Chapter 233: Welcome to the 22nd Century

This group of self-styled gene thieves, claiming to be Shadow Moon Wolves, were entirely covered in strange feathers, their bodies swollen and their chitinous armor resembling powered armor.

"Loken!!!" A roar erupted before Loken.

Loken barely recognized the mark of Abaddon, seeing sharp claws slashing toward him.

But Loken caught the blow with his own claws.

"Treason! Why have you betrayed me!" Abaddon hissed and roared at Loken.

Loken was momentarily dazed—in ten thousand years, on Istvaan III, he had once asked Abaddon this same question.

Now it was Abaddon asking him.

"There is no treason. Everything ended long ago."

Loken answered, sorrowful:

"We are merely echoes of ten thousand years ago. I am dead—perhaps you are too."

"You're mad!" Abaddon roared, driving his claws into Loken—his speed far greater than Loken's.

But Loken saw this world more clearly than Abaddon; he anticipated the attack and deflected the claws.

Then Loken launched a swift strike from the left—decoy. Abaddon did not notice.

A wound opened across Abaddon's alien face; it let out a low growl, ready to resume its assault—when it heard the Warmaster's command in its mind.

Abaddon whirled its head—and saw the Ogryn wielding psychic energy whispering something, strange psychic light hovering around it.

The Warmaster sensed the Ogryn was performing a warp ritual—must stop it!!

Abaddon's arm swung hard, its thick chitinous plating slamming into Loken's chest—Loken gasped in pain and crashed to the ground.

Abaddon roared and charged toward the chanting Mephiston like a war vehicle.

But at that moment, Zhou Yun suddenly appeared before Abaddon.

He wore a bizarre raccoon mask, and behind him trailed a raccoon tail.

"Sink into the illusion of the Raccoon Gear!"

Abaddon's gaze met his for an instant—then saw:

The Warmaster fallen upon the Soul Reaver, himself inheriting the Warmaster's name, himself making pacts with the Four Gods, himself launching countless Black Crusades over ten thousand years, finally shattering Cadia.

Loken's claw slipped—Abaddon's head flew into the air, then fell lifeless to the ground.

Not just Abaddon—other traitors nearby also fell into another illusion, frozen in place.

Loken turned to look at Zhou Yun, wearing the raccoon mask and tail—this was all his doing.

【Item Name: Raccoon Gear】

【Origin: 22nd Century Earth—Future Department Store】

【Production Date: 281. 3】

【Function: A raccoon tail and raccoon mask. When both items are worn, they emit brainwaves that generate illusions according to the user's thoughts.】

【Value: 7, 00, 00】

Though expensive, the illusions it produced instantly controlled all traitors present.

These gene thieves, already fallen into illusion, were easily dominated by the hallucinations.

Zhou Yun sharply turned his head toward the traitor Horus.

His brainwaves wove an illusion and pierced the traitor Horus's heart.

But the traitor Horus roared, pushing through Zhou Yun's illusion and charging toward Mephiston.

He sensed that Zhou Yun and Mephiston did not intend to kill him directly,

but to trap him somehow—clearly, the key was Mephiston disguised as a psychic Ogryn.

Yet Loken shifted his body and blocked Horus's claws with his thin blade.

"Loken!!!" The traitor Horus roared.

"Warmaster, please—stop."

Loken barely held back Horus's claws, his voice low:

"Everything ended long ago."

"No, Loken." The traitor Horus swung his claws coldly, knocking Loken back, then loomed over him: "There is no stopping now. I am Horus—ten thousand years of fear, all saw me as the embodiment of destruction."

"That fear hardened into the Dark Angel—and became me."

"This is corruption and destruction—untainted by any other thing."

"No." Loken spoke in a low voice: "I never saw you as the embodiment of destruction."

"I still remember those glorious moments—you were the Emperor's finest son."

"My emotions toward you must have reflected upon you—you could never be only destruction."

Just those words slowed Horus's movements—he stared at Loken, uncertain.

That moment of hesitation was all Zhou Yun needed.

Wearing the Raccoon Gear, Zhou Yun cast a glance at Horus—his brainwaves wove an illusion and pierced Horus's mind.

He saw vast steel forests standing atop the Adeptus Mechanicus' highways, ten thousand Astartes and eight million human auxiliaries, Titans silhouetted on the horizon, no clouds in the sky, only countless warships blotting out the heavens.

It was the Victory of Ullanor—his most glorious day.

On that day, the Emperor, his father, declared him Warmaster.

Beside him stood his brothers—nine Primarchs, standing with him, equally radiant.

Dorn, Angron, Fulgrim, Lorgar, Mortarion, Sanguinius, Magnus, Khan.

None bore taint or decay—only humanity's noblest essence stood with Horus.

It was a vision only dreams could hold.

And before Horus stood:

"Father." Horus whispered.

Mephiston's psychic teleportation spell completed—strange warp light instantly engulfed the traitor Horus.

The savage beast housing the Dark Angel was teleported into Zhou Yun's fourth-dimensional pocket.

Zhou Yun did not hesitate—he chose to sell.

The traitor Horus's body dissolved within the fourth-dimensional pocket; the Dark Angel in the warp vanished with it.

The moment they disappeared, the traitors who had believed themselves Shadow Moon Wolves collapsed like puppets with severed strings, sinking into the swamp.

They were merely echoes from the warp—their source was the Dark Angel.

The Dark Angel had been sold by Zhou Yun; without its source, the echoes vanished in an instant, leaving only alien flesh behind.

"Gavriel Loken." Zhou Yun turned slightly, looking at the traitor Loken.

The traitor Loken nodded slightly: "That is enough."

As his words faded, the traitor Loken collapsed into the swamp.

Zhou Yun couldn't help but sigh and shake his head.

Though he was far from the real Gavriel Loken, in spirit and deed he deserved the name—pity—

Zhou Yun's thoughts were abruptly interrupted—a strange, searing pain shot through his mind; faintly, he saw the Dark Angel sinking into his own body.

The pain caused dizziness; in his blurred vision, the swamp beneath his feet seemed to become a mirror, reflecting the warp's scene.

Beneath Zhou Yun's feet, the blue figure in the warp grew clearer, slowly consuming the Dark Angel's presence.

"Doraemon."

"God of Machines."

"Death."

"The Eternal Serpent with Tail in Mouth."

"Zhou Yun."

"22nd Century."

Zhou Yun's eyes reflected a city—a city utterly alien to the Warhammer world, filled with sci-fi brilliance and light.

"I must restrain myself, knowing why bullets and rage are unleashed."

The restaurant owner slowly lowered the weapon in his hand—except for the bolter.

At his feet lay nearly ten corpses of traitors who had tried to storm the restaurant.

But the restaurant owner did not fire more bolter rounds—he noticed the gene thieves outside had collapsed like soulless husks, kneeling and wailing.

The illusions vanished—their pain resurfaced, tormenting them.

The newly born gene thief chieftain had also been killed. The restaurant owner thought of the figure who had given him this bolter.

"It's finally over."

He let out two dull laughs, sat down, and slowly stared at the bolter in his hand.

He knew he was ultimately an alien, unwelcome by humanity.

For him, there were only two endings:

Either killed by a true son of Sanguinius,

Or consumed by the illusion of the gene thief chieftain.

He wanted neither.

Under the torment of those illusions, his mind had nearly shattered.

Yet he held one small stubborn wish—to choose a third ending.

"Focus, humility, mercy, restraint—and above all, forgiveness."

"I must forgive—not my enemies, but myself."

It chose to forgive its own life.

The restaurant owner's trigger pulled, and the explosion's roar echoed.

It felt its soul unravel from flesh and blood, detaching from reality, slowly sinking into the undulating tidal flow of the warp.

In haze, it seemed to see a round hand tear through the warp's tide and gently grasp its body—

The restaurant owner suddenly opened his eyes and found himself standing inside a restaurant, nearly identical to the one he had owned in life, only cleaner, bathed in a gentle light.

He reached out bewilderedly, only to find his third arm gone—even his fingers had become human, utterly unmutated.

As the restaurant owner stood confused, he suddenly heard a sound at the door.

"Old Huang, let me tell you, this place's chef is amazing."

"If it weren't for how close we are, I wouldn't even bring you here."

At the moment the voices sounded, two men pushed open the door and entered the restaurant.

One man had long hair and skin tinged brown, like a face from Central Asia of ancient Terra.

The other man glanced slightly toward the restaurant owner, a faint smile on his lips:

"Long time no see, boss."

"Welcome to the twenty-second century."

(End of Chapter)