolf-pups.
"The long-term implementation of the Codex Astartes has created a rift even between brothers of the same bloodline. Under the limited conditions, we hope to be able to establish an office on Fenris, to prepare a trade route, and to establish a stable connection," Azrael said. He then brought over a psyker from their Inner Circle. This was a new member he had also tricked into joining. Azrael's proposal to actively reform the Dark Angels Chapter, to align with the Prince, instead of living in the shadow of the 30k Dark Angels, was very tempting, and had united many new members from the Chapter.
"As the one responsible for the Dark Angels, if the Great Wolf has any questions, he can have his Rune Priests contact me through this psychic beacon," he said, handing a psychic beacon, constructed from a soul-stone, to the Great Wolf. This was a research result that Ramesses had obtained after combining the technology provided by the Aeldari. It sealed the soul of a xenos species inside. Whenever the psyker bound to this device used their psychic powers, the soul inside would bear the brunt of the warp's tides on behalf of the user, thus allowing the user to safely release their psychic powers.
Fate is yours, power is mine.
According to the Dark Angels' intelligence network, it was said that in the Kronus Expanse of the Segmentum Obscurus, there was a Navigator house called the Orsellio, which relied on binding its own soul to a soul-stone that stored a large number of Aeldari souls to perform low-risk psychic applications. Of course, considering the current moral standards of the Imperium, this technology was not being promoted, and was only used under the strict supervision of the Dawnbreakers. The main fuel was the Drukhari. The souls of the Aeldari were resilient and powerful, and were a perfect fit. And with the low consumption of psychic communication, they could be used for a long time.
"Please give us a little more trust, Great Wolf," Azrael said, and thinking of the Prince's words, he couldn't help but say with pride, "The Dark Angels are the first Legion founded by the Emperor, the template for all legions. We will, under the leadership of the Prince, play an exemplary role and correct the mistakes of the past."
'Alright, I know you have a Primarch. Stop showing off.'
Before the old wolf's words had even fallen, he suddenly raised his head with alarm. The Blood Angels in the distance were in an uproar, their crimson power armour like a dancing flame in the reflection of the lava. And in that crimson furnace, four figures were walking out with composure.
"They succeeded?" Logan's rough voice asked with doubt.
"Yes," Azrael nodded, having received Arthur's order. He took the key from Logan's hand and his fingertips danced lightly across the control panel, beginning to disarm the detonation program.
Are you for real?
Logan's eyes narrowed. The Space Wolves of the 41st millennium were no longer the Emperor's executioners. They had become willful and hot-blooded, but they had always retained their innate wolfishness and cunning. The old wolf had been secretly observing the other's every detail, trying to find a clue—it had to be said, the other party was flawless in this regard.
Azrael suddenly couldn't help but let out a slight smile. Logan was stunned, completely not knowing why he was smiling. It's a very interesting thing to make someone feel embarrassed, especially a Space Wolf, Azrael thought. He somewhat understood Cypher's mentality now.
The fleet in orbit had already begun to retract its weapon arrays. The transport ships carrying the local residents, however, did not land in a hurry, but still hovered in low orbit, like a flock of migratory birds waiting for a signal. The Thousand Sons' invasion had caused devastating damage to the various facilities on Midgardia. The repairs would inevitably be a long work for the Space Wolves. So Romulus was planning the reconstruction of Midgardia, and was going to lend a forge-ship to show off his technology to the Space Wolves. But considering his always 'ambitious' nature, he was going to have Arthur relay the message.
"Fall in," with Arthur's order, the Dark Angels immediately began to recover the deployed equipment, their synchronized movements showing the discipline of long training. And the Knight-King himself came before Logan.
"I imagine you still have many questions, Great Wolf."
"I do," Logan's reply carried the characteristic caution of a Fenrisian. His peripheral vision from time to time glanced at the sky. The hovering transport ships were indeed unsettling. But given the previous good interaction, the old wolf suppressed his impulse to question.
"We have fought side-by-side with the brave warriors of the Space Wolves. We have even witnessed them win glory in an honour duel with the Dark Angels, and have then drunk fine wine and spoken of heroic deeds at the celebratory feast," Arthur did not explain immediately, but instead changed the subject. "Now, we have met again in a war and have won victory together. Yet we have not seen wine or food. Is this the Space Wolves' way of treating guests?"
"Er..." Logan and the surrounding Wolves were suddenly at a loss. The old wolf's throat moved, but he could not get a single word out—in the hundreds of years he had led the Wolves, this was the first time someone had used their most proud tradition of hospitality to checkmate them.
'This is too magical.'
Trazyn's mechanical fingers gently tapped the outer wall of the storage tank, making a crisp metallic sound. He looked at the liquid living metal in the storage tank. Even though he had seen it once before, he still couldn't figure it out. He then thought of the Burning One's evaluation of these few. What Old One, what C'tan, what warp-entity. Although the Dawnbreakers were a proper human faction, the style of their high command was indeed a bit pseudo-human.
Trazyn just thinking of all these elements being pinched together, and the result being four guys who were "I am human," and he felt the sky was falling. But the result was not bad.
Looking at Karna and Arthur, who were in negotiation with the Wolves and paying attention to the reconstruction measures, and Ramesses, who had imperceptibly sheltered the souls of those who had died in this battle and had sent them to their final resting place, Trazyn breathed a sigh of relief. At least for now, these four all had the conscience and morality that the current humanity lacked. His own bottom line was also well-handled. Hanging around these demigods, he basically didn't have to worry about any threat to himself, and at the same time, he could take the opportunity to carefully observe and study whether they were human or gods.
One step at a time. Trazyn felt that whether these few were human or not was no longer important. He straightened the robes on his body, and this Fabricator-General mixed into the crowd and began to sort out the materials in his hand. He felt he had to be human.
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