Horus was negotiating with a small Human Alliance, but his patience was wearing thin.
The flagship of the Luna Wolves, the Vengeful Spirit, was anchored in the void, as steady as an ancient iron ingot.
A giant red crystal eye, the symbol of Horus, was embedded in the bow, signifying that nothing escaped his notice.
The Vengeful Spirit was a Glory Queen-class battleship manufactured on Mars, possessing extremely powerful firepower.
In his private office, Horus stood by the window, gazing at the distant planet, the object of his intense efforts.
As a sign of respect, Horus ordered the Vengeful Spirit and the Luna Wolves fleet to anchor in the void, rather than directly imposing on the planet's orbit.
This both showcased the Imperium's strength and conveyed its attitude: the Imperium came in peace.
Horus narrowed his eyes, weighing the possibility of war—the negotiations of recent days had completely stalled.
A small Human Federation, having rediscovered ancient technology, was neither too strong nor too weak.
These few Human Worlds were strategically located on a vital trade route, an important passage for the Great Crusade.
Because of this, they were insatiably greedy, making all sorts of outrageous demands during peace talks.
Tax exemption, power, and sustenance.
They demanded tax-exempt status, requested power from the Imperium of Man, and even required the provision of supplies to support the members of the Alliance.
"Hmph." Horus let out a cold snort from his nose, a flash of killing intent in his eyes.
Tax exemption might be negotiable, but power and sustenance? Wishful thinking.
The Alliance, ignorant of its place, demanded that the Imperium build a starport within their system, and that every passing ship pay a tax.
They also demanded to join the Imperium's government and gain certain powers, even asking for political authority far exceeding their actual value.
After several rounds of negotiations where the other party showed no signs of budging, Horus smiled and left the negotiating table during the last one.
He was gathering his Legion, preparing to conquer the Alliance.
If they couldn't understand the Imperial Truth, then they should understand the Imperial Fist.
Since participating in the Great Crusade, Horus had always fought for the Imperium's interests; when had he ever sold them out?
A small Human Alliance, attempting to use its geographical advantage to parasitize the Imperium of Man?
Simply wishful thinking!
Horus intended to go to war, to severely punish their arrogance and crush any delusional dreams.
He was calculating how to conquer the opponent.
The 'Human Alliance' military strength was not bad; this had been a transportation hub during the Dark Age of Technology.
The planet's orbital defenses were still operational, ancient technology protecting their world, and these were their reliance.
A powerful turtle shell, supporting the confidence of the arrogant.
"Father." Abaddon entered from the doorway, softly calling to Horus, interrupting his thoughts.
Abaddon reported to Horus, "Your two brothers are arriving."
Horus was visibly startled, then his eyes lit up, his tone slightly joyful: "Their mission is complete?"
"Yes. The two Primarchs have completed their conquests and are preparing to return to Terra; they are stopping by to see you."
"Good!"
Horus' shoulders shook as he let out a hearty laugh: "My two brothers are indeed extraordinary. How long has it been? They've completed their mission!"
"Less than seventy-two standard hours." Abaddon thought for a moment, then reported a standard time.
"Prepare a banquet; I want to entertain them."
In the Warp, only the Hrafnkel was traveling, heading to rendezvous with Horus.
Having completed its assigned mission, the War Hounds Legion departed, returning to the Great Crusade, to their path of conquest.
The warriors from each Legion returned to their respective Legions, bidding farewell to the two Primarchs, looking forward to their next meeting.
The Space Wolves had departed, under Leman Russ' command, heading to Fenris, the Primarch's homeworld.
"Ha Horus will definitely love the surprise I have for him!"
Russ, with a mischievous grin, told Blazkowicz about his naughty plan to surprise Horus.
Blazkowicz's mouth twitched, listening to Russ' plan and his nickname for Horus, shaking his head repeatedly.
"Horus is definitely in trouble." Russ grinned, a hint of smugness in his expression, "The Space Wolves won't go help."
"You sent the Wolves away," Blazkowicz drank his mead, speaking in a joking tone: "What if he sends us to the front lines?"
Russ confided in Blazkowicz that there was another reason for sending the Space Wolves away: to avoid getting entangled in Horus' troubles.
It must be said that Russ indeed had his own insights.
A simple negotiation that Horus had been unable to conclude for so long surely meant he was in trouble.
If the Space Wolves fleet went there, they would inevitably be drawn into it.
To be safe, Russ sent the Wolves away, and he and Blazkowicz went together to visit Horus.
It seemed like a somewhat selfish decision, but Blazkowicz inwardly approved of Russ' approach.
The Legions appeared harmonious, but privately, competition existed, and the struggle for honor never ceased.
Especially the ancient First Legion, they were consumed by it, gradually becoming lost as the Great Crusade deepened.
They were obsessively pursuing honor and status, conquering at all costs, fighting recklessly without regard for consequences, often paying a huge price.
Russ' wolves, entering the Luna Wolves' mission without clear orders, would be arrogant and rude.
Were the Space Wolves there to help? The Luna Wolves hadn't called for support.
Were they there to watch a show, or to supervise the battle?
Russ' so-called "surprise" was for the two Primarchs to go without any fleet.
None of the Emperor's sons were simple; they were all old foxes with extraordinary minds.
"Send us to the front lines?" Russ snorted, his bestial eyes quickly pondering, "Probably not, Horus wouldn't let us go."
"We are his brothers, not his subordinates."
Blazkowicz said nothing, shaking his head slightly and drinking his mead, waiting for the Hrafnkel to return to real space.
"It's you though!" Russ, seeing Blazkowicz fall silent, immediately changed the subject: "You're too strong, my brother."
Russ' expression was excited; he shuffled closer to Blazkowicz, placing a hand on his shoulder: "You're the definition of strong!"
He exclaimed, opening a holographic projection, his eyes shining with pride.
Who was the tough man in the image, clashing with a thousand-meter behemoth?
My good brother, Leman Russ'—the Warrior King, the Doom Slayer, Blazkowicz Novick.
"Leadership ability might still be debatable," Russ said with certainty, arm around Blazkowicz's shoulder: "You are definitely the fiercest warrior among our brothers."
"Tsk tsk tsk." Russ sighed and shook his head, playing the video repeatedly, showing how Blazkowicz killed the behemoth.
"It's so awesome; it's such a pity I wasn't there to witness it firsthand."
Blazkowicz quietly drank his wine, casually closing the image, and slowly said: "Trouble also comes with it."
The chroniclers of the expeditionary fleet had already recorded the footage, and it wouldn't be long before the Imperium widely publicized it.
"Unique honors often come with these."
Russ nodded in agreement; the power his brother displayed far surpassed that of their other brothers.
Blazkowicz's gene-sons, inheriting their Gene-Father's combat prowess, far surpassed their cousins.
As the last-born son, many Legion members suspected that the Doom Slayer was another masterpiece of the Emperor, not their cousin.
"Let's not talk about that."
Russ' personality seemed rough, like a savage barbarian, but his heart was full of wisdom, and he quickly changed the subject.
As the two chatted about other things, the Hrafnkel burst out of the Warp, arriving in the star system where Horus was located.
"Welcome, my brothers."
As the ship left the Warp, Horus immediately sent a communication, a smile on his face, offering a sincere greeting.
Russ' fleet had not appeared, and Horus quickly understood his brother's intention, quite pleased with his arrangement.
No one likes uninvited guests, especially between Legions.
"We'll come to you." Russ nodded, and together with Blazkowicz, boarded a small shuttle, heading for the Vengeful Spirit.
"Look at these; returning thirty years earlier really makes a difference."
Upon boarding the Vengeful Spirit, Russ looked at the ship's furnishings, pointing and exclaiming along the way, admiring his brother's displays.
As the first-returned son, Horus had spent thirty years by the Emperor's side and had embarked on the Great Crusade early.
The ship had a dedicated display room, filled with honors and inscribed with stories of great conquests.
Russ' tone held admiration, but also a hint of envy.
Compared to the Vengeful Spirit, his Hrafnkel was like an unfinished house, not yet fully fitted out.
The Luna Wolves warriors responsible for the welcome dared not speak, silently leading the two Primarchs.
"Welcome."
Horus had already prepared a banquet; he embraced the two Primarchs with a warm smile on his face.
Blazkowicz saw Horus' bright, reflective bald head under the banquet lights; it was indeed overly bright.
"It seems you've meticulously prepared food and drink." Russ' nose twitched; after the embrace, he sat directly in a chair, scooping food into his mouth with his hands.
Horus' eyelids twitched; although he knew Russ' other side, he was unaccustomed to his displayed savagery.
Blazkowicz, however, was very polite; he embraced Horus and sat down with composed grace.
Though they were brothers, the stark contrast between the two made Horus shake his head.
During the banquet, Blazkowicz and Horus conversed eloquently, while Russ ate in silence, his ears not idle, secretly paying attention to his brothers' conversation.
The two seemed to have an unspoken agreement, chatting with Horus about ordinary matters, completely avoiding any mention of the negotiation's progress.
Blazkowicz and Russ simply wanted to observe and learn, to study Space Marine combat from Horus.
This was their fundamental purpose; they didn't want to get involved, content to be outside observers.
Eat and drink, fulfilling their role as guests.
When the Luna Wolves started fighting, a careful observation and study would naturally yield results.
Horus, however, was anxious; he very much wanted to drag his two brothers into the fray and test their abilities.
Blazkowicz was a king who ruled the stars, and his abilities were beyond doubt. The seemingly wild Russ also possessed extraordinary qualities. The two of them, working together, eliminated the Psychneueins within seventy-two hours, a truly miraculous speed.
Horus wanted to test the specific capabilities of his two brothers. As a son of the Emperor, he inherited the Emperor's ambition and desire for conquest. His instinct was to understand his brothers' abilities and plan how to interact with them.
Watching Blazkowicz and Russ chat, drink, and eat, but not bringing up war in their core conversation at all, Horus felt it was time to take the initiative. He had prepared in advance.
While seemingly talking, he subtly reached a leg under the table and lightly touched a hidden, specially treated button. It was quiet, difficult for even a Primarch to detect. A sharp glint flashed in Blazkowicz's eyes; he detected a minute disturbance. His expression remained calm.
He glanced at Russ, knowing he hadn't noticed. Blazkowicz immediately understood that Horus wanted to draw both of them into this whirlpool. So he changed the subject.
"How are your negotiations going?" he asked, no longer idly chatting, but actively bringing up the topic. Since it was unavoidable, he would seize control.
Russ' movements paused for a moment. He subtly covered it up, feigning an indifferent look. He believed Blazkowicz must have discovered something.
Horus' heart sank. Blazkowicz's timing was clever, catching him off guard. He was suspicious if his little trick had been discovered.
"Not ideal," Horus said, though suspicious internally, he remained outwardly calm, shaking his head regretfully. "Their demands are too excessive; I will not accept them, and the Empire certainly will not. Power, resources, independence."
Horus used his uniquely charismatic voice to slowly recount his recent experiences. Blazkowicz and Russ listened quietly, understanding the trouble he was facing.
"They lack sincerity; they want this, and that, and also that. They don't offer anything." Horus summarized the negotiations in a sharp and infuriating way.
"Negotiation? What negotiation!" Russ, upon hearing this, became furious. He roared as he stood up, revealing his sharp fangs. "No more negotiations! It's time to unleash punishment upon them! If the wolves were here, they would make these insects understand that the Imperium can conquer the stars not by words."
Blazkowicz inclined his head, the weight in his voice deepening though it lacked the primal fury of Russ. "If words falter, war will speak. Discipline must be made manifest, one broken foe to warn a thousand." His gaze hardened. "The Imperium is never miserly with its wrath. Our fist is iron, and it falls without hesitation upon the disobedient."
The meaning was clear: the only Legion here was the Luna Wolves. If you, Horus, don't go, who will?
"Horus Lupercal!" Russ suddenly called out his name, looking seriously at his brother. "Do you need me to summon the wolves to help you?" Russ' words, though seemingly sincere, were putting Horus on the spot.
Just a few Human Worlds would not require two Legions to attack. Horus immediately refused. "No need, I am already planning how to attack most reasonably."
Horus also understood that his two brothers, from the very beginning, had no intention of showing off their true abilities.
"Really?" Blazkowicz immediately interjected, stating his true intention. "We are here to observe and learn, to learn from you the tactical application of the Astartes."
Blazkowicz's reason was unassailable. He and Russ had just returned, and they knew little of the Empire. Their ability to resolve the Psychneueins did not showcase much military talent, but relied on their Primarch abilities and the Psychneueins' racial characteristics.
"I understand," Horus sighed inwardly, resolving to learn more about them later.
Seeing Horus' attention on Blazkowicz, Russ slowly sat down and cast a look at Blazkowicz. "How was my cooperation?"
The two had, with a coordinated attack, extricated themselves from the situation. They assumed Horus had nothing good in mind.
Again, subtly, he pressed the button. Abaddon, nearing the banquet hall, stopped. He looked down at the data-slate, his brows furrowed. His Gene-Father had instructed him to enter upon receiving the signal, but he didn't understand the two signals. After a moment of hesitation, he chose to leave.
"In five hours, my Legion will launch an attack. You are welcome to come to the bridge to observe." Horus put aside his regrets, adjusting his mindset and preparing for the operation. He felt a strong sense of "elder brother" responsibility.
"We are eager to learn," Blazkowicz replied with a gentle smile.
"Tell your whelps to bring paper and pens; I need to take good notes," Russ' loud voice rumbled. With a Primarch's photographic memory, there was no need for paper and pen. He did this to show respect.
Horus felt greatly encouraged. "I'll go prepare first; you can look around freely." He left his seat, ready to fight a beautiful battle that his brothers would remember. Blazkowicz rose to politely see him off, while Russ, with his legs crossed, casually waved his hand.
"Let's go, let's look around the Vengeful Spirit," Blazkowicz called to Russ, preparing to tour the battleship.
"Hey, you!" Russ stood up, pointing at a Luna Wolves warrior. "Show us around your glorious battleship and tell us about its magnificent past."
The two followed behind the Space Marine, traversing the Vengeful Spirit, listening to the warrior's detailed explanations. The warrior was intelligent, choosing a route with changing scenery that led the two Primarchs to the bridge at the last moment.
The bridge was a large, black hall adorned with golden lines. Blazkowicz's Doom Slayers and Russ' guard stood solemnly. Horus was already waiting, seated on his throne, with a high-backed chair on each side for his brothers.
"Are they still not surrendering?" Blazkowicz sat down, quickly grasping the situation. A massive fleet slowly approached. The Human Alliance's core world had raised a shield, covering the entire planet, looking as if they would resist to the death.
"They want to rely on the planetary defense system to force our fleet to retreat," Horus patiently explained, controlling the holographic images. "The existence of void shields renders many tactics ineffective, which is why Space Marines must conduct ground operations."
Horus shook his head; the fleet's firepower was useless. Blazkowicz nodded in agreement. The existence of void shields indeed rendered many traditional tactics ineffective. The planets were like hedgehogs—untouchable, unapproachable.
"The only purpose of a battleship is to hunt enemy battleships, gain absolute air superiority, and then safely land on the target planet."
"Quite amusing," Russ picked at his eye boogers, offering his unique perspective. "We're like barbarians driving spaceships, hacking at each other on the planet's surface."
Horus spoke clearly, explaining the necessity of the landing operation in a very short time. If the planetary shield wasn't lowered, the fleet's firepower would be difficult to use effectively. In the ground assault, Astartes were essential, and heavy equipment like Titan tanks were indispensable. The fleet's only role was to ensure orbital security, preventing landing forces from being subjected to enemy orbital strikes.
It was not a large landing battle, and Horus quickly got into the zone. His command ability was outstanding, his insight sharply discerned defensive weaknesses, and he had ample combat experience.
The core worlds of the Human Alliance had impenetrable defenses, complete with anti-ship and anti-landing firepower, which was their reliance for daring to resist the Imperium. Blazkowicz and Russ sat beside Horus, carefully observing how Horus would break the deadlock and open the attack route. They cherished such learning opportunities, not missing any details.
"I hate attacking human Worlds," Horus said, his command actions not slowing, but his tone slightly regretful as he continuously communicated with his brothers. "Not only do we face strange leftover technology, but we also have to find every way to eliminate our human kin. We are of the same kind, yet we fight each other."
Horus' tone carried genuine regret. On the path of the Great Crusade, he had eliminated many xenos and destroyed many Human Worlds.
"Unity and unification are a great cause, and sacrifice is inevitable," Blazkowicz spoke slowly, explaining in a formulaic manner, putting a hat of justice and ideals on death and bloodshed. He knew very well in his heart that those euphemisms for war were merely to make death sound better.
The high platform of honor was built with blood, every brick and stone a skeleton of sacrifice, and profit was the gift of death. He understood that war was an embodiment of plunder.
Russ remained silent, listening to his brothers' conversation noncommittally. For him, the Emperor's command was everything. In his soul and body flowed loyalty like a wolf's.
For battle and conquest, Russ would charge with his wolves at the Emperor's command. Sacrifice and great cause? Russ would not think too much; following orders was his instinct and mission.
Horus said no more. The fleet moved away from land-based firepower orbits, deploying decoys toward the planet. His probing, with dense gunfire, tested for enemy firepower vulnerabilities.
The fleet released a large number of slow-moving decoys, penetrating the void shield, forcing enemy anti-air defenses to retaliate. The first wave of probing exposed most of the firing points.
"Knowing it's a desperate struggle, that the solid shell will eventually be breached, they still choose to hold their ground and attempt to resist. Power and profit push them towards madness," Russ said, his deep voice conveying contempt for such foolishness.
"We are the Emperor's sons, born with supreme power. We don't need to strive for it; power and profit will gravitate towards us naturally," Blazkowicz pointed out the difference between Primarchs and Mortals.
"Mortals need power, craving every shred of profit. The initial motivation is the fundamental human desire: survival, and then to survive better. These are beyond reproach, after all, they are biological instincts."
"Without this divine power, we would merely be one of the countless beings," Horus nodded, agreeing with Blazkowicz's point.
Russ did not refute, crossing his arms and observing the battle, no longer disturbing Horus' control of the situation. After the first wave of probing, Horus found vulnerabilities, seeing countless gaps in the anti-air fire net.
The intricate defense system, meticulously calculated and built by Mortals, was full of flaws in the eyes of a Primarch.
With a simple assessment, the Luna Wolves' orbital drop began. Drop pods continuously fell, descending sequentially strictly according to the routes calculated by Horus.
The first batch of drop pods penetrated the void shield and landed on the planet's surface, quickly establishing a landing zone outside the Hive City. Tanks, aircraft, and Titans rapidly descended, forming a massive fire support force.
Coordinating with the Astartes, they quickly launched an attack, clearing bunkers and defensive facilities on the city's outskirts. Blazkowicz remained silent, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes. The Luna Wolves, under the command of their Gene-Father, were disciplined and had clear objectives.
Their unified coordination far surpassed the War Hounds, with exquisite mutual cooperation. The War Hounds Legion was the embodiment of savagery, breaking through enemy lines with valor, but if the enemy's will was tenacious, they would suffer heavy casualties.
The Luna Wolves were different; they were a clenched iron fist, striking fiercely at the enemy's weak points, quickly crushing them. Even Russ nodded, highly approving of his brother's Legion for their valiant combat. A Legion with a Primarch leading them for a long time indeed had extraordinary fighting power.
The Luna Wolves advanced very quickly, swiftly dismantling the outer facilities of the Hive City, rapidly reaching the city walls, preparing for a siege. They reached the city walls in less than a few hours.
"My Lord, a communication from the Human Alliance has arrived. They are willing to renegotiate." The comms array monitoring personnel removed their headphones and respectfully reported to the Primarch.
"Hmph," Horus had not yet expressed his stance, but Russ snorted coldly, a strong disdain flashing in his eyes.
Let alone a Primarch, even a regular commander knew that the arrow was on the string and had to be loosed; there was no room for peace talks now. The Space Marines on the ground yearned for conquest, the Mortals awaited achievements, and the Adeptus Mechanicus eagerly anticipated relic technology. How could they stop? Stopping now would be a betrayal of the warriors and an irresponsible act toward the Great Crusade.
"Tell them, from the moment the first bullet was fired, there is no longer any possibility of negotiation. They have only unconditional surrender," Horus dismissed the request.
The battle continued. The Hive City shields flickered, and the Space Marines pressed against the city gates. The rulers incited the populace to ascend the walls, to make a desperate stand. All defensive weapons fired at full power, and the defenders, replaced batch after batch, surprisingly held back the Legion's offensive. The lightning-fast assault devolved into a defensive tug-of-war, and the Luna Wolves suffered some casualties.
Horus frowned, his finger hesitated slightly, then he pointed out a new tactical order—Grey Claw. The name wasn't very good to Blazkowicz. Grey represented ignorance, ill omen, and death; claw was a sharp blade and attack. He only believed that Horus was getting serious, preparing to employ a more aggressive tactic.
What happened next made Blazkowicz's face harden, and a surge of anger rose in his heart. Horus' Grey Claw tactic was issued, and new drop pods descended, from which emerged warriors different from the Luna Wolves. They exuded a somber aura, wearing unpainted power armor, revealing a faded bronze color. On their shoulder pads, the ancient Roman numerals "XIX" were inscribed.
Blazkowicz recognized the somber warriors of the Nineteenth Legion. They had been under Horus' command since the beginning of the Great Crusade. Their objective was clear: under the cover of the Luna Wolves, they launched a fierce assault toward the Hive City gates.
Space Marines were powerful, but they were still flesh and blood, incomparable to true steel. The Hive City's fixed defenses showed no mercy. T
urrets poured fire, plasma rays and laser beams interwoven into a deadly net of firepower, causing heavy casualties. They still pressed on, enduring the fire net to penetrate the shield and place melta bombs. The strict defenses quickly tore through a hundred warriors, leaving them fallen before the city gates.
"This isn't what I wanted." Blazkowicz's voice was like ancient ice, sweeping through the Vengeful Spirit's bridge, making everyone's hair stand on end.
"Doom Slayers, proceed to the landing craft and support the ground battle." He gave Horus a deep look, said nothing more, turned, and left with his sons.
Horus remained expressionless, nodding in silent acknowledgment of his brother's departure, and continued to focus on the battlefield before him.
He knew the source of Blazkowicz's anger: the Space Marines who had sacrificed their lives. However, Horus had reasons that would allow him to persuade his "naive" brother after the war ended. He believed victory required a price, and sacrifice was the foundation upon which it was built.
Russ glanced at Horus, then at the departing Blazkowicz, his gaze moving back and forth. After a moment of consideration, he chose to follow Blazkowicz.
"Wolves, follow the Doom Slayer!" he roared, striding towards the bridge exit.
"Are you sure you want to go down?" Horus didn't look up, staring at the holographic image, his brow slightly furrowed. "You're not even wearing Power Armor."
"They can't harm me," Russ said, pulling up his long robe and tying it around his waist. He grinned, unhesitatingly following Blazkowicz's footsteps, and shouted to the Space Marines at the door: "Send me a greatsword! If not, a metal pole will do!"
Watching his two brothers leave, Horus' expression subtly changed, revealing a hint of displeasure. In his mind, Russ had already taken a side, aligning himself with Blazkowicz. From the moment Horus first saw Blazkowicz, he secretly resolved to view this magnificent brother as a rival. He felt they were similar, both cherished by their Father, both inspiring his expectations.
Although the Emperor's indulgent attitude towards Blazkowicz made him uncomfortable and even sparked an inexplicable envy, as the First Son, Horus believed he should be magnanimous and willing to share his Father's love.
He raised his hand to his chest; a pocket sewn into his magnificent robe held a golden ring. "You are my Sagittarius," Horus clearly remembered his Father's hopeful gaze, his smile full of love. He placed a golden ring in his own palm, symbolizing protection.
Horus sighed deeply. Now, the two similar brothers had a slight disagreement on the front lines of the battlefield. It was time to talk. He watched his brothers leave the bridge, knowing that after the war, they would need to discuss their differences.
"He really is a bit much," Russ mumbled, speaking cautiously as he walked alongside his brother. He naturally knew the source of Blazkowicz's anger.
"You shouldn't get involved in this mess," Blazkowicz did not reply, his clear eyes looking at Russ, his rational gaze reflecting Russ' wild face. By following him out, Russ had entered the conflict. Blazkowicz decided to finish the battle first, then talk to Horus. This was a vortex of clashing ideologies between the two; Russ could have stayed out of it, but he stepped right in.
"Staying out of it is impossible," Russ shrugged, quietly explaining his reasoning. "We have twenty brothers; our personalities are bound to be completely different. Do you think that when we all gather together then... will it be harmonious and brotherly, or will we be at odds, each disliking the other?"
Blazkowicz said nothing more, turning his head and striding forward. His silent attitude precisely indicated that Russ was correct. Twenty brothers, tolerant of each other due to their blood ties, but certainly not harmonious.
"Compared to Horus, I feel like you're a normal person." Russ' eyes gleamed with wisdom; after a moment of serious thought, he nodded, stating with absolute certainty: "At least more normal than Horus."
Blazkowicz nodded, saying no more, and walked through the corridor to the hangar, boarding a landing craft. Russ, with his guard, closely followed his brother's footsteps, taking the greatsword and boarding shield offered by the Luna Wolves. "This will have to do," he weighed it, nodding with reasonable satisfaction.
The landing craft descended rapidly, carrying the two Primarchs and their guards swiftly into the battlefield. Blazkowicz's expression was calm as he led his Gene-Sons out of the dropship, quickly assessing the battlefield situation.
The battlefield was shrouded in smoke, various energy beams making it intensely hot. The Legion was still attacking fiercely, but the heavy firepower had no effect on the Hive City protected by its shields.
The firepower network in front of the Hive City's gate was dense, and the bodies of the Nineteenth Legion accumulated continuously, paving the way forward with their lives.
"He'll make his brothers despise him!" Russ stepped out of the dropship, spitting disdainfully. "Children without parents treated like this by him." Experiencing it firsthand, Russ grew even more displeased with Horus, and a hint of contempt entered his eyes as he looked at the Luna Wolves. The honor of the Sixteenth Legion was built upon the sacrifices of its brother Legions.
"Let's go," Blazkowicz said, summoning his shield from warp space, and called out to Russ: "We'll breach the city gate and end this battle."
"I've been looking forward to fighting alongside you for a long time!" Russ raised his boarding shield, activated the disassembler field of the greatsword in his hand, his eyes fiercely determined. The group quickly advanced towards the Hive City gate. The news of the Primarchs joining the battle was exhilarating.
"Nineteenth Legion, fall back." A voice came through the comms array; the Primarch's order came quickly, devoid of passion or encouragement, his voice as cold as frost.
The warriors of the Nineteenth Legion froze. They were preparing for the next charge.
"Didn't the little whelps hear me?" Another wild roar came from another Primarch.
A sudden oppressive force emerged, and the Legion warriors looked towards it; two giants were rapidly approaching. Blazkowicz saw the warriors' hesitation, and his expression grew even more displeased; they had even grown accustomed to the "Grey Claw" tactic.
He now felt that "Grey Claw" was a bit too euphemistic. This despicable tactic of sending people to their deaths should be called—a suicide squad!
The Nineteenth Legion knelt on one knee; they dared not defy the Primarch's authority, maintaining silence amidst the majestic aura. They moved as close to the city wall as possible, gathering within a huge crater, where the Adeptus Mechanicus had set up shields, serving as a temporary forward position.
"Get out of here!" Russ roared sharply. "This area is now under the command of the Warrior King and the Great Wolf!"
"But—" The Legion Master knelt, hesitating at the Primarch's order. On the battlefield, there was always only one commander. Currently, Horus was in command, and although he respected the Primarch, the Legion Master of the Nineteenth Legion still voiced his doubt.
"The Nineteenth Legion is under the command of my brother," Horus' voice came through the comms array. Horus was also curious how his brother would take over and accomplish the Nineteenth Legion's mission.
"Go stand aside!" Russ glared, driving the Nineteenth Legion warriors away. He was not inherently rude, but he used a display of rudeness to make these Space Marines keep their distance. Because he also didn't know what would happen next.
Blazkowicz held his shield in his left hand, a slight smile playing on his lips as he looked at Russ. "Should I just charge straight in with me?"
Russ bared his fangs, striking his shield with his sword, responding without backing down. "Do you want me to charge ahead?"
"Doom Slayers!"
"Wolves!"
The two Primarchs growled: "Keep up!"
Blazkowicz led the charge, activating his shield's force field to block attacks, holding it in front of him as he began his assault. The Necron artifact, its shield force field expanded outwards, protecting everyone behind him. No tactics, no plan, the group charged straight towards the city gate, enduring dense enemy fire.
Russ followed behind his brother, holding his shield and greatsword, charging forward, knowing Blazkowicz's capabilities. The Doom Slayers swung their weapons, continuously bombarding the enemy on the city walls, their tall bodies blocking the front, protecting the Wolves behind them.
"For the Great Wolf! For the Warrior King!" They ran with all their might, afraid of holding back.
The two Primarchs' insane actions deeply shocked the Luna Wolves.
"Charge!" Horus' command came swiftly; he had to give the order. Blazkowicz's actions were impulsive, and he was worried that if the city gate couldn't be breached, his brother might get injured. The Luna Wolves pressing forward could draw some of the enemy fire, covering his brother's movements.
"For Horus!" The Luna Wolves could no longer hold back, bursting from cover and rapidly charging towards the city gate.
At this moment, Horus on the Vengeful Spirit looked solemn, worried for Blazkowicz and Russ. No matter how different their personalities and philosophies, they were still blood relatives, the closest of brothers.
"Prepare for impact!" Blazkowicz roared, accelerating fiercely with his shield, gathering all his strength, and charging straight towards the steel gate.
"Prepare for impact!" Russ roared, raising his boarding shield to block in front of him, standing at the forefront of the formation.
Blazkowicz's sudden acceleration was so fast that the Space Marines couldn't clearly see it; his speed didn't decrease, but rather continued to increase. Directly in front of him was a steel gate, dozens of meters high, several meters thick, and weighing tens of thousands of tons.
Did the Primarch intend to smash it open? This question arose in everyone's minds; they simply couldn't believe how flesh and blood could contend with steel. Including Horus, who thought his brother was being overly confident, even overestimating himself. However, in the next second, the shocking scene relayed from the battlefield stunned the usually composed Horus; he sprang from his throne, staring wide-eyed at the holographic image.
A thunderous roar shook the heavens and earth, and a visible shockwave spread out. The Space Marines clenched their teeth, enduring the shock and vibration from the sonic boom; they were stunned, even forgetting to activate their Lyman's Ear.
At the enormous gate of the Hive City, the entrance was now wide open; the steel gate had vanished. No! It had been flung away by the Primarch's immense power, crashing into the city, dragging a trail of blood and crushing those blocking the way behind the gate before finally falling to the ground.
"Awesome!" Russ truly felt the impact from inches away; he raised his shield, swung his sword, and followed Blazkowicz into the city.
"Follow the Primarch's footsteps!" The usually silent Doom Slayers roared, swinging their weapons, and followed their Gene-Father into the city.
Blazkowicz's eyes were icy cold, his left hand trembling slightly from the impact, but he still held his shield high, deploying its protective force field. This artifact, forged from the body of a god, continuously deflected physical projectiles and energy beams. No weapon in the material universe could penetrate this shield.
His vision cleared, and he saw the Human Alliance soldiers' faces filled with terror, their gun-wielding hands trembling. The giant, shield in hand, emerged from the smoke, his bare upper body a mass of knotted muscles, his right hand gripping a shotgun. His face was heroic and his expression cold. Just one look at him made their knees buckle involuntarily.
Mortals in simple armor bowed and knelt, raising their automatic weapons, no longer possessing any courage to face Blazkowicz. "Those who surrender will be spared! None who resist will be left alive!" Blazkowicz's roar was as deep as muffled thunder, further shattering the enemy's will.
Russ, like a hurricane, swept into the city gate. His beast-like eyes scanned the kneeling soldiers, and his roar boomed: "The pack takes the walls! Doom Slayers, press forward!" The soldiers inside the city dared not resist. They had witnessed the might of the two half-naked giants and lay on the ground, trembling. Russ' arrangement suited the battlefield situation. Taking the walls would reduce enemy firepower, allow more allies to enter and expand their advantage, and ensure that the fruits of their victory could not be easily overturned.
"Let's go," Blazkowicz nodded and called out. The operation had to be carried out in one go, capitalizing on their momentum to push straight to the enemy's heart. The squad started running again. Blazkowicz's super shotgun roared continuously, its immense power systematically eliminating automated defense turrets.
Russ backhanded his greatsword to a Doom Slayer, borrowing a long halberd for precision shots. Enemy bodies were disintegrated into atoms by the weapon. Atomic sparks continuously flashed on the cold steel streets of the Hive City. The Doom Slayers' disintegration weapons swept through everything like a storm.
The sounds of slaughter and screams echoed. Children cried, women shrieked in terror, and men knelt, trembling. They couldn't clearly see the charging squad, but they could feel the oppressive force and killing intent. Facing such beings, only by bowing down, begging for mercy, and showing submission could they save their lives.
Unstoppable, Blazkowicz opened doors he encountered and broke through walls. Nothing could stand in his way. He was like a human tank, rampaging through with overwhelming firepower. Unstoppable! Unrivaled!
"Osiris!" Reaching the center of the Hive City, Blazkowicz let out a low growl. Hearing the deep call, Osiris looked up. His Gene-Father was calling him, and he immediately responded with passion: "Present!"
With Russ present, Blazkowicz gave a verbal command: "Take half the men and go shut down the reactor to lower the void shield."
"Understood!" Osiris gestured, calling out names through their psychic link, and led half of his brothers to find the plasma reactor.
"Time to climb," Blazkowicz looked up. The spires of the Hive City towered into the clouds. Rulers preferred high places, where the air was fresh, the view expansive, overlooking the entire city, greatly embodying authority and prestige. The elevators had long been sealed. The rulers of the Upper Hive were very fond of their lives, sealing the elevators and layering floor after floor of blockades.
The coming battle would be an even more brutal street fight, with deadly traps everywhere. Blazkowicz and Russ exchanged glances and shook their heads; there was no better way. Just as they were about to move, Blazkowicz's expression changed, and he looked towards a winding alley. Then Russ also sensed the approach of a living presence.
A young man was crawling on the ground, his body like a maggot, slowly inching forward. His coarse linen robe was filthy, his body emaciated from malnutrition, and his hair extremely dry. The young, thin man clasped his hands together, pressing them tightly against his head. He trembled like a sieve, his teeth chattering: "Sirs—all sirs." Blazkowicz and Russ exchanged a smile, knowing the problem was solved.
"Don't waste words. I know what you want to say. Don't delay, lead the way quickly," Russ instantly moved closer and grabbed the young man by the scruff of his neck, lifting him from the ground. The young man's dim eyes suddenly lit up. He knew he had made the right gamble, boarding the ship to a new era.
"This way, esteemed sirs," he quickly composed himself, bowing and leading the squad into a narrow path. "At the end of the small path, there's a private elevator. The bigwigs of the Upper Hive secretly come down here for some... alternative thrills. To ensure timely access, the bigwigs' elevator system is independent." As the young man spoke, a sinister expression, mixed with the excitement of revenge, appeared on his emaciated face.
Blazkowicz slightly raised his chin, and the Doom Slayer immediately understood his Gene-Father's meaning. His figure shot out, and five seconds later, he returned with some mortal food in his hand. The black-armored warrior said nothing, stuffing the food into the mortal's arms.
"Thank you, thank you, esteemed sirs," Tears streamed down the young man's face. He ravenously devoured the food, quickening his pace even more. "It's just ahead."
Following his guidance, Blazkowicz indeed found a hidden elevator at the end of the winding path. "Ten men will go up with Russ and me. The others will stay behind as backup, to prevent any unforeseen circumstances." The secret elevator was not big enough for everyone, so Blazkowicz decisively split his forces.
"Your brave and decisive actions have been noted. You will be rewarded," Blazkowicz nodded to the young man before the doors closed. The young man knelt on the ground, tears overflowing from his eyes: "Thank you for your mercy."
The elevator ascended rapidly. Inside, there was even a display screen, clearly showing the current floor. "His tragic hatred finds its justice today," Russ narrowed his beast-like eyes, eager for a big fight.
"This is just the tip of the iceberg. Similar tragedies will only be more common within the Imperium," Blazkowicz's words were as cold as the icy waters of Fenris, a bucket poured over Russ' head.
"It's still good to play the hero once in a while," Russ didn't refute, marveling at what they could accomplish in the present moment.
As the elevator began to slow, Blazkowicz raised his left hand, preparing to activate his shield's force field: "The master of this place is waiting to greet us." Someone was ambushing them outside.
"Three hundred heartbeats," Russ also raised his shield, his long halberd ready, eager to drink blood at any moment. Doom Slayers were always ready for battle. They were born for combat, fighting alongside their Gene-Father. The moment the elevator doors stopped, the ambushing soldiers nervously aimed. With a thunderous bang, Blazkowicz burst through the door, leading the charge.
His super shotgun roared to life. Its explosive pellets tore through the center of the soldier formation, destroying one-third of them with a single shot.
Russ' face was grim as he charged at the well-equipped Upper Hive soldiers, his long halberd swinging, reaping lives. The Doom Slayers' weapons opened fire, annihilating a large number of soldiers in an instant.
The defending soldiers couldn't get a single shot off. They all fell to the ground before they could pull their triggers. They left a few alive as guides. Seth grabbed one by the collar and lifted him.
The man was too terrified to scream, and a foul-smelling liquid streamed from his bladder. "A spineless coward," Russ' nose wrinkled. His sense of smell was the keenest, and the sudden stench went straight to his brain.
Facing a group of monstrously powerful men, the soldiers were scared out of their wits, leading the squad towards the planetary ruler's hall. Resistance along the way was scattered and sporadic. The soldiers couldn't muster the courage to strongly resist the superhuman warriors.
"Bang!" Russ kicked the ornate door open with a powerful stomp, charging first into the extraordinarily luxurious council hall.
Only a few screams were heard. The Human Alliance rulers, a group of bloated, worm-like individuals, knelt on the ground, constantly begging for forgiveness.
Blazkowicz walked to the sound system, broadcasting to the entire Hive City through the microphone: "Your leaders have been captured. All soldiers, lay down your weapons and surrender to the Imperium of Man!" His voice was as steady as cast iron, carrying an undeniable sense of oppression. The remaining resisting soldiers dropped their weapons, raised their hands, and emerged from cover, surrendering to the nearest units.
"Ah~~" Another scream came from the sound system. Russ pressed a dignitary onto a table, signaling him to speak. The resistance below had not yet ceased. There were still scattered pockets of resistance, with die-hards inciting soldiers, refusing to believe their rulers were captured.
"Surrender quickly! Put down your weapons and surrender! Do you foot soldiers want to kill us?" The bruised and swollen fat pig shrieked in terror, urging the loyalist soldiers to surrender, lest he lose his own life.
Just then, the void shield flickered faintly, a sign that it was about to shut down. Osiris had completed his mission, successfully shutting down the plasma reactor and lowering the void shield protection.
The dust settled. The Human Alliance never stood a chance.
The intervention of two Primarchs was overwhelming, destroying the defenses point by point and completely opening up the situation.
The ignorant greed of the rulers, their relentless pushing for more, ultimately brought the Imperium of Man's retribution.
They neither gained the benefits they desired nor retained the power they once possessed.
Blazkowicz and Russ completed their handover in the Top Spire Council Hall and immediately returned to the Vengeful Spirit aboard a landing craft.
"Are you sure you want to come along?" Blazkowicz asked Russ solemnly, a bottle of scavenged fine wine in his hand.
He had something to discuss with Horus, and a conflict might even erupt. Blazkowicz truly didn't want Russ to get involved.
Two could keep a secret, but three would inevitably let it slip.
It wasn't that Blazkowicz didn't trust Russ, but the discussion with Horus involved too much, concerning their future brotherhood.
"I made myself quite clear just now." Russ shrugged and smiled, his casual, relaxed gaze holding the firmest support for his brother deep within.
"Putting things in perspective, Horus' actions truly disappointed me."
As Russ spoke, his expression gradually turned serious; he disagreed with Horus' methods: "This isn't just your personal opinion now. I also want to hear what reason Horus had to use a brother's offspring as cannon fodder."
"He must explain himself. The lives of those warriors who were used as cannon fodder became stepping stones for the Luna Wolves' honor."
"Even without you, after witnessing Horus' actions, I would still seek an explanation from him."
Russ' voice was low, suppressing the anger in his throat.
His bestial eyes narrowed, filled with contempt and disdain: "If his answer doesn't satisfy me, on this matter, the Space Wolves will scorn the Luna Wolves."
"We'll go to him together," Blazkowicz said with utmost solemnity. Thinking of the Nineteenth Legion's warriors, he felt very distressed: "To demand an explanation for a brother's offspring."
The two Primarchs stood shoulder to shoulder, like warriors heading to battle; they were fighting for justice now.
Horus was waiting in his private quarters on the Vengeful Spirit. There was no technological equipment here, and the soundproofing was excellent. Family shame should not be aired publicly; if brothers had disagreements or arguments, they should close the door and discuss it.
His radiant and amiable face had lost its usual composure. This Primarch, who had conquered galaxies without batting an eye, now showed a hint of nervousness.
He sat steadily at his desk, seemingly as unmoving as a mountain, but his hands under the table were tightly clenched. Horus was deep in thought.
As a commander, he believed that victory in war was the primary goal, and he had done nothing wrong.
War required sacrifice, and victory demanded a price.
Blazkowicz, the king, and Russ, the leader of the wolf pack, were both leaders and commanders; they should easily understand this simple truth. As Horus was thinking, the door to the room opened, and his two brothers stood at the entrance, staring intently at him.
"Please come in—"
He sighed inwardly; what was coming would come, and everything was inevitable.
Blazkowicz strode forward, with Russ close behind. Their expressions were even more resolute than on the battlefield.
They had come to collect a debt, to demand the rightful honor and power for the Nineteenth Legion from Horus.
When the door closed, the temperature in the room seemed to plummet, instantly reaching freezing point.
The three Primarchs stood in silence, gazing at each other. Their eyes met, and a confrontation had already begun on a subconscious level.
"Why?" Horus frowned deeply, asking in confusion: "Don't you understand me?"
He stood up from his chair and raised his arm to his brothers: "You are commanders; you know that war always involves sacrifice and death."
Horus looked at Blazkowicz with a conflicted expression, his bright eyes pleading for his brother's understanding.
As for Russ, Horus felt he could ignore him.
He stood behind Blazkowicz, having already made his stance clear, steadfastly supporting Blazkowicz.
Just as he thought, Russ glanced at Horus, looked around the room for a stool, sat down, and began to drink the plundered wine.
While stating his position, he did not deeply participate, choosing to observe how his two brothers' thoughts would clash.
Blazkowicz's thick brows furrowed, and a hint of confusion appeared on his heroic face.
His mind momentarily froze; he had never imagined that Horus, a genius of such extraordinary talent, would, at this very moment, fail to grasp the simple root of the problem.
"Sacrifice and death?" Blazkowicz tilted his face slightly. Although he didn't want to fall into a trap, out of brotherly affection, he said to Horus:
"Of course we understand that war is often accompanied by sacrifice."
Horus still didn't understand why Blazkowicz and Russ stood together, united against him.
Blazkowicz shook his head helplessly, his gaze revealing disappointment: "Brother, you are too arrogant."
Horus' pupils constricted, and his breathing suddenly became rapid.
Arrogance was the greatest sin; it looked down on everything and disrespected everyone.
Facing his brother's grave accusation, his face gradually paled, as if he had lost all his divine power, one hand resting on the desk to support himself.
"I just want to ask you, you, Horus, my great brother." Blazkowicz spoke each word distinctly, his gaze like a sharp blade piercing Horus, meeting his brother's eyes:
"Why were the sacrificed not the Luna Wolves' warriors, but the offspring of your absent brother?"
The sharp gaze made Horus instinctively flinch. As Blazkowicz's questioning echoed in his ears, he clearly paused.
"The War Council entrusted the Nineteenth Legion to you, hoping you would utilize them properly, not send them to their deaths."
"To die in front of the Luna Wolves, paving the way with their lives, and exchanging their sacrifice for your honor."
Blazkowicz's voice grew louder and louder, questioning Horus with every word, finally turning into a sigh: "Please answer me, my brother."
"Why was the price not paid by you, but by them?"
Boom ~
His brother's question was like a sharp blade, piercing Horus' heart, exposing the issue he had subconsciously refused to face from the very beginning.
He remained expressionless and silent, his extraordinary mind racing.
Horus understood; his brothers' anger stemmed not from the sacrifice itself, but from the objects of that sacrifice.
They demanded equal treatment, comparable to the Luna Wolves and the Nineteenth Legion, fair and reasonable sacrifice and bloodshed.
Fair? Reasonable?
On this matter, Horus truly had no answer!
As a Primarch, he understood the origin of his actions: to avoid the sacrifice of the Luna Wolves—his own gene-offspring.
"To prevent the sacrifice of my offspring!"
Horus screamed inwardly, wanting to blurt it out, but ultimately, the words that came to his lips were: "Victory requires a price."
He kept a straight face, his neck rigid to prevent his voice from trembling, which made his tone stiff: "Sacrifice is unavoidable."
There was no direct response, still the same theory of sacrifice and price.
"Why was the price not paid by the Luna Wolves, but by the Nineteenth Legion?"
Blazkowicz's jaw tightened, his gaze like a blade piercing Horus' evasive eyes: "You have betrayed the Emperor's trust. If that brother returns one day, how will you face him?"
"Enough! You have no right to judge me!"
Upon hearing the word Emperor, Horus roared in a low voice, as if a taboo had been violated.
Russ immediately stood up from his chair, his bestial eyes fixed on Blazkowicz, constantly watching his movements.
It wasn't that he had changed his stance, but Russ felt that if a physical conflict arose, and Blazkowicz unilaterally beat Horus, he had to be prepared to prevent the conflict from escalating.
Blazkowicz raised a hand to Russ, signaling him not to worry.
Their views diverged, but it wouldn't escalate to physical conflict. A momentary loss of emotional control was understandable.
"Brother, I will not personally admit the reason to you; we both understand the reasons."
Horus regained his composure, taking several deep breaths, and gave his answer in a hoarse voice: "If it happened again, even if you were present, I would still use 'Gray Claw'."
"I cannot treat everyone equally or send my offspring to their deaths."
After listening, Blazkowicz hid his disappointment deep in his eyes, shaking his head gently at Horus.
As blood brothers, Horus would not admit his mistake to his brother.
He was incredibly stubborn, believing that what he did was to protect his gene-offspring.
"You have defiled the Legion's honor."
At this point, Blazkowicz said no more, stating regretfully: "You personally destroyed it."
"I will take the Nineteenth Legion and demand that the War Council plan their route so they can participate in the Great Crusade in another way."
"To leverage their genetic advantages, await the return of their Gene-Father, and no longer serve as your suicide squad."
Blazkowicz finished, looking at the silent Horus: "You should be grateful."
"Grateful for what?" Horus looked up expressionlessly.
"Grateful that a grave mistake was not made."
"We will talk to you because we are not the father of the Legion. If their Gene-Father were to return, how would he speak with you?"
"With words or with fists?" Blazkowicz shook his head in disappointment and turned to leave the room.
Russ stood up, preparing to leave, and nodded to Horus: "Horus, the Wolves will scorn the past glory of the Luna Wolves."
Then he followed Blazkowicz's footsteps, leaving for the Nineteenth Legion's deck, to take them back to Terra on his flagship.
"Blazkowicz, my brother."
Horus' voice was weak, softly calling out to his blood brother.
"I will allocate warships to join the Nineteenth Legion's battle formation and depart with you."
"Is this compensation?" Blazkowicz stopped, but did not turn around.
"It's not compensation," Horus said with certainty, denying the idea of "compensation."
Compensation is amends, usually given by the perpetrator to the victim after a judgment.
Though Horus struggled internally, he firmly believed his actions were out of necessity and refused to admit wrongdoing.
With no wrongdoing, and no judgment, the idea of compensation was naturally out of the question.
"It's a reward for them, a thank you for the Nineteenth Legion's efforts, a reward I've never given before."
"Heh~" Blazkowicz shook his head and sneered, "They don't need your reward. I will take responsibility for them when I take them away."
"Horus, don't cling to your 'dignity.' Wrong is wrong. How to rectify a mistake is the right path."
Horus did not reply, and the room fell into a cold silence.
"I wish you a successful expedition."
Blazkowicz offered his blessing, pushed open the door, and walked out.
Outside the door, the Luna Wolves collectively knelt. No matter what happened in the room, they had to show respect.
"Hmph," Russ snorted, letting out a disgusted snort, and cast a cold glance at the Luna Wolves:
"From now on, honor will be earned with a heavier price; it will be stained with the blood of brothers."
The Luna Wolves lowered their heads, pondering the deep meaning in Leman Russ' words, somewhat at a loss.
Only after the two Primarchs had departed did they slowly rise, exchanging confused glances.
Blazkowicz and Russ walked quickly, their boots clanging on the Vengeful Spirit's steel deck, the echoing sounds reverberating through the corridor.
The Doom Slayers and Space Wolves behind them had to quicken their pace to barely keep up with their two Gene-Fathers.
"Too stubbornly self-righteous, he will suffer greatly because of it."
Blazkowicz was furious. He thought Horus would understand and be impartial when leading troops.
He couldn't imagine how much the Luna Wolves had concealed in the battle reports submitted to the War Council.
Russ' teeth ground together, his eyes bloodshot, and his breathing heavy with anger.
"I really don't know what Father was thinking, telling me to learn from Horus?"
Coming to meet Horus wasn't a whim of Russ'; the Emperor had once suggested he learn from Horus' combat experience.
If Horus treated his brothers and sons this way, what about the mortals and servants?
Their plight was imaginable, just numbers for supplies, inconsequential supply needs.
His roar echoed in the corridor, venting his inner rage: "Learn from him to betray allies to win?"
"Learn? Learn what, a fart!"
Wherever the two went, Space Marines knelt, and mortals trembled.
They didn't understand why the Emperor's two sons, demigod-like beings, were so angry.
"Little pup? Are we there yet?"
Russ' angry shout made the leading Luna Wolf flinch. He had been anxious all the way.
He dared not speak, fearing the Primarch's wrath would spread, and he would be slapped to death in a fit of rage.
"Great Primarch, there's an elevator five hundred meters ahead. After a two-hundred-second ride, we'll reach the Nineteenth Legion's assembly deck level."
He answered quickly, his tone light, while ensuring the information was conveyed, to avoid being questioned a second time.
"What are you afraid of?" Russ persisted, his beast-like eyes narrowing with heightened interest: "Afraid I'll kill you?"
"That would be my honor, Primarch."
"Hmph! So you'd thank me then?"
"Don't make it difficult for him, an insignificant character. The Legion cannot influence Horus' will."
Blazkowicz's large hand pressed on Russ' shoulder. He suddenly remembered what his mother had told him—royalty needed to save face.
He said solemnly to Russ, "Brother, a Primarch needs dignity. Making things difficult for a junior is not a good deed."
Russ froze for a moment, not surprised by his brother's words, but by the memory and pain that flashed in his eyes.
He let out a long breath, removing Blazkowicz's arm from his shoulder: "Understood, a Primarch needs dignity."
Russ was not truly a barbarian; he wore a barbaric exterior, but at his core, he was a civilized man.
The Luna Wolf warrior nodded to himself. A king's words were indeed different.
A Primarch needs dignity!
Thinking this, some of the Gene-Father's actions indeed seemed undignified.
The assembly order was issued simultaneously. After Blazkowicz and Russ left, Horus began preparing for the Nineteenth Legion's departure.
As the team exited the elevator, the two Primarchs walked at the forefront, their tall figures immediately visible.
"Great Primarch! The Nineteenth Legion is fully assembled."
The Nineteenth Legion, nearly thirty thousand warriors, shouted in unison. They formed three ten-thousand-man formations, standing neatly on the landing deck.
Blazkowicz nodded to himself. The Nineteenth Legion had not yet been completely corrupted by the Luna Wolves; they could still be reshaped.
He looked around. The Nineteenth Legion warriors stood in perfect formation, the shadows between the ranks merging, dark as ink.
The Nineteenth Legion warriors, compared to the Luna Wolves or Space Wolves, had more compact physiques, and their bronze power armor was slightly lighter.
"Board the ship. Everything can wait until we're on the Wolf King's flagship."
"Understood."
The two Gloriana-class Battleships, the Hrafnkel and the Vengeful Spirit, aligned their broadsides in the void for easy personnel transfer.
"I actually thought a lot just now." From the Hrafnkel's viewport, looking down at the shuttles coming and going, Blazkowicz folded his arms, his brow furrowed.
When his anger subsided, after careful thought, he felt a three-point sense of relief regarding Horus' actions.
"Tell me your thoughts."
Russ stood beside him, happy to be his brother's confidant.
"We stand on moral high ground blaming Horus because our Legions have not yet participated in large-scale battles or experienced mass casualties."
"You understand what I mean, right?"
Blazkowicz's low voice introduced new thought: "We are like undyed white silk, while Horus is a battle standard soaked in blood."
"He used every means to preserve the lives of his sons, even willing to bear infamy. Did he really not consider the consequences?"
"We are Primarchs, he is a Primarch. Our minds are swiftly transcendent."
Russ was silent. He was deeply pondering Blazkowicz's hypothesis.
Did Horus not know the consequences? He must have, but he was willing to bear them, even if scorned by his brothers.
"He is a good father." Russ' beast-like eyes reflected the Vengeful Spirit, the bulkhead reflecting a cold light. He saw Horus.
"Humanity is contradictory. The Emperor is like this, you and I are like this, and our brothers will be like this."
Blazkowicz looked back at Horus. His brother stood tall, his expression calm and open.
"Russ. One day, you will have to sacrifice the lives of mortals to preserve your sons. What will you choose?"
"Preserve my sons!" With almost no hesitation, Russ blurted out, but then he froze.
He suddenly realized that the choice he was making now was no different from Horus'.
mortals and Space Marines, their identities were vastly different, yet their essence was completely the same—a life of a fellow human.
The difference between the two was that the bloodline of mortals was unfamiliar and could be squandered, while Space Marines were genetic sons, carefully protected.
"We are no different."
Russ' shoulders slumped, a little angry after understanding: "He experienced more and acted earlier. We will sooner or later follow in his footsteps."
What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.
"Let them die with purpose." Blazkowicz sighed deeply, his inner self torn by contradiction.
"Use every life wisely, let them die with purpose. That's all we can do."
He said slowly, raising his arm to wave at Horus, who was watching him.
"In the depths of our humanity, selfishness and hypocrisy still exist, an inherent flaw that humans, no matter how they evolve, cannot escape."
"Horus is selfish but not hypocritical. We are hypocritical and selfish."
Horus noticed Blazkowicz. He nodded deeply, knowing his brother understood him.
"Are we wrong?" Russ was unconvinced: "Is it reasonable for him to betray the Nineteenth Legion?"
"We are not wrong." Blazkowicz shook his head and smiled, his radiant smile bright and open: "He didn't hide anything; he taught us a lot with his actions."
Russ nodded. Horus' actions might have been problematic, but he certainly didn't hide anything.
Even with his brothers present, his tactics and strategies, and even when using "costs," were done openly.
"Take it as a warning."
Blazkowicz exhaled a turbid breath: "His actions are despicable, but we must deeply understand his starting point."
"He is an example, setting a future standard for us. At the very least, we should do better than him, right?"
"Yes! Take it as a warning." Russ' beast-like eyes suddenly lit up: "Do better than him, and refute him with the iron fist of facts."
"Personnel transfer complete. We're returning to Terra." Blazkowicz turned to leave, saying to Russ, "I'm going to check on the Nineteenth Legion."
Refusing the Doom Slayers' company, Blazkowicz, alone, rapidly moved through the steel corridors of the Hrafnkel.
During the journey back to Terra, he needed to reassure the warriors of the Nineteenth Legion.
He had to act quickly; after returning to Terra, he might not have much time to look after them.
Blazkowicz's goal was to detach the Legion from Horus' command, allowing them to utilize their unique talents and maintain their independent existence, rather than serving as cheap cannon fodder for the Luna Wolves.
This way, Horus would no longer expend them, and when facing his brother in the future, some sentiment could be preserved.
When his brother returned, the Legion he inherited would be independent, with its own Legion culture.
They would not be assimilated by the Luna Wolves, becoming a Legion known for assaults.
Even if they did become an assault Legion in the future, it would be their own achievement.
On the deck, the Legion warriors had already formed neat ranks, awaiting their Primarch's inspection and address.
Having detached from Horus' command and about to return to Terra, the warriors of the Nineteenth Legion felt lost.
Briefly stepping away from the Great Crusade to adjust their existing tactical system, how should they conquer the enemies of humanity?
Their path ahead was uncertain; they needed guidance.
As a somber atmosphere permeated the Legion, the warriors saw their Primarch's tall figure approaching.
"Great Primarch."
Thirty thousand Space Marines knelt on one knee, offering the highest respect to the Warrior King with a warrior's salute.
"Rise."
Blazkowicz stood on the platform, his calm voice as warm as sunshine, dispelling the gloom that hung over the Legion.
Clank, clank, clank—
The sound of armor rubbing was perfectly synchronized as the Legion warriors rose, carefully gazing at their Primarch's glorious image.
He was extraordinarily heroic, his strong physique clad in simple armor, draped with a cloak bearing the marks of war.
Most striking were the glowing, muscular chest and the red runes carved into it on the Primarch's chest.
Among the ranks of tens of thousands standing, only one remained kneeling, isolated at the very front, holding his helmet without looking up.
"Please punish me, Great Primarch!" A sob came, as the gray-armored warrior bowed his head, choked with emotion.
The warrior's cry was full of pain; he could not forgive his own mistakes.
Blazkowicz softly called for the Legion Master of the Nineteenth Legion to rise: "Rise, Legion Master."
"You could not resist Horus Lupercal, just as you cannot resist me."
With that simple sentence, the Legion Master trembled all over, his helmet falling to the ground, and he cried even louder, sprawled on the deck.
The warrior, who had shed blood silently on brutal battlefields, was now crying like a child.
The Legion Master knew that the Primarch had forgiven him, even understood and tolerated the helplessness of the Nineteenth Legion.
Under the command of a Primarch, the Nineteenth Legion could not resist; obeying orders was their duty.
Even if the orders were highly unreasonable, sending their Legion brothers to their deaths, they were forced to comply.
Through countless charges and assaults, the Legion's original talents were obscured, gradually aligning with the Luna Wolves.
Blazkowicz raised his hand, signaling, and two Legion warriors stepped forward to help the sobbing Legion Master to his feet.
"After returning to Terra, I will entrust the War Council to plan a new course of action for you; you will embark on your journey independently."
"Thank you for your mercy!" The warriors knelt again, their helmets concealing their excited expressions.
From now on, the Nineteenth Legion would be independent, no longer serving as cannon fodder or footnotes to the honor of other Legions.
Blazkowicz waved his hand, telling the warriors to stand.
"Independence is the beginning of a new journey; having separated from the Luna Wolves, you need to research new tactics and forge your own style."
"Do you have any ideas for this? Or will you continue with assault tactics?"
"I have new plans." The Legion Master wiped away his tears, straightened his posture, and stood ramrod straight before the Primarch.
He was a strong, fit man, with black hair tied into a ponytail, a stern face, and piercing, bright dark eyes.
The Legion Master gestured towards the depths of the Legion's formation, calling out a fellow brother.
Blazkowicz watched patiently; having an idea was best, good or bad, at least there was a direction.
Warriors feared confusion, then falling into self-destructive paths, which was precisely what he worried about.
The current situation made him nod inwardly; while most of the Legion was confused about the future, the Legion Master had never given up on independence.
A warrior of medium build, wearing standard power armor, ran up; he looked ordinary.
"Primarch, please see, this is a hidden secret of the Legion, which I have never publicized, and even our Legion brothers know very little about it."
Blazkowicz nodded, gently raising his hand to signal; every Legion had secrets, and he was not surprised.
The Destroyer Legion also had secrets.
"Feel free to display your talent; the Primarch saved us from dire straits, and no one is more worthy of trust than him."
With the Legion Master's encouragement, the warrior nodded solemnly, then stepped forward, into a thin, long shadow of light, and then completely vanished.
Whoosh~
The Nineteenth Legion warriors gasped; they had never felt or heard of such an amazing skill.
Blazkowicz's eyes narrowed; he felt a faint psychic fluctuation, and then the warrior disappeared.
He could still clearly perceive that the warrior still existed, standing motionless in the shadow.
"Merging into the shadows?" Blazkowicz nodded with satisfaction; it was indeed a good talent.
"Yes, merging into the shadows, invisible to the naked eye." The Legion Master proudly raised his head, saying excitedly:
"A gift from the Gene-Father; I intend to use this talent as a foundation for the Legion to develop infiltration tactics."
"Very good."
The Primarch smiled, nodding to the Legion Master, "This is indeed a unique talent, suitable for developing stealth operations, infiltrating enemy lines."
"If you had let Horus know earlier, perhaps you could have escaped your predicament."
"I made my brothers swear never to reveal it to Horus." The Legion Master said with a grim and unwavering expression:
"Our unique talent will never become an aid to the Luna Wolves, allowing them to exploit us even more deeply."
As things stood, Blazkowicz said no more, nor did he try to persuade them.
Within the Nineteenth Legion, there had long been resentment towards Horus, but they were powerless to defy his authority.
Now freed, away from Horus' oppressive power, their previously hidden defiance immediately emerged.
However, from this day forward, the Nineteenth Legion's animosity towards the Luna Wolves would be passed down forever with their Legion culture.
"Legion Master," Blazkowicz said softly, "Since you have a plan, I will no longer interfere with your future."
"I wish you smooth sailing in advance."
With his worries gone and the matter settled, Blazkowicz gave a brief instruction, then turned and left.
"Primarch!" The Legion Master called out to Blazkowicz, then knelt as the Primarch turned in question: "The Nineteenth Legion will forever remember your grace!"
After he spoke, thirty thousand Space Marines knelt before the Primarch, their grateful shouts echoing: "Great Warrior King, the Legion will forever remember your grace!"
"When the Gene-Father returns, I will relay to him all that you have done for his sons!"
The Legion Master's eyes were red; besides this, he could not express more gratitude.
Blazkowicz waved his hand and smiled, gesturing for them to stand, and asked gently: "Does the stealth skill have a name?"
"Yes," the Legion Master nodded eagerly, telling the Primarch the name of the stealth talent: "I call it—Shadow Stealth."
"Use it well."
Blazkowicz nodded in satisfaction, turned and entered the elevator, leaving the deck under the respectful gaze of the warriors.
"We must remember the Primarch's salvation of the Legion." Watching the Primarch's tall figure depart, the Legion Master turned to his Legion brothers and said solemnly:
"Let everything that happened today be written into the Legion's history, to be passed down forever."
The Legion warriors nodded in agreement; the Primarch's grace deserved to be remembered by the Legion.
"From now on, the Nineteenth Legion will no longer be cannon fodder; let Hor..." The Legion Master realized his slip of the tongue, and his eyes shifted as he changed his words: "...the Luna Wolves, go and seize honor for themselves!"
Speaking ill of a Primarch behind his back, even if they disliked him, Space Marines dared not speak carelessly.
Blazkowicz had not yet reached the Fenrisian-style palace when he smelled the pungent scent of mead.
Russ was with his Fenrisian warriors, singing tribal songs and feasting on drink.
"Come, come, come~"
Seeing his brother's figure, Russ quickly came over with a drink.
Blazkowicz took the goblet, petted Russ' wolf brother with one hand, and without a word, downed the mead.
"Those little brats have quite interesting talents."
Russ put his arm around Blazkowicz's shoulder, and the two sat down together, arm in arm: "Horus will probably regret it later."
Blazkowicz was not surprised; Russ, though outwardly wild and rough, even seemed a bit simple-minded when he smiled.
But he was a Primarch, one of the most powerful beings in the universe.
On the Hrafnkel, a Primarch's control over information was absolutely top-tier.
Blazkowicz smiled, feeling a deep trust; Russ could have kept this to himself.
"A group of the finest skirmishers, perfect scouts, slipping through one's fingers, is indeed a regrettable thing."