This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 572 Magnus: Ahriman, I'll kill you right now!

Cold, shivering.

The excruciating pain, transmitted through the infusion of golden psionic energy, reached the already corrupted limbs and bones, impacting the Primarch's spirit and almost causing this body, which ranked among the best in the galaxy, to cry out in agony.

However, when the body tried to follow its instincts and scream, it was suppressed by an even stronger emotion, unable to open its throat or speak.

It was a sense of imminent approach that was hard to describe in words, like a wild beast seeing a flame, or a deer in the forest sensing the rhythmic throbbing of the grass behind it.

Tick-tock~ Tick-tock~
Liquid dripped down the curves of the body, no longer transforming into those bizarre symbolic objects, but simply falling as a secretion of fear.

Magnus instinctively wiped it.

Yes, it's sweat.

He took a deep breath.

The massive explosions have ended.

In the psionic shock that instantly incinerated countless demons, the Crimson King's body appeared tattered, his magnificent gold and blue armor shattered, and much of his beautiful wings were burned off.

A massive psychic rift appeared outside the cage constructed by the power of the four gods through the divine plague. From Magnus's perspective, it was a huge rift that continuously poured golden light down, or perhaps it was an eye that was always firmly locked onto him.

It contained a chill that was almost solidified into a tangible substance.

It goes without saying who is to be killed.

Magnus didn't care at all whether this was some kind of dry humor coming from the Emperor.

He looked with concern in the direction Lemanrus had fled.

Good news.

Lemanrus hadn't managed to escape yet, after all, Magnus had been directly struck by the Emperor's psionic energy, and before that, the Emperor didn't know the Wolf King's exact location.

Now, the gods, shocked by this unexpected turn of events, began to subconsciously converge in the direction where Lemanrus had fled.

Bad news.

Magnus stared intently at the golden light that descended from the sky, showing no sign of leaving and instead growing ever more intense.

Is the Emperor about to wage war against the Four Gods?

As he recovered from the panic and realized he hadn't died on the spot, Magnus couldn't help but think with horror.

Magnus immediately rejected the idea.

Even the most powerful emperor couldn't do that, even with the help of his four brothers, Magnus.

Think about what the empire is doing now.
The Imperial Guard and Imperial Navy, the mainstays of the Empire, are still struggling to maintain their defensive capabilities even when patrolling the vast territory of the Human Empire. They require extensive and lengthy production and training to fill the gaps.

As a mode of navigation that the Empire had coveted for thousands of years, the Human Empire has already waged war against the Comoros in order to gain dominance over the Web. The Astartes, who are the main force of the fighting force, have also been deployed in large numbers. Under the intense attention of the Chaos Gods, many Primarchs need to keep an eye on the Comoros in order to ensure the balance of high-end combat power.

As the foundation of the Empire's existence, the Emperor had long been entangled with the Second Brother of the Dawnwings because they planned to rely on cracking the Greenskins' genetic technology to obtain the technology to repair the Web, in order to prevent these two warlike gods from ruining their plans.

In addition, there's the Cursed Legion led by Fernulus in Nurgle, with the Dark Angels relying on their mobility to put out fires and strengthen the Empire's border defenses, and Corax, who's too busy with warp demon trading projects and intelligence gathering.
Based on Magnus's own investigation of the Empire's standing forces, his analysis of the behavior logic of those new brothers, his understanding of the Emperor's own strength in the warp, and the reliable intelligence provided by Ahriman, it can be concluded that the Empire is now completely out of resources.

Now that Horus, empowered by the Four Gods, is no longer there to act as a bomb for him, and with four Chaos Gods attacking at the same time, where does the Emperor get his confidence?

Magnus, seeing the Emperor stubbornly refusing to retreat, straightened up. Instead of rushing to kill Lemanrus, who was surrounded by the Four Gods' armies, he held a deadly spell in his hand, ready to unleash a powerful attack the moment the cursed legion appeared.

This is not about finding—

The latter half of the words vanished forever into the darkness, its meaning unknown.

Just as he straightened up, a biting cold wind swept across the battlefield that had just been ravaged by the Emperor's psionic energy.

It was a cold, howling wind powerful enough to tear apart galaxies and wither all things. Amidst its mournful howling, all the demons, regardless of their origin, lost their footing and stumbled to the ground.

"Get out of the way."

A clear and bright rebuke.

Magnus instinctively perked up his ears.

He heard that voice, cold and hard as white frost.

From the highest point of the dome of the gods, shattered by the Emperor's psychic power, came a warship that had transformed into a giant wolf.

That was the voice he knew best. As the only wolf guard left behind by Lemanrus, after fleeing into the Fearless, he had inflicted the most severe damage on him since the Burning of Prospero.

Magnus raised his head.

A warship encased in the Geller Field rammed into it head-on.

bump!
The adamantine ramming horn, blessed by the Fenris star spirit, dispelled Magnus's spell and then struck the Crimson King's body directly.

call out!
The Crimson King was hurled like a stone toward the ever-changing horizon of the warp.

All the demons present seemed to sense something and looked up at the sky.

Especially those filthy Nurgle demons.

Among them were many veterans of the plague war. These seasoned veterans didn't even bother to glance at the sky; instead, they instinctively fled into the depths of the earth, where the thickness of the subspace was unfathomable.

boom!
The long, continuous beams of light and the massive cannons touched the ground.

Thirteen standard Imperial Navy fleets, three hundred and ninety warships, a clear airspace covering millions of square kilometers, and escort from the Fenris Star Soul.

The relentless bombardment, aided by the power of the Supreme Heaven and accompanied by roars from the real universe, crushed legions constructed by demons into dust.

Countless airdrop pods fell, and Om Messiah's machinery unleashed a torrent of ammunition, clearing out empty landing zones.

Groups of transport planes landed, and hordes of eager space wolves rushed out from them.

Boom!

As the storm raged, Bjorn strode into the world, the fur on his power armor billowing through the air, the runes embedded in it shining with a comet-like brilliance that could blind anyone.

The winds of fate swirled and whipped around him, whipping up metal and causing the edge of the Emperor's Sword he carried on his back to ignite with leaping flames.

The wolves that followed him were howling and leaping impatiently beside him. The figures of these descendants from ten thousand years later turned into blurry afterimages as they rushed towards their prey.

Neither magic nor swords could stop his advance.

He neither sprinted nor charged, but stepped into the battlefield with ease, as if he himself were the true soul of this storm, so powerful and irresistible that his arrival stirred up an invisible torrent within the room.

It was a raging torrent that swept through the minds of every enemy, igniting nerves, shattering hearts, breaking and paralyzing limbs, and even the entire space seemed to tremble before Fenris's gale, shaking, spinning, and fearfully crawling backward at his feet.

One of the skulls raised the Khorne skull cannon embedded in its arm and pulled the trigger toward Bjorn.

The supreme divine power of the subspace tore through the air, but he merely swung his battle axe with disdain, easily slicing the energy into scattered fragments.

Bjorn moved forward steadily, each step sending shivers down the deck like ice cracking, as if all the demons in his path were shoving him away.

Whether they were foolish enough to think they could stop him, or stood frozen in place, unable to move.

They were all ruthlessly crushed by him.

To the demons, he was a relentlessly approaching hurricane, enough to terrify them.

But for the wolf pack, it was undoubtedly a surge of primal energy that suddenly flowed into their bodies, and a deafening war cry rose up as the wolves emerged from the stormbirds and roared.

"Long live Fenris! For the glory of Lemanrus!"

The rumbling sound pulled the tracks, and the super-heavy vehicles, which were much larger than the Imperial regular forces due to the use of Fenris Frost Crystals as a cooling system, propelled the legion forward.

Thirteen standardized Imperial Navy fleets provided cover for them. This unprecedented force, accompanied by a biting wind, tirelessly operated its sophisticated loading system, unleashing endless destructive power upon the demons on the surface who, despite possessing the same supreme divine power, resembled a ragtag medieval mob.

Where is Lemanrus?!
Bjorn, the Star Soul of Fenris, all the Space Wolves.

The almost excessive toil they had endured in the past for the development of the legion and for their own strength has now transformed into an unstoppable force, propelling them forward with an unprecedented sense of urgency.

Bjorn didn't stop. His battle axe cleaved through the air in a huge arc, completely clearing the path leading to the one that guided his heart forward. Calm and unstoppable, he walked step by step, neither too hasty nor too slow. So composed and ruthless, just like the winter that is unmoved by anything and will eventually come with the changing seasons.

The charge will not stop.

Packs of space wolves crossed the bridge, their unstoppable sea of ​​people howling through the returning smoke, their amplified voices like a frenzied wolf pack, a highly socialized pack of wolves beginning to run wildly.

Many demons reacted and tried to resist the attack. However, the space wolves were numerous, their numbers comparable even to those of the Legion era.

Moreover, each of them appeared excessively robust. These savage ice warriors, like the demons they fought against each other in the Great Game, were tenacious, fanatical, and fearless of death. Some even seemed to ascend to godhood the instant after death, like demons favored by the gods.
What's terrifying is that they are also surrounded by heavily armed equipment and vehicles. When a bloodthirsty maniac struggled to his feet after being crushed by thirteen Leman Russ heavy tanks and overturned a Draco troop carrier, a series of flying axes coming from the opposite direction plunged him into eternal calm.

This is a wave constructed from ice-blue armor, like an avalanche spreading across the horizon, seemingly unstoppable.

This is a perfect combination of the forces of the subspace and the real universe.

When Lemanrus emerged from the blizzard, he saw the child he had been separated from for so long.

This gave Lemanrus the answer almost immediately—

It must be the great power of the whole father!
He gazed at the fleet that blotted out the sky, the swarm of wolves, and quickly spotted that incredibly familiar figure from his memory.

Bjorn has now covered half the distance of the flesh-and-blood path to Lemanrus, with the giant wolf always clinging tightly to his feet. He is accompanied by more than 1,300 warriors, each bearing the marks of a fierce battle.

Some were not wearing helmets, revealing their tattooed and adorned faces, while many more still wore bloodstained helmets, their faces hidden behind communication grilles. Accompanied by the sound of swords and shields clashing, the chaotic waves unique to wild wolves came, swaying their bodies in a defiant manner.

However, many more wolves stood facing them head-on without flinching, their ranks orderly and solemn, gripping their battle axes in a defensive posture, forming a line of defense with the surrounding mighty steel behemoths.

Riemann Ruston remained silent for a moment.

An unprecedented sense of relief rose from the bottom of my heart.

"You're getting old."

Looking at Bjorn, who was taller and stronger than before, Lemanrus's dark blue and cloudy single eye trembled.

"You're the one who caused this."

Bjorn spoke bluntly to his wolf king.

Ten thousand years! He waited for ten thousand years! A full billion years!

It's all for Ruth.

And now, at this very moment!

Looking at the living wolf king before him, Bjorn felt that his life had reached its perfect state.

"You have been gone for too long, my lord."

Bjorn, covered in the blood of his enemies, approached the Wolf King, examined his wounds, and spoke clearly, looking into his one eye.

He just stared at the wolf king who had been gone for ten thousand years.

There was no resentment, and there was no loss of control.

All that remained was the pride overflowing from the wolf pack that fought alongside ordinary people.

"We can't wait for you forever."

Lemanrus was taken aback, then burst into laughter, a gurgling sound coming from his throat.

Silently, a strange heat flowed in the air, as if an unnatural sense of mania had surged between the two of them at the same time.

That's the smell of war.

It does not belong to a lone Primarch, nor to a solitary Legion.

Rather, it belongs to a Primarch and his Legion.

"Yes."

The Wolf King propped himself up on his knees and patted Bjorn's shoulder hard. The cold wind responded to him, wrapping around his fingertips.

The snowstorm behind them dissipated, revealing the glorious queen ship that had been separated from the empire for ten thousand years.

"You've found me."
-

"Impossible, how could these barbarians do this?"

On the horizon, Magnus, relegated to the edge of the battlefield, looked at the sprawling fleet and the insignia of the Sixth Legion on it, and couldn't help but exclaim in surprise.

"Could it be that Comoros has already fallen?"

No, that's impossible.

He rejected his own judgment again, and then used his remaining rationality to analyze the current situation.

If one accident can be attributed to chance, and the second to luck, then the fact that one makes a series of boastful claims only to be immediately contradicted by a series of embarrassing incidents is something that cannot be explained by any accident.

Unless there is a problem in any part of the process.

Magnus's eyes were sinister.

There must be a problem somewhere.

Ahriman.

A name flashed by.

It then turned into affirmation.

Yes, Ahriman!
A series of possibilities flashed through the Crimson King's mind, and he quickly found the crux of the problem.

Ahriman, who had been unusually obedient to him ever since he was notified, was now completely subservient to him.

It should be noted that this guy's ability to create trouble was once unparalleled in the world. No Astartes could match him. Even Magnus would occasionally feel a pang of filial piety and had to keep an eye on this son when necessary, while exiling him far away to torment others when there was nothing else to do.

This guy, who's always creating mischief, is practically a born Tzeentch chosen one, but this time he didn't even think about doing anything.

It's not that Ahriman didn't get it done.

Instead, they had already undergone extensive and drastic cosmetic procedures.

I just didn't realize it.

The Emperor's psionic bombs, which almost reached him, and the space wolves that followed closely behind him.

Although he didn't know why the Emperor was able to lock onto him, or why the wolves had stopped fighting in the Comoros and come here to rescue Lemanrus, Magnus was certain that these events were inextricably linked to Ahriman.

It appears to be a response to Magnus.

Just as the Crimson King's plan was essentially declared a complete failure, a message that the Emperor's psionic power had left far behind finally broke through the veil constructed by the gods and stumbled into his mind.

The news from that eldest son arrived late.

[Father, someone wants to kill you!]

"."

Against the backdrop of the roar of the Herafnkel setting sail once more, the wolf pack roared once more under the leadership of their alpha wolf.

Ahriman, the chosen one of the legendary players, the number one player with the highest KD ratio in the Great Expedition.

He sent a casual message to Magnus without even saying who it was or why.

Did he not know?

He knows it all too well!

"Ariman!"

The Crimson King, covered in blood, screamed.

He struggled, thrashing about in the endless light like a fish suffocating on land, his confident and composed demeanor vanishing in an instant.

I'll kill you right now!!!

　P.S.: I was supposed to update this at midnight, but I got a fever in the middle of the night and couldn't walk when I put my feet on the ground. Okay, gout.
I've been on an IV drip for a while now.

Damn, it seems like people get sicker when they relax.

I cried.

　
(End of this chapter)