đ¨ To get the full story and future chapters purchase it from patron shopÂ
The entry of the Space Wolves was like throwing a large lump of sodium into a pot of boiling water, causing the already heating situation to explode in an instant.
The first to burst out of Mandeville Point was the battleship [Nidhogg], which, like the leader of a pack of wolves, proudly became the vanguard of the great army. Following closely was the [Hrunting],
a battleship whose name was even more thunderous, not because of its glorious achievements, but because it carried one of the most insane, bloody, and violent legions in the entire galaxy: Leman Russ's true blood brothers, his Thirteenth Company.
After these two most powerful battleships, more Space Wolf war engines successively warped out of Mandeville Point. They rushed into this final battlefield, then fell into a brief moment of shock.
Leman Russ's sons originally believed they would encounter a logical ambush and fierce close-quarters combat near Mandeville Point. However, the true situation was completely contrary to their imagination.
The vanguard of the Sixth Legion quickly discovered that someone had already beaten them to it. A low sigh swept through the iron-gray fleet, but it did not linger long.
Through the Divination Box, Lion El'Jonson carefully observed this somewhat unexpected reinforcement. He watched them maintain a passable formation, and then, on their own, launched their attack from the other end of the battle line.
This Space Wolf fleet was roughly two-thirds the size of the Dark Angels. After a tireless sweep and discernment, Lion El'Jonson did not find the [Hrafnkel]. However, he was very sure that his Wolf brother was definitely within this fleet.
He had no reason to miss the final battle, because it would cause him more pain than killing him: several Terra Standard Months of meaningless pursuit and annihilation, day after day of repetitive labor, and constantly enduring the taunts, curses, and insults of the Duran Tyrant traversing the stars...
Unless he personally cut off that tyrant's head, his brother would forever crave destruction, like a ravenous wolf.
Lion El'Jonson hesitated, thinking, but the true progress would not stop due to individual actions, even if he was a Primarch.
After continuous victorious hymns, gradually, less joyful news arrived from the front line: a Dark Angels warship was sunk. Although it was only a destroyer, it was still enough to raise alarm.
After a subtle change in the battlefield situation, Lion El'Jonson began his command. His orders, delivered through direct communication and Corswain's relays, swept through the numerous warships on the front line.
He commanded all battleships to maintain a safe position, using volleys of lances at extreme range to crush Duran resistance. More escort ships were impassively thrown into the fiercest close-quarters combat on the front lines by the Lion of Caliban, to protect the valuable capital ships.
The Dark Angels faithfully executed this command. Dozens of frigates, destroyers, and countless drone swarms formed a metallic torrent, confronting the fearless Duran defenders in interstellar space. Constantly, warships were hit by cannons or lances, their burning wrecks transforming into dark meteors, plummeting into Duran's blood-red atmosphere.
The sacrifice of these vessels was undoubtedly worthwhile. After at least thousands of mortal lives were spent, the Dark Angels seized a superb opportunity. While the Duran fleet exposed a gap due to a suicidal attack,
the battlecruiser [Sword of Numark] transformed into the First Legion's most shining blade, tearing through the defenders' line in one fell swoop. Now, they were just one step away from the Duran flagship.
The high-ranking knight commanding this warship personally contacted his gene-father, hoping Lion El'Jonson would approve the boarding plan for the Duran flagship.
"This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Lord. All Stormbirds and boarding torpedoes are ready. Ten squads can be teleported over at once. The Divination Box shows that the bridge and deck of that warship are in chaos. We won't encounter any organized resistance."
Lion El'Jonson listened to his son's report. At the same time, his gaze constantly swept over the electronic projection before him: three shining gray dots were rapidly approaching the battlefield.
They were the [Nidhogg], the [Valkyrie], and the infamous [Hrunting]. These most powerful warships of the Sixth Legion had no thought of self-preservation. Relying on the battleships' strong defenses,
they, like cunning hunter wolves, seized the moment the Duran's attention was drawn away by the Dark Angels, and charged directly into the core area of the defense line.
This band of men, who came from the ice and snow, raced towards hell, laughing wildly as they met the wrath and steel storm of the Durans. The [Hrunting] was the most prominent among them,
yet in just a few minutes, it charged all the way from the battlefield's edge to the front of the Duran flagship. Its powerful engines roared ceaselessly, and the muzzle flash of its main cannon intertwined with the ripples on its void shield, like a rainstorm in the fog.
The [Sword of Numark] once again sent a message requesting a boarding operation. This time, the tone was tinged with a hint of urgency. Clearly, the Space Wolves' headlong charge had put pressure on the Dark Angels: perhaps Lion El'Jonson didn't care about the honor of this war, but some people did, many people did.
The Lion of Caliban hesitated for a moment: not for long.
"[Alright, remember to inform those Space Wolves. If they can cooperate, that's best. If not, tell them not to interfere with us.]"
His voice was low and hoarse, yet it was enough to set the front-line warriors and first-wave attackers into motion. Hundreds of organizations and thousands of instruments operated simultaneously.
Amidst sharp whirring sounds, one hundred and eighty of the last Dark Angels rushed towards the Stormbirds and boarding torpedoes, preparing to deliver the decisive blow of this battle.
Aboard the [Unbending Truth], Lion El'Jonson, having issued his commands, fell into a silence. His gaze fixed intently on the Sixth Legion's warships, pondering which vessel his brother might be on.
He always felt a sense of unease. His instincts, his most primal intuition, seemed to constantly shriek, foreboding that something terrible was about to happen.
Perhaps his 'civilized' brothers would disdain such almost primal instincts, but Lion El'Jonson trusted them. They had saved him from failure and pain countless times. Although he still didn't understand the principles behind these instincts, they were undeniably effective.
Since they were effective, he would use them.
This was Lion El'Jonson's philosophy.
Thinking this, the Primarch's gaze involuntarily tilted. He looked to his right, where stood a versatile Spider-Lady capable of instantly changing the tide of battle.
At this moment, she had clearly entered a state of readiness. Her beautiful head was slightly tilted, revealing a long and snowy neck, almost blindingly white against the black power armor.
Her pale lips were muttering, and accompanied by the low, fast, and indecipherable words, countless souls revolved around her fingertips and arms, even making the dark armor glow faintly.
Lion El'Jonson watched this scene. He said nothing, just waited quietly. Years of acquaintance had allowed the Primarch to thoroughly understand some of Morgana's habits and states.
Lion El'Jonson didn't even need a specific timer; simply from the sight of Morgana's originally flowing hair, now appearing sated with wine, wetly draped over her neck as if she were drunken, he knew that his kin was prepared for a large-scale spellcasting.
Compared to the long preparations during the Battle of Vollaston, his kin seemed to have become increasingly adept at large-scale spells. Many psychic powers that once required incantation after incantation were now accomplished with a mere flick of the hand.
How did she do it?
Occasionally, Lion El'Jonson would be troubled by such questions.
He thought so, and his kin seemed to hear his thoughts.
When Morgana slowly finished uttering the last psychic character, her fair chin naturally brushed her neck with the movement of her lips. Her pupils, in that moment of quietude, turned to Lion El'Jonson.
She opened her eyes, revealing those azure pupils that seemed perpetually unruffled, and with a slight curve of her lips, she slowly answered the question in Lion El'Jonson's heart.
"[The reason is simple, Lion El'Jonson, because in a certain battle after the Battle of Vollaston, which neither of us wishes to recall or discuss, I recognized my own essence.]"
"[And recognizing oneself is one of the fastest ways to become stronger in this world.]"
"[When I realized what my identity could accomplish, I was able to do them.]"
This sudden answer made the Primarch's heart slow down involuntarily. Then, the Lion of Caliban widened his eyes, his golden hair waving like the mane of a king of beasts, accompanied by a low roar.
"[Are you prying again? I warned you!]"
Morgana laughed. Her light laughter still carried little emotion, but it was enough to calm Lion El'Jonson.
The Primarch was a figure who learned from experience. He knew very well that when his kin in front of him uttered such a cold laugh, she had a way to humiliate him.
But this time, Morgana's words were truly sincere.
"[It's completely unnecessary, Lion El'Jonson.]"
"[Whenever you have doubts, your expression will show a very brief hesitation and pause, and your gaze will become unfocused, although this process will not exceed one second.]"
Morgana paused, then spoke again, her lips now conveying a softer confession.
"[When you observe me, brother, I also observe you, learning your calmness, meticulousness, and fearlessness.]"
"[And this little secret is merely an additional reward. I believe you won't be stingy.]"
Lion El'Jonson didn't reply, because the very instant Morgana's words fell, the Primarch instinctively turned away, looking at the Divination Box's electronic projection, completely shielding his face from Morgana's sight.
When he spoke again, it was after a seemingly long three seconds.
"[Prepare your psychic shield. The targets are the Sword of Numark and the Duran flagship.]"
And Morgana's reply had already reverted to a purely business-like tone, a tone Lion El'Jonson most favored.
"[The Sword of Numark is no problem, but the Duran flagship is simply too large. I cannot completely shield it in the instant of casting.]"
"[No need to worry.]"
Lion El'Jonson's attention returned to the battlefield. He carefully observed the projection of the Duran flagship. The smoke, symbolizing the boarding operation and close-quarters combat, had already spread from the deck to the more core areas. The largest beast in the Duran fleet now seemed as if it were dead, allowing the Dark Angels fleet to swagger past it.
Everything was proceeding according to plan.
Lion El'Jonson felt the thinnest satisfaction. His voice once again reached Morgana, carrying a certain arrogance.
"[Just focus on the Sword of Numark. As for the Duran flagship's shield, it's merely a precaution. I've already sent someone to give a warning to the Space Wolves, and no matter how insane the Durans are, they cannot possibly destroy their own flagship.]"
The Primarch stated an undeniable conclusion.
But facts, unfortunately, went contrary to expectations.
Because in the very instant Lion El'Jonson's words fell.
The [Hrunting] opened fire.
This most insane Space Wolf battleship charged to the front of the Duran flagship, and at a range where it was impossible to miss, almost point-blank, it fired its main lance.
Everyone was stunned by this scene. Whether it was Lion El'Jonson, Morgana, or the commander of the Sword of Numark and his battle-brothers, everyone who knew about this operation and was watching it was shocked by this almost murderous attack.
They said nothing, and could do nothing in time. Between heaven and earth, only the long-planned plasma from the [Hrunting] roared like an unbridled beast, piercing through the deep battlefield and abyss in an instant, and savagely struck the Duran flagship's bow.
And the bow was precisely where the Duran battleship's main cannons were located. Two of the most powerful forces thus collided, followed by an unprecedented, violent explosion that could be clearly seen from any corner of this star system.
The Duran flagship, even larger than an Imperial battleship, groaned miserably in the explosion. Its massive silhouette even began to tilt, like a dying beast king.
The fire of the explosion instantly engulfed the entire battlefield, illuminating the Primarch's face from tens of thousands of kilometers away. Lion El'Jonson, however, stood frozen in place, like a stone statue, completely unresponsive.
One second, two seconds, three seconds...
"[DAMN IT!!!!!!!!]"
A roar, this was a pure roar, the raw, blurred howl of a beast shedding its skin, most akin to a human scream. The Lion of Caliban's eyes began to burn. It was a fury capable of incinerating a star system, an unquenchable flame ignited by anger, betrayal, despair, and madness.
Lion El'Jonson snatched up his comm-unit. Disregarding whether the [Sword of Numark] could hear him, he began his endless roar.
"[WHAT IS GOING ON! I COMMANDED YOU! TO NOTIFY THE SPACE WOLVES IN ADVANCE! WHAT IS THIS NOW! WHAT ARE RUSS'S SONS OF BITCHES DOING!]"
The Primarch roared, raging, until his star-system-shaking fury subsided slightly, allowing the voice from the other end of the comm-unit to be truly heard.
The commander of the [Sword of Numark] was also roaring, also shouting, but this was more out of helplessness: the battlecruiser on the other end of the communication had clearly fallen into some kind of chaos and disorder.
A myriad of explosive sounds continuously poured out of the comm-unit. Everywhere were commands to "[Adjust Muzzles]" and "[Emergency Contact]".
"I contacted them! Father! I kept contacting them! From the moment that damned warship charged in, I kept contacting them! But they wouldn't answer! They wouldn't answer our communications at all! They wouldn't listen to a damn thing!"
"[THEN USE THE HIGHEST AUTHORITY! EMERGENCY CONTACT! MAKE THOSE BASTARDS STOP, NO MATTER WHAT!]"
Lion El'Jonson continued to roar, but his roaring was suppressed again, because the [Sword of Numark] opposite was already saturated with countless deafening sounds. All communication personnel were desperately trying their best. Countless emergency communications surged like a tide towards the [Hrunting].
"...Repeat! Cease fire! Our men are aboard! Space Wolves! Can you receive this? Do you respond? Repeat! Cease your attack! This is murder! Respond, please! Respond! This is the Sword of Numark! Repeat! Our men are aboard! Aboard the Duran warship! Cease your attack! Do you receive?! Respond, please! This is the Dark Angels..."
Lion El'Jonson's face was frozen, frozen amidst the noisy and chaotic calls, frozen amidst the fire of kin-slaying. He seemed to want to roar again, but it was already useless.
And at the very edge of his vision, all of the Dark Angels' communication efforts were equally useless.
The [Hrunting], enduring the Duran fleet's last remaining firepower, engaged its maximum thrust, carving a savage arc through the battlefield's wreckage. When they were less than one hundred kilometers from the Duran flagship, it turned sideways.
Lion El'Jonson sensed something.
"[MORGANNA!]"
He roared almost instinctively, his voice hoarse. And in that same instant, Morgana bit through her lower lip. From tens of thousands of kilometers away, a psychic shield, appearing out of thin air, protected the Duran warship's deck.
But it was too late.
The lance cannon's fire was like a raging storm. The second lance, at almost point-blank range, easily tore through the Duran flagship's last layer of defense. For a moment, under the [Hrunting]'s perfectly accurate, full-force firepower, the Duran flagship tumbled, burned, and large, crimson spiderweb-like cracks began to appear across its every corner.
That was the sign of self-destruction.
Beside it, the Space Wolf warships, like a satiated pack of wolves, departed contentedly.
And in the furthest distance, large drops of sweat, like a summer rainstorm, poured down Morgana's forehead. She exerted all her psychic power, extending that deadly shield from an almost impossible distance.
But it was too late.
Just as the shield was about to envelop the entire warship, as if a thousand suns had been lit, the core of the Duran flagship suddenly flashed with a dazzling red light. Then, the largest, most explosive, and most irresistible force and kinetic energy surged from its power core.
In an instant, the explosion was complete.
Tens of thousands of Durans and hundreds of boarding Dark Angels alike were ruthlessly engulfed by the flames. The Duran flagship shattered inch by inch, transforming into a burning tomb of steel.
Across countless stars, endless flames illuminated Lion El'Jonson's face.
But even so, the face of the Lion of Caliban now remained a gloom that seemed forever unbrightened.
đ¨ Note : Consider to Support this Story on Patreon.com/Flokixy to access +400 advance Chapters & 2 Chapters Daily and To Support The Daily Update