Emperor's Bane

Chapter 928 The Death of the Werewolf
"They are monsters."

"Those Space Wolves: They're all monsters!"

"I saw it all with my own eyes: they were on all fours like wild beasts, their arms, chests, shoulders and legs covered in tangled, wolf-like fur, their fingernails had turned into claws, sharp and long, and their entire faces were completely deformed. I don't know how their skulls became so long, but they were covered in human entrails and bloody saliva."

"He looked at me, and I swear that was definitely not the look a human being should have."

"And then tragedy struck before my very eyes."

"The Kemeske brothers found this damned bastard before I did. He was lying on the ground curled up, his armor torn open and completely red. Kemeske thought he was a badly wounded space wolf, so he went up to him and offered him the necessary medical assistance as the Warmaster had instructed."

"You know: the battle was already over by then."

"Although we and the wolves are enemies, after the battle is over, they are still brothers worthy of our respect and help. If we can save them, we will not let them die meaninglessly: Lord Horus repeatedly emphasized this principle before the battle, and no one wants to go against his will."

"But just as Kemeske walked over, the beast suddenly moved. It jumped up without any sign of serious injury. It opened its mouth wide, and its fangs, thicker than the largest bomb, bit into Kemeske's throat: our brother had just had his helmet destroyed in the previous battle."

"Poor Kemeske, he was killed before he could fight back or call for help. The monster tore off half of his face in one go, then crushed the rest of his skull with its claws, while chewing on Kemeske's throat and jaw: he swallowed them as if they were a delicious meal."

“I was right there, about ten meters behind Kemeskay, with a few other people from our team. Everything happened in less than two seconds. We didn’t have time to react until the monster was crouching on Kemeskay’s body and looked up at us. That’s when we realized what had happened: Kemeskay was dead.”

“We killed him instantly. All the bombs went down on that damned beast until he was a complete pile of flesh and blood. I’ve never been so scared. I didn’t know what that thing was. I didn’t know if it was a space wolf or a monster that looked like a space wolf, until I heard more similar howls, until the public channel was full of other squads calling for help after encountering monsters.”

"I didn't know that until then."

"What kind of monsters have we been fighting alongside all this time, treating them as our brothers?"

------

Abaddon hadn't felt such pure...fear from his Shadowmoon Wolves in a long time.

As we all know, victory brings courage.

For the past fifty years, the Shadowmoon Wolf Legion has always been the victor: a golden age that lasted half a century was a long time, long enough for battle-hardened veterans to forget past humiliations, and long enough for new recruits to subconsciously regard victory as a necessity as air.

In such an environment, pure fear is almost impossible.

But they did appear: today.

At the same time, they had just achieved a perfect victory against another Astartes legion.

Unsurprisingly, this was not something that would make Abaddon happy.

Naturally, the leader of Gastalin did not think he would feel the same fear as those people.

Therefore, it was only natural that, after receiving pleas for help from his various squads and even the Gastalins, Abaddon did not hesitate and personally led his guards into the battle against the werewolf city.

"And then things turned out like this, Father."

The fearless Shadowmoon Wolf Company Commander stood awkwardly before his genetic father, clearly unprepared for this father-son meeting. Abaddon's appearance was not exactly miserable, but it could be described as disheveled. His once invincible Iron Cavalry Terminator armor was covered in hideous scars, and on his typical Kronian face, a streak of blood ran along his forehead, and the dust on his nose, which he hadn't had time to wipe away, spoke of the ferocity of the battle.

But what truly made Horus raise his eyebrows was Abaddon's no longer smooth head: the famous spiky braid of the Gastarin leader had been mostly shaved off during the battle, leaving only short black hair haphazardly draped over his previously bare head, giving Azekel a rare handsome appearance.

Zhan Shuai coughed lightly, clearing these completely irrelevant thoughts from his mind.

"Things don't look good, Ezekiel?"

Horus asked in a soft voice, carefully avoiding touching on his offspring's pride.

But he soon discovered that Abaddon was not as fragile as he had imagined.

At least it's not as fragile as before.

"It certainly didn't go smoothly, sir."

The company commander nodded frankly, a frankness that surprised the Primarch and his adjutants.

"Since Yolin Bloodhowl and most of his company members have become those werewolf monsters, the battle situation has indeed become extremely chaotic in a short period of time. We had to withdraw most of the mortal support troops. Most of them were on the verge of a mental breakdown, and it was not appropriate for those mortals to know about this situation, as they were very likely to spread the news of the Space Wolves' strange behavior."

"You're worried about this?"

The war commander seemed to be smiling.

"I'm not sure if you've decided to use this unexpected situation to damage the Wolf Pack's reputation."

Abaddon paused slightly, clearly making a thinking motion.

"So, I think it's better to keep things under wraps until you make a decision."

"Very good, you did the right thing."

Zhan Shuai nodded in satisfaction.

"what's next?"

"There's nothing more to it."

Abaddon shrugged: "If you look closely, you'll see that although Gastalin's face is indeed etched with embarrassment, his pride is undeniable—the pride of a victor."

“They were already outnumbered. Even after we withdrew the mortals, we still had a numerical advantage. Moreover, these werewolves were extremely disorganized and undisciplined. They would even attack the space wolves next to them. Although there were some individuals among them who could even tear apart power armor, it only took us a few more hours to suppress them.”

“We have eliminated the vast majority of the mutated werewolves who cannot communicate, but those space wolves are unwilling to submit to us and would rather fight to the death. Now there is only one exception: the company commander of the 13th Company, Jolin, and his personal guard. They have been surrounded by us on the bridge of the Esrumnil, and we are considering whether to capture them alive.”

"Yorin himself has become half werewolf, but still retains some of his sanity, as do most of his guards."

"That's it..."

The Wolf God narrowed his eyes and remained silent for a while.

"Take me to them."

------

Despite Abaddon's great reluctance—he had tried, as before, to persuade his Gene Father to change his mind by yelling and shouting—this time, the Warmaster's resolute attitude exceeded Azeroth's expectations, proving that if the Primarch truly wanted to do something, even the most favored Abaddon could not change his will.

With no other choice, the Gastalin leader could only mobilize all his forces to the Eslumnir before daring to let the Primarch walk toward the blood-soaked bridge: the road was littered with broken battle marks and armor, and the corpses lying haphazardly looked as if they had been devoured by ghouls. No one dared to look a second time. The Space Wolf's iconic savage decorations had been charred and peeled off, and the air was filled with the strange smell of burning flesh and grease.

Abaddon was certain that he wouldn't be able to eat anything for at least the next ten hours.

After advancing past the corpses of approximately two hundred Space Wolves and sixty-five Shadowmoon Wolves, along with over one hundred and thirty hideous werewolf carcasses, the Gastalins, escorting their Primarchs, arrived at their destination: a dozen Space Wolves were trapped in an open area filled with entrails and bile, with their banners, mostly charred, above them, seemingly recounting the Sixth Legion's crushing defeat.

Outside them were hundreds of fully armed Gastalin guards.

As Abaddon said, the faces of these survivors are now barely recognizable as human.

Their armor was ripped apart, their heads were more than twice the size of ordinary Astartes, and their noses, teeth, and eyes showed obvious wolf-like features. Their thick fur made Horus secretly suspect that there might be something unclean in the genes of the Sixth Legion: Horus just hid it very well.

But one thing is certain: when Yorin and his warriors' hostile gazes immediately fell upon the towering Primarch, Horus saw a remnant of humanity in their eyes.

They are communicable.

This is enough.

The War God nodded and took another step forward: Abaddon and Malohrest both sensed what he was about to do and tried to stop him, but Horus simply spread out one hand, causing his offspring to retreat.

The Primarch then followed suit, passing through the Gastalin guards and arriving face-to-face with these warriors or beasts, completely unprepared, with only a dozen meters between them—a single charge.

"Jorin – Blood Howl".

The War General first called out the Wolf Lord's name, and then his gaze swept over the warriors around the Wolf Lord one by one. By recognizing the remaining humanity in them, Horus also called out their names with unusual accuracy.

“Oserga, Braviere, Yamal, and Arif Red Eyes…”

He called out each of the dozen or so Space Wolves present, one by one.

Then he smiled at these people.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, we have to meet again in this rushed situation."

"Perhaps you have forgotten, but I remember that I fought alongside your Space Wolves Legion more than once during the glorious Great Crusade. Ruth boasted of your bravery before me, and I witnessed firsthand how you tore apart the enemies of the Empire. So, I remember your names: just as I remember the names of every Gastalin behind me."

At this point, Zhan Shuai turned to the side and laid one hand flat in front of his Gastalin.

"Just like you see."

"This battle was a completely unnecessary tragedy."

“I personally understand Ruth’s decision to stand with Holy Terra and I respect his choice.”

"Although this makes us rivals."

"Please believe me, I am also deeply saddened by this matter."

Zhan Shuai turned around, put his hands behind his back, and looked down at the last of the wolves.

"Now, gentlemen, please hear me out."

"Ruth has left. His retreat was a very wise choice, and I have no intention of making things difficult for the Space Wolves who remain on the battlefield. We were never enemies. I do not want to be enemies with the noble Sixth Legion, nor do I believe you would hold me against your will. We became the wrong opponents in the right war. The blood in this galaxy was shed in vain."

"I hope you can see the reality: there is no conflict or hostility between me and the Space Wolves Legion. My only enemy is the Highlords hiding on Terra. For the past few decades, they have foolishly led the entire Empire, murdered countless worlds and people, and even extended their disloyal evil intentions to our Lord of Man. It is for this reason that I have raised an army to attack them, just to end the Highlords' wrongful rule in one fell swoop."

"I ask for nothing more than to get the empire back on track."

"So, brave wolves, we should never have been enemies in the first place. As I said, although I can understand Ruth's enmity with me, it pains me. Our bloodshed only benefits the parasites on Terra. They are unwilling to send reinforcements to your country, but instead let us wear each other down in a tragic brotherly war, hoping to gain more benefits from it."

"That's pointless, gentlemen."

"Terra will not value your sacrifice, nor will they spare your fate because of it."

“Yesterday, they brought suffering upon mortals.”

"Today, they begin to wrong me and my legion."

"Then tomorrow, or someday: the same thing will happen to you sooner or later."

Please recognize this point.

“I am not your enemy, and you are not my enemy either. Terra is the common enemy of all of us.”

"therefore……"

Zhan Shuai paused for a moment.

"I will not slaughter you all."

"A noble wolf should not have such a tragic end."

"Perhaps at the beginning of the battle, I would have chosen to use some less-than-honorable means to win, because at that time we were opponents. But now that the war is over, we are still brothers. Although blood has been shed, it cannot erase the blood ties between us and the camaraderie of fighting side by side."

"I don't want to ruin this friendship, and I don't want to kill any more Space Wolves after the battle is over."

"I hope you will leave."

He stared directly at the beasts before him, these might be the last soldiers of the Thirteenth Company.

If they also die, then the human empire will forever lose a heroic corps that has made great contributions in battle.

What a tragedy that would be.

Horus lamented in his heart.

He made a solemn promise in words.

"If you wish, my men and I will immediately withdraw from the Eisrumnil and return the mortals and control of this warship to you. You may leave Mandeville peacefully. I will order my warships not to attack you. Gentlemen, this war has nothing to do with you anymore, or rather, it should never have been related to you in the first place."

"Please make the right choice."

"Don't let any more unnecessary blood be shed."

The Warlord poured out his sincerity; every word came from Horus's heart. He truly did not want blood to continue flowing after the battle, nor did he want any of the Space Wolves' heroic units to disappear completely in his hands. This was unacceptable, both emotionally and in terms of interests.

He was the savior of the empire, not its executioner.

After the battle, he longed to find a way to restore his relationship with Ruth.

Even though he knew the chances were slim...

But from another perspective: hope still exists.

Just like now, the War General has placed all his hopes on the Wolf Lord, Jorin Bloodhowl.

As for Jorin Bloodhowl, Lemanrus's most trusted Fenris warrior, a reckless man who nearly caused a catastrophe on Duran, he has spent his entire life fighting against the damned werewolf curse in his company, but now he is about to be conquered by the space wolf himself.

He was crouching painfully on the pile of corpses, trying his best not to think about the fresh flesh and blood beneath his feet. The few pieces of armor he wore swayed precariously. Blood from someone else flowed down his teeth and lower abdomen. The legion's insignia had rolled to the ground, but it couldn't awaken his blind fangs or a painful gasp that was louder than a lifetime.

Clearly, this wolf lord is engaged in a fierce struggle with his last vestiges of reason and bestiality.

Even so, he listened attentively and silently to the War Master's long speech. He struggled to move his hands, which were almost turning into claws, to hold down the guards who were nearly out of control. His half-beast face was almost entirely filled with pain. Under Horus's pitying gaze, the Wolf Lord raised his head and made the only response to the sincerity and invitation of the Wolf God.

"Pooh!"

A mouthful of saliva, mixed with blood, landed directly in front of Zhan Shuai's steel boots, corroding the ground with a sizzling sound.

No one spoke.

"..."

The only sound in the air was the sigh of the Wolf God.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again, meeting the wolves' gaze with his last look.

"Son of Ruth."

"This has nothing to do with personal grudges: it's all politics."

After saying this, Zhan Shuai had no more words. He turned around and walked away without looking back.

The Gastalins parted to make way for their warlord to leave the killing field, then quickly blocked the path. The warriors, clad in black armor, remained silent, their eyes gleaming with ferocity. Abaddon, with a serious expression, led the way, like a massive, overwhelming wave, advancing step by step towards the wolves.

Yolin Bloodhowl and his guards, the final thirteenth company, had completely lost control.

The piercing howls were unbearable. A dozen monsters, now reduced to beasts, charged toward their ten-fold number of enemies, laughing maniacally. Meanwhile, the Gastalins silently raised their Destroyers, using their even more terrifying coldness to overcome Fenris's chill.

Gunshots, curses, howls, and tearing sounds reached the dome high above, mingling with the lingering battle cries into a hymn in Valhalla, chronicling the final moments of a group of heroes and monsters.

And the Wolf God listened to all of this.

His steps have never been so firm.

------

"Marlohurst".

"I am here, sir."

After the sound gradually faded away, the Lord of Shadowmoon Wolves finally stopped. At this moment, only two people remained by his side: Malohrist and Agnes.

Do you remember what I told you before?

Zhan Shuai deliberately positioned himself right between the two teams of Shadowmoon Wolf guards to keep his conversation confidential.

"of course."

The Twisted One nodded firmly.

"After defeating the Space Wolves, we should not wipe out the remaining enemy forces on the battlefield: each fleet should drive the ships carrying the Space Wolves to worlds that are habitable but lack industrial capacity. After forcing the Space Wolves to land on the planet's surface, we should quickly and completely destroy the warships they are on to ensure that these Space Wolves will not get in the way in the future."

"Using a planet as a prisoner-of-war camp: I like that idea."

Horus narrowed his eyes.

"Remember: Make sure there are enough survival resources in the world for these wolves to live."

"And we need to number them, because we'll bring them back after the war."

"It would be best to leave one ship behind, sir."

"One destroyer or frigate will suffice," the Twisted One suggested.

"Those unarmed space wolves have no chance of seizing ships in low Earth orbit."

“Good idea: let Seyanus manage it.”

Thinking of this, Zhan Shuai suddenly felt a little lonely.

"It's a pity. Even if it's a good idea, the wolves will most likely not listen to us."

"They would rather die in battle."

Malohrist nodded.

"But the mortals are different: most mortals are willing to lay down their weapons when faced with our persuasion to surrender."

“Very good: This shows that not everyone is willing to die for Holy Terra.”

"Just as planned, take these people to the rear of the world and keep them under guard until the war is over, then release them."

“Remember, Malhohurst: All prisoner-of-war camps must strictly adhere to the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen.”

"They were prisoners of war, not slaves."

“We can arrange some work as a symbolic gesture, but all living necessities and personal dignity must be guaranteed.”

"Don't worry, Father."

The Twisted One was full of confidence.

“Loken is personally in charge of this: there won’t be any problems.”

"It's just those wild wolves..."

"They will absolutely not surrender."

Zhan Shuai sighed.

“Those wolves that cannot be contained and who only want to die on the battlefield: let us respect their will.”

"Sacrifice is a soldier's honor."

"Remember to properly preserve their remains, recover their armor and weapons if possible, and tidy them up."

"After we conquer the Fenris system, we will send people to return the remains of these warriors so that their souls can return to their homeland. Oh, and we will also have a special envoy convey my condolences on my behalf."

“Tell them I don’t want to do this.”

"Furthermore, if the Fenris want to bury these warriors according to their own rites, so be it."

"Wolves deserve respect."

"I got it."

Malohrist nodded, but he quickly realized a crucial question.

"What about these werewolves?"

"..."

Zhan Shuai frowned.

"It is indeed a problem..."

"How about this."

"Find the remains of all the werewolf warriors. You must promise me that not a single one will be missing. I don't want any rumors like this to spread outside. Then cremate these werewolf remains and send their ashes and armor back to Fenris. Just say that they returned to Valhalla on a burning warship. The Fenrisians won't care about these details."

"Your will, my lord."

The Twisted One humbly lowered its head.

"very good."

The War General finally smiled, but before he left, the Wolf God seemed to remember something.

"By the way, Malochist."

"Didn't you suggest that I reveal information about these werewolf warriors?"

"..."

The Twisted One only needs to raise his head to see the mischievous gaze of his genetic father.

He could only offer a somewhat helpless explanation.

"That... is just a suggestion, sir."

"Is that so...that's really strange."

------

"Don't you think so, Malochist?"

"This is really strange."

Horus had barely left when another of his Primarchs servants seized the opportunity to stand beside the Twisted One.

Marohurst glanced at the man.

"What do you find strange now, Agnes?"

"I just... can't figure it out."

Agnes looked up, making sure their genetic father was indeed far away, before staring intently at his colleague.

"Marlohurst".

He was very serious.

"You are a smart person, one of the smartest people I have ever met."

"So, I can't understand why you always bring up certain things in front of the Primarch..."

"A stupid idea?"

The Twisted One picked up the conversation at just the right moment.

"No, that's not the case."

Agnes scratched his head.

"It's not that you're stupid, it's that you always come up with ideas that sound out of place."

"Like the one just now."

"Leak information about the werewolves?"

“Not that I’m saying anything, Malochist.”

"This idea is insidious, malicious, but most importantly, it's stupid."

"We are clearly a dignified army."

"Of course I know that."

The Twisted One simply nodded indifferently.

"But I also know that someone has to say this stupid idea."

"Even if it was just to remind our Primarch that he could do it: as for his choice, that's another matter."

“I am merely the dark side of the Primarch. He can certainly appear as the pure and innocent sun god, but he should not forget that he will always have other options.”

"And I am responsible for proposing them."

Even if they are stupid, malicious, and insidious.

"..."

Agnes fell silent.

"I...I still can't understand."

"Since you knew it was a bad idea, why did you say it? The Primarch will never need it."

How can you be so sure about this?

The Twisted One glanced at his colleague without any emotion.

“Remember, Agnes.”

There is never a best or worst idea.

"It only has the most suitable one."

Even the most foolish, malicious, and insidious ideas can sometimes be the most suitable ones.

"……Why?"

"This raises a question: and it is also the biggest difference between me and our genetic father."

The Twisted One's voice was somewhat hollow. He moved his bent spine with difficulty, like an old mortal struggling to move through the corridor. Argenis could only follow behind him in fear, not daring to have any contempt for this "disabled man": as a colleague of Malohrist, he knew how miserable the consequences of offending this Twisted One would be.

He's a real monster.

"simply put."

The Twisted One paused.

"Lord Horus and I have completely different views on the current war."

"He is optimistic and confident."

“He believed that we could resolve everything before things got out of control: the war would never be out of his control, and he would become the liberator and hero of his dreams.”

"...To be honest, I hope so too."

Malohrist shook his head.

"But I don't believe that will happen."

"I am pessimistic about war."

"I believe that the bloodshed and absurdity of this war will sooner or later exceed the control of all of us."

"Sooner or later, something will happen on the battlefield that Lord Horus never anticipated."

"This war will last a long time, and its bloodshed will exceed everyone's expectations. We simply cannot end everything according to the planned schedule."

"Or."

"War is inherently uncontrollable."

"No one can control war, not even the war commander who has won every war."

"And when the war got out of control, our genetic father lost control of the situation."

"Perhaps he will need my plan."

"..."

Agnes unconsciously stopped in her tracks.

Despite Malohrist's calm tone, the Warlord's squire sensed a genuine fear. He instinctively stopped, distanced himself from the Twisted One, and watched in awe as he stepped into the darkness.

The sound still echoed in my ears.

"One day."

"Madness will replace optimism."

"Blood will wash away nobility."

"A controlled, grand plan can become an endless, life-or-death struggle across the cosmos."

"War will eventually slip out of our control and consume us all."

"And by then, if we still want to find the path to victory in this completely different hell."

"Then perhaps."

"We will have to resort to these methods, which seem foolish, malicious, and insidious to us today."

"..."

"Although I don't want that day to come."

The Twisted One raised its head, squinted its eyes, and listened with relish to the last wolf howl echoing in the air.

"But I can't decide anything."

------

"call--"

Abaddon breathed deeply, his armor already stained with fresh blood.

The leader of Gastalin surveyed the battlefield with his cold, ruthless gaze. The last of the werewolf warriors lay dead on the ground, their blood drained. Their bestiality and madness had not brought them victory. With overwhelming numerical superiority and advanced weaponry, the Shadowmoon Wolves methodically slaughtered the last elite of Yorin Bloodhowl.

Now, only the wolf lord remains.

"..."

Abaddon stepped forward and met with the already wounded werewolf king alone.

Abaddon looked into the eyes of the Space Wolf, trying to find something, to find any fragment that could prove that Yorin's Bloodhowl still existed, but all he saw was pain: perhaps the pain of an animal, perhaps the pain of being betrayed by a former comrade-in-arms, but certainly not human pain.

Abaddon gave up.

He raised his claws and charged at the werewolf who was also charging at him. The heavy, armored Terminator armor trembled from the impact of the savage body, but it did not stop Gastalin's pace: Horus's proudest son slammed forward, and while his opponent was still unsteady, he raised his claws and swung them forcefully.

Hearing the sound of a heavy object falling to the ground, he quickly raised the gun in his hand and pulled the trigger.

The bomb was about to explode. After a few gunshots, only a dying body bleeding profusely remained on the ground.

"..."

Abaddon took the warhammer from the hands of those around him.

He stepped forward, searching for the last trace of life in the wolf lord's pupils.

At the last moment, he nodded to the Astartes warrior with whom he had previously had little interaction.

"May your soul return to the Emperor's side, brother."

"Wait for me there."

"We'll fight again another day."

Having said that, he gripped the warhammer tightly.

Raise it high, then slam it down hard.

(End of this chapter)