lcionline Chapter 384: Ryan Johnson?
Chapter 384: Ryan Johnson?
**The Stone Fortress, the Courtroom**
When Russell stepped into the Dark Angels' fortress once more, a heavy, oppressive atmosphere filled the air. The once arrogant warriors now hung their heads, their gazes avoiding his. Azrael stood in the center of the hall, his armor no longer bearing its former majesty, but instead radiating a profound weariness.
“Commander Russell,” Azrael’s voice was hoarse, “we…are willing to accept the Empire’s judgment.”
Russell did not respond, but simply stared at him coldly. Golden psionic energy flowed in his pupils, as if it could pierce directly into his soul.
“Explanation.” He finally uttered only one word.
Azrael took a deep breath and waved for all unrelated personnel to leave. When only the inner circle members remained in the hall, he activated an ancient holographic projection—an image that had been sealed away for millennia.
**Caliban.**
Not the ruins of today, but the glorious homeland of yesteryear. In the image, Lion King Ryan Eljonsson stands atop the castle, his gaze piercing, with the First Legion's banners fluttering in the wind behind him.
“Ten thousand years ago, when Horus betrayed the Emperor, we Dark Angels… also had traitors,” Azrael’s voice was low. “Not just a few individuals, but half the Legion.”
The scene shifts to depict the carnage of the Caliban civil war—dark angels clashing, brothers killing each other, blood staining the entire planet. Ultimately, the Lion King personally executes the rebel leader Luther, but Caliban is also torn apart in the battle.
“We thought that was all the shame,” Azrael continued, “but after the Great Rift opened… we discovered a core fragment of Caliban in the Philos system.”
The image shifted again, revealing the massive wreckage—and inside, a scan showed a sleeping figure.
Russell's pupils contracted slightly.
"Ryan Aljonsen... is he still alive?"
Azrael closed his eyes in anguish: "No, it's worse than that. What we discovered was... another version of him."
In the projection, the sleeping figure slowly turned around—it was not the noble Lion King, but a twisted being wreathed in chaotic energy. Its face vaguely resembled Ryan's features, but its eyes burned with eerie green flames.
“A corrupted mirror,” Chief Think Tank Ezkel whispered. “When Caliban was destroyed, the corruption of the warp not only tore apart the planet, but also the Primarch itself. What we found… was the dark side of the Lion King.”
Bertrand Russell finally understood everything.
“So you slaughtered the Primarchs because they saw this secret.” His voice was icy and chilling. “You'd rather bear the stigma of traitors than let the Imperium know—that the Primarchs of the First Legion have long been corrupted by Chaos?”
Azrael's fists clenched so tightly they cracked: "Can you imagine the consequences of this truth being revealed? The collapse of the entire Empire's faith! Lord Guilliman used the Lion King's genes to create Primitive Warriors? Ha! He had no idea what he was using!"
The hall fell into deathly silence.
Russell remained silent for a long time before finally speaking slowly: "This reason... is still insufficient to absolve you of your crimes."
He strode forward, the tip of the greatsword "Judgment" drawing sharp sparks from the ground.
“But you’ve got one thing wrong.” Russell’s golden psionic energy began to rise. “Lord Guilliman knows the truth better than you think.”
…………
The holographic communication suddenly activated, and Guilliman's image appeared in the center of the hall. The dark angels knelt in shock, and even Azrael bowed his head.
“Azrael,” the Regent’s voice was eerily calm, “Do you think I would casually use the genes of a Primarch?”
He pulled up a piece of encrypted data, revealing a deep analysis of the original Forged Warriors' gene seed—which clearly contained purification runes personally applied by the Emperor.
“Father knew about Ryan’s situation long ago,” Guilliman said softly. “The Lion King genes of all the Primarch Warriors have been purified by the Golden Throne. The secret you’ve guarded for millennia… was actually foreseen long ago.”
Azrael was struck dumb, staggering back two steps: "This is impossible..."
“Now, make your choice.” Russell’s greatsword pointed at the image of the fallen lion king. “Continue slaughtering your comrades to cover up a meaningless secret? Or stand with the Empire and end this shame?”
The warband leader's mechanical eye flashed wildly, and finally... he slowly drew his power sword, turned it upside down, and planted it in the ground, performing an ancient Caliban surrender ritual.
"Dark Angel...at your service."
Russell sheathed his greatsword and turned to walk toward the exit.
"Prepare the fleet," he ordered without turning his head. "We're heading to the Philos system."
"What are you doing?" Azrael asked, looking up.
Golden psionic energy burned around Russell like a raging fire:
"Give the Lion King... a release."
…………
**Edge of the Philos system, inside the Caliban remnant**
The Dark Angels' fleet surrounded the massive fragment of the planet, all their cannons aimed at its core. Deep within the wreckage, the fallen Lion King's avatar still slumbered within a twisted black pyramid, chaotic energy pulsating across its surface like veins.
Azrael stood before the landing pod, his Terminator armor etched with prayers of atonement, his power sword "Wrath of Redemption" gleaming with a chilling blue light. Behind him stood three hundred elite Dark Angels of the Inner Circle—the First Legion's last vestige of pride, their final chance to wash away their shame.
Russell looked at the silent army and spoke again, "Azrael, it's not too late to contact the Grey Knights."
“No.” The Chapter Commander’s voice was as resolute as steel. “This is the sin of the Dark Angels, and we must end it ourselves.”
Russell said no more. He understood that this stubbornness stemmed from millennia of shame and prejudice, and any persuasion at this moment would be futile.
"Then let's set off."
……
The interior of the pyramid is so distorted it seems unreal. The walls are crawling with writhing flesh, and the floor is sometimes as hard as iron, sometimes as soft as a swamp. A cloying, rotten smell permeates the air, as if countless voices are whispering in your ear.
As they stepped into the central throne room, all sound suddenly vanished.
On the throne, the figure slowly raised his head.
It had the face of Lion King Lionheart, but its skin was as pale as a corpse, and its eyes burned with eerie green flames. Its armor was no longer the glorious deep green, but a pitch black as if corroded by acid, and the noble wing insignia on its shoulder armor was twisted into the shape of demonic wings.
“My children…” its voice seemed to come from countless voices at once, accompanied by a metallic, echoing sound, “You have finally come to see the real me.”
Azrael's power sword instantly activated: "You are not our Primarch! You are a disgrace to Caliban!"
The fallen lion laughed.
It simply raised its hand slightly—
boom!
The ten Dark Angels instantly exploded into a cloud of blood mist, their Terminator armor torn to shreds like paper.
“Now,” it slowly rose to its feet, its six-meter-tall form casting a terrifying shadow, “let us begin the purification ritual.”
The battle was one-sided from the very beginning.
Even with only a third of its original strength, the corrupted Primarch still displayed overwhelming power. Each swing of its claws stirred up a chaotic storm, sending the most elite Deathwing warriors flying like toys. Powered weapons could only leave shallow wounds on it, while its counterattacks were sure to take a life.
Russell charged forward in the melee, his greatsword "Judgment," imbued with golden psionic energy, slamming into the Fallen Lion King's back. The blow finally caused it to roar in pain, black blood gushing out—but the wound healed at a visible speed the next second.
“Ah… the Emperor’s little pet.” It turned and grasped Russell’s blade, green flames spreading along the sword. “Your soul smells quite peculiar.”
Russell suddenly unleashed his psionic energy, the golden flames clashing violently with the chaotic green fire, the resulting shockwave knocking everyone around him away. He seized the opportunity to pull back his greatsword and rolled away to create distance.
The battle was hopeless. Of the three hundred inner circle warriors, less than fifty remained. Azrael had lost his left arm, and blood was gushing from the broken joint of his power armor.
“Russell…” the chapter commander leaned closer, panting, “We… need another plan.”
The commander of the Imperial Guard, seeing the Fallen Primarch approaching once more, suddenly made an unexpected move—
He took off his helmet.
Russell's face was fully exposed in the hall ravaged by chaotic energy. To everyone's astonishment, his skin was now a pure gold, his eyes were like two miniature suns, and psionic flames burst forth from his seven orifices.
"Didn't you want to know my origins?" His voice no longer possessed any human quality, but rather sounded like a chorus of a thousand voices. "Now you see clearly."
For the first time, the Fallen Lion King showed a wary expression: "You are...?"
Russell plunged the greatsword "Judgment" upside down into the ground, his arms outstretched. The entire pyramid began to tremble, and countless golden rays shot out from the cracks.
"I am the Emperor's will, the weapon prepared for this moment."
Golden light converged into a pillar of light that pierced directly through the fallen lion king's chest. It let out a shrill howl, struggling desperately but unable to break free.
"No! That can't be! That liar has long ago—"
“I foresaw your existence long ago.” Russell stepped forward, his body becoming more transparent with each step. “For the past ten thousand years, who do you think has been preventing your awakening?”
The golden light grew ever brighter, and the fallen lion king's body began to disintegrate. In its final moments, a glimmer of clarity suddenly flashed in its eyes—the true brilliance of Ryan Aljonsen.
“Thank you…” it—or rather, it—said softly, before dissipating into countless points of light.
When Azrael struggled to his feet, he only saw Russell kneeling on the ground. The royal guard's armor had lost its luster, and his skin had returned to its normal color, but his face had aged decades.
"What... exactly are you?" the warband leader asked with difficulty.
Russell gave a weak smile: "Just a tool... Now the mission is accomplished."
Just then, a crisp cracking sound came from deep within the pyramid. Everyone looked in the direction of the sound and saw that the throne of the fallen lion king had cracked open, revealing a crystal coffin—inside which lay a tall and majestic warrior, his dark green robe embroidered with a golden lion emblem.
“Primarch…” Azrael knelt on the ground, tears streaming down his face, “This is the real you…”
Russell watched this scene unfold and slowly closed his eyes. His mission was complete; Lion King Ryan Eljonsson had finally broken free from the corruption of Chaos and was about to truly return. And the Empire… would usher in new hope under the leadership of the two Primarchs.
In the final moments before plunging into darkness, he seemed to hear a voice from a distant time and space—
"Well done, my champion!"