Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Interlude 766, Part 4: Lupecal's Mind Loses its Guard
flame.

Horus wondered in a daze, "When did the fire appear here?"
What is burning?

ruins.

Where is this?

The starlight, so vibrant it was almost eerie, shone through the Gothic window frames onto the marble floor of the royal court.

Ah, yes, he remembered.

This is his royal court.

Yes.

Horus's mind roared, like a shut-down engine being restarted.

He felt his fragmented thoughts gradually becoming clearer, like streams flowing into a river.

Yes, the Wolf God's Royal Court. He remembered that he had built this place to replace the original strategy room.

So this is his bridge, a place of vengeance.

But why has the spirit of vengeance become so dilapidated and desolate?

Only then did he notice the strangeness of his surroundings; there were gaps and impact marks left by the explosion everywhere.

Broken cables and pipes hang from the ceiling like snakes or vines from an ancient jungle; black basalt pillars and diabase structures extend from twisted PVC, adamantite, and marble, with specks of molten gold scattered across these dark areas like sunlight filtering through a dense forest.

He didn't see any corpses, but the acrid stench of burning human flesh and organic matter, and the lingering smell of blood that hadn't been completely evaporated by the high temperature, would not be mistaken for the real thing by a soldier like him.

He took a step, stepping over the smoking rubble and debris, stumbling along.

His beloved flagship seemed to have suffered a severe attack; the artificial gravity field had failed in various places, with gravity reversed in some areas and no gravity at all in others.

Maintaining balance while walking in it becomes very difficult.

Besides, is the Wolf God's Royal Court really that big?

He struggled to jump onto the head of a collapsed and broken statue, straightened his body and looked out until his eyes burned and filled with tears. Only then could he vaguely see five stone thrones on a high platform at the other end of the royal court.

Why are there five thrones?

Lupecal was thinking.

Even the Council of Four Kings, whose members are all deeply trusted by him, could not possibly obtain the honor of a seat beside his throne.

Looking across the entire galaxy, there are very few people who can claim their throne in front of him.

Perhaps going up to the throne and looking at it will yield more information.

So Lupecal continued his journey.

He had to use both his hands and feet to climb over the gaps in the huge, deformed warship time and time again, and squeeze through the vertical cracks that were like cliffs, as if he were not traveling on the path of vengeance, but rather passing through ancient caves in the strata of some planet.

His feet were blistered and bleeding, and his palms and elbows were red, swollen and broken.

Lupecal was panting and all alone.

Suddenly he walked onto a barren, open space and saw a legion lined up in hostility toward him. The dark holes of their weapons were neatly pointed at him, like the open mouths of ferocious beasts, and from the darkness behind each helmet, a gleaming gaze was locked onto him.

Lupecal recognized the paint scheme and legion insignia that had recently changed from gray to dark red, as well as the distinctive inscriptions and flowing scrolls engraved on the power armor.

It was the Seventeenth Legion, the Legion of the Word Bearers, one of the legions of his most trusted brother.

“Why is this so!” he exclaimed in shock, but those who harbored ill will clearly had no respect for him as their commander; from the fearless to the soldiers, they were still preparing to fire at him.

He couldn't see their faces beneath their helmets, but he could sense that they might no longer be human.

What happened? What happened? Did they turn this place into this?
“We can clean these up,” a voice said beside him.

Lupecal turned his head to see a tall warrior standing beside him, wearing an ancient style of power armor that he had never seen before. It had no additional paint or legion insignia, and the armor was badly worn, as were his weapons, but they all looked well-maintained and could still function as they were when they were forged.

The soldier wasn't wearing a helmet; he had short white hair, light blue eyes, and a firm lip line. His aged handsomeness was a result of an unwavering determination and the passage of time.

The soldier's face was so familiar that it immediately reminded him of a brother's name. But it couldn't possibly be that brother himself.

The Primarch is a marvel of genetic engineering, an immortal demigod, and could not possibly look so... weathered and aged.

"Are you Rogge's... heir?"

The soldier looked at him, said nothing, but pulled another soldier next to him forward.

At a glance, Lupecal frowned: the man was dressed in black armor, wore a skull mask, and had prayer beads and scriptures dangling at his waist.

The man in black armor raised his scepter and pointed it behind Lupecal.

Then a strong smell of ionized ozone suddenly spread, and the intense heat and shockwave, like that of a supernova explosion, rushed past him.

When he turned around, the open space that had been full of obstructors had turned into a scorched, smoking patch of earth, and the army that had been eyeing him menacingly was nowhere to be seen.

“What’s going on…?”

In the short time it took him to turn back, the two mysterious warriors had vanished without a trace.

He searched for a while but found nothing, so he had to continue on his way.

The movement of the stones and steel beneath his feet gradually became strange, and he realized with a chill that the black substance had changed from inorganic to organic when he stepped on it.

Terra above! The stones paving his path were not black, but blackened and charred human skulls.

Countless skulls lay at his feet, mouths agape, the skulls of the dead supporting his arches, empty eye sockets hovering over his toes, and his vanished nostrils exhaling his last breath, sending shivers down his spine.

The burning wind from the cremation pyre carried the smells of decay, antiquity, mold, and death.

The place now smelled like the interior of an ancient mausoleum or temple. He looked around again and was even more surprised to find that he had just noticed another fact.

The walls around him were actually made entirely of human skeletons, layer upon layer, densely packed, with a viscous, dark liquid dripping from the cracks, suggesting they had been dead for an unknown period of time or had been accumulating there for an unknown duration.

These walls, forming narrow, winding pathways, are extremely high, much higher than his original genetic material, and are entirely made of human bones.

How could such a place exist on the Vengeful Spirit?
What happened to his flagship that caused it to be so defiled?

What about his offspring and his army? Don't let him know who the culprit behind all this is… otherwise…

He clenched his fists, the feeling of his unarmed hands once again frustrating him.

He continued onward, seemingly hearing both empty, joyful, blind chants and fanatical, stubborn, distorted hymns. He stopped several times to listen to the footsteps, but could never find out who was walking with him.

He eventually arrived at a place that resembled both steps and an altar. It was pitch black, but one voice grew clearer and clearer.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

His toes came into contact with a sticky liquid that moistened his skin.

Zhan Shuai felt his stomach begin to churn towards his heart, an extremely ominous feeling.

He was unsteady on his feet, and his eyes were stinging.

He took another step forward, his heart pounding.

There was an unmissable white and gold object on his right.

He turned around and finally saw the thing clearly.

Then Horus Lupecal let out his most uncontrollable scream to date.

A gruesome corpse was nailed to the wall like an open specimen or a holy icon, with countless black thorn-like nails.

The crimson blood that stained Saint Gilles' white feathers was flowing from the black wall to Horus's feet.

(End of this chapter)