Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 747 The Beginning of the Cycle
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"What are you talking about? Zavoye, where are the rest of your squad?"

Sergeant Zhu Bo stood on the edge of the cliff, glanced at them, did not answer, and slowly turned his head back.

Lockken winked at Wootton and his men, "Get him over here first."

The Shadowmoon Wolves nodded, put their bolters back on their waists, and began to carefully and slowly approach Zhu Bo at the edge of the cliff.

“Listen.” Zhu Bo seemed unresponsive, but he said, captivated, “Look. Look, those words, right there. Can’t you see them? The perfect cycle, the original truth. Gavial.”

Loken looked toward the spot where the other person's glasses were staring at. It was an almost vertical mountain wall, with nothing but crystalline travertine covered with a thin layer of moist water, just like the surface of stalactites.

“There’s nothing there, Zavoye,” Loken said in as gentle a tone as possible. “Just stand there and don’t move, okay?”

"Can't you see it? Look! The characters that make up truth are in that water, the water carries them out, the water keeps flowing out, and truth keeps speaking... They are speaking! Listen! Gavial! Listen quickly!"

"What are you telling us, Zafuye?"

The two Shadowmoon Wolves leading the way were already a step away from Zhu Bo, their arms slightly raised, ready to help their brother who looked to be in bad shape.

"Terra above! Gavial! Can't you hear it? Samus is whispering to you, Samus! He is right beside you! End and death! He is everywhere! This is the perfect cycle of fate! This is the true truth of this universe!"

Two soldiers reached out to grab the sergeant's arms, and Zhu Bo smiled. "Ah, my brothers, have you come to join me? I'm so glad... because..."

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Euphrates and the others stood at the other end of the path, looking in the direction of Jubo.

In the dim light, the ethereal, white mist made the clothes of mortals damp. Her long, blonde hair clung wetly to her temples, and she had zipped her coat up to her chin.

"Why is it so cold here? It's even colder than outside, like a freezer."

Calcathy muttered, but the poet still gave his scarf to the thinner Hindman, who was sitting on a rock panting. He gratefully took it and wrapped it around his head and the lower half of his face.

“But the atmosphere here is quite nice.” The photographer noted that she was kneeling on the edge of a protruding rock, trying to capture images of the Astartes lined up along the path, as well as the silhouettes created by the harsh daylight at the end of the path.

"Yes, it feels like stepping into a hidden realm deep within the earth. The dark, blurred ground combined with the white figures of the Shadowmoon Wolves creates a magnificent color scheme... a breathtaking sense of epic grandeur..."

Messati agreed, and she was also on the edge of the rock, carefully and slowly turning her head to look down into the ravine, clearly taking pictures.

“Then you are very lucky. All I can write in my head right now is something like, ‘Stones shiver under mist’s icy cloak, each breath a ghost.’”

"When will they ever finish?" Karl Casey said sourly. "I'm starting to miss Lord Ramizann's wine cabinet in his living room. There's not a single enemy in this godforsaken place..."

The distinctive booming sound of the bolter echoed through the valley, interrupting the poet's words. The photographer's eyes widened, and he instinctively pressed the shutter button.

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When the first explosive projectile hit the breastplate at point-blank range, the pearly white surface of the armor momentarily looked like glaze pierced by an icicle.

Spiderweb-like cracks exploded from the point of impact, and the inner skin, black carapace, and deeper crimson burst forth from the center like curling petals and stamens.

The moment the second explosive projectile struck the unsuspecting Wootton in the head, the pale white bone and crimson blood from the shattered skull at the back of the sergeant stung Loken's eyes.

The next three shots each struck. Wootton roared and charged forward, trying to subdue Jubo's men. Blood splattered on their pearl-white power armor as they crashed to the ground, the metal striking the stone with an ancient echo.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye.

Loken stood still.

His comrades lay at his feet, their blood, as red as the blood of the enemies they had killed, flowing down the mountainside, steaming hot.

Loken was unable to move.

He is clearly an Astartes. He clearly maintains his reaction speed and combat skills in the training cage every day.

But he is completely unable to move right now.

Time seemed to thicken around him like pine resin, and he felt like a tiny insect about to be sealed in amber.

He didn't understand. He didn't understand what he was seeing.

crazy.

That's impossible; Astartes couldn't possibly attack Astartes.

Shadowmoon Wolf could never be the first to start such a massacre of his own brothers and comrades.

All the discipline and rules instilled in him during his conversion, all the brotherhood and oaths of honor known and believed for over a century, shattered like Wootton's head with that gunshot.

He felt cold all over, his throat was dry, and the power armor's built-in syringe was rapidly injecting combat drugs and hormones into his veins. The glaring biohazard monitoring alarm was beeping, but he just couldn't move.

Jube stood at the other end of the group of dead brothers, his boots stained with Wootton's brains and blood. He held a bolt carrier pistol and smiled at Loken.

“Samus is right beside you,” he said. “Good luck! Samus means end and death!”

Loken did indeed have an epiphany at that moment.

At this moment, something has been changed forever; a sin has been committed; the sound of this first explosive bolt will echo eternally throughout the universe.

He felt as if he had swallowed a piece of lead. A feeling he had never experienced before. What was this feeling? Was this... the feeling of fear that mortals experience?
"Zhu Bo...?" He finally managed to speak with difficulty, "What did you do..."

“Wrong.” The other person chuckled. “I am Samus, I am everywhere. I am right beside you.”

The remaining Shadowmoon Wolves had just recovered from the shock of the atrocity, but even after witnessing everything that had happened, they didn't immediately think of shooting at Zhu Bo, who had the appearance of their former brother. They just rushed over to try to hold down the leader of the Poison Rose Squad again.

However, Zhu Bo's shooting accuracy and combat memory remained completely unaffected.

Amidst Loken's grief-stricken howls, three more men were shot by Jubo, but Loken found himself almost tragically unable to draw his gun on him.

Someone patted him on the back.

My palms are very hot.

His rage seemed to be instantly ignited into a reactor, and scorching magma rushed into his cold blood, warming his paralyzed limbs. With this power and his love for Horus, he finally regained control of his limbs.

Loken rushed over, grabbed Zhu Bo's arm, which was stained crimson with blood, and forcefully slammed him against the side of the mountain wall.

Zhu Bo seemed to suddenly become incredibly strong. He roared and struggled, shaking his shoulders to shake off the others who continued to pounce on him, and tried to shoot.

But Loken didn't give him that chance. He suddenly found a surge of strength and slammed the crazed Zhu Bo against the cliff face. Then he grabbed the side of Zhu Bo's body that was holding the gun and slammed it against the cliff.

Zhu Bo's bolter was unexpectedly knocked out of his hand, and then Loken kicked it into the abyss.

One strike, two strikes, three strikes—the deafening sound of metal striking stone was like someone hammering a massive iron block with a giant sledgehammer. Zhu Bo's terracotta armor shattered, and blood gushed from his head. Under normal circumstances, he would have fainted long ago.

But to Loken's horror, the other party was still incredibly ferocious. Blood covered Zhu Bo's face, and all he could see were his snow-white teeth peeking out from his lips, ready to devour anyone in sight.

"Samus!" he screamed in ecstatic joy, his voice no longer that of Jubo, but more like the dry, scorching wind of the desert. "Samus is here! He will chew your bones!"

Loken's response was a merciless punch aimed at the center of his head.

(End of this chapter)