When the reassuring Sejanus and the exceptionally comical Togadon stood shoulder to shoulder on the uppermost deck of the Vengeful Spirit, they happened to see how Abaddon was slowly dragging Hektor to the arena.
Ezekiel's face was beaming with joy. When he received permission from his gene-father and another Primarch, he happily dragged away the Son of Morgan, who was dedicated to his post: his expression was like a happy wild dog dragging a dead deer.
"Look at that physique~"
The two Luna Wolves stood far away, keeping what seemed like a safe distance from their embarrassing brother, but this didn't stop Togadon from murmuring in admiration.
"He's probably almost as tall as a Primarch. I think his arm could even crush a greenskin warboss. Look at his thigh, it's almost as thick as my waist."
"Throne, how did he grow so big… And I heard he's still just a rookie?"
"Not quite a rookie. At the very least, he fought through the entire Randan War."
"Then he certainly isn't a rookie. I remember his name is Hektor?"
"Yes, Hektor, from the Second Fleet of the Second Legion, that unit that always manages to pull off tough feats and put on a show on the battlefield. You should pay a bit more attention to our allies, Tarik. I remember his reputation spread a few years ago."
Sejanus's words gently echoed through the empty corridor, lined with a dazzling array of artworks: statues carved from marble, offerings from the mortal artists attached to the Luna Wolves Legion. They sculpted and praised the magnificent heroism of Horus and his sons, in exchange for the right to continue participating in this mythical Great Crusade.
Some Luna Wolves would become deeply engrossed in these exquisite records, tossing and turning over the most fitting pose to be immortalized, scolding the artisans again and again to start over. But Sejanus never cared for such matters, even though he, like Abaddon, was a great warrior of the Luna Wolves Legion, his achievements second only to Horus.
"At that time, wasn't their most famous newcomer Di Lumudo, the guy who could single-handedly cut through a fortress? But I heard his cooperative combat ability was terrible. No matter who he partnered with, it always ended in utter disaster."
"Yes, Asimande mentioned that to me, but I must still tell you, my dear Tarik, speaking ill of someone behind their back is not a good thing, especially when that person's Gene-Mother is less than ten meters away from us."
Tarik-Togadon let out a big puff of hot air, completely ignoring Sejanus's reprimand.
"It's really interesting. Primarchs don't seem that tall, but their children always have some monsters among them, whether it's Di Lumudo or this Hektor…"
"…Who do you say is stronger between the two of them?"
"I don't care about the answer to that question, Tarik. Strength and weakness can never be decided on baseless claims. The outcome of a battle can be influenced by too many things… Hmm, but I do think he's definitely not as handsome as Di Lumudo."
Hektor's solemn and regular features surfaced in Sejanus's mind. This beloved son of Morgan was not bad-looking, but when Sejanus compared his appearance with Di Lumudo's…
He shook his head.
There was no comparison at all.
"Tsk, that's true."
On the other side, Tarik recalled past experiences and nodded solemnly.
"Di Lumudo's face, even if put among the Emperor's Children or Blood Angels, would still be deeply impressive. Not to mention that kid is so good at fighting, though I think he actually can't beat me."
Sejanus pursed his lips. He didn't respond to the boring remark but turned his head to look at Abaddon and Hektor. The two big guys were now pulling and dragging each other, almost disappearing at the end of the corridor.
It seemed Ezekiel was eager to have another showdown in the arena with a figure from the Second Legion. In the past few decades, this had been Horus's favorite activity.
He wasn't worried that Abaddon would lose. The veterans of the Second Legion were indeed formidable, but if Abaddon couldn't even defeat a talented newcomer, then his seventy-plus years of warrior life would truly have been for naught, fed to Leman Russ.
Besides, even if he really couldn't win, wasn't there still the invincible Terminator Armor?
"It looks like our little Ezekiel has finally found his beloved little bone again."
Togadon's chuckle lingered in Sejanus's ear.
"I remember he used to like these fighting games, and even started a wrestling association in the Second Legion?"
"Yes, but that association has now disbanded. After all, those lunatics who were willing to go crazy with him were all from the Fifth Fleet, and they've been lost in the Warp Storm for a long time."
"Ah, now that you mention it, I remember. Those madmen from the Second Legion, it's said they were more terrifying in battle than the Ghouls of old and the War Hounds of today. If they could use a chainaxe, they'd never use a chainsword. If they could use a chainsword, they'd never use a bolter…"
As he spoke, Togadon's gaze involuntarily turned forward.
There, his gene-father Horus was sharing the topmost observation deck of the Vengeful Spirit with Morgana, the Primarch of the Second Legion. They stood close, leaning against the specially reinforced railing, a wave of laughter drifting from them.
Warmaster Horus had clearly reached an exhilarating stage of their conversation. He smiled, raising one hand, proudly displaying an old golden ring on his finger, and enjoying his kin's calm smile, and the faint, almost imperceptible hint of envy and longing in her blue eyes.
"Our Lord Horus is showing off his Sagittarian again."
Togadon laughed.
"Every time he meets a new Primarch, he has to do this. But thinking about it, if I were him, I'd certainly do it to every brother at least once."
Sejanus also smiled, but he only gave a slight hum. At this moment, his gaze was sweeping over Morgana. Although he and Morgana had known each other for a long time and shared a genuine friendship, observing her from a respectful perspective still revealed different things.
Compared to his own gene-father, or even other Primarchs he remembered, Lady Morgana seemed inevitably too slender. Anyone's first reaction to her would be words like "fragile" and "gentle." These words might not be inherently problematic, but they were singularly unsuitable for describing a Primarch.
It seemed that the mistress of the Second Legion might, in the future, become embroiled in rumors regarding her strength. However, Sejanus maintained a valuable calm. He remembered with exceptional clarity that within this seemingly weak and gentle exterior, contrasting with his gene-father, hid a monster named the Soul Drinker.
Soul Drinker.
These three words alone represented legion-level danger and power. During the height of the Randan War, Horus had briefly discussed the Soul Drinker's strength with his Council of Four Kings.
At that time, no one knew Morgana's Primarch identity, but despite this, based on the intelligence circulated at the time and their own deductions, the Luna Wolves still reached a terrifying conclusion:
Based on the combat power displayed by the Soul Drinker, if the Luna Wolves Legion had not had Horus holding the line, and had not succeeded in a decapitation strike at the first opportunity, then their casualties would most likely have been… at an "unacceptable" level.
Thinking about it now, if Morgana were a psychic Primarch like Magnus, then this deduction was exceptionally accurate: beneath that seemingly small and gentle beauty was a terrifying natural disaster capable of annihilating legions, kingdoms, and worlds.
Anyone who underestimated her, anyone deceived by her appearance and smile, would pay an unimaginable price.
Thinking of this, Sejanus even looked at his smiling gene-father with some concern, but soon, he shook his head, dispelling his confusion.
Warmaster Horus was not one of those mediocrities.
So thought Sejanus.
Just then, he heard Togadon's sincere confusion.
"Come to think of it, it really is interesting, Sejanus."
"This Primarch of the Second Legion before us doesn't really resemble many of the warriors from the Second Legion we know. Haven't you noticed?"
A few rays of light flashed across Sejanus's pupils.
"Primarchs and their sons don't necessarily have much in common, Tarik. The close bond between Lord Horus and us is just an extra stroke of luck, which is why lucky individuals like Asimande exist."
"Besides, think of Sanguinius?"
"Before Sanguinius's return, who would have thought that the bloodthirsty, infamous Ghoul Legion would have such a gene-father?"
"That's true."
Togadon nodded.
"To be honest, when I first saw Baal, I was quite surprised. That kind of place could actually sustain life, and even have inherited civilization and wine. For our Lord Sanguinius to grow up in such a sand-swept hell and still become such a flawless being, it still amazes me now."
"Cthonia wasn't much better, have you forgotten? But our gene-father grew up there, and you and I grew up there too."
"You're right… So, does that mean harsh environments produce heroes?"
"It has nothing to do with that."
Sejanus looked once again at the two Primarchs conversing happily. By the Emperor, aside from Lord Sanguinius, his gene-father had never chatted to such an extent with a newly acquainted kin.
"I think a person's growth doesn't entirely depend on their environment; it depends more on their own will and strength."
"A hellish place can certainly produce a bad person, or a poor soul consumed by ambition."
"But a fairyland might not necessarily produce good people; perhaps even… more cunning villains?"
——————
"Cthonia sounds like a hell in your description, Horus. That makes my homeworld seem like a fairyland."
Horus and his gentle kin leaned forward, resting on the railing, casually chatting about various things.
Warmaster Horus didn't immediately steer the conversation towards matters of the Imperium or the wars of the Great Crusade. With a happy tone, he began from Morgana's heartfelt praise, enthusiastically recounting the glorious history of himself and his Legion: a large portion of it meticulously recalled his thirty years of fighting alongside the Emperor.
He went through his past and memories item by item, from being found by the Emperor on Cthonia, to how the Emperor of Mankind fought alongside him on Rillis, watching each other's backs, and then to the more famous campaigns…
Warmaster Horus used a long string of metaphors and examples to describe his homeworld, detailing the planet-wide gang wars, and not forgetting to boast about his most outstanding children: before they became Luna Wolves, they were already powerhouses renowned throughout a world.
However, Morgana noticed a very interesting detail: although Warmaster Horus spoke voluminously and endlessly about his homeworld in his memories, he never once mentioned his experiences or past on the homeworld, as if Horus's entire life only began the moment the Emperor found him.
But Morgana didn't ask about this. As Horus enthusiastically recounted his various experiences and memories, the Primarch of the Second Legion simply became a quiet and simple listener.
She rarely even spoke, instead responding to Horus's words with the constantly flickering and changing myriad colors in her pupils. The tighter her lips, the brighter the longing for legends and stories sparkled in her eyes.
All of this, of course, did not escape Horus's notice; Warmaster Horus clearly observed this in her smile.
On the very first day of officially recognizing his kin, Horus drew this important conclusion.
His sister, perhaps, appeared reserved and introverted on the outside, but within her, a blazing fire also burned a fire of passion. These flames were captured by Warmaster Horus's keen senses through her eyes, which served as windows to her soul.
This was no simple matter, as his sister still found it somewhat difficult to meet his gaze, even now. Thinking of this, Horus would let out a harmless laugh.
In his patient observation, he saw a subtle glow shimmering in Morgana's azure pupils, a light refracted from a thick layer of ice slowly melting under the touch of sunlight.
It was a craving and envy for great achievements, a longing and eagerness for legendary experiences, and a desire for acknowledgement from, and further exploration of, that unique, noble, and powerful Primarch: Horus himself.
These gazes, these emotions, Horus was more than accustomed to: whenever he reunited with a brother and recounted these legendary tales, such yearning was always present in their eyes.
Even Primarchs would be captivated by the almost boundless future and possibilities behind these stories.
And with the unique inner nature of each of Horus's kin, their reactions to these stories varied.
Warmaster Horus still remembered how the Phoenix of Fenris, upon hearing the most legendary and magnificent war victories, stood proudly before Horus, swearing with the firmest words that he, too, would achieve similar glory and splendor.
Horus also remembered how Jaghatai Khan's beard would twitch when he heard these stories. The Great Khan of the Fifth Legion seemed uninterested in victories that would be immortalized in history; his focus was more on powerful adversaries and the inherent challenges of war itself.
But what impressed Warmaster Horus the most was the Archangel of Baal: Sanguinius simply sat in his seat, idly stroking his wings. The Great Angel listened to these stories as if listening to the never-ending bitter winds of his homeworld, without a single ripple of emotion for these boundless glories and victories.
Thinking about it now, this even caused Horus a sense of frustration.
However, Morgana's reaction was entirely different from those three Primarchs: the Spider Queen's response to Horus's words was perhaps the one that pleased Warmaster Horus the most.
When Horus's gaze, accompanying his words, seemingly inadvertently swept across Morgana's face, he would clearly discover that his sister developed an interest in him personally.
It was like a young child, holding pictures of legendary heroes, sitting on their bed, looking up at an eagle soaring in the blue sky, dreaming of their own future full of possibilities.
Beyond the legendary stories and victories themselves, Morgana seemed to direct more of the light in her eyes towards Horus, and Warmaster Horus was, of course, pleased to see this.
With a smile, Warmaster Horus continued his story. His passionate and sincere words transformed every cold memory into vivid, lifelike scenes.
He spoke of how he and his warriors, and Morgana's own sons, collaborated and fought alongside each other, slaying tyrant after powerful tyrant and alien emperor, destroying one defiled fortress after another that resisted the invincible charge of the Imperium.
What's more, whenever he spoke of the most critical junctures or the most formidable enemies, he would even pause, making a gesture of thought and recollection.
And each time, Morgana's pupils would also flicker with more colors.
In her azure, lake-like pupils, more longing and anxiety would flash, while her face would tense slightly to maintain a facade of strength.
And when Horus saw these lights, he would break into an even more open-hearted smile, and then continue his story.
Warmaster Horus did not keep the conversational authority in his hands indefinitely. When his story temporarily came to an end, he would quiet down, looking at his kin with a deferential gaze, waiting for Morgana to tell her story.
At first, Morgana's narration was somewhat brief, and her words were not particularly eloquent, as if she had an instinctive resistance to such self-exposure.
But Warmaster Horus urged himself to maintain a gentle demeanor. No matter what Morgana said, he would smile, offering affirmation and support with the most sincere tone.
He was so patient, so gentle, so like a sun, radiating an endless supply of warmth and light, until the last trace of coldness in Morgana gradually melted away before his smile.
Her words became smoother, and she concealed less and less about her past.
They chatted like this, from the history of the Great Crusade to the Legion's past, and then to various trivial matters they pursued in their leisure time.
Finally, Horus saw what he desired: Morgana's smile was now fixed on her delicate face, no longer fading. She looked up, engaging Warmaster Horus in a long, confident gaze, her pupils sparkling with a hint of eager courage.
Horus smiled, his smile now genuine.
He even thought, with a touch of arrogance, that all the smiles Morgana had displayed throughout her years in the First Legion probably weren't as bright and radiant as the one before him now.
Similarly, all the innermost thoughts Morgana had revealed over these years had not been as sincere and reassuring as they were now.
As Horus thought of these things, he felt a profound pride. Accompanying his pride, the fleet sailed through the churning Warp, now not too far from their target star system.
And as that star system, which only had a designation on the star map, slowly emerged before everyone with the gradual pulling apart of the Mandeville Point, this conversation also came to an end.
Morgana looked up. She seemed to want to initiate a topic but hesitated and wavered. Finally, under Warmaster Horus's encouraging gaze, the Spider Queen slowly spoke.
"We will fight side by side, won't we?"
"Of course, my sister."
"From this moment on, we will fight side by side, you and I, and your Legion and my Legion. We will become comrades, we will create glory together, create precious memories filled with friendship. No matter how much time passes, we will look back on this time with pride."
"And I will also learn many things from you, won't I, Horus?"
"Of course, I can assure you, my sister, you will learn quickly."
"No."
Morgana shook her head.
She smiled.
It was a smile that made Warmaster Horus involuntarily believe her words. Why shouldn't he believe it? That smile was one he had carefully sculpted onto her face.
"You have already taught me the first lesson, my brother, my Horus."
"You have taught me the value of friendship."
Horus paused, slightly stunned.
"That is my honor, Morgana."
"But… is this your first friendship?"
"Among the Primarchs, yes."
Horus raised an eyebrow. He carefully chose his words internally.
"Then, in…"
"In the First Legion?"
Morgana smiled, a hint of slyness in her pupils, a touch of willfulness that only emerged when facing someone she trusted.
"You want to ask about Lion El'Jonson and me?"
In Horus's silence, Morgana quietly looked at the star system, her tone echoing with coldness, loneliness, and emotion.
"Lion El'Jonson trusts me."
"And I trust him."
"On the battlefield, we fought side by side, entrusting our lives and backs to each other."
"But that was not friendship."
She turned her head, looking at Horus formally for the first time, her pupils shimmering with an indescribable emotion.
"I know this might be difficult to understand, but the relationship between Lion El'Jonson and me is definitely not friendship."
"Do you believe my words, Horus?"
——————
She looked at him, just looked.
Horus remained silent, not answering immediately. He simply gazed quietly at his kin before him, at her delicate face and the waves in her eyes.
He thought of Lion El'Jonson, thought of his brother from Caliban.
Lion El'Jonson, friendship.
He tried in vain to merge these two words. Then, he looked at Morgana again.
He reached a conclusion.
It wasn't a difficult question, was it?
——————
She and Lion El'Jonson did not have a friendship.
Warmaster Horus could see her sincerity.
——————
Horus smiled.
"Of course, Morgana."
"My sister."
"I absolutely believe you."
——————
The Spider Queen looked at Warmaster Horus's face and eyes. She laughed, then turned her head, seemingly a little shy, burying her face in her trembling shoulders.
He believed it…
He really believed it!
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