40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 679 61. Interlude: Wolf, Lion, God (III)

For Leman Russ, he would never forget the days he had spent on Fenris.

Yes, everyone has a hometown. Yes, the hometown of the Primarch is more noble. Yes, hometown is a place you must leave even if you miss it

But Russ will not leave.

When the migrating tundra cattle on the winter snow huddled together for warmth, he howled in the wind; when one tribe launched a raid on another tribe, he drank blood in the sword; when the stars rose in the daytime, the fire caused a chill, and the deformed freaks and the dead bones that emerged from the soil with the arrival of spring looked at the living passing by with their empty eyes, he was also there.

No one could understand this feeling, no one could. His heirs couldn't, his brothers couldn't, and even his father could only try.

Countless winter days, barren, desolate, barbaric, violent, and nightmare. The people living on this land need to endure almost all of this to barely survive, and usually do not live long.

Even if they barely survive this winter, they will be killed by another group of hungry and naked people in the spring. Then, the people who killed them will be chopped down by another group of hungry people with axes or long knives.

A spiral.

Didn't anyone try to change it? Yes, of course, but they all failed.

So, what about Leman Russ?

A Primarch, one of the most noble people in the galaxy, holding unimaginable power. As long as he gave an order, countless people would come from all over the galaxy and follow his wishes to transform Fenris into a normal and peaceful world?

But Russ said, no.

Leman of the Russ tribe once said to his father: I have no right to do this.

Why? Where is the answer? Is he a sadist who likes to see the people of his hometown suffer all day long? Or did he believe in some cruel philosophy that only those who have been tempered by the cold winter can stand out? Or did he simply not think so much?

The Fenrisian reached out and called for a gust of wind.

Suddenly, a heavy axe appeared in the palm of his empty left hand. It didn't look very sharp, nor was it one of those battle axes that could cut through helmets and bones. It was just an old small hand axe.

For a primarch, it was even a little funny - but this did not detract from the violence he was about to use it.

Russ threw down his spear, and a giant wolf raised its head to bite it. Another wolf walked to Lion El'Jonson, his eyes fixed on another place in the snow.

Neither it, nor its companions, nor Leman Russ, looked at the hunter and the king. Their eyes fell on the depths of the snow, on the edge of the Fenrisian winter.

Russ raised his axe high.

This was the first gift he had ever received in his life, given by the last king of the Rus tribe. It had an ironwood handle and plateau steel, and the best craftsmen had specially carved 25 exorcism charms on the axe blade.

And now, they were shining, with a blazing light, as if bursting out from the deepest part of hell.

The axe fell, causing a heavy muffled sound, like chopping wood or smashing someone's bones, not at all like a sharp weapon entering the body.

But a blunt axe should make this kind of noise. It can still bite through flesh and blood. Although it is impossible to be as smooth as it was in the past, it is still a weapon after all, and it can still kill, but the process is just a little longer.

The victim will not get a quick death under it, and can only beg and scream until the killing is over.

Yes, this is what Rus is doing now.

But who is he killing? Or what is he killing?

The hunter stared at the stunned figure in the wind and snow with wide eyes, his eyes began to surge, and the emerald was gradually covered by blood.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his bone spear and rushed into the snow.

One thousandth of a second later, accompanied by a huge explosion, the snow curtain that was so thick that it almost formed a white cloth to cover the surroundings was broken into a big hole. A bone spear pierced the chest of something, forcing it to hunch down with a roar of pain, which was exactly what the hunter wanted.

He swung his right fist upward heavily, knocking off half of its mouthful of fangs, and then stretched out his strong arm, grabbed the twisted horns on its head, and slammed down swiftly.

In another loud noise, the white snow flew, and the sticky and hot blood sprinkled all around, corroding the snow into pits, and the heat rose up, followed by a painful roar.

It was not until this time that the hunter's voice blew into the king's ears like a gloomy and angry wind.

"Demon."

Demon?

The king couldn't help feeling a little confused.

He had been here for a long, long time, long enough to know other people's lives, but he had never seen any demons here. In the king's cognition, this was an isolated island made by Serafax himself, isolated from the world, with only them and other endless dead on it.

But he soon noticed a little clue - after leading the army to fight against Chaos for so many years, fighting his dead brothers over and over again, the king's cognition of Chaos and the Warp had already reached a level that ordinary people could not even imagine.

Of course, he knew that everything in the real world would affect the Warp, and then the Warp would in turn affect the material world.

And here.

He looked around.

With so many dead, what kind of thing will their deaths create?

I can't miss this, unless

The king's expression became more gloomy.

With a smack, he drew his sword and slowly walked towards Lion El'Jonson, who was surrounded by two giant wolves. Facing their wild vertical pupils, the king just raised the long sword in his hand.

This is a very gorgeous one-handed sword, worthy of his status, and it is completely appropriate to be used by a king, but for a warrior, it is still a little lacking.

But the king doesn't care now.

He suddenly rushed forward, his cloak fluttering. The scarlet was reflected in the two wolf pupils, and snowflakes fell closely behind, covering the sword light just right, but they couldn't cover the blood and the screams of something.

"Retreat!"

The king held the sword in one hand, stood in front of the skinny but unusually tall monster, and gave it an order. There was not much majesty in it, but the killing intent was strong enough to cover his aura.

One of the wolves suddenly growled.

The snowstorm came, and the demon disappeared with blood.

"Leman Russ!" The king raised his sword again and shouted loudly. "I ask you to share information with us temporarily!"

Hearing this, the Fenris man who was holding an axe and waiting for the next arrival of firewood couldn't help laughing. It was such a weird and bloody moment, but he laughed unusually loudly.

But after laughing, he actually spoke.

"What other information can you share? You are more familiar with this place than I am, and that thing is undoubtedly a demon - just kill it, do you need a reason?"

"It's not an ordinary demon"

The hunter broke through the snowstorm and walked back to his original position, his whole body was covered with smelly and hot blood.

He said expressionlessly: "I have killed too many subordinates of the Four Gods, and I can smell their unique stench, but this one smells different from them. I will peel its skin."

"Of course I will kill it, but what consequences will killing it cause?"

The king asked while staring at the snow curtain. His shoulders were already covered with white snow, and the snow water melted by his body temperature slid across his cheeks, wetting his gray hair, making him look dejected and helpless.

Rus grinned.

"Very good, very good."

As he said this, he turned around and acted as if he didn't care about the monster that might appear again at any time. He even raised his axe and pointed at the king from a distance a few times, and then immediately began to talk, as if he had been holding it in for a long time.

"You asked a very crucial question, which reminded me of a story I once heard. The protagonist of the story came from a tribe that has disappeared, but his name is still circulating, and later generations call him the Big Belly Man. But this is very strange, right?"

"He is neither a warrior nor a priest in the tribe, let alone a chieftain or elder. He is just an idle lazy guy. Whenever hunters or warriors return with a full load, he is the first to come up, shamelessly following them and shouting and celebrating, as if all this has something to do with him-"

"-You are going to tell a story at this time?!" The king couldn't help but roared, his beard and hair were all standing up. At this moment, he was very similar to the man Russ was familiar with.

The Fenris man laughed so hard that he couldn't close his mouth, because this reaction was the second time he had seen it. He nodded and continued to talk immediately.

"In short, the big-bellied man was not very popular in his tribe. Although he had some strength and knew a few tricks to chop people, had he really done anything? Nothing, he had never won any honor. What about shame? Alas, he didn't even have a little shame on his body."

"The children in the tribe sometimes even called him: Taus, which means a person with nothing. But the big-bellied man never cared about these things. For him, as long as he had wine to drink, food to eat, and a smelly and warm fur cloak to sleep in, he didn't care about anything."

"Many people have opinions about this matter, but the big-bellied man has lived too long. The longer he lives, the more stable the life of the tribe is. So, people acquiesced to this matter and planned to keep the big-bellied man until he died."

"But suddenly one day, the tribe was defeated. A hundred warriors went out to plunder, but less than twenty came back. Everyone was dejected, and the chief even felt that seeing this scene The sky was falling. He went to the priest, but the priest didn't know what to do. The whole tribe began to cry - people knew in their hearts that they couldn't survive this winter. "

"Only the big-bellied man was as usual. He pulled the children who liked to play with him and began to dance and sing cheerful songs at the entrance of the village, just like in the past. The children were soon taken away by the adults who came, and the defeated warriors also walked to the big-bellied man with sullen faces, wanting to teach this shameless man a lesson. "

"However, no matter how the warriors beat him, the big-bellied man never fought back, and even smiled. Finally, an enraged warrior stabbed his big belly with a knife and shouted: Let's see how you can still laugh now! "

"The crowd froze. No one thought that this would happen. In the tribe, this is an absolute taboo. Even the person who did it was stunned and looked a little regretful, but the big-bellied man was not dead, and he even got up from the ground in high spirits. "

"He held the knife inserted in his belly, lifted it up, and cut his belly open with a pop, but it was empty and there was nothing inside. People were so scared that even the priests started shouting evil Words like things disappear.”

"Until this time, the Pot-Belly Man spoke to them, and his tone was as cordial and humorous as usual. However, he no longer called himself Big-Belly Man, but instead called himself Tavus. He told the people of the tribe that he There is a way for the tribe to survive this winter."

"The chief immediately asked: What can be done? Tawu smiled. He dropped the knife and opened his belly. A strong wind hit, and the people's flesh and blood burst out of their skin. Tawu was killed in the endless screams. Si put it into his belly."

"Tavus left like this, leaving only an empty human skin on the ground, but he did not disappear. On the contrary, he always existed, and every idle person in the tribe might one day be stripped of his skin by him. "

The cold wind howled, and Russ finished the story with satisfaction. The king frowned and said, "So, this is a fable?"

"Absolutely." Ruth replied with a smile on her face. "Almost no one has actually seen Tavus, but at least no one has ever really gone around to the extent that he did. As a warning, the story works, doesn't it?"

"But you want to say more than that," the hunter said, drawing two bone knives from his belt. It's not big, just the size of a skinning knife, but the Imperial Sky Eagle is meticulously engraved on the blade.

Russ glanced at him and nodded: "But I have seen Tavus. It is an evil spirit that was sealed under the abyss of Fenris. When I killed it, something came out of its belly. Enough human remains to flood a river."

"There seems to be another world in its belly, a world that is empty and void, and cannot even digest those people. They all died of starvation, old age, and illness. There are various scrolls piled on hand, recording the wishes for future generations. warning"

Before he finished speaking, the dull sound of chopping wood sounded again. There was no warning. Russ's voice even remained steady when he spoke, but the ax in his hand had already sunk into the neck of a demon.

Blood splattered and the Fenrisian tusks gleamed.

"How's it going? Does the rest of the story sound familiar?" he asked softly.

The hunter and the king looked at each other and tightened their weapons seriously.