No one could count how many Space Wolves warships tore through the last veil left by the Dark Angels, charging onto the most intense front lines of the battlefield, directly into the almost undefended Randan fleet.
Even the Space Wolves themselves didn't know the exact number, nor did they care. The Sons of Leman Russ now only desired slaughter.
Mass slaughter.
The Gellar field surrounding the `Herafinkel` constantly flickered with light due to severe overload, surrounded by its inseparable Iron Wolves, forming a sharp spearhead of over thirty warships. The moment it broke through gravity and resistance, it plunged into the chaotic array of the Xenos Empire.
Across the entire `Tacus System`, such iron-grey spearheads were now countless. They came from all directions, bursting out of the pocket spaces that had confined them for so long, filled with rage and a thirst for war, instantly unleashing an irresistible tide.
Charge, bite, tear, slaughter.
Just as every `Fenrisian` had yearned since childhood: to throw themselves into the grandest war, to fall in the greatest slaughter, to be elevated by the most glorious deed.
"Look at these..."
After Leman Russ commanded his `Gloriana-class Battleship` to advance at maximum speed, he fell silent, slumped on his throne, allowing his most trusted sons to direct the entire fleet's wild charge: no tactics, no consultations, charge and slaughter were everything, and `Fenrisians` never needed anyone to guide them in these matters.
The `Wolf Lord` was searching, relying on his most primal beast instincts, searching through this star system rife with blood and death. Through auguries and his unparalleled vision, Leman Russ easily saw everything around him.
He saw thousands of warship wrecks scattered across the center of this vast star system. He saw the shattered, enormous metal ruins that marked the Human Imperium and the Randan hegemony.
He saw the entire world teetering on the brink of a dangerous threat, an unsettling gloom devouring the relics of iron and blood like the legendary `Death Eaters`.
`Tacus`'s sun still mercilessly overlooked every life, bestowing light, heat, and murky crimson upon every child who ventured too close, making countless war engines appear as if they were battling in a mottled forest, each cloaked in a distorted hue. Just watching them evoked an infinite craving for the hunt.
"Allfather..."
Leman Russ murmured softly, a grin on his face, his fangs stained with a dirty white against the dazzling glare reflected by the many steel warships.
"That bastard `Lion El'Jonson`, that stingy `Calibanite`, what kind of war and slaughter has he been secretly enjoying behind my back? By `Morkai`'s name, if he can't let me kill to my heart's content, then I'm not done with him..."
Amidst its master's whispers, the `Herafinkel` pressed forward, flanked by ten battleships moving in unison. The Space Wolves Legion's finest void forces had assembled at this moment, irresistibly breaking through layer after layer of the Xenos Empire's hastily erected void defenses, launching their first and only charge towards their sole objective.
Before long, Leman Russ could see from his command bridge the world he had to conquer: it was too conspicuous, and not far from his ambush position.
Thinking of this, Leman Russ couldn't help but re-confirm a suspicion in his mind: a suspicion about the mastermind behind all of this.
A... sister?
Interesting.
No further evidence was needed; when he personally witnessed all of this: a star system on the verge of falling into the `Warp`, and an artificial world forcibly dragged into real space, he confirmed it.
He didn't believe that bookworm `Magnus the Red` could accomplish all this: well, perhaps he could, after paying a great price or making extensive preparations. But then again, if even his brother `Magnus the Red` required such effort to do all this, then could another figure capable of such feats truly be a mere `mortal` by his brother `Lion El'Jonson`'s side?
What happened on `Dulan Extermination Campaign` flashed through Leman Russ's mind like summer lightning, bringing a even more joyous smile to his face.
His brother `Lion El'Jonson`...
Was truly full of little secrets.
The myriad thoughts in the Primarch's mind lasted but an instant in reality. Before the next moment arrived, Leman Russ had risen from his throne and slowly walked among his sons and warriors.
The `Fate Engine` had appeared before them, almost within arm's reach at the speed of void warships.
At first glance, Leman Russ understood why the most stubborn xenos had named this thing so.
No one knew if this `Battle Moon` was an artificial creation, but in Leman Russ's estimation, it seemed even larger than Holy Terra's satellite, `Luna`. It was entirely covered in a reflective black, seemingly some kind of protective shell. Through the auguries on his battleship,
Leman Russ could scrutinize the world's details: endless mountain-like fortresses and defenses, towering anti-air turrets and artillery positions as numerous as grains of sand beneath the waves.
He could even see xenos soldiers occupying every inch of the surface, their equipment appearing even better than that of Leman Russ's sons. A rough estimate put their numbers in the hundreds of millions.
And at the `North Pole` of this world stood their ultimate goal: towering spikes and cables piercing through the sky, radiating a blinding scarlet light that could be clearly felt even across half the star system.
When the `Fenrisian` wolves inadvertently looked at this so-called `Fate Engine`, everyone felt a deep-seated revulsion and savagery, yearning to destroy this blasphemous thing.
Not even Leman Russ was an exception.
"Look at these `Void Shields`, we couldn't even gnaw through them in a hundred years."
Someone whispered near the `Wolf Lord`, it was his most trusted subordinate: `Jorin` from `Fenris`, the `Wolf Lord` of the Thirteenth Great Company, the only one who could be so presumptuous and argumentative in Leman Russ's presence.
"Yes, that's why we must land on the other side of this world, tear all the obstructers to shreds, chop off tens of thousands of xenos heads, and then, only then, can we smash this bastard thing and listen to those eunuch `Randan` pups howl."
Leman Russ responded to his subordinate with a sharp laugh, eliciting roars of laughter loud enough to bring down the roof: at this moment, many wolf warriors gathered there, crowding the `bridge` and `corridors`, their rough breaths forming thick mists of water vapor, awaiting the `boarding` order that could come at any moment.
Everyone knew it wouldn't be long.
Leman Russ issued commands; under his will, the auguries were temporarily shifted away from the world before them, transferred to other corners of the star system. The `Wolf Lord` of `Fenris` spent a few moments concerning himself with his `legion`, briefly reviewing the situation of other detachments.
Just like the true wild wolf packs on ancient `Terra`, the hunters loyal to Leman Russ swarmed from all directions in the star system, successfully piercing the flanks and numerous weak points of the `Randan` fleet: even Leman Russ had to admit, this was thanks to `Lion El'Jonson`.
The Primarch of the Dark Angels, even in the most difficult moments of the battle, had always considered the use of the Space Wolves as a fallback. Throughout the entire campaign, the fleet of the First `Legion` had,
under `Lion El'Jonson`'s command, deliberately drawn the `Randan`'s attention, ensuring that the Space Wolves could charge at the xenos' backs at the first opportunity, freely wielding their fangs and claws before any opponent could react.
Countless `boarding torpedoes` and flashes of `teleportation` now covered most of the battlefield. The iron-grey warships continuously delivered their most lethal weapons: thousands of `Astartes` warriors. Hundreds of the largest `Randan` steel warships were attacked, and even more smaller warships burned, tumbled, and shattered in this unexpected assault.
The counterattack of the Human Imperium was like a wolf's claw grasping a deer's neck, instantly spilling blood, chaotic communiqués rampant on public communication platforms: ship captured successfully, outnumbered, mutations rampant, death throes, great slaughter...
Victorious reports, roars, calls for aid, cries, curses, howls, charges, last words...
In a blink of an eye, dozens of battles ended amidst the stars and chaos, and more skirmishes played out in every corner of the warships. Many wolves fell, and with them, even more xenos warriors.
As for the Dark Angels, no one knew their situation. Many First Legion warships did follow the Space Wolves into the chaotic xenos fleet, but their communication channels were always silent, with only constantly `Warp`-jumping strange warships and sinking `Randan` war engines speaking of these mysterious ones' contribution to the war.
The `Wolf Lord` didn't dwell on these matters for too long. Although reports of losses and victories poured in, and despite their heavy casualties, Leman Russ paid no attention. He stared intently at his target, the prey that was drawing closer and closer to his warship.
The distance closed, the defenses were breached. Although the xenos warships desperately tried to impede the `Wolf Lord`'s advance, the chaotic situation prevented them from unleashing greater power. Especially as more and more warships tore through the `Randan`'s formations from various angles and converged around the `Herafinkel`, the xenos' resistance became a toothless and desperate struggle.
Before long, Leman Russ watched the battle before him with satisfaction: the last `Randan` warship between him and the `Fate Engine` had collapsed, and the dense `void fortresses` and defensive arrays on the artificial world couldn't raise their heads under the ferocious firepower of hundreds of warships. The breach had been torn open, and xenos reinforcements had not yet arrived.
Now was the time.
"The dice are cast..."
The `Wolf Lord` murmured as if in a trance, and then his roar echoed through every corner of the `Gloriana-class Battleship`.
"Full speed ahead! Maintain vigilance! Charge cannons! Sail at maximum speed! Shields to maximum power!"
"My warriors! My pack! My sons!"
"Today!"
"Forward without faltering!"
"Slaughter them all!"
"For the Allfather!"
He took a deep breath.
"Prepare for boarding!"
——————
The howls of the wolf pack surged like a tsunami, vows of dedicating everything to their gene-father and the great Allfather resounded one after another along a corridor. All the warriors impatiently rushed to the `drop pods`, anxiously awaiting round after round of deployment.
Only Leman Russ did not act immediately. The Primarch of the Sixth `Legion` stood before his throne, waiting for the two essential things he needed before going to battle.
He didn't wait long.
The Primarch's personal guard, `Kjarl`, pushed and shoved through the surging wolf pack, cutting a path to his gene-father, respectfully presenting Leman Russ with the object he both loved and hated.
The `Spear of Dionysus`.
"I hate this thing..."
Looking at the immensely powerful divine weapon before him, the `Wolf Lord` of `Fenris` grumbled softly. If he could, he truly wouldn't want to use it.
In fact, he had genuinely hoped to lose it many times, but in this most crucial and important moment, Leman Russ knew he had no room for petulance; he had to carry it.
This was the biggest difference between him and certain bookworms.
Awkwardly gripping the `divine weapon` capable of destroying worlds, the `Wolf Lord` subtly rotated his neck, waiting for his second reinforcement: his brother `Lion El'Jonson` had promised it before the war even began.
He also didn't wait long. Almost the very next moment, an unbridled `psychic` fluctuation began to surge before Leman Russ's throne, causing both the `Wolf Lord` and his personal guard to instinctively furrow their brows: strangely, the `mortals` and `wolf slaves` still operating various command consoles showed no reaction.
`Morgana` soon appeared.
The `Wolf Lord` of `Fenris` glanced at her, and then Leman Russ pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, his eyes bulging slightly forward, his cheeks and the corners of his mouth forming distinct ridges. His large nose twitched, like a wild wolf confirming the scent of blood in the wind.
On the other side, the Primarch's personal guard reacted even more directly: `Kjarl`'s expression was as if he had just seen Leman Russ and `Lion El'Jonson` arm-in-arm, dancing the Little Swan Waltz.
The reason was simple, because from the `psychic` tide emerged...
A Primarch, perhaps three meters tall, who could easily look down on `Astartes` warriors.
——————
"Ah..."
"What should I say?"
"Welcome... home?"
Leman Russ grinned, showing no surprise whatsoever. He bared his fangs, eyeing his `blood kin` with interest.
For some reason, after truly confirming the identity of the person before him, the `Wolf Lord` of `Fenris` thought of something else.
So, on `Dulan Extermination Campaign`, the one who defeated `Jorin` and `Kjarl` was a Primarch of his same rank?
...Hey!
Thinking that way, his pups weren't so bad after all.
Leman Russ's mood improved, even the cold `Spear of Dionysus` in his hand couldn't dampen it.
He took a few steps forward. Before his sons could react, he lowered his head, looking at this `blood kin` who was still a little shorter than him.
"It seems I should have figured all this out on `Dulan Extermination Campaign`."
[`It's not too late now, is it?`]
`Morgana` slowly raised her head, casually sweeping her gaze over the still-dazed `Wolf Guard`, giving her brother a cold smile.
Leman Russ stroked his chin, unable to suppress the questions in his mind.
"Before we set off, there's one thing I wanted to ask."
"Why did you choose this moment to reveal your true form?"
The answer was a short, rough laugh, and an utterly reasonable reply that left no room for rebuttal.
——————
[If I don't use my full strength.]
[How can I rein in a runaway wolf?]
——————
When the two Primarchs arrived at the location of the `drop pods`, only Leman Russ's personal one remained isolated in its position, receiving maintenance and care from the `Tech-Priests`.
"Together?"
Facing Leman Russ's invitation, the `Spider Queen` simply patted her brother's shoulder, then shook her head in refusal.
[`I need to wait for my guard. `]
"You have a guard?"
[`Soon. `]
The `Wolf Lord` pursed his lips, not pressing further. He strode grandly towards his `drop pod`, not forgetting to wave goodbye to his `blood kin`.
"Be quick."
"I won't wait for you."
After he left, `Morgana` slowly turned around and snapped her fingers, and a blue `magic circle` appeared before her.
The Primarch of the Second `Legion` smiled.
`Morgana` stood amidst a kaleidoscope of dappled light and shadow. This was once a crude and savage `corridor` on the `Herafinkel`, adorned with primitive ice and snow.
But as countless `void images` flooded in, the cannon fire of war, the light of the `stars`, and the chaotic colors of endless ash and blood surged, as if multi-colored raindrops had fallen into a calm snowy mountain pond, stirring up wave after wave of turbulence.
`Morgana` stood within these colors, the darkest, crudest, and most chaotic colors of the world lingering in her pupils, yet leaving no trace.
She seemed to accept everything.
She also seemed indifferent to everything.
When the warriors of the Second `Legion` emerged from the `magic circle`.
Their first thought was precisely this.
"...Mother."
`Hektor` stood before everyone, without the slightest hesitation, even before he had fully steadied himself, he knelt on one knee.
He wore no helmet, which allowed `Morgana` to easily see some purplish-black marks on his face that didn't appear to be from battle.
`Ajax` and `Salieri` hesitated for a moment, but when their gaze swept across `Morgana`'s face, they too cast aside all hesitation and knelt, calling her Mother.
Next was `Eris`, his gaze lingered on `Morgana`'s face for a moment before quickly moving away.
When the `Spider Queen`'s gaze shifted from her four sons, she found that her `Shadow Champion` had stepped forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with `Hektor`. He said nothing, knelt on the ground, placing all his weapons unreservedly across his chest, revealing the vulnerable link between his `helmet` and `armor`.
Last of all was `Chiron`, the `Ancient Warrior` of the `Legion`. His gaze remained on `Morgana`'s face for a long time, as if confirming something.
After a long while, this sole `Terra Veteran` took a deep breath. He did not kneel, but simply bowed deeply.
"Greetings to you."
"Lord of the Legion."
🚨 Note: Consider supporting this story on Patreon.com/Flokixy to access 400+ advance chapters and 2 new chapters daily! (Full story bundles also available without a subscription).