On the gorge's right, the Space Wolves fell silent.
Sanchez had not used sorcery. He had defeated Jorin, Wolf Lord of the 13th Great Company, cleanly.
In the silence, Ogvai Ogvai Helmschrot, Wolf Lord of the 3rd Great Company, blinked his sunken eyes. He turned his gaze stiffly to the black-armored, golden-winged figure in the gorge.
Though Nareth was below, Ogvai felt as if he were looking up, not down.
His upper lip pressed against the heavy silver ring piercing his lower lip, resisting the urge to kneel.
He heard the clatter of armor around him. The Wolves resisted the supernatural pressure with anger.
Ogvai forced himself to shift from a battle of wills to a cold hunter's assessment of Nareth.
He was taller than his Wolf King and more robust. That was rare.
A flicker of concern deep in his eyes.
'No, the Wolf King will not lose to Nareth twice.'
'The Wolf King killed the fallen Hannibal.'
'He had gained great power from his sinful consumption, but the Wolf King still won.'
The concern in his eyes faded. He opened his mouth, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth like a full-grown wolf. His long canines spread as he let out a howl more wolf-like than any giant wolf's.
The Wolves, as if waking from a dream, howled in fury.
Meron, the Faceless neophyte and Librarian aspirant, looked at the majestic figure in the gorge with hope.
From his vantage point above, he could finally glimpse Lord Nareth's face.
His features were distinct and noble. His obsidian eyes, deep as a whirlpool, drew him like a magnet.
Their brilliant light made him dare not look directly.
The raised golden wings, the blazing light, were the same light Meron had seen on the Emperor's Tarot.
Lord Nareth would surely defeat Russ, lighting the grey Lecter sky, illuminating the dark path ahead.
As he was lost in the light, the hated howls of the Wolves sounded.
His throat moved. Sound echoed in the light of his thoughts.
Since the Wolves' arrival on Lecter, the Warp he perceived had become a world of light.
"Lord Nareth will win!"
The sound waves echoed, piercing the Wolves' minds.
Ohthere Wyrdmake, Rune Priest of the Space Wolves' Fifth Great Company, his eyes fierce, looked at Meron opposite him.
"Sorcery!" He roared in High Gothic, raising his staff. The talismans on his body lit up.
BOOM!
Thunder rumbled. A Fenrisian storm echoed over the gorge.
The Faceless's expressions darkened. The iron-grey storm pressed down like black clouds.
A pillar of holy light, wreathed in golden flames, fell from the sky. The sudden burst of light tore through the grey storm and clouds.
The gloom over the Faceless was dispelled.
They followed the light. A black-armored Chaplain of Shadows of Order, his arms raised as if embracing the sun.
Many Faceless recognized him. Martin, the Deputy Master of Chaplains of Shadows of Order, second only to the Master of Chaplains, Pat.
During the screening, his eyes, filled with holy golden light, had left a deep impression.
The newly promoted "Notary" lowered his arms. He would not allow the Wolves to provoke the Black Emperor. The golden light in his eyes was brighter than the Wolves' amber irises.
In the gorge, Nareth watched the commotion on both sides. He said to Leman Russ.
"They're getting impatient. It's time to begin."
"You've worn that armor long enough."
Russ gripped Helwinter tightly. His burning rage heated the cold fang of the Kraken.
"You think you can beat me again because you did it once?"
"Of course." Nareth calmly drew the Sword of Vaul. On the night of Dulan, he had been a "Baron of Corruption." Now, he had digested "Mentor of Disorder."
He had grown since their last fight. Even without using beyonder abilities, he was confident of victory.
"Today, I will crush your arrogance." Russ swung his axe two-handed, putting all his strength into it.
The resentment hidden during the Great Crusade poured out. The shame of his defeat on Dulan became burning power.
The wolf pelts on his shoulders flapped violently. Talismans clinked against his iron-grey armor.
Russ's speed exceeded most Astartes' vision. The afterimage of his axe swept towards Nareth like the Storm Ocean of Fenris.
Sasebo Tezuka's expression changed. He recalled Russ brutally breaking his gene-father's spine, crushing his throat.
A dazzling blue-white light suddenly blazed. With a deafening crash, he saw Lord Nareth's sword sweep aside the axe's shadow.
He saw a flash of golden light, then was blinded by the spreading frost mist and the thunderous sparks of electricity.
The storm's impact echoed in the gorge. The swift, ferocious exchange was dazzling.
The Space Wolves waved their weapons, their howls shaking the sky, praising the Lord of Winter and War.
The waves of sound, like an avalanche, were nearly deafening.
The unarmed Faceless roared, their eyes filled with rage.
The black-armored Chaplains sang, leading the Shadows of Orders in rhythmic chants.
The black tide swelled, drowning out the larger iron-grey and yellow-brown waves.
The moment the black tide's sound overwhelmed the gorge, the "Mentor of Disorder's" back collapsed. His right arm bulged.
With a loud clang, the blue-white blade engulfed the axe's shadow.
Russ was thrown backward. Nareth's golden wings beat, carrying him forward.
Each of the "Mentor of Disorder's" strikes numbed Russ's arms. His bones creaked under the immense force.
His body trembled as he fiercely drove his weight and power.
He was more agile than the smaller Russ. His swift, tricky thrusts and parries kept Russ off balance.
As they advanced and retreated, ornaments flew from Russ's iron-grey armor. His furs shredded.
Neither of their armors showed a scratch.
The blue-white blade avoided the iron-grey armor.
Russ's eyes were cold. Nareth was arrogant. He saw the armor as his trophy and didn't want to damage it.
'You think you've already won?'
'Hannibal was stronger than me, but I won!'
'I will catch your fate, just as I caught Hannibal's.'
A flash of cunning crossed his eyes. He lunged forward.
The blue-white blade slid, striking at his left side.
As expected.
He would only attack my exposed left side.
Nareth, I have caught your fate!
A gleam lit Russ's ice-blue eyes. Guided by fate, he swung his axe at Nareth's sword arm.
Runes blazed. The axe howled, the charged blow like a storm.
A chill struck Nareth. He was startled. Russ's sudden attack was beyond the physical, targeting his weakness.
On the physical level, he could not dodge.
But on the beyonders level, it was different.
Since digesting "Mentor of Disorder," he could flatten his body from a quarter to three-fifths.
His extension had also increased, from twice to three times.
The "Mentor of Disorder's" right arm muscles suddenly fell, like a scattering of insects, revealing the bone above, falling downward.
The muscles continued to surge, making his arm's descent invisible at the physical level.
The spinning axe grazed his black armor.
The muscles surged to his back, bulging, then spreading to his left arm.
The "Mentor of Disorder" suddenly raised his fist. His power gauntlet blazed.
'The armor must not be damaged.'
'When you fight, go for the face.'
The golden light struck, swift.
CRASH!
Russ's high-bridged nose shattered and collapsed. Blood hissed in the golden disassociation field.
He let out a deafening cry of pain, piercing the Wolves' howls.
He spun, flying towards the right cliff. His iron-grey form flashed past the Faceless's eyes.
The Faceless erupted in enthusiastic cheers.
"Lord Nareth is victorious!"
"The executioner is defeated!"
"..."
The Shadows of Orders erupted in enthusiastic cheers. The full-fledged "Provoker" Thibault shouted to the Wolves.
"The Monarch of Vostroya has again defeated the Wolf King of Fenris."
"The Monarch is forever victorious over the Wolf King!"
Thousands of "Provokers" echoed the taunting chant. "The Monarch is forever victorious over the Wolf King!"
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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