Chapter 365: To Awaken or Not (A Face of Hesitation)

As the grand metropolis housing the headquarters of the World Serpent, this city had once stood as one of the most prominent international hubs on Earth, garnering far more attention than most other regions.

But now, the once-thriving forest of steel and concrete was reduced to a smoldering wasteland of shattered ruins. The dazzling neon lights that had once illuminated the skyline had been extinguished, replaced by plumes of fire and crackling electric sparks.

Temperatures surged higher and higher as the thick, low-visibility atmosphere glowed faintly with fiery embers. The deafening roar of destruction echoed through the air, tearing through building after building. Neon-colored arcs of electricity spilled from severed high-voltage power lines, dancing in chaotic patterns.

The once-extensive asphalt road network lay in ruins, scarred with gaping craters and fissures. Putrid wastewater spewed from ruptured underground drainage systems, pooling into foul-smelling puddles. Subterranean metro systems had collapsed, leaving sinkholes and jagged ruptures scattered across the cityscape.

Dust and debris swirled upward in spiraling vortices, stirred by the explosive gusts that tore through the air. Broken bricks and shattered stones rolled and tumbled noisily, adding to the cacophony of destruction.

Unmistakably, beyond the clashes of titanic figures above, the Imperial forces’ relentless extermination campaign against World Serpent operatives and bio-weapons continued within the crumbling steel jungle.

Ordinary Imperial soldiers had already been ordered to evacuate from the convergence of the twin storms of fire. In the face of such divine “radiance,” it was clear that no ordinary person could hope to survive.

In one corner of the metropolis:

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The blast doors connecting to an underground laboratory groaned open, releasing clouds of steam as a swarm of dark figures rushed out.

Crash! Crash!

These figures smashed through reinforced concrete walls. Their spider-like metal lower bodies extended razor-sharp blades that pierced through nearby structures as they moved rapidly, never looking back.

The next moment, a mocking voice echoed:

“Caught the gutter rats. Let’s see—oh, it’s the World Serpent trash Lord Russ personally marked for extermination!”

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Explosions erupted, engulfing their landing points in searing flames, collapsing buildings onto their escape routes, and forcing their advance to a halt.

As storm-like barrages of explosive bolts battered the ruins, the creatures had no choice but to follow their controllers’ orders and descend heavily to the ground.

Stopping abruptly after moving at high speed, their forms became clearly visible. They were grotesque creations, a fusion of flesh and machinery, unrecognizable as wholly human.

The creatures wore half-masks that partially obscured their faces. Their upper bodies vaguely resembled those of human girls, with pale, sickly skin. Judging by their builds, they appeared to be in their youth, their once-tender figures grotesquely exposed to the elements.

At first glance, such a sight might stir pity in the hearts of sentimental gentlemen.

But their lower halves were no longer human. Instead, they had been replaced with cold, mechanical constructs. Four enormous metal claws supported their movements, their forms akin to nightmarish spiders.

Their entire beings exuded no trace of human vitality. Their skin resembled synthetic materials, a hybrid of ceramic and fiber composites rather than living tissue.

Beneath the shredded bodies of these monstrosities, revealed by explosive bolts ripping through their forms, the layers beneath their skin were not merely flesh and blood. Instead, their interiors were an unnerving fusion of pale, fleshy tissues interwoven with metallic circuitry.

Viscous, nutrient-rich fluids oozed from their wounds, trickling down over the junctions where their organic flesh merged with mechanical spider-like limbs. The liquid fell with a steady dripping sound, pooling across the ground in glistening streaks.

These grotesque creations were the World Serpent’s engineered hunting weapons, designated as Weavers of Death (Death Web). They represented the culmination of the organization’s research into the structural integration of Honkai beasts and Stigmata-enhanced human bodies—synthetic abominations.

In the Arc City, home to Heliopolis Life Sciences pharmaceutical and overseen by Jackal, a significant number of these Weavers of Death had already been deployed. As the headquarters of the World Serpent itself, it was no surprise that this metropolis hosted entire production lines for such creations.

Human experimentation, to them, was nothing more than a necessary price for victory.

In this regard, the World Serpent and Schicksal were two sides of the same coin.

Yet, the World Serpent surpassed even Schicksal in its lack of ethical constraints. It was unflinchingly willing to sacrifice an entire metropolis, such as Arc City, along with its civilian population, as mere fodder for their experiments. This disregard for basic morality starkly highlighted the World Serpent’s warped ideology.

For the World Serpent, salvation through the annihilation of Honkai meant stopping at nothing—no price was too high.

Of course, Selene and her Empire were in no position to criticize them for this.

“Flank them! Cut off their retreat!”

Through the visor of his power armor’s helmet, a Space Wolf Astartes warrior of the Sixth Legion observed the abominations with detached disdain.

“Don’t let them escape! Exterminate them!” a commanding officer barked.

At the command, the grey-and-white armored warriors charged forward like a pack of wolves descending from the mountains. Clad in trophies of bones and fangs, these Space Wolves unleashed ferocious war cries as they plunged into battle, ripping through the enemy with explosive bolts, chainswords, and power weapons.

“For Selene—!”

“Howl—howl—howl—!”

“Hey, little brats, your granddaddy Wolf is here!”

“You’re sick! How can you get excited over this?!”

“Wolf pack, tear these bastards apart!”

Foregoing internal communications through their helmets, the Space Wolves roared with unrestrained savagery, their wild expressions brimming with bloodlust. Their crude banter echoed their violent actions, both rough and unrefined.

Every Astartes Legion bore its own unique culture, cultivated under the guidance of their respective Primarchs.

The Sixth Legion, the Space Wolves, had a style that could best be described, euphemistically, as “grounded”—or more bluntly, as brimming with raw, primal energy.

“Damn it!”

Among the Weavers of Death, several World Serpent operatives cloaked in black robes shouted frantically, their voices edged with panic.

“Send them in! All of them!”

Cut off from their underground research facility, with all communication and monitoring equipment severed, they had no choice but to activate every weapon at their disposal.

Initially intending to avoid direct confrontation, the operatives had hoped to escape amidst the chaos. However, now cornered by these gray-armored giants, their only option was to fight.

At their command, the Weavers of Death snapped to attention. Their heads jerked upward sharply, and from beneath their eyepieces, a crimson glow seemed to emanate. The crackle of electricity hummed faintly in the air as they prepared to engage.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

A series of sharp detonations erupted as explosive bolts zipped through the air. The munitions, charged with volatile energy, exploded in bursts of violent force.

Thud—!

In the ensuing chaos, one Space Wolf warrior collided head-on with a Weaver of Death. The clash unleashed a deafening explosion, a resounding boom that echoed like a thunderclap across the battlefield.

The deafening sound of the explosion reverberated through the narrow corridor, the shockwave tossing several black-cloaked figures into the air like ragdolls.

“That’s the spirit!”

Locked in a brutal melee, the Space Wolf warrior wrestled with one of the Weavers of Death, its razor-sharp limbs grinding against his shoulder plates in a burst of blinding sparks. Laughing maniacally, the Astartes swung his roaring chainsaw axe into the creature’s torso, targeting the junction where organic flesh fused with cold machinery.

Seizing the moment, his free hand lashed out, brimming with purple-red Honkai energy. Without hesitation or mercy, the fist slammed into the creature’s head.

Crack.

The Weaver’s neck snapped violently, bending at an unnatural ninety-degree angle. Its face caved in, spilling a mix of brain matter, nutrient fluid, and Honkai particles from the gaping wound.

Following up with a wide, sweeping motion, the chainsaw axe howled as its teeth bit through the creature’s waist. The metallic screech of friction and the nauseating scent of molten artificial flesh assaulted the senses of everyone nearby.

Yet, while the Space Wolves seemed to revel in the carnage, growing ever more frenzied with each kill, the World Serpent operatives who had fled from the underground laboratory began to falter.

The Astartes finished the struggling abomination with a decisive stomp to its mangled head, leaving its lifeless body crumpled beneath his armored boot.

Buzz—!

Whoosh!

“Wolves, unleash your fury!”

The leading officer drew a plasma pistol from the magnetic holster at his waist, the weapon adorned with the jagged teeth of a wolf. He aimed and fired, the blue plasma bolt vaporizing the upper body of another Weaver.

Reversing his grip, the officer swung his power longsword, its blade shimmering with the faint blue arcs of an anti-Honkai disintegration field. With a single strike, the sword decapitated yet another Weaver, sending its headless body collapsing to the ground.

The Astartes Legions did not grant rank based on pedigree or noble lineage; promotions were earned solely through battlefield prowess and personal merit. This officer exemplified the perfect killing machine, his every movement honed to lethal precision.

With every step he took, another golden-haired head flew into the air. Each stride left a trail of dismembered, bloody remains scattered across the battlefield.

Before long, the swarm of Weavers of Death had visibly thinned, their numbers steadily dwindling against the relentless assault of the Space Wolves.

“Stop them! Stop them! Hold them off at all costs!”

From the crumbling ruins of a nearby building, several black-cloaked operatives scrambled desperately to escape, shouting orders to the remaining Weavers.

Clutching tablet-like personal terminals in their trembling hands, they frantically input commands, sweat dripping from their brows.

“Cowards! Shut up already!”

One Space Wolf officer sneered disdainfully as he caught the blade of a Weaver mid-swing with his gauntleted hand, glaring after the cloaked figures now several hundred meters away.

“Tactical fire team, torch those bastards for me!”

“Yes, sir!”

Cackling with unrestrained glee, two Space Wolves armed with heavy automatic grenade rifles unleashed a deafening barrage. Connected to massive ammo reserves mounted on their power armor, the weapons spat explosive rounds in a continuous stream, the links of the feed clinking rhythmically as shell casings rained to the ground.

Though their helmets obscured their faces, their crazed, manic laughter was enough to imagine the feral grins stretched across their lips.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The relentless explosions ripped apart the surrounding ruins, sending debris flying in all directions. Blood sprayed in a crimson mist as the fleeing figures were obliterated, their frail bodies reduced to nothing but fine dust.

When the cacophony ceased, there was no trace left of the black-cloaked operatives—only splashes of blood scattered like grotesque paint across the shattered rubble.

“Clean up the rest!”

Sliding his power longsword back into its sheath, the officer turned his gaze toward the collapsed building from which the World Serpent operatives had fled. Within the ruins, a set of reinforced metallic doors stood ajar, revealing a dark, yawning space beyond—a stark contrast to the chaos outside.

“Lord Russ, this is the Third Company reporting from the northern sector….”

“Leman Russ, we’ve uncovered a massive biological weapons facility beneath the city’s surface.”

“Seventeenth Company of the Punishers reporting in. We’ve located a World Serpent laboratory in the western district, at xxx Street. Reconnaissance indicates extensive human experimentation chambers….”

At that moment, Leman Russ was not in a good mood.

Watching Robert’s duel against Kevin from afar, the Wolf King felt his fingers twitching with envy.

When had it become acceptable for him, of all people, to be relegated to the role of regional commander over a multi-legion deployment—especially when other high-ranking Imperial leaders were present?

This had never happened before!

General Budo was understandable. But Robert? The famously administrative and composed Grand Commander of the Ultramarines? He had rushed into the fray, while Leman Russ—the epitome of a combatant—was stuck handling logistics, left with nothing but frustration.

Sure, he could wade into the fray to crush lesser foes for some entertainment, but not like this.

He, Leman Russ, still had his pride. For a Chapter Master to stoop so low as to compete with ordinary soldiers for measly scraps of glory? Forget it.

“And you,” he grumbled, “a supposed high-ranking operative of the World Serpent? You fold like a goblin…. What a disappointment.”

Russ tilted back an enormous glass mug, guzzling down its contents before exhaling in satisfaction. He wiped the foam from his mouth and casually gestured to the side.

A battered figure was thrown forward, collapsing onto the rubble-strewn ground.

Dressed in a black hoodie lined with green stripes, the garment was filthy and torn, with a conspicuous gash near the hem. The partial remains of a single visible character hinted at the word “Wu”.

It was none other than Grey Serpent, a senior operative of the World Serpent.

But his current state was nothing short of miserable. The white mask that once obscured his face had shattered, revealing the mechanical implants grafted beneath. His left arm was severed at the shoulder, and his remaining limbs bent grotesquely in unnatural directions.

Earlier, as Kevin clashed with Robert and General Budo faced Raiden Mei, Leman Russ had found himself momentarily idle. He wasn’t about to steal someone else’s opponent—it just wasn’t his style.

But the battlefield offered little else of interest. Synthetic beasts? Mechs? Mortal soldiers? None of these held any appeal for him. Finally, spotting a high-value target—a World Serpent cadre—he had sprung into action.

One swing of his axe later, splurt!

The fight was over before it began.

“Grey Serpent? A World Serpent cadre? Did I get that right?”

Setting down his glass, Russ fiddled with his military terminal. Displayed on the screen was a dossier detailing Grey Serpent’s identity, freshly pulled from the databases of Schicksal and Anti-Entropy.

“Did you rise through the ranks by selling your dignity? Hah… But no, that doesn’t seem right.”

Russ rubbed his chin thoughtfully, eyeing his captive.

“This isn’t how those with a taste for such things usually present themselves. What’s the deal with all this cybernetics? Your entire body looks like it’s been replaced with machine parts. Is this the kind of kink your World Serpent indulges in these days?”

From his four limbs to his artificial eyes, even large portions of his torso had been replaced with cybernetic implants. Russ could only speculate how much of Grey Serpent’s original body remained.

“What about the other World Serpent operatives? Who are they, and where are they hiding?”

Grey Serpent didn’t respond. His exposed blue, serpentine pupils glinted faintly with defiance, but his silence was absolute.

Russ sighed in exasperation. “So, you’re playing dumb? How boring.”

With a subtle nod, he signaled his honor guard.

Bzzt! Slice! Splurt!

In the blink of an eye, Grey Serpent’s remains were reduced to shredded scrap.

Staring at the aftermath, Russ shook his head. “Barely any blood left…. The level of modification on this guy…”

Meanwhile, deep within the vast underground labyrinth of the city, a hidden corner stirred to life.

Underneath a shadowy hood, a single crimson cybernetic eye illuminated the darkness.

“So, those warriors… They are Apostles of Herrscher of the End.”

Raising his head slightly, Grey Serpent’s metallic, raspy voice echoed faintly.

“The Master’s preparations remain incomplete…. Finality has descended prematurely….”

…

“Should I abandon our plans… or intervene? The Serpent exists to eliminate Honkai. But the Master…. The Master is humanity’s pathfinder, destined to lead us toward a new future….”

Another silence filled the room, the weight of his deliberation palpable.

“For the future of humanity… Should I awaken them?”

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