The genestealer Warmaster Horus appeared in this humble Vengeful Spirit.
Its body seemed to have grown even larger, its chitinous carapace thicker, its triangular head slightly smaller, its baldness more pronounced, and its facial expression more human-like.
From a distance, Alexander almost mistook it for a noble Primarch in Power Armor.
Evidently, this genestealer Progenitor had grown further. Alexander could feel that it was only a tiny bit away from becoming a true patriarch.
Perhaps the next battle, hunting another genestealers Progenitor, would be enough.
Then it should grow into the host body for the Dark Angel, the physical manifestation of the Black Rage in the material universe.
Alexander narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at the two figures beside Horus.
One was Loken, the other was—
Alexander's gaze lingered for a moment on the person on the other side of Horus.
That individual had a grotesquely large skull, with brain tissue protruding, glowing with an eerie Psyker light. In its hand, it held a strange, twisted, and grotesque staff, topped with a somewhat deformed pair of wings.
Judging by its species, this should be a genestealer bishop.
Alexander pondered for a moment about the character it might correspond to and quickly made a guess.
"Loken." Alexander smiled slightly, extended his hand, and picked up a glass of strong liquor, walking towards Loken.
Loken had already left Horus' side and was standing with the other Horus' Sons Captains, enjoying the gladiatorial combat in the training cage.
One of the participants was the genestealer bishop, who was clashing with the Four Kings Council's 'Little Horus Asydman' with a broadsword.
Among the Luna Wolves, some Astartes had an appearance similar to Horus himself, and 'Little Horus Asydman' was the most similar among them.
However, in terms of swordsmanship, it clearly did not inherit Horus' skill and was being suppressed by the genestealer bishop.
"Loken, a drink?" Alexander asked, holding up the glass of strong liquor.
Loken turned his head from his conversation with the Captains.
Although bearing the appearance of a genestealer, he still calmly and rigidly clinked glasses with Alexander according to warrior etiquette.
It was flawless, but also seemed stiff and rigid.
"I heard the wine from Baal is very famous." Loken said, making small talk.
Alexander's expression, however, stiffened slightly.
In the long time since arriving in Warhammer, not many things had truly affected Alexander.
Khorne's chosen Khârn was one, and Baal's wine was another.
Baal's wine caused far more severe damage to Alexander than Khârn.
That stuff was too bitter, so bitter it could make one recall the most painful years of their life.
Alexander instinctively reached into his four-dimensional pocket and subtly pulled out a bottle of Baal red wine.
He had been waiting for this moment for a long time; he had always wanted to share this bitterness with others.
Originally, he had planned to share it with One-Eye or Lager,
But One-Eye was badly injured in the Battle of Baal, and Lager was too old, Alexander was afraid of killing them.
Since this genestealer Loken happened to mention it, Alexander unhesitatingly shared this bottle of wine with him.
"Here you go." Alexander's voice was calm with a hint of a smile.
Loken, somewhat bewildered, extended the hand holding his Power Sword and took the bottle of red wine from Alexander.
He had only mentioned it out of politeness, yet this Saint Blood Guard member actually pulled a bottle out of his crotch and gave it to him.
Do all you Saint Blood Guard hide red wine in your crotch? Is this some Ninth Legion custom?
Alexander, meanwhile, looked at Loken's claws with great interest. He was very curious what Loken saw these claws as.
"Is there something wrong with my Power Sword?" Loken looked at his Power Sword strangely.
The sword itself had no problems; the energy field was operating stably, just as it had during all the days and nights it had accompanied Loken.
Loken always kept the sword in his hand, never letting go.
"A Power Sword, huh… Have you ever tried letting go of it?" Alexander's lips curved into a slight smile as he asked with interest.
Loken was momentarily stunned.
Let go?
He thought back carefully; ever since he had grown the Power Sword, he had never let go of it.
Wait, why "grown"?
Loken's expression flickered, and the Power Sword in his hand vaguely transformed into some kind of alien claw.
He instinctively took a step back, but this claw was already a part of his own body, so it naturally moved with him.
Loken looked at the claw before him, feeling as if his sanity and spirit were about to be torn apart by it.
"No!" Loken let out a low moan, and the other Luna Wolves officers around him all turned their gaze towards him.
"It's alright, Loken."
Alexander remained composed, reaching out to pat Loken's shoulder with a deeply soothing tone.
His fingertip lightly brushed over the Robot Director & Hot Scene Clapperboard.
"Tell me, what did you see?"
Alexander's voice carried a softness.
This seemed to effortlessly take control of Loken's inner being, making him speak involuntarily.
"I saw… I saw claws… my claws…" Loken's voice was filled with confusion and haziness, as if he was immersed on the boundary between reality and illusion.
"Truth… We only have truth…" Loken murmured, almost to himself.
Then he abruptly turned his head, shaking it fiercely, and clarity returned to his eyes.
"My apologies." Loken said in a deep voice, rubbing his temples slightly. "It's an old habit of mine, occasionally having some hallucinations."
Alexander looked at Loken with great interest.
this genestealer Loken was actually able to some extent see through the illusion before him.
Could it be because the impression the real Loken left in normal history was of someone obsessed with truth and skilled at discovering it?
Essentially, this genestealer Loken before him was an echo of people's impressions and emotions of Loken from ten thousand years ago, reverberating in the Warp.
Alexander chuckled softly: "We Blood Angels also occasionally face similar issues, caught in illusions, unable to distinguish which era we live in."
Listening to Alexander's words, Loken was slightly stunned.
Alexander had actually revealed his Legion's genetic flaw, which was a private matter for any Chapter.
"However, the Blood Angels know a good medicine that can cure these illusions." Alexander continued, ignoring Loken's surprise: "Do you know what it is?"
Loken shook his head, looking bewildered.
"It is truth, Loken."
"We only have truth; only truth can dispel illusion."
Loken's eyes widened slightly, and just as he was about to say something, he saw Alexander subtly adjust the baseball cap on his head, a smile curving his lips, and changed the subject: "Introduce me to the other victor in the training cage."
"Erebus, the Word Bearers' First Chaplain, whose status is equivalent to Lorgar's Throat and Tongue."
"He originally had something to report to the Warmaster, to request a boon, but upon his arrival, he realized the pressure the Warmaster was facing. He silently suppressed his own matters, unwilling to add trouble to the Warmaster, and instead played the role of a steadfast and reliable strategist and advisor."
Loken hesitated before speaking:
"We currently trust Erebus and hold him in great admiration, and the Warmaster feels the same."
"I think burning off his head with a Meltagun would be more appropriate." Alexander's lips curved into a smile.
His finger instinctively brushed against the Meltagun on his waist.
He really wanted to shoot it dead… Loken almost instantly felt the emotions surging from Alexander.
He was greatly alarmed, because Loken knew Alexander's capabilities.
At this distance, in this position, his marksmanship could indeed send Erebus to his end with one shot.
He was not the real Erebus, merely an echo projected onto a genestealer, a splash stirred up by a stone falling into a pond, not the stone itself.
Alexander felt it was a pity. If the real Erebus were standing before him, he would use dozens of Meltaguns to burn him to ashes.
After all, Erebus was essentially the most beastly one in the Warhammer cesspit full of various beasts.
His evil deeds were too numerous to count: from deceiving Lorgar into falling to Chaos to Horus being filled by the Four Gods, from planning the Battle of Calth to ambush the Ultramarines to causing the death of Angron, the Word Bearers' most excellent Blessed Son.
He was the prime culprit of the Great Heresy, the direct instigator that led humanity's civilization and even the entire galaxy into a cesspit.
Whether Chaos or Loyalist, or even Xenos, anyone who saw Erebus couldn't help but spit on him.
Anyone with a Bolter and two bullets would choose to shoot Erebus twice, then smash his face with the gun stock.
However, if this fellow wasn't still of great use in Alexander's plan,
Alexander wouldn't mind killing it with one shot, as its behavior and spirit were not much different from Erebus'.
Erebus' sword was fast; even Alexander had to admit that in the training cage battle, Erebus indeed had some skill.
Erebus wielded a massive, heavy broadsword, an Astartes-standard broadsword at that.
But its blade almost pressed against Little Horus' scythe-claw, swinging at least three or four times per second, almost matching the six strikes per second of an elite Astra Militarum airborne unit with doubled meal allowances.
In an instant, the clash of swords echoed in the gladiatorial cage, turning into a whistling gust of wind, and the warriors present couldn't help but exclaim in admiration.
More than ten minutes later, Erebus delivered a winning strike, leaving a bloody mark on Little Horus' face.
Little Horus sighed in defeat and walked out of the training cage.
"Who will challenge the victor!" Abaddon suddenly shouted: "Is it Loken, who is about to be newly promoted to a member of the Four Kings Council?"
"Or…" Saying this, Abaddon's gaze fell upon Alexander: "Or is it this Saint Blood Guard member, newly appointed to the Warmaster's retinue?"
Everyone's gaze collectively turned to Alexander; everyone wanted to know if this Saint Blood Guard member truly had real strength.
This was both a challenge and a test.
"Me?"
Alexander lightly pointed to himself with his finger; his tone exceeded Abaddon's and all the genestealer Luna Wolves' expectations.
"I get to fight Erebus?! Is that true or false! That's great!"
His tone carried joy, cheerfulness, gratitude towards Abaddon, and overwhelming delight.
Alexander's lips curved into a smile as he slowly stepped into the training cage. The iron-barred cage instantly closed, leaving only Erebus and Alexander inside.
He hadn't intended to specifically target this fake Erebus,
but since someone had presented the opportunity to beat up this fake Erebus, Alexander didn't mind giving him a few punches.
After all, his spirit and actions were no different from Erebus'; he was also a beast.
"First Blood? Or Death Match?" Alexander asked with a smile.
In an instant, the air around them seemed to solidify.
In Loken's eyes, Erebus slightly furrowed his brows and asked with a hint of confusion, "This is just a spar, why a Death Match?"
"So it's just playing around then," Alexander said with a playful smile. "Our Blood Angels' battles are always Death Matches."
This statement astonished all the Luna Wolves present.
A Death Match was a duel that ended with one person's death, often only initiated when a warrior felt his honor had been damaged by the opponent.
It was a fight to the death, which could not be called a spar at all.
"Or are you a coward who only dares to fight for First Blood?"
"Beastly behavior," Erebus immediately retorted. "Only beasts would slay their own men!"
"Better than stealing someone else's name and living under their identity," Alexander scoffed.
Erebus was not originally named Erebus. That name belonged to an excellent child from Erebus' village.
It killed that child, stole Erebus' identity and name, and has lived under that identity ever since.
A flicker of surprise crossed Erebus' face; this matter should have been known only to him!
But Alexander didn't give Erebus that chance. He moved his leg slightly, and his entire body shot towards this genestealer Erebus like a cannonball.
"Then come!" Erebus was clearly surprised by Alexander's speed, but quickly launched a counterattack.
His sharp blade cut through the air, stabbing towards Alexander's face like a series of chaotic streaks of light.
This battle came suddenly; Alexander hadn't had time to use the Speed-up Clockwork. His current speed came entirely from himself.
External objects are ultimately illusory.
Alexander didn't get to where he was today by relying on Doraemon's secret gadgets. Everything he had now was achieved through his own efforts; secret gadgets only provided a little help.
He would defeat Erebus with his own strength —
The auxiliary power of the Phantom Thief DX Suit activated, and Alexander's speed instantly increased significantly.
Then, the Portable Pyramid under his baseball cap glowed faintly, and the muscles in Alexander's calves also sparkled with light. His speed instantly became far beyond human levels.
Secret gadgets! Activate for me!
How could the Phantom Thief DX Suit and the Portable Pyramid be considered external forces?
The Portable Pyramid stimulated Alexander's body's potential; how could Alexander's body's potential be considered an external force?
At the same time, the Phantom Thief DX Suit not only enhanced physical strength but also had astonishing hardness, and the internal wearing sensation was extremely comfortable, almost imperceptible.
Alexander wore the Phantom Thief DX Suit under a fake skin made of Body Clay during meals, sleep, and everyday life to ensure absolute safety.
The entire suit had become one with Alexander; how could it be considered an external force?
In short, in Alexander's view, the Phantom Thief DX Suit and the Portable Pyramid were already part of the underlying logic of his strength, an inseparable part of his own power.
Erebus looked on, stunned, as Alexander's speed suddenly increased. He appeared almost instantly in front of him, raising his palm and slamming it towards Erebus' face.
The sharp slap sent Erebus spinning in mid-air, and Alexander seized the opportunity to grab Erebus' back of the head, firmly holding his head and smashing it against the iron bars.
Erebus' head slammed hard against the iron bars, and a dull thud echoed through the gladiatorial cage.
However, Alexander's force control was excellent. Although Erebus was dizzy from the impact, he didn't bleed.
This meant that, according to the rules of First Blood, Erebus had not yet lost, and the match was not over.
Seeing that this Saint Blood Guard actually wanted to continue pressing his head against the iron bars, Erebus immediately realized that he couldn't defeat the enemy in front of him with pure physical strength.
He silently began to recite an ancient curse in his heart.
This, of course, did not conform to the rules of the duel, but for Erebus, violating the rules brought no sense of guilt.
Erebus chose a quick and efficient Warp curse. This curse might have been born at the dawn of human civilization.
Recite a person's name, think of their identity, then inwardly despise and curse them, wishing them misfortune.
This curse utilized the directivity of names, projecting one's malicious emotions through the Warp towards the opponent.
Doing so was almost undetectable, and the effect was just right.
It would mostly cause a violent headache, which was enough for Erebus to achieve victory.
"Doki Dante!!!" Erebus roared, while thinking of this person's Blood Angels identity, cursing and despising him with the most venomous words in his heart.
Alexander's hand paused slightly, and Erebus revealed a joyful smile, then...
Boom!!!!
"Why are you shouting so loudly!"
Erebus was dizzy, unable to understand why for a moment.
Could Doki Dante be a fake name? Impossible, any name used should produce an effect.
Unless he, like Erebus, had usurped someone else's name and identity, in which case the curse would only target the original owner —
Dante let out a deep, weary breath.
Tired.
So tired that Dante wanted to jump from the highest tower of the Angel Keep with his jump pack, fly into the sky, and then, as his fuel was about to run out, pull the melta bomb pin and blow himself up.
Dante never used to have such thoughts.
But now it was different; Dante felt he deserved it, at least that's what Saint Doraemon had promised him.
It was a pity that Lord Alexander and Mephiston had gone off to tinker with some #Baal II profanity# Warp stuff again,
otherwise Dante would definitely have to ask Lord Alexander how he was doing as a Grim Reaper??
Dante silently and wordlessly looked out at the night sky over Baal. It was so beautiful, he really wanted to jump down.
But unfortunately, this height couldn't kill an Astartes, and Sanguinius seemed to have seen through Dante's inner thoughts, telling Dante in a gentle tone:
"The Emperor is waiting for you at the other end of death; you will become The Emperor's Cursed Legion and continue to serve the Imperium."
Dante suddenly felt as if he were standing on a fine thread.
One end was life, leading to overtime; the other end was death, also leading to overtime.
Dante sighed deeply again, as if wanting to expel all the fatigue and pain from his body.
Fortunately, Sanguinius had promised Dante.
Sanguinius was currently searching for Forge World ruins in nearby star systems, hoping to discover usable machinery to rebuild the Blood Angels' space armaments.
Before he left, Sanguinius promised Dante: "When I return, my child, I will take over all the work and give you the long-awaited rest."
However, Dante actually felt a little lost about the impending rest. He hadn't known the taste of rest for a thousand years, and he didn't know what else he could do if he wasn't working. Maybe he could grow grapes?
But as new documents were presented to Dante, those stray thoughts were quickly banished.
"A Proposal for Filming Blood Angels' Appearance and Recruitment Propaganda Videos. Was the proposal written by Lord Alexander? And a propaganda video script? This is good, it meets Lord Sanguinius' requirements for restoring Legion strength and befriending mortals."
"..Four new biomass pools have been discovered; transport capacity needs to be arranged to bring them back. Lord Alexander seems to be able to consume these biomasses to some extent."
"Hmm? Lager, a high-ranking member of the Saint Doraemon Sect, is severely wounded? How could this be?"
Dante was slightly surprised. He had heard of this Lager before.
He was very old, but couldn't remember his exact age, so after the war, Corbulo casually measured his bone age and found it was a full eighty-seven years, just thirteen years shy of a hundred.
It should be noted that the radiation near Scarlet Scar was inherently deadly, and the hive city gangs were even more chaotic. Eighty-seven years was no longer old; it was a treasure. Corbulo couldn't resist drawing a sample of his blood for study.
Moreover, this person had gone through the two great wars of the Underworld and Baal completely unscathed. Dante even suspected that Saint Doraemon truly protected him.
But why was he suddenly injured now? Dante showed some confusion, just as he was about to open the document to examine it closely —
Dante couldn't help but clutch his head as a sharp headache suddenly appeared within his skull.
"Why the sudden headache?"
Erebus was dizzy, his head being pressed against the iron bars by Alexander in a precise rhythm.
He wanted to cast other curses or Warp sorcery on Alexander, but under Alexander's attack, he had no time to cast them.
Finally, Erebus couldn't take it anymore. His finger twitched abruptly, and he gripped the dagger at his waist in a bizarre posture.
Just when everyone thought Erebus was about to start fighting back,
Erebus, held by Alexander, suddenly vanished.
A moment later, Erebus appeared outside the gladiatorial cage.
Instantly, the respect and admiration in the eyes of the genestealer Luna Wolves vanished, replaced by a hint of disdain towards Erebus.
Deserting in battle was almost the most shameful thing an Astartes could do.
Even Horus sighed slightly and shook his head.
Alexander was not at all surprised that Erebus would choose to flee. this genestealer's spirit and actions were no different from Erebus'.
However, just then, Alexander heard Erebus' voice, lowered to a whisper.
"My Lord, since you have finished your labor of conquering a planet, it is time for me to report what I have done."
"According to the information I have received, the planet Davine, which you personally governed and appointed a governor for, has rebelled."
"My Lord, according to the intelligence I possess, the planet Davine, which you personally conquered and appointed a governor to, has betrayed the Imperium of Man."
Loken held his breath, and not just him; all the warriors in the Vengeful Spirit's hall stopped breathing, gazing at Erebus with disbelief.
A world conquered by the Warmaster himself had fallen into rebellion? This had never happened before!
The Luna Wolves and their Primarch had always prided themselves on their efficiency in reclaiming planets, and what Erebus said was undoubtedly slandering the honor of the entire Legion.
However, Erebus had a calm expression. Perhaps it shouldn't be called an expression.
Under Alexander's forceful strike, Erebus' face was swollen, almost unrecognizable.
"Of course," Erebus said with a hint of apology, "This matter should be discussed in private."
"Speak!" Horus said in a low voice, "There is nothing to hide among the Luna Wolves!"
"I personally conquered Davine and appointed my trusted Commander Tamba as the local governor. He is a capable commander, loyal and trustworthy!"
"I even left enough soldiers for him. Davine is just a primitive planet full of tribes and cults that worship witches. How could they defeat Tamba and his army!"
"My Lord, I must beg for your forgiveness," Erebus bowed apologetically, speaking in a low voice, "I must hope you can forgive what I am about to say."
"Speak!" Horus' voice carried some anger.
Erebus evaded the topic, never getting to the point, which clearly annoyed the Warmaster.
"Yugan. Tamba has betrayed us," Erebus said in a perfectly modulated tone, with a subtle mix of reluctance and anger.
The Luna Wolves were dumbfounded.
The Warmaster had just praised Tamba and expressed his trust in that commander.
Erebus was now claiming that Yugan. Tamba had betrayed them? This was clearly an attempt to deliberately provoke the Warmaster.
"Whee-ooh—" A light, winding whistle suddenly broke the silence.
Loken looked bewildered, and he and the other Luna Wolves all turned their heads in unison, only to see Doki Dante, a member of the Saint Blood Guard, standing with his arms crossed, observing Erebus with great interest, as if watching a good show.
Instantly, the faces of all the Luna Wolves warriors seemed to be covered in dust.
"Impossible!!!"
Horus shouted:
"I know Tamba's character and chose him for that responsibility. He would never betray me!"
Loken heard a slight wavering in the Warmaster's last sentence.
He had heard about Tamba's reaction when the Warmaster appointed him governor back then.
The commander had cried, begging the Warmaster not to abandon him on that planet, not to make him leave the Great Crusade fleet.
Loken could understand him, as could most warriors—whether mortals or Astartes.
How could the power and honor brought by being a governor compare to the honor and dignity brought by the Great Crusade?
Other warriors were fighting among the stars, while he could only sit idly on a primitive planet.
But the Warmaster was always like this; he would not easily change his decision.
Loken guessed that if what Erebus said was true, Tamba might have betrayed for this reason.
"I wish that were true, but his betrayal actually has a cause."
"Primitive beliefs are prevalent among the local tribes of Davine. Perhaps they used some witchcraft to twist the minds of the Imperial soldiers."
"…Some witchcraft?" Horus' anger was mixed with disbelief.
Most of the Luna Wolves also took this as an explanation Erebus had come up with on the fly.
"Tamba now calls himself the master of Davine, having embraced those local beliefs. He has completely betrayed the Emperor and calls you..."
Erebus' voice hesitated slightly, then he said with resentment:
"Calls you a lackey of a fallen god..."
Immediately, the hall was filled with angry roars. Warriors bellowed and beat their chests, vowing repeatedly to the Warmaster that they would bring Tamba's head.
Loken also felt the same pain and outrage; how could anyone dare to insult the Warmaster in such a way, calling him a lackey of a god?
"Enough!!!"
Horus' roar was like thunder, shaking the entire Vengeful Spirit.
Instantly, everything fell silent, even breathing became clearly audible.
"I will make him pay the price!!!!"
Horus roared:
"I will personally cut off his head and bring down the Emperor's judgment upon him! I swear upon my honor!"
"My Lord... allow me to offer counsel. Acting rashly would be reckless. Please, I implore you, entrust this matter to your warriors to handle."
Horus stared intently at Erebus, finally letting out a cruel laugh: "Are you asking me to be a coward, to let others remove the stain on my honor?"
"I would never mean that—" Erebus bowed respectfully, his body trembling slightly as he felt Horus' anger.
"Assemble a spearhead force," Horus ordered his warriors in a low voice, "Immediately."
"Who will lead it, My Lord?" Abaddon stepped forward, asking with his head bowed.
"I!" Horus growled, then turned and left the hall.
Alexander, with his arms crossed, felt like he had just watched a grand play.
These genestealers are truly excellent actors.
Just then, that genestealer Loken walked towards Alexander.
"You seem to care too little about the honor of a brother Legion."
Loken spoke directly, his tone containing both reproach and advice:
"I shouldn't criticize you so bluntly, but acting this way can easily provoke the dislike, even hatred, of the entire Luna Wolves Legion."
"For that bottle of Baal Red Wine, I believe there should be some friendship between us... Can you please heed my advice?"
Alexander looked at Loken, sighing inwardly that Captain Loken was truly an honest man.
"You misunderstand. I'm not mocking the Luna Wolves; I find what Erebus said amusing."
He chuckled, saying:
"Look how thick-skinned he is. Even after I hit him like this, he can still put on a brilliant performance without batting an eye."
"Performance?" Hearing this, the genestealer Loken paused slightly.
"A performance." Alexander smiled. Erebus' performance just now was indeed superb.
With the prop 'Hot Scene Clapperboard & Robot Director', Alexander himself was the best actor among humans.
But Erebus' acting...
"Even the most professional actors wouldn't be as vivid as Erebus' performance today."
"You see, how perfectly he guided you, guided the Warmaster?"
Alexander laughed heartily, looking at Erebus who was leaving the hall, and said to Loken:
"He cleverly turned Davine's rebellion into an insult to the Warmaster's honor, into the Warmaster's personal vendetta."
"Horus won't let others restore his honor... that's where things went wrong."
Performance, deception, perfectly timed anger...
Erebus...
A liar...
Loken stood frozen as if struck by lightning. Reason told him that what this Blood Angels said was entirely true.
Erebus, the Chief Chaplain of the Word Bearers, was trying to manipulate the Warmaster.
Why?!
But before Loken could voice the question, the Blood Angels smiled lightly, gave Loken a look, and then turned to leave.
Loken's eyes widened slightly.
That look in his eyes carried a strange quality, as if he wasn't looking at Loken, but at something else... It was the look of someone watching a play.
Loken found this peculiar.
"Loken."
A claw rested on Loken's shoulder.
But before Loken could react, the claw transformed into an Astartes' broad hand.
Abaddon stood behind him.
"Loken, get ready," Abaddon said, "We are going to Davine's moon."
Loken nodded gently, quickly pulling his thoughts away and entering a state of combat readiness.
He returned to his room from the hall. Loken's room was sparsely decorated, just a bed, a table, nothing else.
He heard that the Emperor's Children and the Blood Angels would adorn their rooms with many luxurious ornaments, but Horus' sons only had simplicity.
He sat on his bed, feeling a bit lost.
Pre-battle preparations, what should he prepare?
His power sword was always in his hand, his power armor always worn.
Is this right?
Loken looked at himself with a hint of confusion; his memories also seemed a bit jumbled.
Loken felt annoyed. He glanced at the bottle of Baal Red Wine he had placed on the table.
He suddenly noticed that the wine label was a bit strange.
990. M41, the nine hundred ninetieth year of the forty-first millennium of mankind?
Loken was slightly startled. Why would the Blood Angels use such a label?
Was it a mistake? How did a thousand years just get added for no reason?
Loken picked up the wine with a strange expression. He hesitated, then pulled out the cork.
A little alcohol would not affect an Astartes; they could avoid most toxins in the world.
He raised the bottle and poured it into his mouth—
Bitterness, an intense bitterness exploded on Loken's tongue.
The strong tannin taste rushed directly into Loken's brain, violently churning within it. An unbearable dizziness assailed Loken's mind.
Damn it, how could the alcohol brewed by the Blood Angels be so bitter?
The wine bottle slipped from Loken's hand, smashing to pieces on the floor. Crimson wine spread across the ground, like Loken's own blood.
Reflected in it was Loken's face, not a human one, but the alien face Loken often saw in his hallucinations.
Loken paused slightly, unable to resist reaching out to gently touch his face.
The scenes in his eyes constantly changed and intertwined, making it hard to distinguish reality from illusion.
But suddenly, Loken remembered the Blood Angels' gaze when he left, looking at him.
That strange gaze, as if watching a play.
Loken vaguely saw his own reflection in his eyes.
The reflection of a monster.
In his eyes, was he an alien monster??
A claw rested on Loken's shoulder.
Alexander was largely mistaken.
He always said that after coming to the Warhammer universe, the only things that hurt him were Khârn's axe and Baal's wine.
But he forgot that there was one other thing that hurt him in the hive city:
The train, the shaky monorail train in the hive city.
Unexpectedly, the route from Sheath Wing Fortress to the so-called "Davine" was also this type of train.
In the eyes of those crazy genestealers, they were riding a starship.
But in Alexander's eyes, this was just a simple monorail train, leading to a satellite city near Sheath Wing Fortress.
The train swayed, clearly built by the genestealer in the past.
Although Alexander, wearing the Phantom Thief DX Suit, wouldn't suffer from his old motion sickness, recalling the feeling was like being hit hard again.
Alexander rubbed his head, feeling a little uncomfortable. Although it had no effect, there were several layers between his real hand and his real head.
"Are you feeling uncomfortable with Warp travel?" a deep voice sounded behind Alexander.
In the eyes of the genestealer, they weren't on a rail train, but were undertaking Warp travel.
"I've experienced as much Warp travel as the head of an Iron Hands Primarch and the flesh in their Dreadnoughts."
Alexander replied almost instantly.
He had never experienced any Warp travel, just as the Primarch of the Iron Hands, Ferrus Manus, had no head, and there was no flesh in a Dreadnought.
"A strange metaphor." The person behind Alexander slowly walked to his side.
Alexander turned his head and saw that it was the genestealer Horus.
It already looked somewhat like the Horus of old, but its armor was entirely covered by chitinous carapaces that had grown out of its own body.
Of course, it was only somewhat similar.
It lacked the terrifying presence that only a Primarch possessed, a feeling not derived from the flesh and blood body, but from deeper things hidden beneath the Primarch's material shell.
"I am very curious."
the genestealer Horus looked down at Alexander and spoke softly:
"Why did my brother Sanguinius send you here to protect me?"
'He sent me to kill you,' Alexander thought to himself, but at the same time, he noticed something strange. Why did this genestealer suddenly ask this question?
It had clearly accepted Alexander's presence before.
"To express brotherly concern," Alexander said sincerely. "To celebrate your becoming Warmaster."
His finger also lightly brushed over the Hot Playfield Circuit Board & Robot Director.
the genestealer Horus was silent for a moment, then asked, "Is it Erebus?"
Suddenly, the air became quiet as the two stood in the carriage, looking at each other.
Alexander raised his eyebrows slightly.
This was different from the correct history; this fake Horus actually noticed Erebus' problem?
This was a bit unusual.
"My offspring might think you are mocking them."
"But I noticed, you were mocking Erebus and me at the time."
A hint of anger flickered in the genestealer Horus' eyes as it stared intently at Alexander:
"Tell me, did Erebus deceive me? Did Tamba not betray me?"
"At least in this matter, it did not deceive you," Alexander said softly.
He pressed down on the brim of his baseball cap, a smile involuntarily appearing at the corner of his mouth.
He had underestimated this group of genestealers. Although their bodies were xenos, their spirits and behaviors were those of the Luna Wolves from ten thousand years ago.
Especially the Horus in front of him, an echo of a Primarch's spirit and behavior.
Horus was one of the best among the Emperor's children, and even just an echo was equally extraordinary.
"Tell me, what kind of mission did Sanguinius actually give you?" Horus asked in a lowered voice.
"If I tell you, will you send others to kill Tamba?" Alexander asked, knowing the answer.
"Is it related to Tamba? No, I will not."
The fake Horus shook its head:
"I will not let others cleanse a stain on my honor."
"Even if there might be a trap or danger there?" Alexander asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I am a Primarch, a continuation of the Emperor's gene-sequence, a son of the Emperor."
Horus burst out laughing at these words, all anger seemingly dissipating with the laughter.
"I am Horus, I am the Emperor's First Son, I am the Warmaster chosen by my father! No trap or danger can defeat me!"
He clapped Alexander on the shoulder and said calmly:
"Or does Sanguinius suspect that my shoulders are too weak to bear my own honor?"
"If that moment comes, I will bestow the title of Warmaster upon him, and let him take this position."
"Son of Sanguinius, you can judge with your own eyes; I give you this power."
With that, Horus left Alexander's side.
Alexander shrugged slightly.
He had expected this outcome; no one could stop Horus from personally going to slay Tamba.
Even telling Horus it was a trap wouldn't work.
Historically, Loken also warned Horus, and it's hard to say that the historical Horus was completely unaware of Erebus' problem.
But Horus chose the approach that has been lamented by countless people for ten thousand years.
Out of honor, and also out of other emotions.
Horus' appointment as Warmaster was not universally accepted.
In his eyes, some individuals, such as Lion and Guilliman, coveted the position.
Lion always felt he was the eldest son, while Guilliman was always ambitious.
In Horus' eyes, the Warmaster title was not just about honor and power.
It was also the Emperor's — a father's — affirmation of his son, proving that in the Emperor's heart, Horus was the most excellent son, an affirmation of his status as the First Son.
He could abandon power and enemies, but he could not tolerate his father's affirmation being taken away.
So he would not allow himself to retreat, and even knowing there was danger and a trap, he still chose the most honorable approach.
Mephiston, disguised as an Ogryn, quietly approached and stood beside Alexander.
"Lord Alexander, what happened?" Mephiston asked in a low voice.
"Nothing, just heard the longing of a child ten thousand years ago for his father's affirmation, so much so that he feared his other brothers would take even a fraction of it."
Alexander pressed down on his baseball cap and shrugged:
"To be honest, Mephiston, although many people regard the Primarchs as gods or an extension of the Emperor's divinity, they are actually far more human than people imagine."
"Even many childish traits found in humans are not diminished in them; instead, they become more pronounced."
He remembered Gavriel Loken once saying: "The Primarchs are like a collection of various human qualities."
He indeed had eyes that could see the truth.
Mephiston was slightly taken aback, and asked hesitantly, "Does that include Sanguinius?"
"Of course it includes him," Alexander said, nodding with a slight smile.
Mephiston was about to speak, but at that moment, the entire train stopped, and a genestealer settlement appeared outside the carriage.
"Warmaster, Davine Satellite has arrived." Alexander's lips curved into a smile.
Bang!!
A melta pistol shattered the genestealer's head.
Alexander waded through the swamp, idly using his melta pistol to kill the genestealer in this settlement.
The entire settlement was submerged in a strange swamp, and the genestealer within it attacked Alexander and the Luna Wolves genestealers like a horde of mindless zombies.
But at least in Alexander's eyes, they were just ordinary genestealers.
Historically, Davine Satellite was indeed corrupted by Nurgle, filled with plague zombies.
But the genestealer here seemed to only believe they were plague zombies.
How pathetic. Other genestealers believed themselves to be Blood Angels or Luna Wolves, but these unlucky ones thought they were plague zombies.
While pondering, Alexander waded through the swamp.
The entire Luna Wolves genestealers team was divided into two squads, attacking from two directions.
Abaddon, Horus, and little Horus were in one squad.
Alexander and Captain Loken were in the other squad.
Alexander was indifferent to this; he only planned to slack off until Horus was near death, and Erebus resurrected him.
After that, Alexander would stuff the fake Horus and the Dark Angel possessing him into his four-dimensional pocket.
Bang!!!
Melta flames shone as brightly as the sun in the darkness.
One problem slightly annoyed Alexander: these genestealers were difficult to distinguish.
Whether it was the Luna Wolves genestealers or the plague zombie genestealers, there was little difference in Alexander's eyes; only the Luna Wolves genestealers had thicker chitinous carapaces.
It was easy to accidentally hit a Luna Wolves genestealers if he couldn't tell them apart.
Suddenly, Alexander's instincts detected someone approaching from behind.
He quickly turned around, barely slowed down even in the swamp.
a genestealer was moving between the buildings behind him, rapidly approaching Alexander.
Alexander's voice moved slightly, and he was almost in front of the genestealer in the blink of an eye, his melta pistol about to pull the trigger, and then—
"Oh, it's Captain Loken."
Alexander only recognized the genestealer Loken when he got closer, almost accidentally firing his gun:
"I almost mistook you for a zombie."
the genestealer Loken lowered its head slightly, its gaze fixed on Alexander.
Then, the genestealer Loken suddenly attacked Alexander, striking at him with the back of its scythe-like claw.
Alexander shrugged. He had already used the Acceleration Gear, so the genestealer Loken's speed seemed very slow in his eyes.
"Pah!!!"
Loken couldn't clearly see Alexander's movements, only feeling a heavy punch to his stomach, and he collapsed into the viscous swamp.
In his eyes, two scenes eerily intertwined.
In one scene, he was an Astartes, a warrior of the Luna Wolves.
In the other scene, he was a xenos, an insect with sharp claws and a chitinous carapace.
But no matter which scene, the Loken reflected in the eyes of the man before him was a hideous xenos.
"In your eyes, am I, or rather, are we, very similar to these reanimated corpses?"
"Like an ugly, deformed insect?"