Emperor's Bane

Chapter 573: Fight to the Death (Part )

Kagos watched the drop of scarlet blood roll down in front of him.

He didn't know whose blood it was, perhaps it came from the crowd around him who had already fallen into a frenzy: but it was indeed beautiful, lazily lying on the iron-gray stone surface, and the roars around it made it particularly delicious and tempting.

Kagos licked his front teeth. He knew what he was going to do. His thirst for blood made his tongue twitch between his teeth. He responded to the enthusiasm of the people around him with a low growl, and waited patiently for the sound of another collision of weapons on the ring to pierce his eardrums.

As expected, everyone began to cheer loudly. Taking advantage of this opportunity, Kagos quietly stretched out his tongue, completely ignoring the rubble on the stone surface that might cut his tongue, and sucked other people's blood as well as his own blood into his stomach: this was even more delicious than he had originally imagined.

Boiling, sticky, passionate...

The smelly blood in the brain gushed out through the ruptured blood vessels.

The Blood-Spitting Man smiled foolishly, savoring what he had tasted, and turning a deaf ear to the game on the field and the noise around him: the current games were not enough to make him pay attention, there were only some young men on the field, and if these people ran into him on the battlefield, Kagos could kill them easily within two minutes.

They weren't enough... to satisfy him.

Kagos murmured in a low voice, rubbing his teeth carelessly as if he wanted to bite them to pieces. The sound of metal rubbing dissipated in the cheers of the crowd. The blood-spitting man's eyes became redder and he was eager to go on stage to fight and to get the delicious blood in the battle.

No, don't get me wrong, he is indeed a blood-spitting man, but he is not a blood-sucking man, although he and Amit of the Ninth Legion are chain brothers who are worthy of entrusting their lives: they have fought side by side in three battles and won one hundred and one life-and-death victories in different gladiatorial pits.

But their glorious winning streak also ended at this great number: whether it was Kagos the Bloodspitter, or Amit the Flesh Tearer, they each met a father who did not like to see bloodshed, which fundamentally severed their winning streak.

During the time when only Sanguinius had returned to the Imperium of Man, Kargos was able to quietly pull Amitra aboard the Warhounds' warships for several life-and-death duels, but when Angron also returned, the two of them completely lost the chance of a bloody battle.

But Kagos had no complaints about this. He respected his Primarch, and one hundred and one consecutive victories were enough to make him proud. The Blood-Spitting Man also once fantasized whether it was fate that made his bond with Amit remain at this number: it symbolized the end of the previous reincarnation and marked the beginning of the next reincarnation.

The blood of the past stopped here, as if telling the arrival of a new era.

But Kagos is clearly unable to adapt to this new era.

He longed for the battle, longed for the moment when the defeated fell at his feet, longed for the sweet song rising from the crowd, praising the blood on his joints, and the taste of victory was as refreshing as a warm breeze in the jungle.

As for who he defeated, whether it was the enemy on the battlefield or the brothers in the legion, the Bloodspitting Man didn't care much about it: he didn't have many brothers in the legion, and he would not deliberately respect anyone. Apart from the Primarch, only Kahn could get his respect.

After all…Kahn could really kill him.

Thinking of this, the Blood-Spitting Man couldn't help but laugh at himself. He glanced towards the viewing platform of the three primarchs, but could not catch a glimpse of Kahn: the Centurion's previous instructions were still echoing in his mind, like an invisible nail.

Yes...nails.

Kagos remembered, and the corrosion of blood made him temporarily sober.

He remembered the head-on clash between him and Kahn in the arena: it all started when they were conquering an alien world with particularly strong resistance, and after Kagos followed the 4th Assault Company to capture a tough fortress, he told a joke to his centurion Kahn.

He still thinks it was a pretty good joke.

"Tell me, if we had the Butcher's Nail in our heads, would we be as difficult to deal with as these lunatics? These people are simply like hungry beasts. I don't think even the Butcher's Nail can do this."

In the Blood-Spitting Man's point of view, this sentence was just a joke on the battlefield, and Kahn didn't say anything at the time: However, after the battle, the Centurion broke into the company's public dormitory fully armed and dragged the Blood-Spitting Man onto the dueling stage without saying a word.

That was the day when Kargoth was closest to death. Even his memory of the duel was fragmented: he only remembered that Karn defeated him in the axe duel and convinced him, and then knocked him to the ground in the bare-knuckle fight, asking him to stand up again and again, and then they beat each other, and in the end even used teeth and head spikes.

The battle lasted for several hours, from being evenly matched in the beginning to being almost one-sided abuse in the end: the Blood-Spitting Man had no doubt that if their Primarch did not hate Blood-Freeze, Khârn would have beaten him to death for that joke. His expression was so cold that it was deeply engraved in the memory of Kagos.

He broke more than a hundred bones and finally realized the power of Karn and understood that nails should not be joked about: but there are some other things that even if he broke a hundred more bones, Kargos could never learn.

That is: the thirst for blood.

The Blood-Spitting Man pressed his forehead against the cold stone surface, listening to the broadcast calling out the names of the winners. He finally heard some names that interested him a little, which made him grin, clench his teeth, and saliva flow down his lips.

He knew that he was going to go on stage. After the battle was over, he would climb onto the duel stage to release his anger and knock the unlucky guy who stood in front of him to the ground: the desire for blood roared in his heart, which had been going on for several months and made him itchy.

Even the previous wars did not satisfy Kagos.

After all, in order to keep up with the Primarch, the 4th Shock Company ignored all opportunities for mass slaughter, and Kagos only harvested a dozen heads in total, which were not even an appetizer: he would not object to the Centurion's strategy of following the Primarch closely, but he would not refuse to face the bloodthirst in his heart.

He is going to fight.

Let the blood...flow...

Also... don't stop bleeding...

Don't stop bleeding...don't...

Do not……

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"good."

"really not bad."

Wardmaker nodded repeatedly, and his rough fingers wiped the corners of his mouth, bringing more meat crumbs to his scattered beard, but this did not ruin the old wolf's good mood at the moment: the plump meat danced on the tip of his tongue, and the son of Fenris could not forget it.

"You guys are really a bunch of gourmets."

The Rune Priest nodded toward Dawnbreaker, his words full of praise.

"When I find an opportunity, I will let my other battle-brothers taste it. The Sixth Legion should open a special import channel for this food. It deserves a special transportation route. Even the Primarch will not refuse such a request."

“I think it’s difficult.”

Hector smiled as he shared a glass of fermented grape juice with Ahriman, but Hedemaker refused the drink in favor of the unknown liquid in his own flagon: it smelled like diesel in an engine.

"Even in the Far East, this kind of canned food is in great demand. There is no surplus to export. Even for us Dawnbreakers, we can only get a portion on demand on weekdays. If we want to eat more, we have to find connections."

"Is it?"

The old wolf stroked his beard.

"But I see that the mortals under your command can also eat these things."

“They have the qualifications.”

Ahriman answered this question: He was no longer surprised by this equality.

"If you stay in the Dawnbreakers for two more years, Hedemaker, you will understand that mortals have a special status here. To give an inappropriate example, just like those four-legged wild wolves around you, the Dawnbreakers regard some mortals as their partners to some extent, rather than servants."

"Well, I understand then."

The Rune Priest nodded, then he looked directly at Hector.

"So, this is why you stopped us from attacking the town during the battle?"

"not quite."

The Son of Morgan gave the Fenrisian a look without any emotion.

"The main reason is what I told you at the time: that town and that fortress have already accepted the rule of the Empire. It is completely unprofitable to kill them. Moreover, they did not raise the banner of rebellion after your butcher knife left, as you said."

"They are very well behaved."

"It's not surprising."

The old wolf grinned, not at all embarrassed by Hector's ridicule: in terms of magnanimity or shamelessness, the Space Wolves Legion has inherited the excellent bloodline of their genetic father very well.

"After all, I didn't mean to massacre the entire town, bro."

"……what?"

Hector frowned.

"That's not what you said at the time."

"At that time, there were hundreds of blood-thirsty wolves behind me, but now there are only two Dawnbreakers sitting in front of me, and they can both maintain their rationality. The external conditions are completely different, brother."

Hedemaker laughed, and he blinked his eyes cunningly, which made Hector stunned: He realized that the rune priest in front of him was not the bloodthirsty madman he met on the battlefield. He was very smart, even cunning, a real wolf. "You mean, you followed the ideas of your subordinates and slaughtered them?"

Faced with Hecht's question, Hedemaker did not give a direct answer.

"In the entire Sixth Legion, 90% of the people are bloodthirsty maniacs."

"But are you the other ten percent?"

Ahriman continued to ask, but the Rune Priest just nodded indifferently.

"That's right: I am."

"In fact, in the entire Space Wolves Legion, the only one who really disliked the massacre was our Primarch Leman Russ: although he would give orders to massacre and turn a blind eye to the blood at his feet, he would never really get involved in it. He hated this mindless killing from the bottom of his heart."

"Besides that, there are the adults, including me, who can somewhat understand Lord Leman Russ's thoughts, but because he never tells us clearly, we can only rely on his orders and the situation at the time to figure out for ourselves whether to condone the massacre or tighten the bridles on the mouths of those wolf cubs."

"As for the remaining 90%, they are completely crazy. Although they obey the orders of the Primarch and us, we cannot completely control them. When 90% of the entire legion are rioting, what can the remaining 10% do?"

"The only thing the Primarch can do is to pull us adults into the position of officers. That's why I am the one leading them, not one of them leading me: because only I can hold them back when necessary, but more often I have to indulge them."

"..."

Hector closed his mouth tightly. There were thousands of ravines in his heart, but he couldn't say a word. Looking at Hedemaker's clear but cunning eyes, Hector knew that this old wolf had no reason to lie to him.

Morgan's pride had to accept the sad reality in another distant legion: a group of lunatics, a group of smart people pretending to be crazy, and a wise man who was helpless, formed a legion.

Dawnbreaker gave a forced smile.

"So, when will you restrain your subordinates?"

"That... depends on the situation."

Old Wolf’s voice was drawn out.

"Just like in the last battle, I will not restrain them. After all, that battle requires a butcher. You Dawnbreakers and World Devourers can naturally play the role of mercy, but someone must give them the threat of death so that they will willingly give up their independence and accept the rule of the Empire."

"Let me guess: that town surrendered to you because of our massacre?"

The sly smile on the old wolf's face left Hector speechless.
"You should understand this simple truth: gentle words are used with a big stick in hand."

Dawnbreaker nodded.

"Are you always like this?"

"Do not."

Laolang felt a little emotional.

"It wasn't like this before, but who told you to become good people? And someone has to be the villain of the empire. The Wolf King never tells us these things. Oftentimes, we officers have to figure it out on our own. Is this battle to restrain them, or to make those opponents feel the terror of the empire?"

"In short, both the Primarch and us officers are managing our legions based on some kind of semi-wild intuition. We don't know what the Primarch is thinking. And we can't control the bloodthirsty impulses of those wild wolves. Let them be."

"Maybe some of us will figure it out sometime?"

“Have there been any successful cases?”

Ahriman looked interested.

"As far as I know: No."

The old wolf shook his head.

"Personally speaking: my thoughts are always just thoughts."

"My brothers are much the same."

"When it comes to wild wolves, we always stop at thinking about them."

"..."

Hector had nothing to say, because what Hedemaker said was indeed realistic. In the past, the Empire had many legions that could perform such punisher tasks, such as the Midnight Lords Legion and the World Devourers Legion. However, after encountering a certain Spider Queen, these original butcher legions had some minor deviations...

"I hope you can understand it in time during the next battle."

After a long silence, Dawnbreaker always uttered these dry words, and the old wolf responded to him with a bitter smile.

"Trust me, bro."

"No matter what the situation says, I don't want to lead a group of butchers."

"If I liked killing, I wouldn't have chosen to be a rune priest."

"I believe that."

Hector smiled back. This harmonious scene made Ahriman, who was sitting in the middle, breathe a sigh of relief. He placed his hands on the shoulder armor of the two warriors and concluded the conversation.

"very good."

"I think I don't need to worry about a conflict breaking out between you guys during the next battle."

"If our company of two people is thrown into the same battlefield again."

The old wolf replied, and the three warriors laughed at the same time. The haze above their heads also receded: they began to concentrate on appreciating the game on the field. As the first hour of the Wild Wolf Night passed, some games that were really worth watching began.

Those guys who have already made a name for themselves in their own legions came on stage one after another.

"Who is that person?"

Old Wolf asked the Dawnbreaker, pointing at the nimble figure on the field: that was a Dawnbreaker warrior who looked still very young, and had won six or seven games in a row. His agile posture and elusive spear made the cheers surrounding him rise and fall one after another, never stopping.

"His name is Cuchulainn, one of my men."

Hector was very proud.

"He is not young, and has served the Legion for forty or fifty years. I dug him out with my own hands on Avalon. The boy was originally named Culin or something, but after he made great contributions in a battle, the Primarch personally gave him the name Cu Chulainn."

“He’s very good.”

The old wolf nodded bluntly.

"But I don't think he will get the next victory."

After saying that, Hedemaker pointed his finger at the challenger who had just appeared. Ahriman and Hector looked in the direction of his finger, and their expressions became solemn.

"you're right."

Ahriman nodded.

"He was a tough fellow: I think his name was Kargos, wasn't it?"

"probably."

Hector was a little absent-minded, his body leaning forward, concentrating on the fight that had already begun on the duel stage: Kagos was like a beast out of a cage, catching Cu Chulainn's nimble shadow in the air.

For some reason, Morgan's pride suddenly felt uneasy.

"Ahriman, what do you think are the chances of Cuchulain winning this time?"

"Well, I think..."

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(There will be another chapter later... probably)
(End of this chapter)