Emperor's Bane

Chapter 930 The Viking Age
This is the second full-scale war that the Fenris system has encountered in a single day.

Sixteen hours ago, a large fleet, jointly commanded by Asimand, the Warlord's favorite general and nicknamed Little Horus, and the traitorous former Terran Vice Admiral Pik, poured into this place.

In just two hours, they easily destroyed the negligible naval force that Lemanrus had left behind, successfully raising the banner of the Warmaster on another Primarch's homeworld.

This is an achievement that no one has ever accomplished before.

But this great victory lasted less than twenty hours: before the Warlord's army could even savor the sweetness of conquering territory, the Space Wolves, burning with vengeful fury, emerged from the shadows and charged mercilessly at Horus's fleet: the glorious victory quickly turned into a devastating avalanche.

The Shadowmoon Wolves had no idea that Lemanrus's army would appear at this time and here, and their scanning equipment barely reacted: this was not because Little Horus's fleet was careless, but because the appearance of the wolf pack was very illogical.

It's not very convenient for human fleets to move through the void.

Logically speaking, even if the Space Wolves' fleet emerged from Mandeville, the point closest to the Little Horus fleet, it would still take them at least six to seven hours to reach their destination: and given the capabilities of most scanning instruments, they would often be detected after advancing a third of the way, or even just arriving.

In other words, if there is only an hour or two between the exposure of their whereabouts and the formal launch of the attack, then it is a very successful surprise attack: Horus the Younger had commanded several such battles during the Great Expedition, and as the fleet commander entrusted with important responsibilities by Horus, he had considerable expertise in this area.

But the wolf king's actions completely exceeded his expectations.

Without passing Mandeville Point or experiencing any significant warp fluctuations, Lemanrus's hundreds of ships appeared almost out of thin air, just inches from Fenris, and perfectly positioned themselves to block a blind spot in the attack of Little Horus's fleet: before the Shadowmoon Wolves could adjust their cannons, Lemanrus's assault team had already boarded their warships.

From the moment the enemy was spotted to the moment the battle began, Horus had less than twenty minutes.

In the void, there's not enough time to do anything.

Little Horus didn't even have time to fully wake himself from his long-awaited sleep.

Indeed, after tirelessly directing this flanking assault fleet through the perilous enemy territory, making contact with the rebels who had sided with the Warmaster, and then carefully avoiding the possible eyes and ears of Terra and the Wolf Pack, and timing the full-scale attack on the Fenris system, Horus had been so busy that he hadn't had a chance to rest in a long time. After officially seizing air superiority over the entire Fenris system, this member of the Mourning Society almost immediately collapsed onto his bed.

He was awakened by the sound of an explosion.

He looked up and immediately saw a scene that caused his heart and lungs to stop: outside the porthole, the battered but still fearsome Herakfin was already charging in front of Little Horus, but what was truly deadly were the continuous boarding torpedoes and storm birds, which rained down on his warship.

The space wolf has landed!
The sight of countless Wolfpack warships filling the sky, the fleeting explosions outside the gate, and the battle cries and howls that could shake the entire world all pointed to this: Little Horus was glad he didn't have the habit of sleeping without his power armor. Only when he picked up his weapon and rushed out the gate did he realize just how bad the situation was.

The Herakfin was severely damaged in the previous battle. Although no one could doubt that it still retained great power, it was still almost impossible for it to truly threaten another Queen of Glory: unless its master was a hero who combined madness and wisdom.

And Ruth is exactly that kind of person.

The Herakfifen completely ignored the encirclement and suppression by the Shadowmoon Wolf fleet, and instead unleashed all its anger and firepower on the Tyrant, which was right next to it. With countless shells, energy streams and the main light spear that had been drained of its last bit of power, dozens of thick smoke rose from the Tyrant's massive hull before it could make any counterattack.

The Void Shield lost most of its effectiveness at such close range. The Tyrant's heavy hull was brutally bitten and torn apart, and corpses and scattered cannon fragments were constantly ejected. The top deck and the helipad, as the most important targets, suffered the greatest damage. Their proud protective network was blown through, and the passage leading to the ship's core was exposed to the wolf pack.

Countless boarding torpedoes and Stormbirds carrying roaring Space Wolves swarmed in through these damaged areas. The invisible whips of the decompression wind walls lashed against their armor, emitting shrill whistles. Meanwhile, the handpicked pilots, flying their beloved aircraft, had already been deployed to the battlefield long before the Wolf Pack.

They rampaged across the Tyrant's damaged wounds, relentlessly bombarding the Shadow Wolves and rebel soldiers on the ground with spitting flames and whistling missiles, until the entire landing deck was devoid of anything but corpses and fireballs. But before the storm of destruction had even subsided, the Space Wolves that had just landed on the ground eagerly charged forward, completely disregarding how the thin air turned their faces purple-red.

Just ten minutes into the battle, hundreds of wolves had boarded the Tyrant's deck. But before they could even get a foothold, a large number of the Sons of Horus arrived from all directions. Their explosive shells precisely slaughtered the wolves trapped on the open deck with no cover, but they were quickly torn to shreds by the gunboats overhead.

Both sides quickly suffered casualties. The deck, once used for parades and honor ceremonies, was soon piled high with the corpses of hundreds of Astartes warriors. But neither side intended to back down in this brutal battle. They kept calling in more forces from the rear, escalating the attack: the rampaging gunboats were destroyed by the Shadowmoon Wolves' heavy weapons, exploding into fireballs in mid-air, while the endless stream of Sons of Ruth quickly formed a solid shield wall, charging through the defenders' fire like howling beasts.

Wolf packs clashed, and more and more soldiers piled up in the narrow passage. Enraged warriors crashed into the unyielding shield walls and firing positions, heading towards destruction with hysterical roars. The rampant killing intent enveloped everyone present; all they desired at this moment was to slaughter the enemy before them and turn everything in their sight into a pure killing field.

The first batch of warriors fell quickly, and the Shadowmoon Wolves' defenses were breached. Compared to the premeditated Space Wolves, the Sons of Horus who arrived from all directions lacked not only battle preparations but also the necessary organization. It often took them some time to develop a tacit understanding with their temporary comrades: if they hadn't been beheaded beforehand.

But as the defenses were breached one after another, the battlefield gradually shifted to the corridor that Shadowmoon Wolf was more familiar with, and the real main force arrived one after another. The elite warriors of Shepherd Wolf God recovered from the initial chaos, and with their dense fire support formation and deadly volleys, the casualties of the wolf pack became unbearable in an instant.

But by this time, the first warriors to land had completed their mission, and the entire empty deck had been thoroughly cleared. More and more gunboats and stormbirds were pouring out from the gaps in the deck: the main force of the Wolf Pack had arrived, and Ruth's most elite squires were about to be deployed to the battlefield.

Horus the Younger saw all of this clearly.

Originally, as the fleet commander, his idea was to immediately go to the command deck to coordinate the overall situation, but the Primarch's thinking was clearly ahead of his: as early as the beginning of the war, the Wolf King personally ordered that the first shell of Heracfin be aimed at the command platform of the Tyrant, and a precise shot from an ultra-long distance sent most of Horus's fleet headquarters to hell.

Besides, the war has long since lost its value for command: the Space Wolves never intended to fight a proper naval battle. They directly stormed into the loosely organized formation of the Shadowmoon Wolves, engaging in a chaotic, close-quarters battle. Almost every ship lost contact with its superiors, and almost every ship felt surrounded by enemies.

There was no order, no logic, no rules.

This is the Space Wolf's favorite battlefield.

Excitedly, they dumped all their duties on their naval officers and ordinary sailors, then howled as they boarded boarding torpedoes, breached any enemy ships they forced to stop, and began a massacre: without any tactical or strategic objectives, the Wolf King's orders were simply to kill every Shadowmoon Wolf in sight, or to do everything in their power to destroy Horus's warships.

play hard.

Such unreasonable and rogue tactics rendered Horus Jr.'s vast knowledge useless. He found that he could only issue the same orders as the Wolf King, requiring his captains to exercise their initiative, act according to circumstances, and then fend for themselves. Now, the only ship that could still be commanded and protected by Asimand was the Tyrant, a gift from the Primarch.

The situation with this ship is quite simple.

The Space Wolves have already established a stable landing zone on the upper deck. If Little Horus cannot lead the Shadowmoon Wolves in a successful counterattack, then he and the Tyrant will be doomed.

Since things were so simple, Asimand did almost no hesitation. He mobilized his most elite Terminator Guard and warriors, successfully plugging the fatal gap in the upper deck before the Shadowmoon Wolves' last temporary defensive line was breached: Gastalin's cold and ruthless black armor was like an abyss, devouring the fearless flesh and blood of the Space Wolves.

Hundreds more soldiers fell.

Although the Shadowmoon Wolves and Space Wolves lying on the ground were almost identical, when Horus the Younger personally killed a roaring old wolf that was charging at the front, he could clearly feel that the morale of the wolf pack had been thwarted. But before Asimand could catch his breath, he heard a sound that should never have come.

That was cheering: cheering from the Wolves.

What followed was the shrill cry of an unimaginably massive Stormbird as it passed through the decompression wall.

In an instant, Horus felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

He recognized the fighter jet.

During the Great Expedition, he fought alongside this infamous killer on several occasions.

That's the Leman Russ's "Fokine".

"Drink... Hoo..."

Instinctively, Horus took a deep breath.

he knows.

It's time to see Togarden.

------

"For the God of Shepherds!!!"

A deep battle cry, jet-black armor, and an unyielding will in bloodshot eyes.

Lemanrus had experienced things like this far too many times in the past few days.

There were so many that the Primarch simply found them annoying.

He turned around and stared at the last Shadowmoon Wolf in his field of vision. Just minutes before, these black warriors had filled the entire corridor, and their death traps could harvest five times their own pack of wolves. But now, only this man and the blood-soaked Lemanrus remained standing on the ground littered with flesh and black armor fragments. The traps were long gone, and Fenris's pack was advancing toward the gates and fortresses in all directions.

This was the effect he originally hoped to achieve on the Ruby King, but now it has been replicated one-to-one on the Tyrant. Unfortunately, even sinking ten Tyrants would not be as valuable as letting the Wolf King and his Dionysus Spear board the Ruby King: even just letting him take a few tactical squads would be enough.

Primarch shook his head. He was lost in thought for a moment when Shadowmoon Wolf had already rushed in front of him: for a Terminator, Gastalin's agility was astonishing.

But it doesn't hurt.

Ruth turned from his reverie, his casual hand clashing with Gastalin's all-out blade in mid-air with a crisp sound. The Terminator monster, weighing several tons, was knocked back by the blow, swaying like a child, unable to find its balance, its heavy steel boots slipping on the blood-soaked ground. Ruth had lost his patience.

The Primarch turned his body completely around, revealing his other hand, which held a battle axe. He took a seemingly casual step forward, instantly covering the distance of three to five meters between himself and the Terminator. Then, he raised the axe and gently placed it on Gastalin's neck guard, slowly sliding it down his shoulder.

The pungent smell of blood instantly assaulted the senses.

With a muffled thud, Gastalin fell heavily to the ground. His entire upper body armor had been carelessly sliced ​​in two by Russ, leaving only a smooth wound from one side of his neck to the other side of his ribs. Blood, flesh, bone, and internal organs slowly flowed out, wetting his still confused eyes.

At this moment, Russ raised his head and could still hear the battle cry still echoing in the air.

For the Wolf God?
He smiled and glanced at the corpse on the ground.

This is most likely a little guy who hasn't even participated in the Ulanno triumph ceremony: Does Horus really want to send such a brat to the battlefield?
He's not even fifty years old yet.

The Primarch shook his head, banishing these meaningless thoughts from his mind: the sounds of intense firing and explosions still echoed where he couldn't see, and the increasingly boisterous howls of the wolves suggested that his pack was advancing triumphantly.

Then the wolf king looked at his lieutenant, and then pointed to a pile of corpses nearby.

“Find him.”

"Who?"

"A Shadowmoon Wolf."

The wolf king glanced at the pile of corpses.

“I didn’t pay attention during the battle, but now that I think about it, there was definitely a problem.”

“Just now, one of my Shadowmoon Wolves withstood at least six of my attacks: this guy is no ordinary creature.”

"Turn his body out so we can confirm if we've landed a big fish this time?"

"clear."

The adjutant nodded and immediately led his men to begin a diligent search among the hundreds of Shadowmoon Wolves' corpses.

Ruth then extended her hand.

"Communicator."

Someone immediately handed it to him.

The Primarch cleared his throat and then tested the audio of the communicator. When he turned it on, all sorts of wolf howls and war cries immediately resounded through the sky: the Wolf King's access allowed him to directly connect to every Wolf Lord under his command, as well as every company commander with independent command authority. The howls of hundreds of wolves were enough to wake corpses from their graves.

But to end them, all it takes is one sentence.

"I am Ruth."

The Primarch's voice wasn't loud, and one might even worry that it would be drowned out by the wolf howls, but in reality, when Fenris's voice began to echo, the noisy curses and shouts on the communication platform instantly vanished: hundreds of unruly wolves shut their mouths in unison, listening to their Primarch's words like loyal believers.

Ruth grinned.

"how."

"Does this revenge satisfy you, my pack?"

"..."

There was silence on the communicator at first, then one of the wolf lords spat heavily on the ground.

"Fuck you!"

"Where is this?"

"Ha ha ha ha……"

Immediately, the maniacal laughter and curses nearly shattered Lemanrus's eardrums: although the Primarch himself was no less raucous.

"very good."

He roared loudly.

"I'm worried that your small appetite won't be able to hold the feast I'm about to assign you."

The original gene was greeted by the knowing laughter and howls of hundreds of wolves.

"Listen to me."

Just as the Primarch reappeared, the entire communication platform instantly returned to that deathly silence.

Only Lemanrus's voice echoed.

"Do not linger in battle, and do not underestimate your enemy."

"After defeating the enemies before you, immediately lead your fleet out of the Fenris system."

"Just as we arranged beforehand."

"From now on, we will disperse. Some of you will return to Holy Terra with me, while the remaining Wolf Lords and Captains will take anyone you can find, as well as all the mortals who are still willing to stay here and fight with you, to the pirate bays I have asked you to build. For the next period of time, you will need to remain hidden until Horus's great fleet goes to war with Rog'dorne ahead."

“At that time, you will come out.”

"Bring your fleet, bring your men."

"You can do whatever you want."

"My only requirement is to keep Horus's fleet and logistics bleeding."

"Means, methods, approaches, whether despicable or not."

"I don't even care."

"Let the traitors bleed, let them regret ever stepping into the territory of the Space Wolves: this is all I expect of you and all I have to do with you."

"Your struggle here will greatly influence our outcome on the main battlefield."

"For every ship you sink, ten billion bullets will go unfired on loyal Imperial soldiers."

“And one day, I and the army of the Empire will defeat Horus and his pathetic traitor in the face of battle.”

"At that time, I will return."

"I will lead the legions to reunite with you all in the winter of Fenris."

Farewell, my pack of wolves.

"We'll meet again in winter: we'll meet again at the feast."

(End of this chapter)