The shockwave echoed in Leman Russ's mind, like thousands of hammers pounding his head, or thousands of golden needles piercing his brain.
His eyes were black and blue. His vision was blurred, filled with crimson.
His high-bridged nose was shattered. The flesh was torn by the disassociation field. The exposed bone creaked.
Blood flowed like a waterfall, spilling a trail of crimson beads on the ground.
He was weak. His right hand loosened its grip on Helwinter.
'How... how could I... lose…'
'I... caught... Nareth's... fate…'
'No one... not even... a Primarch... can... change... their own... fate...'
He slammed into the right cliff, where the Wolves stood.
CRASH...
Falling rocks slammed onto him, one after another, with a series of thuds.
Each rock made him shudder, forcing out more blood.
As his body shook, the crashes echoed in his mind, scattering his thoughts.
After the fleeting glimpses of rock and darkness, he stopped moving.
As his consciousness blurred, countless images flashed through his mind: black armor, golden wings, a blue-white blade, a gleaming golden fist, and...
A faint fate, seeming to be in his grasp, yet slipping away, Nareth's fate.
'Did I... really... catch... his... fate... or not...'
The question echoed in Russ's mind, deep in his soul.
With a rumble, a large fissure opened in the cliff face.
Over a dozen Wolves lost their footing, tumbling down, crashing against the rock.
Ogvai Ogvai Helmschrot, Wolf Lord of the 3rd Great Company, stood frozen. His amber irises were filled with golden light and splattered blood.
'The Wolf King... lost!'
Amlodhi Skarssen Skarssensson, Wolf Lord of the Fifth Great Company, had the chant "The Monarch is forever victorious over the Wolf King" ringing in his ears.
'Sanchez didn't even use flame sorcery, yet he easily defeated Jorin.'
'The Wolf King killed Hannibal, who had gained powerful, fallen strength, yet was again defeated by Nareth.'
'Will the Wolves... always lose to Shadows of Order?'
Beside him, Rune Priest Ohthere Wyrdmake's mechanical leg clicked. His cunning, gleaming gaze dimmed.
'The Wolf King lost again.'
'No…'
'There must be a way to defeat Nareth. Even if not, the Shadows of Order are not invincible.'
"Wolf King!" Jorin's vision was filled with his Wolf King's blood. He ran towards Russ in panic.
His roar shook the lost Wolves from their daze. They leaped, rushing to their Wolf King.
Nareth walked calmly among the Wolves. They instinctively avoided the majestic giant.
They moved away from him with hatred and fear, like startled rats.
The "Mentor of Disorder" channeled spiritual energy through his right hand. With a "Concepts Swap," the Sword of Vaul became a hook sword.
He flicked his wrist. Helwinter flew up.
He sheathed the Sword of Vaul and caught the axe.
He glanced at the Wolves, frantically pushing aside rocks.
'Russ gave me Helwinter. It wouldn't be right to strip his armor in public.'
'He's not the type to renege. Let him wear it a while longer.'
'Ah... I'm still too good to him.'
With this thought, he spoke. "Russ is unconscious. Let him wear the armor a while longer."
"Remember to bring it to me after you return to the Wolf's Den."
The Wolves stiffened.
Their eyes grew fierce. Even those who feared Nareth most looked at him with hostility.
On the cliff, Blood Claw neophytes charged at Nareth to avenge their Wolf King.
The seasoned Grey Hunters, suppressing their rage, barked orders to stop.
"Nareth!" Skarssensson, unable to bear the humiliation, raised his axe to charge.
Jorin blocked him with his arm. "Don't be rash!"
His murky eyes gleamed. He spoke, one word at a time.
"The Wolves... will not... break... their word..."
Nareth's gaze swept over the enraged Wolves. He smiled.
'They're angry. Good!'
'I hope he and his Wolves come often and bring gifts.'
'I'm not picky. I won't refuse any.'
With this thought, his wings beat, lifting him into the air.
An hour later, with Russ unconscious and dreaming, Nareth hovered at one end of the Florence Gorge.
Below him stood three hundred Faceless neophytes in black robes.
Meron and Sasebo Tezuka stood proudly at the head of the formation. They had succeeded.
Following the Emperor's Tarot, they had found a path for the Faceless, a bright future illuminated by the Emperor's light.
Lord Nareth had crushed the executioner Russ. He had avenged their father.
He had accepted the Faceless, promising to lead them forever.
The Primarch released his usually hidden pressure without reserve.
The three hundred Faceless, who admired him, involuntarily lowered their heads, their gaze falling on his boots.
"You have passed the initial screening."
"But by the Emperor's command, I must examine each of you individually, to ensure you have committed no evil."
Meron and the others looked around. A squad of golden-armored Custodians were scattered around them. They were clearly there to ensure Lord Nareth carried out the Emperor's command.
After explaining to ease the Faceless's guard, the "Mentor of Disorder" spoke with "Majesty."
"Open your minds. Submit to examination!"
Sasebo looked back. "The Emperor guides us. Obey the Lord's command."
"We will be given new life," Meron said, kneeling.
Sasebo and the other Faceless followed Meron, kneeling with a thud.
Nareth looked with interest at the young Librarian aspirant. 'Meron. I don't recall that name.'
'But he is more respected among the Faceless than Sasebo, who will found the Mortifactors Chapter.'
As he thought, he ascended to the second level of the Enumeration, enhancing his one-way telepathy.
Light and shadow flickered in his eyes. The Osiris mind staff in his hand blazed with dazzling blue light.
His light body was freed from his flesh. His connection to the material world faded. The flickering light and shadow of the Great Ocean surged around him.
Vortices of formless dimensions churned. Shapeless colors and complex emotions formed the aetheric vision.
The turbulent ripples of powerful minds, intense emotions, and primal impulses rippled.
His consciousness swept over ten hard reefs, then spread to cover the rippling waves of the three hundred Faceless before him.
It fell into the ripples without hindrance.
As it merged, countless images flashed rapidly before his eyes: Sasebo running on the lunar base track, sweat dripping.
Neophytes in the legion fortress's firing range, raising bolters, aiming at targets.
...
Even powerful Librarians like Ahzek Ahriman or the Thousand Sons' Athanaeans Cult masters could not simultaneously read the memories of so many Astartes.
Nareth, however, had the capacity to review the memories of all three hundred Faceless neophytes. He focused particularly on Meron's memories.
His eyes lit up.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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