Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 778 It Finally Arrived
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"That's weird."

Gavial Locken silently picked up a polishing cloth, dipped it in some ointment, and began to polish his power armor.

He's now used to the whispers and noises from other people in his armory.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the original tranquility, coolness, and solitude, but rather that he couldn't refuse this uninvited guest in any way.

But thanks to Wolf God, he often doesn't need to respond.

"What's so strange, sir?"

The one who spoke up to answer on his behalf was Messadi Oriton.

The friendship between this dark-skinned woman and Loken has grown rapidly through numerous listening sessions and accounts.

Although Loken was initially worried that the Iron Lord might express some dissatisfaction—such as Abaddon and the others objecting, "You shouldn't be hanging out with those weak civil servants and women all the time!"

But in fact, quite the opposite was true. After hearing these words, the Lord of Olympia commented, "You care so much as if you've been wronged by outsiders and women. As expected of you... Anyway, don't worry about it! I'll back you up!" Such a nonsensical statement.

Of course, there were also things they could understand, such as when he told Messadi, Euphrates, and Ignas, "If you feel uneasy or unsafe, go hide in my private cabin. The Tyrant Terminators will not let you get hurt."

Privately, Loken's first reaction was that he found it very funny.

Who can so freely harm the mortal chroniclers of the Sixteenth Legion on the Spirit of Vengeance?

But the prophetic visions he had seen before, the things that had already happened, and the "white-haired Lucius" who was still alive and kicking and giving Thor Tavitz a headache made Loken feel uneasy again: such an unfortunate event that could easily be seen as Astartes' contempt for mortal life and would cause great problems in Terra could not happen to his legion, right?
When he asked the Lord of Steel about this matter, the Lord only responded with a mysterious smile.

"Isn't there any way to stop it? You and Lord Peturabo came here and enlightened me, you saved Euphrates and the others, you showed Lucius the miracle... wasn't it all to prevent this tragedy from happening?"

"Then you can completely avoid or prevent your own end and death in the vengeful spirit—you just need to pay the corresponding price. So would you choose to stop it?"

The one sitting there did not seem to be the King of Olympia... no, the immeasurable one was looking down at him from the bottom of the vast ocean.

"Do I have a choice?"

“Of course. Of course.” He seemed kind and gentle, expecting the other person to ask him questions and make a choice.

"So what... is the price?"

Loken heard his own voice asking quietly, as devout as a prayer outside the medical room, as soft as a lover's whisper, as low as a dream's murmur.

"Your past."

The other person asked, "Is he smiling? Or is he savoring it?"
"Your pain, your laughter, your sorrow, your contemplation, Moon Wolf, I need neither your life nor your body, nor your soul nor your labor. What do you say? You will not be hurt, nor will you change. Simply give me your past, and you will possess eyes as pure as molten gold, forever by your father's side, ruling your people and beyond..."

In the blink of an eye, the lotus blossomed, and Loken saw a completely different future. The tragedy of Horus dying at the hands of the vengeful spirit did not happen, and he did indeed surpass the chief platoon leader and his comrades, staying with his parents and many brothers and sisters for a long, long time...

"No--!!!!"

Loken suddenly shouted, blinking his eyes.

What is he doing here?
What just happened?

A sticky, cold, and uncomfortable sensation rubbed against his skin. He realized that his training robe was soaked with sweat and clung to his body. He was drenched in sweat, as if he had just finished a tough battle.

"Although I had to temporarily install some circuits on you... it's quite impressive that you were able to wake up on your own, Gavial Loken."

The powerful voice that suddenly came from the side did not frighten the tenth company commander of Shadow Moon Wolf; instead, it gradually restored the regular and calm rhythm of his two hearts.

"Commander," he knelt on one knee before the person sitting beside him, "please forgive me for not hearing you immediately, when did you arrive?"

Horus stared at him for a moment. “Interesting. Can appearance and voice alone soothe you? That’s quite loyal. — I arrived after receiving their alarm signal. I’ve managed to get him to leave first.”

"he……?"

As Loken tried to recall something, a wave of nausea and dizziness rose in his throat.

Did the commander just say something?
He had to stop recalling; Astartes's exceptional memory and unwavering will seemed to have lost their effectiveness at this moment.

"Oh... that's a normal reaction. Don't worry about it. You behaved quite well, so there's nothing to worry about."

Zhan Shuai nodded and placed one of his hands on Loken's shoulder. A warm current flowed through Loken's heart along his palm, and he felt his confusion, fear, and all his questions being clearly washed away, just like water washing away the dust on a lotus leaf.

“Remember, do not make a choice when he asks you for one. If he asks you to choose, answer, ‘I choose the path I have seen.’ Remember, answer, ‘I choose the path I have seen.’”

“I choose the path I have already chosen… for the Wolf God.”

Loken spoke slowly, then blinked.

"Excuse me, Commander, what did you just say?"

“I didn’t say anything just now, my son.”

Zhan Shuai's pine-green eyes looked warm and concerned.

“But perhaps you’ve been practicing alone here for too long. If you have anything on your mind, you can talk to someone you trust. You can also come to me if I have time. I hope that you and the Council of the Four Kings can accompany me smoothly when we visit the cities of the Interrex.” The Warmaster raised his hand and pointed to the ground next to Loken.

He then noticed the wreckage of several heavy training machines with claws and weapon arms lying on the ground beside him.

The smells of engine oil, preservatives, and the faint sourness of the meat mingled together, all of which had been shredded to pieces by the fierce attack, and it seemed that it was Loken's sword that had done it.

No wonder he felt not only that his head was sore from overworking his brain, but also that his muscles were aching all over and he was covered in sweat.

Was he so engrossed in training that he forgot himself?
This is a rare situation. The commander is right; he should probably reduce his practice with the servants and increase his time for meditation or preparation in his private armory.

—That's why he's sitting here shirtless, maintaining his equipment, while listening to a demigod incarnate converse with a mortal chronicler.

“I find it strange that we’re already on our way to Zenobia, so why hasn’t Loken received his invitation yet?”

"What invitation, sir? We still have several weeks before we reach the Interrex city, and frankly, the voyage is utterly tedious. Is there some kind of banquet or event to boost morale?"

“Oh, that’s not it.” Ramizam’s eyes narrowed slightly, revealing a mysterious smile.

"What kind of invitation is it? Please satisfy my curiosity," Messati asked with the utmost curiosity allowed to a chronicler.

As if waiting for her to say those words, the chronicler, the avatar of the Lord of Steel, looked at Loken and smiled, “It’s hard for me to say, Messadi, it’s hard for me to say.”

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As if to verify a proverb that the Primarch, who was far more humorous, approachable, and talkative than rumored, had once told them: "Speak of the devil, and the devil will be near you." Later that day, Loken received an invitation in the warship's corridor.

The person who extended the invitation was someone he already knew, but someone he least wanted to believe would extend an invitation.

Although he had been informed by the two Primarchs that the Warriors' Association was now commonplace in the Sixteenth Legion, and that Azeroth's Abaddon would certainly be a member, the fact that Horus Asimand the younger was also a member was not among the information he had seen.

This weighed heavily on Loken's mind: if two of the Four Kings were already members of this secret society, what about Taric Torgarden? Did he know? And even the late Hastal Cyranus?

Further thought didn't even require what he was told to grip his heart with fear: the Council of the Four Kings was chosen as the Warmaster's advisors, counselors, and collaborators, if the members of the Council of the Four Kings had another system within the Legion independent of the Warmaster...

Are the decisions they made that influenced the War Master's thinking entirely reliable? How much of the War Master's final decisions were influenced by these secret societies?

He could not possibly share this with Messati, even though the female narrator seemed eager to listen and he intuitively believed she would keep it a secret. He did not want to involve her, and the matter was too heavy for a mere mortal to be involved in.

Despite the commander's gentle suggestion that he could talk to him, seeing Malhohorst and Eribus rushing in and out of the Warmaster's office every day with a mountain of political messages and replies, and the documents, notes, bureaucrats, and petitioners that would make any warrior (except perhaps the Ultramarines) shudder, Loken decided to try to solve the problem himself first.

Therefore, the only visible choice left is one person.

"Aha, it has finally arrived."

The Lord of Steel seemed unusually interested when Loken solemnly told him about the invitation to the society. He then asked Loken when he could attend this secret gathering and why he looked so preoccupied.

“Actually, the party I was invited to is tonight,” Loken replied. “I’m worried that it will be more evil than I imagine. I even think that those church organizations that promote the Emperor’s Word are probably better than it is.”

Although it's unclear why, these words clearly amused the Lord of Steel.

He laughed for a while, until Loken almost angrily expressed his concern that if the gathering showed any signs of corrupting the Legion or evil, he would have to turn his sword against his brothers alone. At that moment, the Iron Lord stopped laughing and put on a playful expression.

“Hmm…you have a point,” the Primarch in his mortal form said, though he seemed quite relaxed. “How about this, I can come with you, okay?”

“This…” Loken hesitated. After all, many of the high-ranking officers of Shadowmoon Wolves had personally witnessed a Primarch—the Wolf God—participating in battle, and Loken was one of them.

Therefore, he knew very well what a Primarch could do among a group of unarmed Astartes: if the Lord of Steel wanted to, he could tear everyone present apart in seconds, without any successful resistance, and the Primarch would not suffer any obvious harm as a result.

This is the Primarch to Astartes, just as Astartes is to mortals.

But honestly, could Loken really bear to see another Primarch slaughtering his brothers right in front of him and do nothing or even do nothing?
Even knowing that he would still have to fight his brothers to the death in the future, Loken didn't want it to happen right now. That's just the kind of person he was. So he was thinking about how to subtly persuade the Lord of Steel to give up the idea.

The reasons are readily available.

“A mortal’s appearance obviously wouldn’t pass the test of the gathering,” he said. “This is, after all, an Astartes secret society…and you would only stand out more if you used your natural appearance. This is a gathering of Shadowmoon Wolves…I don’t think you intended to use your original appearance.”

But the other party immediately put forward a third proposal, and Loken found that he could not find a reason to object.

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The meeting place is located in an unused cabin on the lower level of the Vengeance Soul's tail.

These compartments, neither too big nor too small, are actually quite numerous on the lower levels and bottom of this enormous ship. They are completely empty, devoid of anything, and even rodents and the like wouldn't stay there.

The method to get there was even more complicated: as required, they met in the fourth deck mezzanine below the officers' deck, pretended to accidentally board the two rows of shipboard railcars one after the other, and then met again in a maintenance stairwell that was obviously not used in normal times, and continued to walk down the passageway together.

The path wasn't even lit by electricity; only ancient candles flickered weakly in the air at intervals. Of course, this was enough for Astartes' eyesight, but the ancient and mysterious sense of ritual made Loken's heart sink.

Seemingly sensing the intense pressure in the air, Asimand spoke softly, "Don't be nervous, Loken, relax. It's not as bad as you think. You'll see when you see it."

"I hope so. Asimand, I hope so."

It sounded like someone chuckled, but it was more likely Loken's hallucination—after all, the Iron King, who was standing next to him using that modified 63-19 "Imperial Guard" stealth device, couldn't possibly be laughing at this moment, could he?
(End of this chapter)