Crack~
Within the bridge that had been reduced to a cruel execution ground, aside from the unbridled laughter of the Rangdan Overlord, a clear ring resonated out from the emptiness.
Deep within the Warp, a slumbering giant wolf slowly opened its cyan-gold eyes.
On the J-11 battlefield, the two powerful wills locked in combat suddenly halted their assault, looking toward the Warp in unison.
Beneath the walls of Planet Seven, Lion swung his dimensional light blade to slay the enemy, foul Rangdan blood trickling down the seams of his armor. Suddenly, his blade faltered slightly as he sensed a shift originating from his very bloodline.
It was not just Lion; across the battlefields covering the Eastern Fringe of the galaxy, every single Primarch sensed a subtle change. From their command centers or the front lines, the Primarchs gazed into the distance, their sight seeming to pierce reality itself to look into the Warp. They sensed the awakening of a certain entity. Deep within the Warp, something was calling out to them.
Except for Blazkowicz, all the other Primarchs sensed that familiar, intimate call. It felt like a true self they had possessed since birth!
Inside one of his private quarters, the engraving tool in Blazkowicz's hand stopped. His thick brows gradually furrowed as he sensed a wild consciousness flash and vanish from the Warp.
On the bridge of the Rangdan flagship, Russ was sent flying by the Rangdan Overlord, crashing into the adamantium bulkhead of the warship. The immense force of the impact dented the adamantium, and scalding blood sprayed outward from behind him, staining the entire wall crimson. He slid down the smooth surface, collapsing onto the deck, his life hanging in the balance.
Despair-Sky and Wander-Sky pressed themselves tightly against the wall behind them, their frantic laughter gone. The violent undulation of their brain-folds betrayed their current state of extreme tension. Just moments ago, a heart-stopping aura had emanated from the human Primarch, awakening a primal terror within them. They had thrown the human gene-primarch away almost entirely on instinct.
The two Overlords were thoroughly disheveled, their bodies instinctively making movements to flee before their consciousness could even process it. The minds of the Rangdan Overlords were trembling; no words were needed, for a telepathic consensus formed between them. They had only ever experienced that pure, dark, and terrifying will on a single extraordinary entity—the ultimate entity that stood above all Overlords and was currently confronting the human Emperor: the Grand Overlord!
Leman Russ, the sixth son of the human Emperor, the Primarch of the Space Wolves Legion————
A terrifying metamorphosis was taking place within him.
The Rangdan Overlords were utterly horrified, and regret washed over them—they had played their hand too far!
The broken body exuding the terrifying aura lay slumped beneath the steel wall, a dark essence spreading from it. Dark shadows intertwined behind Russ, extending onto the wall as the silhouette of a massive wolf was projected out. All the shadows in the room were drawn in, turning into drifting smoke that flowed like silk toward the silhouette of the black wolf.
Suddenly!
The shadow of the black wolf came to life. Its cyan-gold eyes radiated a dark glow, locking directly onto the Rangdan Overlords. The two Overlords felt those freezing eyes wrap around them like a physical force, strangling every inch of their thoughts. For a moment, they forgot to resist!
This was not a suppression of physical power, but a complete difference in "stature." A higher lifeform looking down upon a lower entity, leaving the latter entirely exposed, suppressed, and unable to even conceive the thought of resistance.
With the Rangdan Overlords paralyzed in a daze, the psychic pressure vanished, giving the surviving Space Wolves a brief moment to breathe. They scrambled up from the deck with extreme speed, unable to decipher the exact nature of the situation. They only saw their genetic father collapsed on one side, while their great Rangdan enemies stood motionless on the other.
"Quick, check on the Primarch!"
Shouts rang out as the warriors ignored the Rangdan Overlords and lunged toward their Primarch. The legionaries were in complete turmoil; even the steady, veteran wolves lost their composure, their hearts filled with dread for the Primarch's safety.
"Do not go near him!" a Rune Priest shouted, halting the frantic steps of the legionaries. "Not if you wish to see a beast!"
The Pack stopped abruptly, looking at the Rune Priest in bewilderment, desperate for an answer. They pointed into the distance, indicating that time was short and the Rangdan Overlords were still glaring like tigers from the side.
"Pay them no heed."
The Priest raised his amplification staff, speaking to the other Rune Priests: "The Great Wolf is lost. We must call him back."
"I invoked a psychic prophecy and foresaw everything that would transpire today."
Hearing the explanation, the others stepped forward to ask, "What must we do?"
He raised his staff, a freezing light flickering at its tip: "Part the fog of hatred for him—and guide the Great Wolf back."
Several Priests hurriedly walked over, dragging the Primarch's mist-shrouded body out.
"Time is running out," the Priest's voice was deep and distant as he pointed to the wolf shadow on the wall. "We must complete the task before the shadow solidifies."
Looking at their unusually acting comrade, someone questioned, "How do you know all this?"
The questioning voices quickly spread. As the initial shock faded, the legionaries silently formed a protective ring around the Primarch.
"We should take him away and let the Allfather save the Primarch."
Someone spoke with a sob in his voice, offering his judgment of the situation and looking left and right, hoping for the support of his battle-brothers. This sentiment gained agreement, and several legionaries moved closer to him.
"Enough!" the Chief Priest barked, his staff pointing at the one shaking the Pack's resolve. "The Allfather will save the Primarch, crossing the sea of stars to do so."
This sharp rebuke caused the eyes of the wavering Priests to light up, and they silently began to deploy a ritual array. They moved with extreme speed, carving Fenrisian runes with the blood of the Pack around the Primarch. The Chief Priest glanced at the Rangdan Overlords, closed his eyes, and began to chant the incantation.
The runic array slowly illuminated, flickering with frost as psychic power manifested through a unique methodology. The wolf shadow on the wall shifted, its hollow, glowing eyes looking down, baring its fangs at the Legion's Rune Priests. It seemed to possess a premonition and intellect: A speck of an entity inheriting my own power is trying to suppress me in reverse?
The Rune Priests did not hesitate, their continuous chanting turning into colorful snowflakes that drifted down onto Russ.
"I have foreseen my own destiny since the war began," the Chief Priest sighed, removing his gauntlets and helm to reveal a battle-scarred face bearing a smile. "To save the Primarch from the brink of losing himself."
"This mission is so glorious, it is enough for the Legion to remember me for ten thousand years."
With that, psychic fire ignited, incinerating the Chief Priest's physical form.
"Brother Ullr the Frostweaver," the Priests knelt one after another, chanting their brother's name and offering blessings for the departure of a great sacrifice.
The material body dissolved like ash, and the ice-blue soul-fire turned into a stream of light, sinking into the gene-primarch's brow.
Russ was entirely oblivious to the outside world, his consciousness suffering torment in the depths of his soul. He had completely lost his sanity, allowing the dark aura to surge into his body from the ground, wantonly tearing apart his surroundings. Within his gradually darkening soul, the space was entirely filled with images of his sons dying. Russ's posture was growing hunched, black wolf-manes sprouting from his naked flesh, his jaw becoming elongated.
As hatred corrupted his sanity, the humanity within Russ's soul collapsed, and revenge consumed his entire mind. Claws, teeth—he let out a wild howl, tearing apart everything he hated!
"My Lord———— Father————"
A slender light pierced into his soul, a faint voice calling out, striving to awaken the Primarch's consciousness: "Great Wolf———— Gene-Primarch————"
The Frostweaver tried repeatedly, speaking critical names: "Emperor's Son———— Fenris————"
"The Legion———— The Reconstruction of Humanity————"
The Chief Chief Librarian called out continuously, yet there was never a response. Moreover, as time ticked away, the Primarch's powerful soul began to assimilate the external consciousness, causing the calls to grow increasingly faint.
The Frostweaver grew anxious. The prophecy had revealed salvation, but it had not detailed the specific process of that salvation. He did not know what to do to bring back the steadily slipping gene-primarch.
"Lion El'Jonson, Moribas Solas————"
Hearing the second name, Russ showed a slight reaction, shredding that name from his memory with an even greater surge of wrath. The traitor's actions had directly caused the Pack to suffer catastrophic losses; his hatred was etched into his very bones!
Seeing a more violent reaction, the Frostweaver felt a surge of pleasant surprise—any reaction, good or bad, was better than none at all.
"Fulgrim, Rogal Dorn, Ferrus Manus———— Blazkowicz Doom Novik."
The previous names elicited no reaction, but just as the final name was spoken and the Frostweaver was on the verge of despair, he saw the frantic silhouette of the gene-primarch suddenly freeze. He knew the Primarch had reacted!
The Frostweaver wanted to continue speaking, but his soul had already grown cold and powerless as he watched his genetic father slip back into madness.
Allfather above!
Please tell me, what must I do to save the Primarch?
Prayers were strictly forbidden in the Imperium, but faced with the ultimate despair, the Rune Priest could not help but implore the Master of Mankind, hoping for the salvation of their genetic father.
"Thank you, Ullr the Frostweaver."
A golden, warm sun dispelled the bitter cold. Just as the fragile soul was about to annihilate, it heard the gratitude of a father: "You saved my son."
The Emperor had answered the prayer, his will crossing the endless sea of stars to arrive.
His soul completely devoid of strength, a final phrase was left behind before it dissipated: "For the Allfather and Russ."