“Hand over that tin can!
You dare hide something the Iron Skull Gang has set its sights on?” A two-meter-tall semi-mechanical brute approached with a sneer.
Rusty gears embedded in his flesh creaked as his power saw spewed pungent black smoke.
Over a dozen thugs carrying autoguns were closing in step by step.
Karen gripped an oil-stained wrench tightly, his back already pressed against the cold metal hatch.
Having transmigrated to this cutthroat Warhammer 40K world for three months, he was really about to freaking die!
“System!
Is the salvage not finished yet?” Karen roared frantically in his mind.
“Just roll for anyone who can fight!
Even Leman Russ would do!” “Die, brat!” The brute bellowed, and his power saw whipped up a foul wind, hacking straight toward the center of Karen’s brow.
Only three centimeters away!
At the moment of life and death, a blinding golden light suddenly tore through the gap in the hatch behind Karen!
[Ding!
Salvage successful!] [Due to a slip of the hand, the search deviated severely; intercepted the soul node of the Devon Star altar!] [Deployment target: Warmaster Horus Lupercal (Dying/Uncorrupted state)!] Boom—!
The multi-ton metal hatch was blown away from the inside like a heavy cannon shell!
The brute leading the charge didn’t even make a sound before he was instantly crushed into a splatter of meat by the flying iron door!
The power saw shattered, and fragments flew everywhere along with a mist of blood.
The violent shockwave knocked Karen over.
He looked up in a daze, staring intently at the golden light.
Within the damaged chamber, a man as majestic as a god was slowly rising.
He wore cracked master-crafted Terminator power armor.
The moon-white plate was covered in fissures, and a massive bloody hole pierced his chest, carved by an evil blade.
He was bald, but there was no nauseating chaotic aura.
Even with a deathly pale face and breathing like a heavy bellows, just by standing there, he became the center of the entire universe.
“Is this…
Devon Star?” The man’s voice was hoarse and deep as he looked down at Karen.
“Mortal, did you save me?
Where is my Legion?” Karen was completely petrified.
He stared fixedly at the massive “Eye of Horus” on the man’s pauldron, his scalp tingling as if struck by electricity.
This is definitely not Leman Russ!
This was the number one traitor who tore through half the Imperium, sent the Emperor to the Golden Throne, and ushered in ten thousand years of darkness—Warmaster Horus!
Even if the system labeled this an “uncorrupted” low-health version not yet tainted by the Chaos Gods…
it’s still Horus!
This changes everything!
“System, screw you!
If you want me dead, just say so!” Karen coughed up blood mentally.
“I wanted a bodyguard, and you rolled the leader of the rebels?!” [Ding!
Host has successfully witnessed the “Return of the Warmaster,” changing the established tragedy of the original work!] [Reward initial points: 100,000!] [Store unlocked: Soul and Body Dual Repair Fluid.] The notification sound of the hundred-thousand-point windfall had just faded.
“You look very…” Horus’s brow furrowed slightly.
Just as he tried to take a step, he suddenly spat out a large mouthful of blood.
Seeing the “Wolf Shepherd God’s” massive body sway, Karen jumped up in shock and instinctively lunged forward to hold him up.
“Holy crap, big brother, don’t move!
Sit down and rest for a bit!” Only now did the dozen or so thugs from the Iron Skull Gang snap out of the shock of seeing their companion smeared across the wall.
Simply facing that tower-like physique made their souls tremble violently.
“A…
A mutant!
Kill him!” one thug screamed in a breakdown, pulling the trigger like a madman.
“Bang, bang, bang—!” A dense rain of autogun bullets slammed into Horus’s power armor.
Sparks flew.
Forget about breaking through his defenses; it didn’t even qualify as a scratch.
Horus’s gaze instantly turned bone-chillingly cold.
Without any hesitation, he stepped forward, using his massive Terminator armor to completely shield Karen behind him.
This Warmaster, so heavily wounded he could barely stand, had a fierce, almost searing rage surging in his eyes.
“Mortals…
dare to fire upon a Primarch?” His voice wasn’t loud, but every word was like a hammer striking the floor.
“Have the laws of the Imperium decayed to such an extent?” A wounded tiger still commands awe.
Even covered in blood, even as his soul and body were being gnawed by the residual poison of the Anathame— A demigod is still a demigod.
Horus held his breath and took a step forward.
Fast.
So fast that mortal eyes couldn’t track him.
He didn’t even draw a weapon, merely raising his right hand encased in a power fist and…
casually sweeping it toward the crowd.
“Boom—!” No screams.
No resistance.
There wasn’t even a process of “falling down.” In the narrow corridor, a fan-shaped spray of crimson blood erupted out of thin air.
The gunfire stopped abruptly.
Once the warm mist of blood slowly dissipated, Karen stood dazed amidst the fragments scattered across the floor.
It was warm and sticky beneath his feet; he didn’t dare look down.
Well…
this time, he’d won big.
He’d won a bit too thoroughly.
Having dealt with the threat, Horus leaned one hand against the wall, his shoulders heaving as he gasped for breath.
The burst of that punch had essentially drained what little strength he had left.
“Um…
Horus?
Can you still hold on?” Karen approached cautiously, unable to hide the worry on his face.
The Wolf Shepherd God saw the concern in this mortal’s eyes.
It was genuine concern.
Not out of fear, not out of awe, but simply one person worrying for another.
He twitched the corner of his mouth and waved a hand.
“It’s nothing…
just a bit tired.” “You should sit down quickly,” Karen said seriously.
“If you fall over, I won’t have the strength to pull you up.
With that armor and your physique, you must weigh at least three tons.” Horus was silent for a second.
This mortal had a point.
And so, the Warmaster of the Imperium, one of the greatest commanders in human history, obediently sat down against the wall.
He leaned against the cold metal wall, the bloody hole in his chest was still slowly seeping.
Every breath sounded like he was pulling a rusted bellows.
Karen knelt before him, a myriad of questions in his mind.
But right now, the most critical thing wasn’t chatting.
It was the wound on Horus.
Around the wound from the Anathame, dark purple veins were still spreading bit by bit; with every inch they expanded, Horus’s brow furrowed deeper.
That thing wasn’t just wounding his body—it was gnawing at his soul.
“Wait—” A sudden flash of inspiration hit Karen.
“Did the system just give me a repair fluid?
The kind for both soul and body?” He hurriedly fumbled through his pockets and pulled out the tube of repair fluid.
Karen walked quickly to Horus and knelt down.
At this moment, the Wolf Shepherd God’s lips were bloodlessly white, his eyes beginning to lose focus, looking like a flame that could go out at any moment.
“Do you trust me, Horus?” Karen held the repair fluid up before him, his voice soft but earnest.
The Wolf Shepherd God’s gaze fell upon the tube of liquid.
Something unknown.
Of unknown origin.
But— He looked down at the still-seeping wound on his chest and the continuously spreading dark purple poison veins.
“Just inject it.” No other choice, is there?
Karen wasted no more words, found a small patch of skin exposed between the armor plates at Horus’s neck, and plunged the needle in.
The moment the repair fluid was injected, Horus’s body tensed slightly.
And then— Those pupils, which were about to lose focus, began to refocus bit by bit.
The speed at which the dark purple poison veins were spreading slowed down significantly.
At the edge of the bloody hole in his chest, new flesh could be seen slowly writhing and growing.
Once the entire tube of liquid was administered, Horus’s breathing finally stabilized.
His face was still pale, but at least it wasn’t the kind of pale that suggested he was about to stop breathing the next second.
“My thanks, mortal.” Horus looked up, his gaze clear once more.
“How should I address you?” “Karen.
A scavenger from the Underhive of Planet Reis.” “I am Horus Lupercal.” Even wounded like this, the Warmaster didn’t miss a single beat of basic etiquette.
Karen thought to himself, Man, the Imperium’s number one rebel is quite polite.
“I know you,” he nodded.
“Warmaster of the Imperium, First Found of the Emperor, Master of the Luna Wolves Legion.” The Wolf Shepherd God wasn’t surprised by this and nodded slightly.
After all, his name should be a household word within the Imperium.
But his gaze shifted, falling upon the corpses of the gang members he had smashed to pieces in the corridor.
His brow furrowed slightly.
“Why did they attack me?” He paused, then added: “And you.” “They don’t know you,” Karen shrugged.
“Seeing such a tall guy wrapped in an iron shell, they took you for a mutant.” “…A mutant?” Horus was stunned for a moment.
Then he laughed.
It wasn’t loud, but it was a genuine laugh coming from his chest.
How could anyone mistake a Primarch for a mutant?
What a colossal joke.
But Karen’s next words— Word by word, they pierced his ears like ice picks.
“Horus, you need to be mentally prepared.” Karen stared into his eyes without flinching.
“It is now the 40th millennium of the Imperium of Man.
Ten thousand years have passed since the era you knew.” “Ten thousand years…
for mortals, that’s enough time for many things to be forgotten.” “Furthermore—” He paused, his wording becoming more cautious.
“Furthermore, you are the arch-traitor who launched a rebellion after the Great Crusade.
The Imperium has spent ten thousand years completely erasing your existence…
from the memories of the vast majority of its citizens.” The corridor was as silent as a grave.
Horus sat there, the light in his eyes slowly freezing.
Like an entire glacier collapsing silently.