40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 685 67. Interlude: Call for Revenge

Hunting wild animals is never easy.

Russ could no longer count how many wild animals he had hunted in his life. However, according to his standards, there were only a dozen or so that could be considered ferocious beasts, not even more than two hands.

He was adept at dealing with these enemies with sharp teeth and claws, thick skin and immense strength. He knew when to evade and when to provoke - and most importantly, he knew to consider the consequences before acting.

This valuable philosophy has been flowing in his heart since he was very young. It originated from an old hunter in the tribe who taught Russ hunting techniques.

One morning, when the snow had stopped, they went into the forest to try to hunt one or two mountain deer to bring back to the tribe. The old hunter even promised that if it was a male deer, then its horns would belong to Ruth. But that morning they did not see any deer, on the contrary, they saw two bears.

A bear cub, looking at them in bewilderment, and a mother bear, so thin that her fur draped over her like a shrunken tapestry.

Rus thought this was a good opportunity, so he drew an arrow. But just as he was about to bend his bow, the old hunter suddenly raised his hand and grabbed his arrow.

"Don't." He said softly. "Let them go."

Russ wanted to move. In fact, if he insisted on disobeying, his strength at that time was enough to tear the old hunter into pieces in an instant. However, he did not do so. His intuition was quietly reminding him.

Finally, the mother bear and her cubs stood there for a while, then turned and left. They disappeared deep into the bushes, making very soft sounds as they moved.

"Why won't you let me draw my bow?" Russ asked. "Are you pitying them?"

"No." The old hunter said sternly. "I assure you, Leman Russ, I have no mercy on them. All the bears near the tribe have eaten people."

"But if you dare to shoot, the mother with cubs will rush towards us at all costs. You can win, I am absolutely sure of this, and I can also shoot her blind before she rushes over."

"But remember, all the bears in this forest know what we do in the forest. If we kill them, who can guarantee that they won't attack the territory and kidnap children next time when the warriors are out?"

"They will retaliate, Leman Russ. I have seen it firsthand. Shooting arrows without considering the consequences is not the style of our tribe. I want you to remember this and think about what it will bring before doing anything."

I did remember, old man, I have lived up to your teachings, so you'd better not speak ill of me to others in the land of the dead. Otherwise I will be very angry, just as I am now.

Russ coughed up a mouthful of blood, clenched the Spear of Dionysus, and his ice-blue eyes sparkled.

I don't know what I'll do when I get angry, and you'd better remember that, old man -

He growled and held out his spear, his face as ferocious as a howling moon wolf. The spear blade cruelly tore open a piece of dark and tough skin, piercing through the flesh behind it.

It should have burst out with the light of the sun at this moment, completely burning this filthy evil into nothingness, but that was something that only the Spear of Dionysus could do in the past. Now, it is no longer the artifact forged by the Emperor himself.

Russ's entry, residence, and departure changed it forever. Ten thousand years ago, its essence was alienated by the power of the Forger, and it became the nourishing abode of Leman Russ's soul - so that it can now be used only as a sharp weapon.

Blood splattered, and Leman Russ turned his wrist with a grim smile.

Hot blood splashed out and covered his face, staining the ornaments and furs on his armor with wet and red blood, but his eyes still glowed with a thin light like sea jelly, a blue color that was enough to make a monster take a few steps back.

Yes, the reason it retreated was not because it was hurt, but because of the will hidden behind these eyes.

But that was all. It raised its hands, or rather its claws, to grab the Spear of Dionysus, and with a slight twist, sent it flying backwards. If Rus had not anticipated and loosened his hands, he would probably not be able to fight anymore.

But despite this, the smile on his face did not fade as a heavy hand axe slid into his hand and the exorcism talisman bloomed furiously.

Willpower. Rogal Dorn's voice came from far, far away. I believe humans can do anything with it.

Damn you, Don, you stubborn piece of stone - why are you always right? Are you stupid, or are we?

Russ spat at this inappropriate thought, blood gushing out of his lips and tongue, but he was overjoyed. He raised his right hand high, and the monster retreated again. Fragmented light poured down from above their heads, more and more, and the shape of this thing became clearer and clearer.

Unlike the demon that the boy was forced to transform into, it was not thin and had no human body - its so-called body was made up of countless twisted human faces, stacked on top of each other, soaked with rancid blood in the gradually disintegrating darkness around it.

Every face is clearly visible, and every face seems to be familiar. Countless voices spit out from the empty mouths of these faces, questions, curses, hatred, numbness, suffering, destruction and all the madness that should only exist in the dark side of human nature.

And here they are now, in their truest form.

Russ lowered his hand and heard the hunter and the king breathing deeply, at the same rate. This was strange because they were not the same person, even though they had the same blood, the same face and the same name, they were definitely not the same person.

The Hunter was shaped into a killing machine driven by boundless hatred by his past experiences. The gods left him to appreciate his resistance and to laugh at his foolish behavior that was destined to have no end.

Little did they know, the Hunter no longer had any hope of saving his race or country, for both had long been destroyed, and the rest of his life would be spent killing every demon or traitor.

The king was different. His pride did not allow him to admit his failure, but his reason would whisper to him every time he was alone: ​​You have failed. So, the king accepted this matter without knowing when it started.

He began to dig out his failures one by one and lay them bloody in front of a child who had not yet had time to grow up. He wanted to teach the child in this way so that he would not have to suffer such despair, but he made a mistake.

Ruth laughed out loud.

"You should not pursue illusory things in this hopeless place!" the Fenrisian shouted, waving his arms, and the light above his head became brighter.

The king looked at him painfully, accepting the ridicule completely, but still walked to his side with his chest held high. While being wary of possible attacks from the monster, he asked in a low voice, his tone almost pleading.

"Is there any other solution?"

"no!"

Russ answered decisively, his hair flying, his wolf eyes wide open, genuine rage in his eyes, bringing up large chunks of dead ice. He turned around, grabbed the king's cloak with his free left hand, grabbed him and sneered.

"You think," he gasped, his breath foaming. "What can help you now? Wake up, great king, the child you knew is fucking dead. This thing you see now, this thing blocking our way--" He turned suddenly, raised his hand axe, and chopped down hard at the thin arm that stretched out of the darkness. The iron entered the flesh, the exorcism talisman crackled, and the black flames burned.

The arm quickly retracted.

"——Come on!" Russ roared at it. "I will devour you. I will kill you like that kid, leaving nothing behind!"

He shouted and howled at it in a rage, his behavior almost amounting to madness.

The retribution brought by the snow in the Fenris winter is showing. Russ’s words are true, and even he himself cannot escape this price.

The king took two steps back in despair, holding his face, his shoulders shaking. Perhaps for a moment, he tried to continue crying, but when he put his hands down, there was only one emotion left on his face.

"Kill it."

The last king of mankind in a certain timeline said this, his voice as hard as iron.

"We have to find a way to kill it, Leman Russ. Just like you said, we have to kill it completely. This is the place inside the belly of the paunchy man you told me about, right? The belly of the paunchy man is about to burst, and we can't let it out. It has no digestive organs or stomach acid in its stomach, so we will do it."

He picked up his dagger, gripped it tightly, tore open his cloak and threw it on the ground, raised his hand, and without hesitation carved a bloody amulet on the side of his cheek.

A small prism with a blood line extending from it, dividing it in two, like a cold eye with straight and sharp lines, silently expressing the extraordinary calmness of the person holding the sword when he carved them.

The Dark Fire rolled in from the Chaos Tide and ignited the King completely, melting his armor, cracking his insignia, and turning his skin, flesh, and bones to charred.

The sacrifice began.

"I will lead the way," said Lion El'Jonson. "I will kill him."

Ruth showed a toothy smile of sadness and approval.

The ancient language of Fenris burst forth from his throat, an ancient ballad, low, long, and soft, just like before. However, this time, he did not just hum the tune, he added words.

The king could no longer hear clearly, but the hunter could still hear. Although he did not understand any of the dialects spoken on Fenris, he could still understand what Russ was singing.

"Come, come, come - with blood as the price, blade as the contract, we call! We call the black snow of winter, we call the angry thunder, we call you, the master of the rage, the blade of revenge. When you come, there will be people on both ends of the scale who will offer their hearts and blades for you to judge!"

The veins on Rus's forehead bulged, and his hands trembled, as if every word he uttered was a great torture for him. The king walked past him in silence, and every step he took was causing the darkness around him to fall apart.

The monster, who had originally focused all his attention on them, suddenly looked up at the light outside - white, soft, like the morning sun shining through the trees and leaves and onto the soil.
It was so fascinated that it didn't even hear Rus's roar or the king's roar.

It can't be blamed for this, it has been looking forward to these real things for endless years. The promise from the Creator will never be taken back, so it can barely endure until today, but these lights - how can it continue to endure?

The hunter didn't know the answer. He just silently grasped the ceremonial sword he received from the king and pounced on him closely.

Raging flames surged, swords and axes pierced its body again and again, like chopping down an iron tree in winter, colliding with human faces. Endless darkness poured out of its body, stirring up old wounds and making the hunter grit his teeth.

He is a tombstone, carrying the death of everyone in the world, and what this monster is doing now is to lift up the tombstone, smash the coffin, and expose the miserable faces of the deceased.

The hunter soon fell into a situation where he could no longer control himself. The past was like a cold wind blowing on his face, and he was like a naked man, unable to escape or resist. He could only let the cold wind cut his flesh, blow on his bones, and freeze his memories and heart one by one.
While he still had some sanity left, he raised his hand and, between killings, imitated the king and carved the amulet on his forehead.

The force was so great that the bones were visible.

The words of Leman Russ slipped into his heart in pain - a priceless oath - and the true voice of the Fenrisian sounded in his ears, with sorrow, pity, and blessing.

"See you next winter, good hunter."

Lion El'Jonson closed his eyes and let madness take over his heart. However, fortunately or unfortunately, his last bit of clarity allowed him to see the truth that he should not have seen.
A dull thunder flashed by, and the hunter gritted his teeth, raised his hands like a madman, and shouted wildly.

If you listen carefully, you can hear that he seems to be calling out names - many names.

Rage burst forth from his body.

Rus closed his eyes, took a step back, and temporarily withdrew from the endless killing field for a moment. Two sacrifices, two contracts, thanks to the power of hatred, the king and the hunter were able to gain the upper hand temporarily, but it was only temporary.

He had to do something.

The giant wolf carrying the corpse came slowly towards him and whimpered at him. The Fenrisian smiled slightly, raised his hand to wipe his face, and blood stained his gauntlets red.

"I said I would bring him back." He lowered his head and said to the wolf. "You can't ask me to break my promise, can you?"

The wolf stared at him, then suddenly raised its head and howled. Ruth immediately frowned, looked up with a sense of something, and saw a dark shadow flashing through the crack that was letting out the light.

Before he could distinguish them carefully, a ferocious giant sword wrapped in pitch-black lightning suddenly pierced out from it, followed by two huge claws. They penetrated the edge of the crack and squeezed it, making it creak. A demon's face was looming behind it, with huge spiral horns on its head and a head full of white hair dancing in the wind.

It opened its mouth, its sharp teeth opened tightly, and then it spoke in human language.

"We have come to fulfill our promise," the demon said. "The blade of vengeance is waiting to be struck."

Countless dark shadows poured out from the crack that it opened, descended, and glowed with flames.

And Ruth didn't laugh.

"What have I done?" he muttered. "Who did I make pay the price?"

(End of this chapter)