Warhammer: The Time Traveler

Chapter 379 Space Wolf (Fifth Update)
In a simply furnished yet solemnly imposing reception room in the palace, Rogue Dorn stood like a mountain, facing several wolf lords from the world of Fenris.

They were clad in heavy wolf pelts hunted on the harsh icy plains, their bodies seemingly carrying the chill of the Arctic winds and the smoke of campfires, creating a stark contrast with the solemnity of the palace.

Dorn made no polite small talk. His voice was steady and cold, as unquestionable as he was.

“The enemy is corrupting the empire from within,” he said, his gaze sweeping over each wolf lord as he faced the core. “Some navigator families are abusing their ancient privileges, weaving a web in the shadows.”

“In the High Lord Council, some people put their own interests before the Emperor’s will.”

"Trading merchants, the Empire gave them the freedom to explore the stars, but now they want to turn the Empire's future into just another item to hoard in their cargo holds."

He paused slightly, letting the weight of his words sink into silence.

"Your mission is to find the venomous snakes among the navigators and remove their fangs; to make those talkative high lords understand that sometimes keeping quiet is the greatest contribution to the empire; and as for those transgressing merchants and wanderers, use the only language they can understand—iron and blood—to re-etch the empire's bottom line into their bones."

The wolf lords listened quietly, their eyes gleaming with a cold, focused light, like those of a dire wolf locking onto its prey.

A deep, guttural voice, seemingly emanating from the depths of a glacier and an ancient longhouse, echoed in the room, signifying unconditional obedience.

Eliminating these enemies hiding in the shadows of civilization is their assigned duty and also their specialty.

However, when Dorn turned to the last and most difficult part: "Furthermore, within the Martian Mechanicus, opposition is building. They see this technology as a challenge to their ancient authority and it must be suppressed to prevent them from taking any more radical actions..."

At this moment, Yorick, the "Butcher" and a wolf lord, a white-haired veteran whose face was etched with the marks of time and battle, yet whose fighting spirit remained undiminished, stepped forward.

Yorick stood ramrod straight, his posture showing the respect due to the Primarch, but without any cowardice.

His voice was deep and steady, with the unwavering resolve characteristic of the Fenris: "Lord Dorne, your orders are clear. It is the Fenris wolf pack's duty to cleanse the parasites from the shadows of Terra."

Those navigators, politicians, and unscrupulous businessmen will soon realize that the emperor's hounds are in position.

He then shifted his tone, becoming more pragmatic, like a veteran assessing a different battlefield: "But Mars is another realm. It's the territory of the Mechanicus, full of data networks, steel creeds, and their ancient, rusty covenants."

He raised his head, looking candidly at Dorn: "Our First Legion cousins ​​are better suited to this kind of battlefield. They have enough patience to deal with the mysteries and their own methods to solve problems."

"Hand over Terra to us, and we will make those in the shadows pay. As for Mars, it's better to leave it to the First Legion."

Dorn listened in silence, his weathered, stone-carved face devoid of any expression, but a rapid weighing of his thoughts was visible in the depths of his sharp eyes.

Yorick's analysis hit the nail on the head—dealing with Mars requires more than just military force; it also requires an understanding of and the ability to penetrate that complex system.

The Dark Angels' secrecy, discipline, and instinct to hunt ancient secrets are indeed more suitable tools at this moment.

After a moment, Dorn made his decision. His voice remained steady, yet carried the weight of a final decision: "Your judgment is valuable, Lord Yorick. Therefore, the cleanup of Terra is your sole responsibility. As for Mars..."

He didn't say anything more, but the operation had already begun, and another encrypted communication had been sent.
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Once the decision was made, the action unfolded swiftly, like a storm from Fenris.

The Space Wolves did not announce their arrival with fanfare, but rather, like a pack of wolves infiltrating the forest, they quietly integrated into Terra's vast and complex ecosystem.

The Space Wolves move swiftly and deadly, with the precision and efficiency characteristic of wolf packs. Their methods may seem brutal, but they are by no means blind; each strike targets the core of the problem, achieving strategic objectives with the simplest and most direct means.

Deep within the spire where a certain navigator clan plots, a secret meeting aimed at disrupting the communications of the Star-Speaking Court is underway.

Suddenly, the heavy reinforced glass window shattered, not from an explosion at the main entrance, but from a precise blow from the outside.

Amidst the flying crystal fragments, several tall figures clad in wolf skins and whose power armor still carried the chill of outer space burst into the room.

The roar of the chain axe instantly replaced the previous whispered plot.

There were no warnings, no negotiations, just targeted elimination.

When the surviving family members recovered from the shock and bloodshed, they found that the core members who had most actively planned the sabotage were lying in pools of blood, while the attackers had quietly slipped away, leaving only claw-like marks and a strong smell of blood as a warning.

Meanwhile, the luxurious penthouse of a high-ranking official in the upper echelons of parliament, who had repeatedly obstructed the warp drive project under the pretext of "procedural review" and "budget allocation," was targeted in a raid.

A well-equipped team of Grey Hunters, armed with molten weapons, breached the mansion's security with swift and clean action.

They did not harm the official's family members, but precisely destroyed his private data core and all external communication equipment, and completely shattered a treasured antique starship model.

The only clue left at the scene was a rough Fenris-style iron wolf fang emblem—a self-evident warning.

That same night, several rail warehouses, which had been identified by intelligence as being involved in illegal transactions with traveling merchants and hoarding critical supplies, were engulfed in eerie green flames almost simultaneously.

The fire caused by this special flammable agent is extremely difficult to extinguish. When the fireboats arrive, they can only watch as the warehouse structure, along with all the goods inside, silently turns to ashes in a vacuum.

Investigators later found spent shell casings of non-standard explosives in the rubble, as well as deep claw-shaped dents left on the ground by powered weapons.

This series of events caused a strong shock within certain power circles in Terra.

The message spread rapidly across the shadowy network: "The wolves have been dispatched."

Everyone understood that this signified that Roger Dorn's will was being carried out in the most unquestionable way.

As a result, dissenting voices subsided significantly, and many previously active forces began to reassess the risks, causing the apparent wave of opposition to temporarily fall into an unnatural slump.

However, this was only the beginning.

The Space Wolf's claws only tore through the outermost layer of camouflage, revealing a deeper darkness beneath.

The true threat posed by forbidden technology within Mars, and the deep-seated resistance network of the Navigator clan that has persisted for millennia, still lurks in the shadows.

The real battle has only just begun. The wolf's clearing operation is more like a clear declaration, drawing a line for the more complex and dangerous struggle to come.

(End of this chapter)