Chapter 505

"Why are you always silent?"

The Son of the Forest asked the lake.

He is the Son of the Forest, the King of the Forest, a wounded man who has forgotten his name, also a hunter, someone's son, a Protector of some empire.

He woke up in this forest filled with mist, woke up on the humus soil under the dim tree shade.

In the forest, babbling streams wash the stones, polishing them to be as white and smooth as prehistoric giant eggs.

In the forest, mutated beasts lurk and hunt, and are hunted by him.

In the forest, birds often fly by; he instinctively dodges the birds' gaze.

He wanders confusedly in the forest, not knowing who he is, not knowing where he came from, and not knowing where he is going.

He searches in the forest relying on hunting instincts, until he arrived by this lakeside, only then discovering the only living person other than himself in the forest.

On the vast, seemingly infinite lake surface, there is a small boat; the boat is so crude, made of rotting wood, unpainted, seemingly about to collapse under the passage of time.

On the small boat stands an old man; his face is withered, his skin color, once brown like fresh sweet dates, has become dull, and the shape of his gums is imprinted on his sunken cheeks, making him look like a dried corpse.

This old age does not look like what it should be under the passage of time, but rather like one tortured into this appearance by endless violence, schemes, disease, and abuse.

The old man's hair might have once been pitch-black like the long night, but now it has become dry, dirty gray, and there is a ring on his head.

Although covered in dirt, the Son of the Forest can vaguely recognize that it is a crown of pure gold.

The old man holds a fishing rod with ugly hands with swollen joints, dangling the rod into the water, hunching his back, fishing for something...

The Son of the Forest knows the answer to this question.

He once tried to communicate with the Fisher King, but the Fisher King remained silent, so the Son of the Forest ventured into the lake water, thus seeing more.

Hidden beneath the seemingly calm lake water are countless blasphemous shadows; those shadows circle beneath the water surface, thirstily trying to tear the Fisher King apart, yet they fear the Fisher King, maintaining a stalemate with him.

And the Fisher King is injured; wounds run through his entire body, and blood flows from him uncontrollably, staining the water area near the small boat red.

Before the shadows devoured the Son of the Forest, he retreated from the lake water, returning to the dry shore, yet still not knowing where to go.

He wanders constantly in the forest, often returning to the lakeside to try to communicate with the Fisher King.

But the Fisher King remains silent, just hanging his head and staring at the lake surface.

+Because you didn't ask the right question. +

The King of the Forest vaguely knew the reason for the Fisher King's silence in his heart, yet did not know why he knew.

However, the Fisher King was not unchanging.

Not long ago, the wounds on the Fisher King's body inexplicably healed somewhat, and there was more vitality on his body than before; occasionally he would even reach out to scratch his butt.

A few times he even took out some kind of round pastry from somewhere and stuffed it into his mouth to eat.

But he remained silent, never answering the King of the Forest's question.

"What is the meaning of your silence?"

"What kind of question should I ask?"

The King of the Forest asked in a deep voice again.

This was his 222nd time asking.

As in the past, the Fisher King remained silent, just hanging his head and fishing, occasionally reaching out to scratch his butt.

The King of the Forest sighed, feeling it was another fruitless effort.

Suddenly, something was thrown at him from the lake surface.

The King of the Forest wanted to dodge by instinct, but for some reason did not dodge; it was a petri dish made of glass, inside which some kind of viscous bacteria seemed to be wriggling.

The glass petri dish exploded on the King of the Forest's face, the viscous bacteria sprinkled on his face, and in the blink of an eye, it drilled into his skin and flesh.

But strangely, the King of the Forest did not feel any discomfort.

Instead, he felt his originally blurred consciousness become clear, and some memories constantly surged from his mind.

The Hua Hua Hua Di Huang, the Great Crusade, Lu Se, the Horus Heresy, the Second Empire, the damn and dead Curze, the undying Salamander, the damn but undying Guilliman, the undying Sanguinius, the damn but best-not-dead Russ, the unexpected betrayal, the fragmented Caliban...

And that sharp blade, that sharp blade Lu Se stabbed into his body...

"I am..."

The King of the Forest whispered to himself:

"I am... I am Lion El'Jonson, the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang's eldest son, the Primarch of the Dark Angels."

The burning Terra, the burning Caliban, the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang on the Golden Throne, the fallen Lu Se—these sorrowful scenes surged from his memory, almost drowning him completely.

He raised his head and looked above the water surface.

Beside the Fisher King's small boat, there was another figure; it was a blue, looming raccoon cat, and the raccoon cat stretched out its round hand without fingers, pointing in one direction, as if guiding the way back to the clear world for Lion El'Jonson.

The dense forest slowly moved aside, and roads loomed in the mist.

After the blue figure guided the way for Lion, it disappeared, not knowing where it went.

But Lion's hunting instinct reminded him that the path guided by the blue figure was correct.

Blue... but not Tzeentch's trick; could it be some crooked path of Guilliman again?

Lion was not clear, but he did not think much about such things.

If Guilliman was better at handling multiple tasks at once, then Lion's specialty was finding the most critical one among many tasks.

Lion walked vigorously, his steps like flying, relying on hunting instincts to walk on that suddenly appearing road, shuttling through the mist.

Sometimes giant beasts in the forest tried to block him, but the Lion tore them apart easily.

As the mist before him became thicker, he felt increasingly clear, and the forest before him gradually became sparse.

Very close... Lion could smell the scent of reality; he was already very close to where he should go, just a little bit left.

Suddenly, a fist stretched out from the mist, smashing onto Lion's face, making Lion let out a muffled grunt.

"Traitor, you are not worthy of returning." A voice like the cold wind of winter echoed in Lion's ears, and a figure walked out of the mist.

That figure had golden hair similar to Lion's once, but it was braided, hanging on gray armor like a winter night; the armor was carved with ancient runes and patterns full of mysterious meaning.

He was not wearing a helmet, and that incomparably familiar face was exposed before Lion; it was a face with blue eyes like a wild wolf, with canine teeth exposed between his lips.

The anger from being punched dissipated in the blink of an eye, a kind of relief and ecstasy surged, but he also had some doubts; his hunting instinct made him smell the scent of hypocrisy.

"Russ?" The Lion asked tentatively.

"Shut up, traitor!!" The wild wolf responded with a roar, his hands stabbing toward Lion's neck like sharp claws.

Lion did not continue to speak; the duty of a traitor made him angry and hurt, especially since this duty came from Russ.

But his physical instincts remembered the battles of the past.

He dodged, an uppercut hitting Russ's chin, and a dull grunt came from Russ's mouth.

Then the wild wolf's mouth corners bent down, revealing a cold and hateful expression, swinging his fist to hit Lion's face.

But Lion couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Too many times, he and Russ had fought too many times, argued too many times; he understood Russ, understood that wild wolf disguised as a barbarian.

"You are a liar!!"

Lion's mouth corners revealed a smile, no longer hesitating or holding back:

"You are a fake, you are not Russ; Russ would laugh out loud when he beat me, but you didn't!"

(End of chapter)