Emperor's Bane

Chapter 66 The Lion ([-])

Johnson took a deep breath.

He sensed the circulation of the air, and carefully sniffed the smell of blood and decay carried by the cold breeze.

He loves this feeling.

From the first time he rode a giant horse and galloped through the jungles of Caliban with a new posture and identity, he loved this feeling, the most primitive smell of blood flowing and rotting corpses.

It relaxes him.

The Lord of the Dark Angels gently pushed open the door engraved with countless profane decorations in front of him. He knew what he was about to face, from the dazzling sculptures and portraits on the knight's castle in the past to the deep forest of Caliban. The savage sound, and now the roar across Xingyu, the blood and burning, the things he has to face have never changed.

The iron boots full of blood and broken bones stepped on the same hard floor, and just as the door was pushed open, the impatient cold wind pushed Zhuang Sen's shadow to the very center of the hall, to the most horrible place. Horrible... Creatures.

The Primarch raised his head, and at a glance he saw the completely twisted monster.

Monsters, Behemoths, Cannibals...

People in the world call them in various ways, but in his eyes, they only have one name.

prey.

[Manipulator], in the vast sea of ​​stars, there were countless throats in countless worlds that conveyed this title in endless fear and madness. It was once the most terrifying of the countless shadows Ran Dan cast on this galaxy , the most blasphemous of the xenomorph's armies, it and its fleet: a wave of destruction involving the movement of a battle moon and a hundred battleships is a beauty enough for Jonson to plot, plan, and even bleed himself. prey.

And now, it's time to harvest.

The end has come.

But not his.

------

Zhuang Sen moved forward slowly, all kinds of anti-psychic decorations rubbed against his armor, and made crisp collision sounds from time to time. Most of the crystals that symbolized Ran Dan's warrior souls were now broken and turned into zero pieces. Scattered fragments spread all over his feet.

His pace was very slow and steady, and the terrifying creature wandering in the hall was limiting his speed: the most chaotic psionic energy that gathered tens of thousands of wills had become some kind of invisible pressure, Let every step of the Primarch feel like walking with a mountain on his back.

But this didn't stop him from walking. Zhuang Sen's eyes kept wandering on the distant monster, looking for a deadly angle.

He didn't put on his helmet until he got close enough, so that the last weak area was also surrounded by layers of protection.

Ran Dan's [Warmaster], or rather, his latest prey, is slumped on the throne and its steps, its body and that haughty stronghold have become one, like a scorpion that has swallowed a steel pine tree alive. The giant python roared in pain amidst the clashing of flesh and metal.

Jonson could see the distorted face, the already profane and ugly alien head was pulled wantonly, and turned into some kind of terrifying portrait that could make even the strongest warrior lose his courage in an instant. Eyes made of flesh and blood, they kept moving, making roars that changed, and when one of them caught Jonson's figure, in an unprecedented roar of excitement, all several Ten pairs of eyes stared at him frantically.

The next moment, the most majestic offensive came.

It was the wanton howling and biting of tens of thousands of souls.

And [Lion] is still some distance away from his prey.

------

Invasion.

Zhuang Sen felt that it was a frantic offensive without any rules at all, but with its heavy strength, it was still enough for him to pay attention.

[Manipulator] has completely lost the ability to speak and act. He is like a large mass of meat that is dying, but not dead, and exudes a foul smell. He can only roar and hiss continuously, becoming a A total beast.

But even so, its only means of attack: the impact formed by the entanglement of tens of thousands of uncontrolled souls still made Jonson's body tremble involuntarily.

Caliban's Behemoth Slayer listens to the most vicious revenants roaming beyond his will, tearing down the barriers he has used to protect himself and his secrets, leaving scars upon his soul.

For a moment, he even felt that he was confronting an equal opponent. In the process of constant impact and resistance, countless souls screamed and rushed towards his soul kingdom. Almost useless to the dead, they scream and crash to make the ocean of consciousness start to pour and boil.

And Zhuang Sen is still moving forward, step by step steadily.

He walked all the way from the center of the shattered crystalline stars to the eyes of this monster until he could see every inch of it carefully.

The psionic behemoth with tens of thousands of heads and thoughts is still neighing, struggling, looking for a way to break through the Primarch's brain while roaring constantly.

But it has run out of chance.

【enough. 】

Zhuang Sen raised the great sword in his hand.

Only one sword.

It's all over.

The huge head flew up, and together with the shattered blood and tumbling flesh, it drew a red and bloody white trace in the broken starry sky.

Zhuang Sen quietly watched the head of another giant beast crashing to the ground, a flash of color flashed in his eyes, which was the fleeting immersion and satisfaction.

He makes the hunt.

He enjoys hunting.

------

Desecrated blood flowed on the ground, soaking the steel boots of the Primarchs of the First Order.

Zhuang Sen stood in front of the dead giant beast, and beside his ears were countless tiny sounds, which were the souls of tens of thousands of aliens were splitting and dying due to the fall of their possessors.

He doesn't care where they are going, at least, in the real universe, within the reach of his sword, they are no longer a threat to the human empire.

The Primarch looked down at Randan [Warmaster] who fell at his feet.

Accompanied by the disintegration of countless souls, this powerful wizard plotted by despicable means finally revealed its original face: the so-called Ran Dan [Warmaster] is not a tall and strong individual, its figure is crooked, like a A curled up dwarf, but even so, Jonson could still feel the power of sorcery that was so majestic that no one could ignore it.

He can also feel that with the complete death of this alien, its original majestic power is rapidly losing at an incredible speed, as if being sucked alive by the land under his feet.

He didn't care about these small things, but began to think about other more important things.

This was something he had been thinking about a long time ago, and the hunting with some ups and downs just now made him pick it up again and continue to think about it.

Maybe, he needs a target... a training object.

A controllable, powerful psyker.

Although he doesn't have any great talent about the vast ocean, and he doesn't have much interest, it is undeniable that there are as many wizards and psychic overlords in this galaxy, and most of them are right. The empire has no idea of ​​obedience and submission, and it has no goodwill towards human beings.

He needs training, more practice.

When they were in Caliban, in order to hunt those aquatic monsters, the knights had to learn how to get rid of the useless muskets and heavy armor in the river, learn to master the direction and balance skills in the violent torrent, and learn how to raise the tide. The rhythm and relationship with the dry season, and finally, how to chop off the viscous and sinful heads of those giant aquatic beasts with the big sword in your hand.

This is a long, boring, cumbersome and necessary process. For thousands of years, countless Caliban beast hunters have told everyone with blood and mourning: the greatest danger is never the cunning and minions of giant beasts. It is the knight who has lost respect, patience and vigilance towards [Hunting] itself.

A rush of water, a shifting wind, or a flock of frightened birds...

Because of these trivial matters, there are many more knights who fell under the claws of giant beasts than those who lost in a frontal fight.

Hunting is not an easy and reckless affair.

Never.

It requires total preparation, the most complicated, careful and fastidious preparation.

He doesn't make those mistakes.

He doesn't allow it.

When Jonson turned around and left this worthless palace, he had confirmed a brand new requirement and goal.

He needs a psyker, a partner strong and safe enough to let him try out methods that can resist and kill those witchcraft overlords.

Just like he used to practice fighting skills in the water, so as to hunt and kill those giant man-eating beasts lurking in the bottom of swamps and lakes, he needs to find out the power of so-called psionic energy and witchcraft, and know their operation and power.

He doesn't expect himself to be a psychic pedant like Magnus, but he must have the power, plan and skill to kill a being like Magnus who breaks the laws of physics.

He needs an imaginary enemy.

He couldn't be an Astartes, better not, because an Angel of Death always meant trouble: among his offspring, he couldn't think of anyone who would pose a great threat to him in the spiritual realm.

There may be some Astartes of those other Legions who can do this, but their sensitive identities make it difficult to carry out the steps of secrecy necessary after the Dark Angels' private operations.

So, he temporarily stored the idea in his mind, waiting for the right opportunity to reactivate it. He knew that he didn't need to handle this matter himself, he only needed to entrust it to the right person: give it to multiple people, listen to it A report and suggestion, just like before.

He walked out of the great hall, watching five hundred people silently gathered at the door of the great hall, and seeing that the son who was ordered to leave had brought the mortal psyker and the soldiers of the Second Legion over.

Everything is going according to plan.

A cold tinge of contentment and elation swirled through the Primarch's heart.

This complacency lasted for a few moments, until a dark angel walked to his side silently.

"My lord... news from [Indomitable Truth] that a new fleet is jumping from the star gate, and their fleet commander is... Luthor."

"[Indomitable Truth] would like to know if this is part of your plan."

The Dark Angel asked a question, and soon, he got an answer.

The low air pressure centered on the suddenly gloomy [Lion], and swept away in the blink of an eye.

[...Luther? 】

Well, it doesn't look like it is.

The Dark Angel lowered his head and did not speak again.

------

When Morgan first met Magnus, he was basking in his everyday arrogance.

When Morgan first met Perturabo, he was immersed in endless data and planning.

And when Morgan saw Jonson for the first time, she only saw a sword burning with rage.

[Luther? 】

【I didn't order him to come. 】

【That idiot!What is he doing! 】

The sound was like a beheading giant sword, and drops of blood dripped on everyone's faces with every word.

The five hundred people, all the five hundred people, lowered their heads and made no sound. They stood around Jonson, letting the Primarch's anger burn in an instant.

But in front of this dead forest built by countless steel giants, the two silver figures that stepped into the field of vision of the Primarch are particularly dazzling.

Morgan let Hector lead the way, and she stayed safely in the shadow cast by the tall warrior, watching the silhouette of Jonson gradually appear in her field of vision.

Then, there was a little surprise.

When Zhuang Sen's furious eyes shot at them mercilessly, Hector's steady pace stopped for an instant, as if a small carnivorous beast was captured by the top predator in the deep forest. As the eater watched, his knees, calves and even his head were trembling involuntarily.

And so the near-fearless Astartes paused at the Primarch, a quivering mass of metal, under the Primarch's gaze.

But Jonson didn't have time to pay attention to his strangeness. The King of Knights of Caliban quickly walked over, and after briefly looking at Hector, he turned his eyes to the mortal who exuded the aura of witchcraft.

[Did you send the message? 】

Jonson's appearance is reflected in Morgan's pupils: long blond hair and beard, emerald green eyes, hard browbones and bridge of nose create a dangerous face, he wraps himself in cold camouflage and In the container, it still can't hide the raging anger inside well, and there are some more primitive and purer things...

wild.

Morgan smiled and curtseyed.

[Yes, Your Excellency. 】

[You did a good job...you two, you did a good job. 】

The Primarch nodded, his attention was obviously not concentrated here, his eyes were casually cast on Morgan's body, but he did not concentrate further, which made him miss some kind of timing, which made him not Aware of some fleeting things that are not quite right on the mortal in front of him.

The wailing gathered under the feet of this [mortal] in front of me seemed too loud, and her aura seemed to be floating and sinking in a dangerous latitude.

But Jonson didn't notice this.

He was burning with anger.

[Lion]'s gaze was quickly focused elsewhere, his heart was agitated by some offense, burning with fire enough to consume the world: obviously, some people disobeyed his orders and did not follow his requirements To act with will, he doesn't care what reason they chose to do this, but anything and offense will be punished.

As the footsteps full of anger drifted away, Morgan raised her head and watched [Lion] and part of the five hundred people gradually disappear into the end of her field of vision. Her pupils returned to dead silence, shining with a certain kind of smile .

She got it.

She knew what was burning in her heart.

That is fear.

That is fear.

That's the instinct of the soul screaming full armor.

It was involuntary, the fighting will to do every defense well.

That is [similar].

She, and him.

Morgan, and Johnson.

In a sense, they are of the same kind, transcending the so-called blood relationship between the Primarchs, and being more similar in soul and nature.

And what burns in her heart is the most natural emotion that will burst out after seeing a real, equally ruthless, equally indifferent, and equally unscrupulous [similar].

That is……

The instinct to be on guard against him.

as well as……

Desire to overcome his desire.

(End of this chapter)