novelraw Chapter 247: Who are you? (Bonus)
Chapter 247: Who are you? (Bonus)
This is the bonus Chapter for reaching 800 Powerstones.
Next Goal = 1200 Powerstones.
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"The Emperor isn’t in the Palace."
Zeke had used invisibility to reach the Imperial Palace, only to find no trace of the Emperor. It was then he remembered that during the Great Crusade era, the Emperor wasn’t confined to the Golden Throne like in the 40K era.
At this time, He was likely clad in armor, standing at the very forefront of some battlefield, leading the Imperium of Man.
Should I blow up the Palace and use that to draw the Emperor back?
Zeke shook his head. There was no need to go that far just yet.
Looking at the world map, Zeke located the nearest Primarch and decided to ask them about the Emperor’s whereabouts first.
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Atop a high tower in the northern section of the Imperial Palace.
It began at dawn. The freezing wind invaded the uppermost chamber of the tower.
With a soft creak, the door was gently pushed open by the wind—or rather, it was forced open from the inside by the overwhelming stench of alcohol billowing out.
The room was filled with Space Wolves, sprawled in every direction.
The Sons of Fenris were haphazardly clustered around a long Aett-style table. Flagons, gnawed bones, and helmets messily covered every inch of the surface.
Space Wolf mead was brewed from a highly potent, anesthetic plant native to Fenris. It was one of the very few alcohols capable of intoxicating a Space Marine.
"Mead! Where’s my mead?!" a roar echoed from a corner.
Sitting at the head of the long table, the Primarch Leman Russ leaned back in his chair. His unbound hair and beard were stained with mead, and seven emptied casks sat before him.
He was currently gripping the eighth cask with one hand, tilting his head back to down the very last drop.
Leman Russ, Father of Fenris, Primarch of the Imperium’s Sixth Legion, an unparalleled God of War among millions... and the greatest glutton in the entire galaxy.
At this moment, he let out a resounding burp.
He narrowed his eyes, not showing a hint of drunkenness, and sprawled lazily in his chair.
"I can’t take it anymore. I need to step outside and get some fresh air." A heavily intoxicated Space Wolf stumbled toward the door.
A few rounds of boisterous laughter erupted from the others. "Icefang, you lightweight!"
The Space Wolf known as Icefang fired back a string of curses, affectionately greeting the eighteenth generation of his comrades’ ancestors, before staggering through the doorway and disappearing down the corridor.
Outside, the corridor twisted and turned in Icefang’s vision like a snake.
He rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t taken more than a few steps from the threshold when a smiling figure suddenly popped out of the darkness ahead.
The alcohol haze instantly cleared by thirty percent.
Icefang had just drawn a breath, a warning not even having the chance to rush out of his throat, when a massive hammer—larger than his own head—plummeted from the sky. Accompanied by a shrill whistle tearing through the air, it struck dead center on the top of his skull.
"Go to sleep for a bit."
Zeke had charged his attack and brought down the Red Matter Hammer—a tool originally meant for mining—right onto Icefang’s head.
Youth is truly wonderful; they fall asleep the moment their head hits the pillow, Zeke mused as Icefang stood at attention for a split second before collapsing to the floor.
Zeke dragged Icefang to the side. He then used the Morph mod to scan him, instantly transforming into Icefang’s exact likeness.
This Morph mod was entirely different from Zeke’s previous disguise using player heads. Not only did it flawlessly replicate the target’s appearance, but it also copied their voice, abilities, and physical constitution. There were even modpacks specifically themed around this mod that attracted countless players.
For example, looking at Icefang, Zeke immediately spotted a trait called [A Thousand Cups Without Falling].
Look at what you’ve done to your Space Wolves, Leman Russ. Zeke tossed a Potion of Invisibility onto the unconscious Icefang, then swaggered toward the door.
Zeke politely pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The Space Wolves were already notoriously unkempt, and their body odor was pungent. Coupled with the eye-watering stench of the mead...
Fearing he might expose himself, Zeke raised a hand half-way to cover his nose, then forced it back down. He exerted immense control over his facial muscles to prevent an expression of disgust from slipping out, then walked toward the drinking, bragging Sons of Fenris.
Relying on his inability to actually get drunk—since he was secretly just putting the alcohol he ’drank’ straight into his inventory—Zeke completely wasted the group of Space Wolves before him. Amidst their drunken boasting, he learned of the Emperor’s destination.
The Emperor had departed for the Rangdan Empire, a nation composed of the Rangdan xenos and numerous other alien species.
The Rangdan Empire was the most formidable opponent encountered during the Great Crusade.
The Imperium had deployed nearly half of its mortal military might, dozens of Titan Legions, three Primarchs, and nine entire Space Marine Legions... yet they still couldn’t crack this tough bone.
Therefore, the Emperor had no choice but to lead the campaign personally to deal with the threat.
And of course, it just had to be today. The exact day Zeke came looking for Him, the Emperor happened to be absent. This coincidence was truly bizarre.
Looking at the completely plastered Space Wolves before him, Zeke casually made up an excuse, walked toward the door, and prepared to leave.
Zeke’s motion to push the door was interrupted by a freezing, biting gale blasting from behind him.
It was a chilling gale that could wither all living things. Amidst its mournful howl, the Sons of Fenris around the table lost their footing, tumbling to the ground as a significant portion of their drunkenness was forcefully blown away.
"You are not Icefang. Who are you?" The voice was as cold and hard as white frost, echoing loudly and clearly off every wall.
Accompanied by the storm, Leman Russ strode toward Zeke, showing absolutely no trace of his previous inebriation.
The pelts on his power armor whipped violently in the air as his white and gray figure blurred into an afterimage, launching a sudden charge at his prey.
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