"Jorin, don't panic, grab the mast!"
"Caelan! Save them!"
"We're almost there! Drive that sea beast away! Cut off its tentacles!"
"Leman Russ got eaten!"
On the seventeenth day since the Russ tribe left Vanaheim, a sea beast over a thousand meters long attacked their fleet that night.
The pitch-black sea suddenly split open into an abyss, and when the monster erupted from the depths, the whirlpool it stirred turned the entire sea into a boiling vortex. Hundreds of longships pitched violently amid the sudden waves.
When the creature's barbed maw opened wide, it swallowed thousands of tons of seawater like a collapsing sky. The few longships still burning with torchlight vanished like fireflies falling into a bottomless pit.
At Russ's request, Caelan used his powers to save the tribesmen falling into the abyss, but Russ himself had leapt straight into the creature's mouth.
The warriors of the Russ tribe could only watch helplessly as their new king dove into the beast's blood-stained maw, gripping the slick masts and howling in vain amid the raging storm.
"Don't panic! Steady the ships! Believe in your king!"
Caelan's voice cracked through the chaos like thunder, steady and powerful enough to slice through the noise and fear.
His composure quickly calmed the tribe. The Russ tribe deeply trusted their shaman, and Russ, raised by Caelan's own hands, was like his son. To them, Caelan was the "Grand King."
If the Grand King believed Russ would survive, who were they to doubt?
At that life-or-death moment, the Russ tribe rediscovered the innate toughness and calm of true Fenrisians. Women and children secured supplies with ropes, while warriors set their bone spears along the ship rails, forming a wall of thorns.
Sylvia's massive claws scraped the side of the ship, producing a sharp screech. Staring into the abyss that had swallowed Russ, she let out a trembling, helpless wail.
"It's all right," Caelan soothed her gently, stroking her trembling back. "Believe in Russ. He'll come back, just like after every hunt."
Russ was no god; of course, he could die.
But not today. Not now.
Caelan's psychic power extended through the churning sea like invisible threads, locking onto the figure fighting within the monster's belly.
Russ raged like a storm. The creature's corrosive digestive fluids could dissolve flesh to bone in moments, but they left not even a scratch on him. Each swing of his axe unleashed a wave of stinking blood, tearing open crimson blossoms on the beast's stomach walls.
He was like a red-hot blade slicing through butter, carving a man-sized passage through the writhing flesh.
The thousand-meter sea monster was suffering its worst agony. Its body twisted violently in the black depths, its mountain-like spine shattering underwater volcanoes. Erupting magma and boiling blood dyed the sea a deep violet-red.
Those tentacles that could crush ships now spasmed and whipped the seabed like dying serpents, gouging trenches hundreds of meters long.
Russ burst into the beast's heart chamber like a blazing meteor. Its tough heart exploded under his relentless blows like a rotting fruit.
Eating a Primarch had been the worst decision of its life. Hopefully, it learned its lesson, if it ever had another.
As the beast stopped struggling, Caelan's psychic power lifted the colossal corpse. When the thousand-meter body broke the surface, its purple blood dyed the surrounding sea scarlet.
From the torn throat of the beast, Leman Russ burst out of the sea like thunder through a tide of blood.
The longships erupted in cheers like crashing waves.
"Leman Russ!"
Such giant beasts weren't unheard of in Fenris's oceans, but they were still the unchallenged rulers of the sea.
Fenrisians did hunt sea monsters, but even taking down one a hundred meters long carried the risk of ruin or death. A thousand-meter beast was beyond any tribe's ability to fight.
The reward for killing it was immense: its meat could feed the Russ tribe for a year; its hide could become clothing, sails, hulls, or tents; its bones could build ships; and its fat could serve as food or lamp oil.
But processing it would take time, and they needed to find an island to settle on soon, a difficult choice.
Tengir said, "I say we process the corpse first. Its meat will last us through winter. Even if we don't find an island, we can sail to Asaheim."
He still brooded over his defeat in their duel; Russ had knocked him out before he could even see the strike, but he bore no grudge.
Finding land was important, but honor mattered more. Turning the monster's bones into longships would be the greatest glory in the Russ tribe's history. If they had to choose between survival and honor, they would not let Russ give up the latter.
Becoming the laughingstock "lowlanders" of Asaheim would only be temporary. Glory was forever.
But Russ never intended to choose. He wanted both.
"Help me, Father."
When Russ spoke, Caelan couldn't refuse.
Even if the entire tribe worked together, it would've been nearly impossible. But Caelan needed only a day.
Psychic threads, thin as lightning, pierced the beast's body, guided with surgical precision. Tough hide was cut into neat squares; layers of fat peeled like melting butter; dark muscle sliced into perfect slabs for curing; unwanted innards released into the sea, feeding schools of fish.
When it was done, only the skeleton remained, an immaculate work of art. Caelan shaped it into a three-decked, 500-meter-long longship.
The beast's tanned hide covered the bones, transforming the fallen predator into a vessel of life.
Russ stood at the prow, golden hair whipping in the wind. Under the reverent gaze of tens of thousands, he raised his axe.
"Raise the sails!"
…...
On the thirty-second day since leaving Vanaheim, the Russ tribe found an island.
But as their fleet neared the shallows, they saw figures waiting on shore.
"It seems this island already has owners," Caelan observed, spotting several longships moored nearby.
Russ frowned. "The Season of Fire is ending. We don't have time to find another."
Tengir nodded. The warriors gripped their axes.
Though Fenrisians rarely fought one another, clashes over land were common.
Russ shook his head. "I'll talk to them. There's enough land for both our tribes."
He would not rule through bloodshed. His two brothers had already unified their homeworlds; Russ would not be left behind.
Fenris was harsher than any other world, but its people were purer.
With fifteen warriors, Russ sailed a light longship toward shore.
Seeing the small delegation, the islanders relaxed. By the time Russ landed, hundreds had gathered, mostly women and children, as their warriors were away fishing.
Russ gestured for his men to lower their weapons, raising his empty hands to show peace.
"I am Leman Russ, King of the Russ Tribe."
"I am Agnar, shaman of the Askomanni Tribe," an elderly man stepped forward, voice trembling. "We can yield this land to you, King Russ. Just… let us stay a few days longer, until our warriors return."
He looked at least thirty years old, a necklace of fish teeth at his neck, rune-marks like those of Russ's shamans painted across his face.
His reaction was understandable. If the Russ tribe had been smaller, they might have resisted. But Russ's fleet, thousands of longships stretching to the horizon, made defiance unthinkable.
Russ said, "My tribe needs this land. But I have no wish to drive you out."
Agnar hesitated. "Then what do you mean, my king?"
"We can share the island. You may keep your village. The Russ tribe will settle farther away. But your people must swear fealty to the Russ tribe."
Agnar's eyes lit up. "The Askomanni Tribe willingly swears fealty, King Russ!"
They were too small to bargain. Submission brought only benefits, a mighty protector, and a future. To them, this was a blessing.
….....
The Russ tribe took a full day to land their fleet. By night, the beach was blazing with bonfires and roasting meat.
When the Askomanni warriors returned from sea, they were terrified at the sight of thousands of ships. Only after Agnar sent word did they dare approach.
"King Russ, this is Axel, chieftain of the Askomanni Tribe," Agnar said, bringing forth a tall man.
"King Russ," Axel bowed deeply, the title sincere.
"Awooo!"
Wolves ran and played along the sand. To the Russ children, this was normal; they tugged the wolves' thick fur and laughed.
But to the Askomanni, the sight was terrifying. Even their leader, Axel, turned pale. The wolves stood three meters tall, fully grown Fenrisian wolves.
Yet they were still juveniles. Sylvia alone already stood 3.5 meters tall, nearly eye to eye with Russ.
The Russ tribe was a hundred times larger than the Askomanni, and they commanded wolves. Only a fool would resent submitting to such power.
Russ asked, "Axel, how long have you lived here?"
"Three great-years," Axel said. "Agnar divined it each year; it's stable, at least twenty great-years. A blessing from the gods of Asaheim!"
His eyes gleamed with faith.
This was tradition among Fenrisians: they believed the gods dwelled atop Asaheim's mountains, and that brave warriors were taken to that heavenly realm upon death.
A land that could last twenty great-years truly was a divine gift. Many Fenrisians didn't live that long; the island meant safety for life.
Russ asked, "Winter is coming. Have you stored enough food?"
Axel hesitated. "Not yet… but if you need it, we can share what we have."
He assumed Russ's tribe, after sailing so long, must be starving, especially with all those wolves.
Russ shook his head. "That's not what I meant. If your tribe hasn't enough food, the Russ tribe will provide it. It's your reward."
Axel blinked. "Then… what would you have us do, King Russ?"
Russ laughed. "Nothing at all."
He would rule Fenris, but not to take from it. His rule would give back.
…
When the Season of Fire ended, Winter came.
Glaciers crept from the poles toward the equator, turning the world into a frozen apocalypse. And Russ made his decision.
"I will unite Fenris. I will set foot upon every frozen inch of this world. Whether mountain tribes of Asaheim's lowlands or the island clans among the shattered isles, all will kneel beneath the Russ Tribe's banner!"
"Leman Russ!"
His warriors roared his name, beating their shields with their axes.
Russ smiled at their devotion, but his eyes sought only two figures.
"Mother, will you support me?"
Sylvia's low, silken growl was gentler than the finest silk as she brushed her neck against his cheek.
Her son had grown taller than her now. She believed he would achieve wonders. Uniting Fenris was just the beginning. Caelan had told her: an entire galaxy awaited him.
She didn't know how vast the galaxy was, nor what his brothers looked like. But her child was surely the greatest of them all.
"And you, Father?" Russ asked.
Caelan said quietly, "I'm not your father. The Emperor is."
Russ gazed at him calmly. He didn't care about titles, mentor, or father; it changed nothing. Blood didn't make family; bond did.
He knew if he said "mentor," Caelan would answer him.
But he also knew that if he insisted, Caelan would yield first. He always did.
Caelan sighed. "Haven't you always known? Whatever you choose, I'll support you."
Russ grinned. "Whatever I choose?"
Caelan sensed danger. "…As long as you remain yourself."
"I always am," Russ said, eyes glinting with wolfish mischief.
He had grown up, not as stubborn as before, but his nature hadn't changed. He'd only learned to hide it better.
He wasn't jealous of his brothers, nor childish enough to throw tantrums. He was simply protective, possessive in the way of a wolf guarding its pack.
The Fenrisian wolves hid their wisdom behind savagery, and those who underestimated them paid with their lives.
His "wolf-brothers" were too sheltered, more like men than wolves.
But Russ, he was the true wolf among them.
He knew what Caelan feared: Chaos, the Warp, the gods beyond. Both Caelan and the Emperor dreaded them.
Russ wouldn't touch that power. His rebellious phase was over; he wasn't foolish enough to defy his parents for pride. What he'd seen beneath Vanaheim's depths had taught him well the danger of Chaos.
But Caelan's fear blinded him to another threat, Curze and Lorgar, and perhaps others yet to come.
From Caelan's scattered words, Russ had already pieced together their nature, spoiled children, selfish and stubborn, with a terrifying, childish possessiveness.
They were dangerous to Caelan.
But it was fine. Russ would protect him, from them.
In the way only a Fenrisian wolf could.
And Caelan would support him.
That was a promise, spoken from Caelan's own lips.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu