Ruth walked across his deck.

No one nodded at him, or beat his chest, or gritted his teeth, and shouted out of his throat for submission and respect, nor was there an invitation to fight or fight, nothing.

The wolves were so preoccupied with their own business that they didn't notice his presence that the Fenris laughed at - they couldn't let them know that he had the skills, or they would be in trouble.

The wolves will entangle and drown him until he gives them the skill. But he doesn't know how to teach, it's Conrad Coetze's patent, a wonderful skill he's learned from his adoptive father's abilities and his own nature.

Unlike the skills that Colus Colac mastered, although they were all skills of walking in the shadows, Corax was the kind of. It's beyond learning.

Ruth has always been studious, but he also knows how to respect his teachers. Therefore, if his brother did not give a clear nod, he would not have taught this technique to anyone, not even his wolves.

With the emblem in one hand and the black book in the other, he stepped into the darkness of the Heracfen.

He had a lot on his mind at the moment, and he rarely did. The whole father—his father—asked him to be an executioner. Ruth agreed, he had no room to refuse, and he didn't want to refuse.

And if you're going to be an executioner, first of all, the first thing you have to do is always keep thinking less and doing more.

Staring into the eyes of the dead for a long time would put the living in a bad situation, and he never liked to think about why the group of people died and why they could live. The emperor told him what to do, and he did it—and it was not a blind obedience.

Riemann Ruth knew what his father could see, and when it snowed in Fenris, people would seek the advice of the old man to try to survive the winter. Ruth learned this very well, the emperor is an old man who sees farther than everyone else, so he listens to him, that's it.

But not anymore, and now, the executioner's mind is in turmoil.

First, he remembered Hauser.

Casper Ansbach Hauser, or Ahmad ibn Rusta. The third bard of the Great People's Republic of China. As far as a poet is concerned, he is absolutely qualified, very good.

Bards are drudgery, yes, you can follow the wolves, but that usually means extreme danger. The wolves do not rush out, and only when the whole father needs it, they will rush out of the blizzard and show their fangs.

Hauser survived one war after another, and then began his job of telling stories to the wolves. He did it very well, too.

For example, at the farewell ceremony of the Rune Priest Heoros Fangs, he prepared four hundred and twenty-three stories, all from the wolf's mouth.

He told it well, and in a story of grandeur or calm and unwavering, he finished his tusky life, and although the ritual was interrupted, he was still sixty years away.

And then he died.

Just after Ruth promised them that they would set foot on Prospero to find the truth that had been blurred in his memory - he was dead, and as soon as he stepped on Prospero, he died.

And Ruth stood beside him, watching the blue light emanate from the poet's body, watching his skin melt and flesh twist, watching him scream.

He still remembers his last words.

"My story—" he said.

Ling's story? Ruth smiled.

Yes, we will tell your story, Hauser, at your farewell ceremony.

The wild bear that shot you down from the sky will speak, everyone in the Third Row will speak, I will speak, and I will start your story with a calamity star streaked across the sky of Fenris.

But with what?

The smile on the wolf's face gradually calmed down, and he stopped smiling. He returned to his lair, which was decorated with animal bones, ivory, and wood, and was a great place to meet.

For countless days and nights, wolves had been here to revelry with him. Ruth narrowed his eyes and glanced at his throne. He stared straight at it, as if he saw some kind of end.

"See you in winter, Caspel Ansbach Hauser."

He whispered goodbye, and turned away, into the depths of his lair. A quiet room, a quiet and unadorned room, sealed in stone.

He sat cross-legged, his battle-hardened armor naturally exuding a majesty between his lines and lies. He bowed his head and placed the black book on the ground, and placed the emblem on top of the black book.

His breathing was very calm, but his mind was not.

Ruth stared straight at the book, and for a moment, he wasn't there. It's like a holographic projection, he looks like he's here, but he's not.

The real Riemann Ruth was in another place, where the climate was cold, and the snow-capped needle pine trees pierced straight into the sky. Next to it was a snowy field, and a herd of howling cows ran past. Not far away, a shattered glacier was blown by the wind, making a whirring sound

Fenris, he's in Fenris.

Even though it was only for a moment, he did make a trip back and took something from it that he needed.

Ruth slowly opened his right hand, and a cold wetness began to spread in his palm. It used to be a cloud of snow, but now it's just a few spreading water stains.

In addition to this, a knife that was not the size of Astarte or the original body was lying in the palm of his hand.

It looked like it was supposed to be for mortals, and it was just a knife to peel the skin. Fenris has a tradition that everyone makes leather, and it continues to this day.

Ruth looked at the knife, which had been buried deep in the snow, to be precise, under the snow along with someone's helmet, so the whole knife looked wet.

The blade was somewhat broken, looking like broken serrations, and dull blood stains wound around it. The handle of the sword, wrapped in rope, was carefully printed with lacquer with a straight, blood-dripping blade.

Printing a knife on a knife is really a superfluous move.

Ruth grinned, fangs shining through the air, and he looked like he was smiling.

The sword once belonged to King Tengir, who was the sole king of the Ruth clan until Rieman Ruth ascended to the throne.

And a long, long time ago, when Riemann Ruth had not yet received the name, but was just a wild and untamed wolf child, the knife was once held by King Tenkir to his throat.

With a deep hatred.

It was a bitter winter, and Ruth's wolves invaded a village.

At first, it was just a matter of grabbing food to survive the winter. But Ruth didn't know what it meant to be in moderation, he didn't even know how to say it, and the villagers fought back for their food, so he instinctively waved his arms and killed many people for the wolves.

It was King Tengir who led his warriors to repel the wolves and capture Ruth. At that time, he was tied to his limbs, gagged, and thrown under the throne of the king, which was covered with heavy fur.

King Tengkir put the knife against Ruth's throat and said to him, an ancient language that no one could understand. It was only on his deathbed that he told Ruth the meaning of the words.

"I will take revenge with my blade."

But he didn't end up doing that, and it was the only time Ruth had seen the knife, but he remembered it. He's a primordial after all, and now.

Rieman of the Ruth tribe sighed heavily, and he felt an impulse in his heart. As he flipped through the books, he saw a number of rituals, one of which intrigued him—to be more accurate, his intuition.

The thought continued for a while, and eventually, Ruth grabbed the emblem and held it in his left hand.

In the next second, the black book suddenly opened automatically without wind. Its hard cover slammed against the stone floor, almost deafeningly loud.

The pages began to be flipped through automatically, as if a large, invisible hand was carefully separating each ancient piece of paper in search of the truth.

Ruth's eyes were never focused, and his gaze was not on the books—until the sound of flipping through them ceased, until two dark red pages, as if soaked in blood, spread out in front of him.

There was not a word on the first one, just a bloody blade drawn with thin strokes. The second sheet is crowded with dense small characters, line after line, with no gaps between words, as if the writer has already fallen into a state of madness.

Ruth stared at the book and slowly raised his left hand.

He began to exert his strength, clenching the emblem in his hand with all his might. The mundane metal should have been instantly turned to powder by the full force of an Primordial, but it didn't. In fact, it was so sturdy that it even stabbed the Wolf King's Fenris-covered palm.

Seconds later, viscous blood dripped down Ruth's fingers, mixed with snow from Fenris. They all dripped onto the pages of the book, and the next second, a violent gust of wind suddenly blew in the windless quiet room.

Ruth smiled with satisfaction.

"I, Riemann of the Ruth Clan—" He turned his head to look at the knife in his right hand. "—no to this."

He suddenly stopped his voice, raised an eyebrow, and his smile began to widen.

"I swear to Carlil Lohals that I will use this blade to avenge my brother Magnus." He said happily. "I'm calling him here, will he accept it?"

The pages danced wildly, the temperature plummeted, and the pages began to surge more and more violently, and a burst of pitch-black light appeared from it, and the flames spread out, quickly encircling the ashram.

Ruth smacked his tongue and cautiously began to dodge them. He stood up, walked around the book, and began to wonder if he had succeeded or failed in doing so.

"Don't you value oaths quite a bit?" The Fenris muttered as they stared at the dark red flames. "Now I swear, do you accept it or not?"

A voice came from behind him.

"I accept it, He doesn't."

The Wolf King spun around sharply, and Karil Lohals was standing behind him. Wearing the face of a skeleton, an eerie cloud escaping from between his ribs, he spoke like thunder.

"You're playing a loophole, Ruth." Carlil spoke slowly. "He doesn't respond to any expectations, and He doesn't do anything superfluous. You have hatred, Magnus has hatred, and so do the demons. ”

"He will not give any of them extra strength, and if both have swords, then fight to the death. The victor continues to face other vengeance-seekers, and this is a spiral of hatred. ”

Ruth listened attentively to his words, but did not answer, but raised his hand to reveal the skinning knife and the emblem.

The fury in the skull's eyes flickered twice, and he nodded, "Interesting, it seems that this belief in him has been circulating for many years, and it only belongs to the vengeful god of the barbarian era."

He laughed, and lightning struck, and the floor of the ashram began to crack. Beneath the stone are countless exorcism runes, derived from ancient legends that have been passed down from Fenris, and may seem ridiculous, but they can really work.

"Don't you know these things yourself?" Ruth asked.

"You know, a few decades ago, I thought I was an ordinary person with a short life."

The skeleton lowered its voice and retracted its stance. He pointed to the cracked ground, and Ruth glanced at it and shook his head nonchalantly.

"Then you should probably read that book." Ruth said. "It's a record of a lot of things about you."

"Not me, Ruth." The skeleton sighed. "It's a god, not me—so, what are you calling me for? It's dangerous, even if I'm biased. God. ”

"I wonder what Magnus did."

The skeleton groaned for a moment, its eyes glowing with a terrifying glow in the darkness. The temperature began to drop, and patches of darkness spread from the soles of his feet, and many pale faces flashed among them.

They stared at Ruth without blinking, their eyes like two black holes. I don't know if it was the wind or the whispers of wailing began to echo through the quiet room, and Ruth instinctively bared his teeth, feeling the urge to roar back.

He did a great thing."

Eventually, the skeleton spoke.

"Needless to say, you can probably guess how dangerous Terra's situation is right now. The evil in the subspace is endless, forced by their masters to cross the boundary between the void and the real and reach Terra, consuming our living force. There are many civilians, soldiers, and Astartes on Terra. In the long run, they will bring us down. ”

"Wait—"

Ruth frowned suddenly, his instincts offering him a suspicion that was almost impossible to detect. The suspicion was not in Carlil's words, but beneath that horrible skull mask.

It was tightly clasped to Karil Lohals's face, but it looked illusory, as if it was not worn, but existed, as if it were his face.

As if it had been this way since time immemorial.

"-your face?"

The skeleton kept his mouth shut.

Ruth grinded his teeth with a terrifying expression before continuing to ask after a moment.

"Does Conrad know?"

"He'll find out soon." Carlil replied to Ruth's words in a murmuring tone. "But I can continue."

"With what continuation?" Ruth asked sharply.

Carlil tilted his head and raised his left hand. There was a flash of blazing golden light on the tip of the sharp and white bone claw.

Ruth's eyes widened.

"Humans are supposed to support each other in battle."

Carlil calmly withdrew his left hand, as if anticipating Ruth's surprise.

"But he won't be able to help me for long, the situation is too bad now. There are my altars all over the galaxy, and Terra is the largest of them, ah, and Magnus I remember, you called me for his whereabouts. ”

"What's wrong with him?"

"You're rushing back to Terra, aren't you?" Carlil asked.

"Yes."

"Then, when you're in subspace, you'll see him." Carlil said. "The Lord of Prospero is leading countless dead people in subspace to stop the demons for the people on Terra, I should go, Ruth."

As soon as the words fell, the wind howled, even so strong that the wolf king couldn't even open his eyes. He clenched his hands, roared in the wind, and roared a word.

"Terra: Goodbye! Carlil Lohals! Wish I could keep calling you that! ”

He didn't get an answer.

The update is complete.,There's only one pinch today.,A little rest ()

(End of chapter)