Chapter 230: The Shadow Wolf Will Never Betray Humanity

"In your eyes, do you think I—or we—are much like this group of reanimated corpses?"

"Like some ugly, malformed worm?"

Fatty Lokken lay sprawled in the muddy swamp, roaring at Zhou Yun.

Zhou Yun lifted his eyelids slightly, gazing at it with mild surprise.

It had truly seen through the psychological distortion in its own mind.

Was it because Lokken, a thousand years ago, was the first to uncover Airebas's conspiracy and sense Horus's fall—deeds that led most to believe Lokken could perceive truth?

The resonance generated in the Warp thus acquired the trait of perceiving truth.

Should I tell it the truth?

Judging by its gaze, if I don't tell it the truth, Zhou Yun fears he'll have no choice but to kill it here.

That would mean openly breaking with the Fatty faction, possibly disrupting later developments and preventing the Dark Angels from entering Horus's body.

"Yes," Zhou Yun replied briefly. "You are an alien, an alien known as a Gene-Stealer."

Lokken's gaze wavered; as Zhou Yun spoke, the illusion before it seemed to grow thinner.

It clearly wanted to refute Zhou Yun, yet it instinctively believed what he said.

"But you—" Lokken whispered.

Before Lokken could finish, Zhou Yun tore off the clay-like flesh from his face, unfastened the helmet of the Rogue DX suit, and revealed his true human head to Lokken's eyes.

"Gavriel Lokken… is everything about me fake?" Fatty Lokken's eyes filled with pain and disbelief.

"Not false. You are the resonance of the real Gavriel Lokken within the Warp—a lingering echo projected onto this Fatty body."

Zhou Yun fell silent for a moment, then carefully rephrased his words to Fatty Lokken:

"It is now the fortieth millennium of humanity. You remain trapped in illusion, believing yourselves still in the thirtieth millennium, still the Shadow Wolves."

Lokken opened its mouth slightly, but could not speak.

Zhou Yun said no more. This Fatty, in both mind and behavior, resembled the real Gavriel Lokken. It would not break.

He simply waited quietly as Fatty Lokken accepted the truth.

"It was Airebas," Fatty Lokken said hollowly. "I remember now. It was Airebas, wasn't it?"

"Tamba's blade… Tamba's blade killed the Warmaster. Airebas corrupted him."

Fatty Lokken's voice stumbled, as if searching through shattered memories for the truth.

Zhou Yun was not surprised. As a resonance, Fatty Lokken did not lack complete memories of the Horus Heresy—only the illusion had buried them, preventing recall.

Fatty Lokken struggled to its feet from the muddy swamp and turned to walk forward.

"Where are you going?" Zhou Yun asked from behind Lokken.

". must save the Warmaster," Fatty Lokken said after a pause.

"There is no Warmaster. That is merely a Fatty."

Zhou Yun shook his head.

"Gavriel Lokken, out of respect—I call you Gavriel Lokken."

"It is over. There is no Warmaster. No Horus. That is merely a Fatty."

"It will die as history records, then the false Airebas will revive it, and the Dark Angel who caused all this will possess its body."

"I will kill that Dark Angel at the right moment. You, too, may be freed from this illusion."

". erhaps I can help you," Fatty Lokken said, turning its head slightly. "That feather is real. Saint Guilliman trusts you."

"Then I trust you too. I will help you."

"Why?" Zhou Yun raised an eyebrow.

". erhaps it is hatred. That Dark Angel you spoke of toyed with us."

". erhaps it is the desire for release. These illusions torment me."

". erhaps it is for truth. We need only truth."

Fatty Lokken fell silent for a moment, then said:

"But if what you say is true—that I am merely an echo of Gavriel Lokken—"

". hen there is only one reason left."

"I am the Shadow Wolf. The last Shadow Wolf."

"And the Shadow Wolf will never betray humanity."

"Warmaster." A slimy, wet voice echoed from the cold corridor.

It was a monster—a rotting, decaying thing, its body like a corpse drenched in disease, suffering, and death.

It shuffled forward on its stinking frame, holding a blade before Horus.

"Do not call me that," Horus replied coldly, slowly opening its claws. "You loathsome alien."

"Alien?"

The stinking alien let out a low laugh, lunging at Horus, its blade slicing through the air with a sharp wind.

But it was slower than Horus, far less evolved.

Horus sneered, its claws unyielding, meeting Tamba's blade in a clang of metal.

"Don't you remember me, Warmaster?"

Tamba shrieked:

"I am Tamba. I am your comrade, your loyal servant."

"When you chased glory, when you rode the galaxy, you left me here to rot!"

"No," Horus sneered, its claws tearing a bloody gash across Tamba's body. "You are not Tamba."

Its claws plunged deep into Tamba's chest, ripping through chitinous armor and layers of fat, spraying thick blood.

Tamba let out a low moan but did not fall; instead, it twisted its body and swung its blade toward Horus's neck.

Blade met claw, like two arrows colliding in midair.

"I am Tamba! I received enlightenment! The Plague Lord blessed me!"

"I am immortal, Warmaster!"

"No Plague Lord blessed you," Horus shook its head again. "You were never Tamba. You will never be immortal."

Their weapons clashed again; Tamba's blade, fueled by unmatched destructive desire, stabbed toward Horus's shoulder.

The blade's edge twisted in a grotesque arc toward Horus's shoulder.

Horus merely sneered, then tore off Tamba's arm holding the blade.

Tamba screamed in agony, collapsing to the ground, writhing in torment.

Horus stepped forward slowly, its claws pointing at Tamba's throat.

"I will say it again: you were never Tamba."

"Just as I was never Horus."

(End of Chapter)