I'm in Warhammer, please don't praise Doraemon

Chapter 508 Ryan: Ruth laughs when he hits me!
"Why are you always silent?"

The child of the forest asked the lake.

He is the son of the forest, the king of the forest, a wounded man who has forgotten his own name, a hunter, the son of someone, and the protector of an empire.
He woke up in the misty forest, on the humus under the dim shade of the trees,

There are gurgling streams in the forest that wash the stones, polishing them to be as white and smooth as prehistoric giant eggs.

There are deformed beasts in the forest that lie dormant and hunt, and are hunted by him.

Birds often flew through the forest, and he instinctively avoided the birds' sight.

He wandered in the woods in confusion, not knowing who he was, where he came from, or where he was going.
He searched in the forest relying on his hunting instinct until he came to the lake, where he found the only living person in the forest besides himself.

On the seemingly infinite lake, there is a small boat. The boat is so simple, made of rotting wood, unpainted, and seems to be about to collapse under the passage of time.

An old man stood on the boat. His face was haggard. His skin, which was once as brown as a sweet date, had become dull and lifeless. The shape of his gums was imprinted on his sunken cheeks, making him look like a dried corpse.
This kind of aging does not seem to be the result of the passage of time, but rather the result of endless violence, trickery, illness and abuse.

The old man's hair might once have been as black as the night, but now it was a dry, dirty gray, and there was a ring on his head;
Although it was covered with dirt, the son of the forest could vaguely make out that it was a crown of pure gold.

The old man held a fishing rod with his ugly hands with swollen joints, lowered the rod into the water, and hunched his back, fishing for something.
The children of the forest know the answer to this question.
He tried to communicate with the Fisher King, but the Fisher King remained silent, so the Child of the Forest ventured into the lake and saw more.

Under the seemingly calm lake, countless blasphemous shadows lurk. Those shadows hover beneath the water, hungrily trying to tear the Fisher King apart, but they are afraid of him and remain in a stalemate with him.
Moreover, the Fisherman King was injured, with wounds all over his body. Blood could not stop flowing from his body, dyeing the water near the boat red.

Before the shadow swallowed the child of the forest, he retreated from the lake and returned to the dry shore, but he still didn't know where to go.

He kept wandering in the forest, often returning to the lake to try to communicate with the Fisher King.
But the Fisher King remained silent, just lowered his head and stared at the lake.

+Because you're not asking the right questions.+
The King of the Forest vaguely knew the reason for the Fisher King's silence, but he didn't know why.

But the Fisher King is not static.
Not long ago, the Fisherman King's wounds inexplicably healed a little, and he became more lively than before. Occasionally, he would reach out and scratch his butt.

There were even a few times when he took out some round pastry from somewhere and stuffed it into his mouth.

But he remained silent and did not answer the question of the King of the Forest.

"What's the meaning of your silence?"

“What kind of questions should I ask?”

The King of the Forest asked again in a deep voice,

This was his 222nd question.

As in the past, the Fisherman King remained silent, just lowered his head to fish, and occasionally reached out to scratch his butt.

The King of the Forest sighed, realizing that he had come back empty-handed again.
Suddenly, something was thrown at him from the lake.
The King of the Forest tried to dodge instinctively, but for some reason he failed to do so. It was a glass petri dish, and there seemed to be some kind of sticky bacteria squirming inside.
The glass petri dish exploded on the face of the King of the Forest, and the sticky bacteria splashed on his face and penetrated into his skin and flesh in the blink of an eye.
But strangely, the King of the Forest did not feel any discomfort.
Instead, he felt that his originally hazy consciousness became clearer, and some memories kept pouring out of his mind.
The Emperor, the Great Crusade, Luther, the Horus Heresy, the Second Imperium, Curze who deserved to die and died, the dragon who could not die, Guilliman who deserved to die but did not die, Sanguinius who deserved to die but had better not die, the unexpected betrayal, and the shattered Caliban.
And the sharp blade that Luther stabbed into his body.
"I'm."

The King of the Forest whispered to himself:

"I am Lion El'Jonson, eldest son of the Emperor, Primarch of the Dark Angels."

Burning Terra, burning Caliban, the Emperor on the Golden Throne, the fallen Luther, these sad images poured out of his memory and almost completely overwhelmed him.

He raised his head and looked above the water.
There was a figure next to the Fisher King's boat. It was a blue, vaguely visible civet cat. The civet cat stretched out its fingerless round hand and pointed in a direction, as if guiding Lion El Johnson on the way back to the waking world.

The dense forest slowly moved away, and a road appeared vaguely in the mist.
The blue figure disappeared after showing Ryan the way, and no one knew where it went.
But Ryan's hunting instinct reminded him that the path pointed out by the blue figure was correct.

Blue. But it’s not Tzeentch’s trick. Could it be some evil trick of Guilliman?

Ryan didn't know, but he didn't think much about it.
If Guilliman is better at handling multiple matters at the same time, then Lion's specialty is to find the most critical one among many matters.
Ryan walked briskly, his steps seemed to fly, relying on his hunting instinct to walk on the road that suddenly appeared, shuttling through the fog.

Sometimes the giant beasts of the forest tried to stop him, but the lion tore them apart easily.

As the fog in front of him became thicker, he became more awake, and the forest in front of him gradually became sparse.

Very close. Ryan could smell the scent of reality. He was very close to where he should be. Just a little bit away.
Suddenly, a fist stretched out from the mist and hit Ryan in the face, making Ryan groan.

"Traitor, you don't deserve to go back." A voice like a cold winter wind sounded in Ryan's ears, and a figure walked out of the mist.
The figure had blonde hair similar to Ryan's, but it was tied into braids and hung on gray armor that looked like a winter night. The armor was engraved with ancient, mysterious runes and patterns.
He was not wearing a helmet, and that extremely familiar face was exposed in front of Ryan. It was a face with wolf-like blue eyes and canine teeth between his lips.

The anger of being punched dissipated in the blink of an eye, and a sense of relief and ecstasy surged out, but he also had some doubts, and his hunting instinct made him smell hypocrisy.

"Russ?" the lion asked tentatively.

"Shut up, traitor!!" The wolf responded with a roar, and his hands stabbed at Ryan's neck like claws.

Ryan did not continue to speak. He was angry and hurt by the duty of being a traitor, especially when it came from Russ.

But his body instinctively remembered the battles of the past.

He dodged and hit Ruth on the chin with an uppercut. A dull hum came out of Ruth's mouth.
Then the wolf's mouth curved down, revealing a cold and hateful expression, and he swung his fist and hit Ryan in the face.
But Ryan couldn't help but laugh out loud.
Too many times, he and Ruth had fought and quarreled too many times. He knew Ruth, the wild wolf disguised as a savage.

You are a liar!!!"

Ryan smiled, no longer hesitating or holding back:

"You're a fake, you're not Ruth, Ruth laughed when he beat me up, but you didn't!"

(End of this chapter)