He always saw that beast.
In the forests of Caliban, on that rocky, gravelly land, in the quietest, most stifling sparse moonlight where not a breath of wind stirred, that beast existed, breathed, desired.
It lived in his dreams.
He could see it.
It moved through the low jungle, its sharp claws retracted into its padded feet. Its thick skin and fur moved effortlessly through the dense, barbed-wire-like netting, like a smooth eel traversing sea rocks.
Its pale belly almost scraped the ground, allowing its two muscular hind legs to continue their immense power. Its stiff tail incessantly swayed left and right, whipping the dirt beneath its feet.
It walked silently through the dense forest, like a dim shadow, exuding a heavy aura of hunger and bloodlust.
Its absurdly large head emerged with rustling sounds from deep within the dense thickets. Its thick mane enveloped its vulnerable neck, almost trailing on the ground, and along with this fur, foul-smelling, trickling drool, forming small streams, kissed the earth.
This behemoth moved through the shadows of the tall forest, driven by endless hunger and bloodlust, bringing an enduring shadow to countless lands and streams. Where it trod, a colossal shadow obscured the last of the light, leaving only a pair of glowing green eyes, radiating the majesty of a predator.
It looked over.
It was hungry.
It craved meat, bloody meat.
Driven by the most primal desires, the gaze of the King of the Deep Forest fell upon the fallen trees, upon the strange creature standing in the moonlight, a thing no taller or stronger than a lynx. He had fallen from the sky, emerging from the circular metal object that had flattened countless dense forests.
He looked at it.
Then clenched his fists.
——————
Slashed.
Continuous slashing.
Wielding newly sharpened stones, the most primal instinct in his mind guided him: create it, lift it, then use it, until he saw blood flowing everywhere, until no more foul breath came, that was the symbol of safety.
Lion El'Jonson remembered it all.
He was the aggressor.
He lunged at the beast, the Deep Forest King, so massive it could easily swallow a mortal. It was like a great lion, yet also like a roused giant bear. When it stood upright, it might have been five meters tall.
But that wasn't important.
It was meat.
Nothing more.
As he closed in, he saw astonishment fill its murky eyes, forged by pure ambition, followed by a savage fury, the primal rage of a top predator being challenged, one of the laws to survive in the deep forest.
The beast king's roar echoed through the deep forest. The sounds of twisting and fighting lingered in one valley after another. Towering trees crashed down, witnessing the relentless moonlight from its high perch in the central night, until it slid to the hanging sky.
A giant paw, capable of smashing rocks, slammed into his back, making Lion El'Jonson's body tremble, but he showed no reaction. He merely held the sharp stone high, raising it again and again, smashing it down again and again.
Thick skin ripped, blood flowed, flying fur like a foul, wild snow, revealing a pale spine.
It roared, twisted, struggled, and rays of light, desperate for survival, burst from its glowing green eyes.
But Lion El'Jonson merely struck.
Strike, strike, and strike again.
Until the sharp rock finally shattered completely on its incredibly thick fur, and could no longer be used. He held the remains of this first tool, and for a moment, he actually fell into a kind of bewilderment.
Until he heard that hiss, that weak, intermittent hiss, coming from beneath his feet.
The beast was not yet dead.
It was not over.
Driven by some primal urge within, he threw the stone, throwing it far away, and then he found his most wonderful tool.
He raised his fist.
Raised it high.
The most terrifying power slammed onto the beast's body. He struck with abandon, punch after punch.
He could feel that he had broken through the last remaining intact fur, pulling out internal organs that were almost ground meat. Its numerous bones had long since turned into a pile of fine powder, and with the last of its blood, flowed all over the ground.
But it still didn't die.
He couldn't stop.
He lunged, climbing onto its head. The dying beast also seemed to feel something. It raised its head with all its might, letting out a low growl like a wild dog.
But it was all too late.
He tore through the thick mane, and bit into the softest part of its throat. Foul-smelling fur, accompanied by sweet blood, flowed into his throat. His pupils involuntarily lit up, also glowing green.
At that moment, he felt it.
Life.
——————
But despite this, the beast still didn't die.
It wandered in his dreams.
Whenever night fell, it would walk in the deep forests of Caliban, and so would he.
——————
Hoarse roars came.
Lion El'Jonson opened his eyes, only to see endless beast tides tearing through the curtain of the deep forest. These bloody predators formed an unstoppable wave, their pupils filled with a void of crimson.
He raised his sword and struck.
Not them.
They were far inferior to that beast.
——————
[You spied into my heart.]
He wasn't questioning, but stating a fact.
The deep forest was silent, silent among countless corpses of beast tides, silent in the stench of blood.
[I once ordered Asmodeus to cleanse your memories. Such orders were given more than once, but clearly, his ability was not sufficient to complete such a task.]
[This is my responsibility. I gave him a task he couldn't complete. I overestimated his power.]
[I already understood all of this back in Vollaston, and Belisarius only served to confirm it further. A psyker capable of destroying Titans and warships cannot be so docile. Your power is a hurricane borrowed from the most violent ocean, so how can it be as weak as a morning breeze?]
He spoke, gripping his sword, slowly advancing on the muddy ground covered with rotting leaves. Sparse light pierced through the layered branches, illuminating his face, like nocturnal stars favoring a lion under the moon.
The deep forest remained silent, only the faint, ethereal laughter from the farthest valley could be heard.
Lion El'Jonson continued to advance. He cleaved through the decayed obstacles in his path, shattering the vines that had perhaps grown freely for hundreds of years with his sword. He advanced, and he destroyed, like the greatest Beast King rampaging through his own territory.
The beast's instinct guided him. He advanced in silence, but an eerie smile imperceptibly lit up his face.
He cleaved through another natural wall made of tens of meters tall giant trees. Finally, a sufficiently wide clearing appeared before his eyes.
This was a hollow, a pit of bones, the most efficient hunting net.
Layers upon layers of pale threads covered every corner of the area for hundreds of meters, enveloping countless dried corpses of insects, reptiles, and even predators. Without a doubt, this was the most successful hunting net,
a treasure trove in the deep forest that earned daily gold.
And its master sat enthroned in the very center of this trap kingdom.
It was the largest spider the Lion King had ever seen. It was pale, with black markings adorning its huge abdomen. It had twelve compound eyes like dirty blood-red gems, and an equal number of slender legs, calmly controlling every thread.
This monster, which would only appear in nightmares, slowly raised its head. Its gruesome mouth and fangs still bore the juices from sucking its prey.
It spoke, and its voice was the cold, mocking tone Lion El'Jonson knew all too well.
[Welcome, Son of the Forest.]
[Before anything begins, perhaps we can chat briefly.]
——————
[I thought you would be braver, Morgana.]
[I am not Magnus.]
[Likewise, I thought you would come alone, Lord Lion El'Jonson.]
[I did come alone.]
Two bursts of laughter simultaneously echoed in the deep forest. One was as indifferent as an iceberg, the other as hoarse as a beast.
——————
Just as the laughter subsided, Lion El'Jonson's gaze filled with malicious disgust, for he was witnessing a rather blasphemous scene.
The pale spider's head strained to open and split, emitting emotionless, toneless laughter. And as the laughter ended, the head utterly burst open.
A graceful female torso emerged from the split. It had a perfect head, and long hair covered most of its body, but if one looked closely, they would find that this half-beauty was a complete shadow. She was naked, for all her mystical parts were occupied by infinitely distorted masses of shadow, transforming into a pure darkness.
She had no facial features, no limbs, only endless darkness occupied everything, as if an exquisitely precise black human model had been cleverly placed on the spider's pale body.
Lion El'Jonson's pupils flashed with light, the flames of witch-hunting burning fiercely. For a moment, he was eager to burn something.
[You could have chosen a more rational puppet.]
[All the education I received since birth was about slaughter and devouring. Besides that, there was nothing else. This is truly a regrettable matter, Lord Lion El'Jonson.]
[If Nemire did not disappoint me, then I should be sure that you were born as a princess of a nation. As a king's daughter, your current statement seems incredibly pale.]
[Kings are not all the same, Lord Lion El'Jonson. Some kings only wish to use everything in their hands to make every piece of land within their sight burn.]
The Primarch fell silent.
The Lion narrowed his eyes. He planted his greatsword in the ground, standing about ten meters from the extremely bizarre beast. This was an excellent position for both attacking and retreating.
[So...]
[What do you want to talk about?]
[A very simple topic, Lord Lion El'Jonson. You will be interested in it.]
——————
[Do you know... the Warmaster?]
——————
Warmaster.
This word made Lion El'Jonson's brows furrow.
[If you only use some hastily cobbled-together words to maintain your incomprehensible riddles, then this conversation will end at this moment, my psychic advisor. You know my stance.]
The greatsword stood in the ground, slightly twisted, reflecting a shocking gleam.
[I do know it, but I look forward to your answer even more, Lord Lion El'Jonson.]
[Warmaster? What does that mean?]
The Lion spoke again, but this time, the syllables lingered a moment longer between his teeth.
[Literally, My Lord.]
The lady spider continued to speak. For a moment, it was hard to tell if the spider's decaying corpse was speaking, but the simple shadow lady was emitting her will, or perhaps it was just the immense power of a psyker, making the voice transcend countless dimensions and spaces, arriving with the faint birdsong from the horizon.
[Since the Imperium's ruler can allow the Sigillite to be the actual administrator of the Imperium, the master of all bureaucracy, taxation, and political matters in the galaxy, then when He chooses to return to Holy Terra for certain reasons, what reason is there not to entrust the honor and responsibility of the Great Crusade to a truly great commander?]
Lion El'Jonson remained silent.
[The Imperium's crusade burns across the galaxy. From the most sacred throne to the most distant abyss, tens of thousands of wars ignite every moment in the name of this great crusade, and the one who governs this crusade on behalf of the Emperor is undoubtedly the master of all wars, is...]
[Warmaster...]
The voice echoed for a long time, echoing in the deep forest, echoing in the valleys, echoing in Lion El'Jonson's chest. This voice pounded against his mind and will, making his heartbeat imperceptibly slow for a moment.
[Everyone would consider this a great honor, a self-evident status.]
Lion El'Jonson remained silent.
[But would there also be truly loyal ones who see that what this position requires is not so-called endless glory...]
His fingers, encased in gauntlets, curled, gripping the sword's hilt.
[But the most silent dedication, the most steadfast will, the most formidable ability...]
Lion El'Jonson took a deep breath.
——————
[And the greatest loyalty.]
——————
[Enough!]
Finally, he looked up and roared.
His sword danced, like a god's judgment, effortlessly cleaving through the blasphemous thing before him.
He roared, yet his face remained cold as an unmelting glacier.
[I do not know where you heard these illogical rumors, for as far as I know, you are a psyker specializing in the mental discipline, although your performance has never conformed to that.]
The Primarch was met with a sarcastic laugh.
[Would you investigate which school of psionics your brother Magnus's psychic powers belong to, My Lord?]
[Slick talk.]
Lion El'Jonson didn't get angry, because reality was more terrifying.
He was laughing.
He sneered, and raised his greatsword.
[I care not for your statements, your expressions, your lies and deceptions. I will learn what I want from you.]
[Once I capture you.]
Hmm, to be honest, the actual performance of this book is much worse than I expected...
Ten thousand fans, four thousand collections, seven hundred subscriptions...
Hmm, feeling down, stuck, don't want to move...
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