[Illusion]
A ethereal sound slowly drifted from the boundless void, like a divine whisper softly passing through the endless sea of clouds surrounding the sacred mountain.
It was a ruthless, cold, and certain declaration of death, a casual hunt and harvest from a higher-level life form. It echoed silently above the most core Randan Fortresses, as if a moist breeze swept through the grass and trees in the valley.
The proud fortresses, the continuous trenches, and the countless anti-aircraft arrays and giant engines protected by the most advanced technology and weaponry: these most powerful, most advanced, and most twisted Randan Armories were excessively piled in every place where the so-called [Fate Engine] could be seen.
Innumerable cannon barrels and muzzles were as numerous as the flails that pierced sinners in the deep hell. Millions of Randan Soldiers crowded here, using their lives and wills to guard the [Hope] behind them, which continuously emitted a vicious scarlet light, enough to instinctively terrify and tremble any intelligent life.
The [Fate Engine] was so massive and striking that its scarlet light was clearly visible even from hundreds of kilometers away. It was said to be a killing artifact created after a deal between the Randan [Emperor] and an entity from the Warp: that entity was not one of the four Ruinous Powers, but was second only to them.
Countless Randan Soldiers guarded it day and night. This initial defensive line alone was heavily manned with terrifying military strength. Even without encountering a challenge, every defender dared not relax their vigilance for a moment.
Until that cold whisper, accompanied by an invisible wind, in an instant, passed through the minds of every Randan Warrior. Even the most agile Randan Psyker had no time to squeeze a warning cry from their throats before their brains were easily grasped by the [Soul Drinker], succumbing to a slow chewing sound.
The sharp gaze of the Randan Warrior faltered with this sound. The soldiers guarding the Grand Plaza and the Transit Station were the most severely affected. A faint struggle flashed through their pupils before they completely turned into desolate ruins.
Tens of thousands of Randan Warriors still stood at their posts, armed and upright. A second ago, they were trustworthy guards, but after just one breath, with the dissipation of the whisper, these soldiers bowed their heads, sinking into a sinful illusion. They drooled, continuing their duties in a fictitious dream.
No one saw that, at the place countless muzzles were pointed, a faint blue light had appeared out of nowhere. The tall Spider Queen walked out of it with an almost leisurely attitude, her Fangs beside her, extremely nervous.
As the black boots stepped onto the grey ground, distant sharp alarms and howling sounds continuously echoed in Morgana's ears: although countless Randan Soldiers had already succumbed to her power, the Randan artillery positions and heavy fire teams at a far distance quickly detected the anomaly. Their strikes came like an avalanche, incredibly fast.
Morgana looked up. She quietly watched the hundreds of cannon shells and energy beams, then pressed her lips together.
[Protective Force Field]
This faint whisper was not even heard by Hektor, who was closest to her, but that did not prevent an invisible barrier from appearing in the next breath, like an unseen divine giant hand. All the cannon shells and destructive beams froze in mid-air.
As their launchers were still confused and doubtful, these metals, born for destruction and killing, had submitted to another, more powerful will: the power of technology and physics was stripped away. They once again let out savage howls, rushing towards the Randan Army closest to Morgana, who were still trapped in endless illusions.
Metal fell, mixed with the piercing screams of death.
The next moment, heaven and earth collapsed.
Morgana spread her palms, and countless high temperatures and blazing flames danced in her vision. The dying wails and astonishment were utterly insignificant before the monstrous metal fury.
Tens of thousands of Randan Warriors had not even woken from their short-lived illusion before they were blasted into charred flesh and ashes by friendly fire. These sturdy fortresses, capable of withstanding the most powerful assaults, were largely destroyed by the Randan's own firepower.
Morgana watched all this. From the moment her light appeared here to the effective destruction of the Randan's first defensive line, it was only a matter of a dozen seconds. If she wanted to, she could have done it faster, but the Spider Queen now valued accumulating her strength and reserves. Moreover, being able to kill more Xenos with the hands of Xenos only brought her a slight pleasure.
In this pleasure, she heard angry roars rising and falling in the distant positions. Countless engine roars and cannon loading sounds continuously played a metallic symphony: another great army was gathering, and the power of armor longed to crush her.
She stretched out her hand and spoke new words.
[Metal Howl]
The invisible scythe blade struck again, this time targeting the aggressive armored army. The effect was evident: as Morgana's last wisp of sound fell to the ground, countless explosions and roars erupted on the distant horizon.
Engines burst, armor dissolved, and previously safe shells and gunpowder exploded directly amidst eerie friction sounds, brutally pulverizing the unsuspecting Randan artillerymen into burning charred flesh. One tank after another, assembling, emitted chilling wails.
Countless screams and cries for help crashed across the communication platforms: the tank comrades they had once trusted seemed to come alive, every part and iron plate constantly stirring, engines climbing, cannon barrels dissolving, metal melting into a scorching tide, searing through skin, internal organs, and bones...
Countless lamentations filled the horizon that Morgana could not see, causing the Spider Queen to take a nearly pleasurable deep breath. Her will once again reigned over the Sea of Souls, witnessing her battle achievements with satisfaction.
This was once a Fortress Complex, once an elaborately prepared killing net, once a bustling military camp deployed with hundreds of thousands of troops and thousands of steel torrents.
But now, it was merely a dead zone.
Morgana curved her lips. She casually wiggled her finger, and the light behind her suddenly expanded dozens of times, becoming a wide gateway. Immediately after, earth-shattering footsteps emerged from within.
First to rush out was Leman Russ, and closely following this Primarch of the Sixth Legion were at least five thousand of the finest Space Wolves. Most of them came from the most savage and warlike Thirteenth Great Company. The Wolf Lord, the Lord of Fenris's favorite, was among them. His gaze briefly lingered on Morgana before leaving under Hektor's warning stare.
At this moment, less than two minutes had passed since Morgana's light first appeared.
When the wolf pack emerged, their gazes were initially instinctively confused by the desolation before them. But then, a fierce hurricane brought the stench of charred flesh, silencing the sensitive wolf-kin.
They did not ask further questions, not even daring to directly look at the tall murderer. Leman Russ's warriors quickly split into groups to seize key positions, check for any remaining opponents, and organize larger formations, charging towards the huge scarlet light that was so conspicuous in their eyes.
Soon, the sounds of battle erupted in the distance: more and more Randan Armies were pouring in, and the Space Wolves had no intention of abandoning any land they had taken.
Morgana yawned lazily. She focused on her meal until the last fleeing soul was thrown into her insatiable maw. Only then did this greedy lady slowly move forward, each step seemingly covering hundreds of meters in a daze, letting her Fangs continually chase behind her, and letting the Space Wolves who suddenly saw her hastily express their respect for the Primarch.
In just a few breaths, she had arrived at the front line of the war: looking around, the ground was a mixture of iron-grey and black: the former being the Emperor's Hounds, the latter the loyal servants of Randan.
Two equally filthy colors clashed in countless fortresses and trenches. Their battle lines were jagged and intertwined, changing drastically every second. Every corner and every room could only change hands after a real cost in blood.
This was not a complete annihilation: the Space Wolves' army showed no sign of lingering or holding their ground. They launched wave after wave of charges, seizing the opportunity while the Xenos army had not fully engaged, carving out a bloody path through the remaining gaps, and striking towards their sole target.
Like a giant wasp, moving and killing relentlessly amidst a swarm of vicious bees.
Morgana thought this the moment she saw the scene.
She quickly found Leman Russ. The Primarch of the Space Wolves was the most conspicuous figure on the battlefield. He stood at the very front of the entire force, without commanding or any planning.
What he did was exceptionally simple and important: wielding his battle-axe, gripping his spear, he always charged ahead of every one of his Sons, always cutting off the head of one powerful opponent after another.
Morgana glanced ahead of him, seeing a huge Randan Fortress standing directly in Leman Russ's path. Her will surged in the Sea of Souls. With an unseen giant hand, she pulled her Fangs close to her, while almost casually unleashing an invisible scythe blade that reduced the dozens-of-meters-high stubborn fortress to ashes. Instantly, the path before the Space Wolves was clear.
The Sons of Fenris let out deafening cheers. They scrambled over the burning ruins, rushing towards the next opponent on the distant horizon.
Only then did Leman Russ stand on a giant rock, briefly listening to the reports from his Wolf Lords and Company Captains, then roared the simplest commands: charge, cover, or attack a certain place.
As these roaring commands crashed into the Wolf Lords' minds, Morgana also arrived by Leman Russ's side.
[Do you always manage so roughly?]
More and more Space Wolves hurried past, passing by the giant rock, paying homage to their gene-father with dissonant roars, howls, and boisterous chants, then eagerly chasing the footsteps of war.
Russ breathed, moisture dripping from his beard. He smiled.
"This is how I manage, a simple but effective process."
The Primarch of the Space Wolves couldn't help but spit, then looked at his blood kin.
"Why do you ask?"
[To learn.]
The Wolf Lord frowned, as if he had smelled something irritating.
"I can't imagine anything on Fenris worth learning for you."
[There is no such thing as 'worth learning' when it comes to learning. Anything that can exist is worth learning. Whether to retain it after learning is another matter.]
[After all, learning should be sincere exploration, not arrogant selection.]
Leman Russ laughed, revealing his wolf-like fangs, and large gusts of air filled the atmosphere.
"You are smarter than some people. Some self-proclaimed clever guys will eventually destroy themselves... Tell me, what have you learned?"
[Currently, novel management. I've met some of our brothers, but their management of the Legion is not as... simple as yours.]
"Comprehensive?"
The Wolf Lord bared his teeth, his smile containing a hint of mockery and cunning, enough to refute any notions of his foolishness.
"My Legion has sixty thousand Randan Warriors, and will only grow larger."
"If I were to manage every Great Company, even every Company, to be excited or annoyed by every death and failure, then what would I need those Wolf Lords and Company Captains for? Moreover..."
"Staring solely at the prey in front of you will only blind you to the distant blizzards."
"Among my brothers, I am not known for wisdom or cleverness ha, Johnson must have told you that. Therefore, I only focus on the important matters; as for the other trifles, I leave them to others."
"I am not a god; I cannot manage that much, nor do I want to think about that much."
He spat again, ending the brief conversation. The Lord of Fenris began to roar, charging once more into his wolf pack, igniting countless frenzied howls.
Morgana closely followed her brother. With every step she took, she saw a large group of wildly exuberant Space Wolves: they cheered, overturning Randan Armored Vehicles, chopping off the heads of stubbornly resisting Xenos, sending them flying everywhere. Whenever their roars and footsteps shook the earth like thunder, the Spider Queen could even see an emotion not belonging to war in their expressions and souls.
Joy?
Were they joyful for war?
Morgana frowned. She continued to follow her blood kin, occasionally and sparingly drawing out a wisp or two of Psychic Energy to help the Space Wolves overturn troublesome fortifications and bunkers.
The Spider Queen was being stingy with her mental power. At this moment, compared to her [Peak State] in this war, her strength had significantly shrunk.
The consequences of excessive swallowing and use of Soul power now afflicted her: her power was temporarily in a slump, causing her head to occasionally throb with pain, urgently needing continuous replenishment of soul power to slowly recover.
Ah...
Pain.
Long-lost pain.
She even felt a surge of anger, wanting to strangle her past self who had been so reckless and joyfully gorging herself not long ago, that act of malice now casting its burden on the present.
Why eat so much...?
Her power was temporarily stalled at about [Seventy Percent]. Although this was enough for her to kill every opponent or Legion she saw, for certain aspects of Morgana's thoughts: anything below [Eighty Percent] meant extreme uneasiness and vigilance.
In this haze, she heard a great sound from the very front: it was Leman Russ, single-handedly overturning several Xenos War Engines with an unstoppable momentum.
The roars of the wolf pack shook the heavens and the earth, the shouts for Russ and the Allfather never ceasing.
Morgana watched, then clapped her hands.
[Impact]
Accompanying her whisper, the roars of the wolf pack instantly amplified hundreds of times, forming an irresistible shockwave that completely shattered the countless Xenos armies before them, scattering red and yellow fluids across the ground.
All the Sons of Leman Russ were momentarily stunned.
The next moment, including Russ himself, all the Fenrisians burst into laughter. Amidst this frenzied battle and shouts, they plunged even more wildly into a new round of attack.
[Go.]
It was at this moment that Morgana waved to her Fangs. Her first syllable made all of them kneel involuntarily, listening.
[Go and join this war, go and win your glory. Even if it's for me, don't let these barbarians look down on the Second Legion.]
[Go, my children, go and prove:]
[You are worthy of...]
[My bloodline.]
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