[In the eighth week, the distance between you and the Fang slowly diminished.]
[You hunted prey along your path with sharp claws and a body grown far stronger than any baseline human could achieve. Each kill came easier than the last, instinct and technique merging into deadly efficiency.]
[You felt like a natural-born Fenrisian now, no longer fighting against the brutal environment but embracing it. The constant beating of wind and snow had become a familiar companion rather than an enemy. You'd learned to read the weather, to find shelter, to move with the land rather than against it.]
[You carried half a Fenrisian elk across your shoulders, its weight barely registering, as you waded through a stream that hadn't yet frozen solid. The water was shockingly cold, but your enhanced physiology handled it without complaint.]
[When you leaned down to drink, cupping water to your mouth, you caught sight of your reflection in the relatively still surface.]
[You froze.]
[Your hair, which had been dark brown when this journey began, had transformed into mottled gray streaked with white. It fell past your shoulders in wild, unkempt locks. Your eyes were no longer human. Blue vertical pupils stared back at you from the water's surface, distinctly wolf.]
[You bared your teeth at your own reflection. The fangs were prominent, sharp, unmistakably predatory.]
[The figure looking back at you radiated a fierce, feral presence. Wild. Dangerous. Other.]
[You let out a laugh, sudden and unexpected. It sounded slightly unhinged even to your own ears, but you couldn't help it. The transformation was real. Undeniable. You were becoming something more than human.]
[A sound behind you cut your laughter short.]
[Your enhanced hearing had already detected it, but your conscious mind had been too distracted to register. Now instinct took over. You spun, body coiling into a combat stance, cyan wolf eyes locking onto the threat.]
[A Fenris wolf stood atop a jagged outcropping of rock. Its white mane shook as it lowered its head, lips pulling back to reveal yellow fangs. A growl rumbled from its throat, low and threatening. The elk carcass you carried had attracted its attention.]
[You twisted your neck slightly, loosening the muscles. Your fingertips, tipped with sharp claws, skimmed across the flowing stream's surface. Water droplets scattered in your wake.]
[The wolf and you regarded each other for a long moment. Predator to predator. A silent acknowledgment passed between you. You were no longer prey. You were competition.]
[The wolf seemed to recognize this. After several tense heartbeats, it turned and loped away into the wilderness, deciding the elk wasn't worth challenging you for.]
[In the ninth week, you walked through the wilderness with a white wolfskin draped across your shoulders like a cloak.]
[Exhaustion weighed on every step. Days of constant travel, hunting, and minimal sleep had pushed even your enhanced body to its limits.]
[But your cyan wolf eyes still shone with inner fire, bright as stars in a sky that Fenris itself rarely revealed through its perpetual clouds.]
[The towering mountain grew larger with each passing hour. The Fang dominated the horizon now, impossible to miss, drawing you forward like a lodestone.]
[You encountered them unexpectedly. A group of mortals, young Fenrisian boys in the earliest stages of training. They looked exhausted, hollow-eyed, pushed beyond what normal humans could endure. Several stumbled as they marched.]
[An Astartes supervised their training, his power armor marking him clearly as their instructor. He noticed your approach first, his enhanced senses detecting you long before the mortal aspirants could.]
[He struck his chest plate with one gauntleted fist, the impact ringing like a bell. Then he threw back his head and howled, a long ululating call that echoed across the wasteland.]
[The sound stirred something in your blood. Without thinking, you raised one arm high, fist clenched, offering a gesture of solidarity to the exhausted Fenrisian boys. Their faces lifted, seeing one who had walked the path before them, who had survived and continued.]
[You waved to the howling Astartes instructor, acknowledging a brother, even though you weren't technically one of them yet.]
[The gesture seemed to energize the training group. They straightened slightly, found reserves of strength they'd thought depleted, and pressed onward.]
[You entered the tribe settlement at the mountain's base still wearing your white wolfskin trophy.]
[Wolf Priest Ulric waited for you there, his wolf skull helm removed, his weathered face exposed to the elements.]
[When he saw you approaching, recognition blazed in his eyes. He laughed, a deep booming sound of pure joy. His snow-white beard shook with the force of his mirth.]
[Several Iron Priests emerged from nearby structures, their movements purposeful and efficient. They approached with the care of artisans handling precious materials.]
[Gentle but firm hands removed the white wolfskin from your shoulders. They untied your tattered gray robe and let it fall away, leaving you standing in the cold air without concern. Your transformed body barely registered the temperature.]
[Metal probes emerged from the Iron Priests' servo-arms. One by one, they penetrated your skin, sliding between muscle groups and along bone structures. They were conducting deep scans, measuring, analyzing, recording data about your transformation.]
[You were too exhausted to resist or question. You closed your eyes and surrendered to their ministrations, trusting the process.]
[Wolf Priest Ulric stepped closer while the Iron Priests worked. His nose twitched, nostrils flaring as he drew in deep breaths near you.]
[Suddenly his entire demeanor changed. Excitement radiated from him in palpable waves. He pushed aside one of the Iron Priests with barely restrained enthusiasm, his massive armored hand coming to rest on your shoulder. The gauntlet trembled slightly.]
[You opened your tired eyes slowly. Your blue wolf pupils fixed on Ulric's face, reading the desperate hope written there.]
["The Wolf King came back," you said, your voice low and rough from disuse. "He is still alive. Still fighting for the Emperor."]
[The effect was instantaneous and dramatic.]
[Wolf Priest Ulric's excitement exploded into something beyond mere joy. The Iron Priests, typically taciturn and focused solely on their work, suddenly abandoned their scans. Mechanical hands reached out to grasp you, holding you steady but firm.]
[Ulric's laughter erupted, long and triumphant and filled with such happiness that it seemed to shake the very air.]
[Before you could process what was happening, multiple sets of hands lifted you bodily from the ground. Space Marines, warriors who'd lived for centuries, carried you like a hero returning from impossible victory.]
[They ran toward the Fang, your body held high above their heads. Chanting and singing rose from their throats, ancient words in Fenrisian mixed with High Gothic. The sounds echoed across the landscape, announcing to all who could hear that something momentous had occurred.]
[The news you'd brought, confirmation that their Primarch lived and fought still, was worth more than any battlefield victory. It was hope made manifest, carried by a newly-transformed aspirant who'd walked and talked with their gene-father.]
[In the tenth week, after only a brief period of rest, you found yourself on a cold operating table once more.]
[You experienced medical rituals that seemed more like religious ceremonies than surgery. Incense burned. Chants rose and fell in rhythmic patterns. The Iron Priests worked with the precision of their namesake, treating your body as both flesh and sacred machine.]
[Strange instruments scanned you repeatedly. Each pass collected data, measuring the success of your transformation, ensuring the Canis Helix was taking hold properly.]
[Even your food and drink were altered. The meat tasted strange, infused with chemical compounds you couldn't identify. The ale had a bitter aftertaste that suggested alchemical additives. Everything was designed to support and accelerate your transformation.]
[Wolf Priest Ulric visited several times during this period. His smile never faded, a constant presence of warmth and approval. Though he said little about what was happening in the broader Chapter, you sensed through his demeanor that your news about Leman Russ had created significant positive changes throughout the Fang.]
[Your drifting thoughts slowly gathered focus as preparations for the next procedure began.]
[An Iron Priest placed a sensor helmet over your head, its interior lined with monitoring equipment. Patches adhered to your skin across your torso and limbs, each one tracking different internal organs and biological systems.]
[Low chanting filled the chamber, multiple voices creating harmonic resonance.]
[An Iron Priest approached, smoke from sacred incense clinging to his robes and armor. He carried a transparent container with reverent care. Within the glass, suspended in nutrient solution, was a mass of flesh that moved with a rhythm like breathing.]
[You couldn't look away from it.]
[The gene-seed was covered in raised structures that might have been warts or specialized organs. Complex networks of nerves and blood vessels ran across its surface in intricate patterns. This was the genetic legacy of Leman Russ himself, the source of the Space Wolves' power and curse, the key to transformation from man to Astartes.]
[Cold liquid flooded into your arm through an injection port. The sensation spread rapidly through your circulatory system.]
[Your eyelids grew heavy despite your attempts to keep them open. Fighting the sedation was futile.]
[Your consciousness began to separate from your physical form. It felt like floating, rising up and away until you hovered above the operating table, looking down at your own body lying still and vulnerable.]
[You watched the Iron Priest lift a metal saw. Watched him cut through your sternum with practiced efficiency. Watched your ribcage being spread apart to expose the organs within.]
[The lead Iron Priest made complex gestures over your open chest, prayers or technical specifications or perhaps both. Then he reached into the container with specialized instruments and carefully extracted the gene-seed.]
[The mass of flesh writhed in his grip, alive and aware in some fundamental way.]
[He placed it carefully into your chest cavity. Into you. Becoming part of you.]
[You sensed rather than saw what happened next. The gene-seed began growing immediately, sending out tendrils that connected to nerves, wrapped around blood vessels, integrated with muscles. It was taking root, establishing itself as a permanent part of your biology.]
[Your consciousness began descending back into your body, drawn by the gene-seed's integration.]
[Awareness faded. Thought became difficult. Darkness rose like a tide and pulled you under completely.]
[In the eleventh week, you underwent more than a dozen additional surgeries in rapid succession.]
[You woke from induced sleep and immediately pressed a hand to your chest. Beneath your fingers, you felt the scar tissue still healing, raised and tender. But beneath that, you felt something else. Movement. A second heartbeat, offset from your primary heart by a fraction of a second. The rhythm was strange but comforting.]
[Other sensations flooded your awareness. Glands in your chest and throat that hadn't existed before. Organs you had no names for, newly implanted and functioning.]
[You slowly raised one arm, holding it before your face. The limb was massive, corded with muscle that hadn't been there weeks ago. You could see where they'd made modifications beneath the skin, could trace the outlines of enhanced muscle fiber and reinforced bone structure.]
[Ports dotted your body's surface. Black carapace, the distinctive interface between Astartes and power armor, was growing and spreading beneath your skin. You could see it pushing against the surface in places, ready to emerge fully.]
[You rose from your bed slowly, testing your balance. Everything felt different. Your center of gravity had shifted. Your limbs moved with strange new leverage.]
[A mirror hung on the chamber wall. You approached it and stared at your reflection.]
[The figure looking back stood 2.4 meters tall. Massive. Powerful. Proportioned in ways that were distinctly inhuman despite the overall similarity to human form.]
[Almost without thinking, you flexed your arms and struck a bodybuilder's pose, admiring the transformation.]
[The door opened behind you.]
["By Russ and the Emperor's blessing," Wolf Priest Ulric's voice carried clear amusement as he chuckled at your display. "Caught you."]
[You dropped your arms immediately, embarrassment coloring your enhanced features.]
[Ulric stepped forward, his expression shifting from amusement to satisfaction as he studied your transformed physique with an appraising eye.]
["Little boy," he said, the affectionate nickname sounding strange applied to someone now standing over two meters tall, "due to your special physiology and the strength of your soul, you recovered from each surgery in record time. One night's rest where others would need weeks."]
[He met your cyan wolf eyes with his own weathered gaze.]
["The Wolf Lords and the Rune Priests held council. They unanimously decided to accelerate your transformation surgeries, completing in weeks what normally takes years."]
[His voice carried weight, formality mixing with pride.]
["Now, you are an Astartes of the Space Wolves. One of the Emperor's Angels of Death. A Son of Russ."]
[He paused, letting the significance of those words settle over you.]
["However, before you truly become a Blood Claw and join your brothers in battle, there is one small ceremony remaining. An armoring ritual that every Space Wolf must undergo."]
[Wolf Priest Ulric gestured toward the door with one hand.]
["Come with me, little boy. Old man Bjorn wants to meet you."]
[The words sent a thrill through your enhanced nervous system. Bjorn the Fell-Handed. The oldest living Space Marine in the Imperium. The last warrior who'd fought beside Leman Russ during the Great Crusade. A legend who'd witnessed ten thousand years of history.]
[And he wanted to meet you.]
[You followed Wolf Priest Ulric from the chamber, your massive frame moving with surprising grace as you began the journey deeper into the Fang's ancient heart.]