40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 805, Part 2: The Hammer of Ashes
Imo looked at the object with curiosity, and boldly reached out to touch it—the iron-gray, round object floating in mid-air turned around at the touch, staring at the Shitar man with its strange, blue-glowing eye.

"What do you need?" it suddenly asked.

"You can talk?!" Immo leaned back in shock. "What are you?"

The sphere did not answer the question. It waited for a while, then turned around and floated away, leaving the boy, who was dumbfounded for the fourth time, sitting alone in the pure white room.

A moment later, a giant dressed in a long black robe entered. His skin was extremely pale; Imo had never encountered anyone like him before.

“Sit still, child,” the giant warned him. “Be careful not to fall off the examination bed.”

"I wouldn't be hurt even if I fell from this height."

The giant glanced at him: "Yes, you'll be fine if you fall, but what if you hit this thing?"

He stomped his foot, and Immo looked down and saw a silver protrusion where his toes were pointing. A thick line extended from behind it and spread into the wall.

He didn't know what it was, so he asked, "What will happen?"

The giant smiled coldly, then lowered his voice almost imperceptibly: "You will die."

Immo clutched his shield and broken spear with wariness and fear.

“Lie down now,” the giant said. “I’ll give you a check-up—then you can eat or drink something, and get a good night’s sleep.”

"Inspection? What inspection?"

"Medical examination."

Immo hadn't heard the word before, but he could roughly guess what it meant, so he immediately did as he was told, even remembering to set aside his shield and broken spear. The examination bed was surprisingly large, more than enough to hold all his belongings.

The giant approached him, and Imo noticed something glittering on his collar—round and exquisitely crafted. He was immediately captivated, not even noticing the needle the giant had somehow acquired and was now holding in his hand.

"what--!"

"What are you looking at?" the giant asked, somewhat amused. "My medical society badge?"

"Why are you bleeding me? Are you a witch doctor?" Imo asked in a panic.

“This is called drawing blood,” the giant said as he walked to the other corner of the room.

There was a huge metal contraption there. He put the syringe from which he had drawn blood into it, and the thing began to buzz, looking just like a monster.

Seeing this, the Shthal felt a chill run down his spine—all the terrifying stories he had heard before rushed to his mind, making his breathing somewhat erratic. But the giant, whose back was to him, seemed to have eyes in the back of his head and began to explain.

“Don’t overthink it. This is a diagnostic device. I put your blood in to test the radiation levels. You told Norn you came from Dragon Ridge, right? It’s very high up there. The tribespeople living nearby experience five to eight times more radiation than the residents of the Great City.”

“I can handle it,” Imo said, his neck stiff. “We Shitar people aren’t afraid of radiation.”

“You’ve simply adapted, not become fearless.” The giant turned and shook his head at him calmly. “In fact, according to the data, all the tribespeople living in areas with high concentrations of radiation have a lifespan that is twenty to fifty years shorter than those living in the giant city—and that’s after excluding all unforeseen circumstances. Do you understand how terrifying that number is, Imo of Shitar?”

The boy didn't understand a single word he said; his attention was focused on something else.

"You know my name?" he asked in surprise.

"Norn told me."

"Are you close to him? Hey, is he—" Imo suddenly lowered his voice, his face full of excitement. "—Them?"

The pale giant slowly raised his right eyebrow.

"What?" he asked.

"It's them!"

"I don't understand you."

"Oh my god, them!" Imo sat up excitedly. "The salamanders—!"

A voice came from behind him: "I am a member of the Ashhammer, Imo."

The boy stiffened and turned around, only to find that the person who had brought him here had donned a terrifying suit of armor. If one ignored the large expanse of gold on the eagle's chest, how similar it was to the color of the Death Volcano! The same black and red, the same ferocity and terror.
However, the friendly smile on the wearer's face is impossible to ignore.

“The Salamanders are our mother group—or rather, our elder brother, so you should understand better.” Norn winked at him. “We are the younger brothers who came after them. After we grew up, we left home and started our own families, but we still often return to Nocturne.”

"I knew it!" Imo exclaimed excitedly.

He had already mentally transformed Norn's words into the words "Yes, I am a fire lizard," and was now incredibly excited.

For these tribal people, the situation was not surprising. After all, they did not live in the giant city, unlike those who equated living in the wild with being the lowest of the low, who could see fire lizards every day and even seek their advice.

A buzzing sound suddenly rang out.

"How is it going?" Norn asked.

“Not bad, the concentration isn’t particularly high, which may be related to the fact that he’s only fourteen years old—come here, Imo of Shtar.”

The pale giant beckoned to him, and for some reason, another syringe appeared in his hand, connected to a glass bottle filled with a silvery liquid.

"What are you going to do?" Immo asked very warily.

“Alvin the pharmacist is going to give you an injection of a special medicine that can purify radiation,” Norn explained, looking down at him. “However, it might hurt a little.”

A pharmacist? Oh, so he's a proper doctor!
Immo breathed a sigh of relief, jumped off the examination bed, and walked over to Alvin.

"Why didn't you say so sooner?" he asked, puzzled. "If I had known you weren't a witch doctor, I wouldn't have—ah!"

The boy angrily took a few steps back, clutching his neck and gasping for breath, the pain causing him to tremble slightly.

Alvin grinned at him.

"You're definitely a terrible doctor! You should at least have reminded me!"

“That’s true,” the pharmacist nodded, shrugging self-deprecatingly. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been driven to the Medical Association by my brothers and picked up this bad habit.”

Immo was initially furious, but upon hearing those words, a wave of guilt washed over him. He hesitated, lowering his hand; the needle prick still stung, but he still apologized. "It's nothing, child. I should be the one apologizing. Now go with him," the apothecary said.

“Yes, let’s go,” Norn replied.

They turned and left, and the world outside the pure white room was a completely different style. Imo couldn't describe them, only observing everything that appeared before him with amazement and awe—the brown corridor, the golden eagle on the dark walls, the many paintings, the huge weapons hanging on the walls.
Especially the last one; once these things appeared, the Shitar people never took their attention away from them.

Norn, who was standing to the side, took in all of this and a gentle smile rose in his heart.

This is a very talented and suitable child, he thought. He just didn't know if he would be willing.

Thinking of this, the smile faded.

He had realized that no matter how suitable the child was, now was not the right time to carry out such important things as recruitment and training.

The airship that flew over him and Imo not long ago had bothered him a lot, even though he knew that the fact that the other party was able to appear near the Death Volcano meant that they must have passed the inspection of a company of veterans in the Salamander Fortress Monastery on Prometheus.

However, the trial was fast approaching, and at that moment, the Inquisition arrived.
He cut off his thoughts and led Imo to the right flank of the Ash Hammers' base at Dead Volcano.

This is the living quarters, where many ordinary people live and eat with them. Norn entrusted Imo to an old cook he knew well. Upon hearing the purpose of their visit and seeing the child with a horrifying scar on his face, the cook immediately smiled and led the Shitar man towards the dining hall.

Norn resumed his journey and soon arrived at the left flank of the camp. Like him, the brothers who stayed behind to guard the camp had been waiting for a long time.

Without a word, after a few hand gestures, the team assembled and set off, boarding the transport plane and flying to the parent group's base.

About twenty minutes later, they landed slowly and met Preto, a veteran of the Second Company.

The latter led the way while briefly informing Norn of the current situation, his brow furrowed throughout.

A few minutes later, they stopped in front of the door to the reception room. Norn nodded to the guards and then spoke in a low voice.

"I will try to prolong the conversation, and try to drag it out until Company Commander Helidok returns."

"Understood, Company Commander." The veteran sighed. "I hope they won't make things too difficult for you."

Norn shook his head and said nothing. Without turning his head, he gestured for the remaining Ash Hammers to disperse, then pushed open the door and went inside.

Besides him, there were three other people standing in the room: two men and one woman. A tall man in a coat was standing by the window, gazing at the outside world. The other two were sitting on the sofa, talking in hushed tones. When they saw him arrive, they immediately stopped talking and stood up, and the man in the coat turned around.

“Hello,” he said, his voice calm. “You must be the Third Company Commander of Ashhammer, Lord Norn Corbene, whom that old soldier spoke of?”

"Stop with the unnecessary formalities." Norn made a gesture as usual. "Yes, I am Norn Corbene—may I ask who you are?"

The man smiled in surprise, then suddenly stepped forward and moved closer to him.

A sharp, stabbing pain flashed through Ashhammer's head, causing his right hand, which had been hanging limply without incident, to twitch involuntarily. Without time to think, he immediately regained his composure, noticing that the man was carefully observing him.
No, perhaps we shouldn't use such a calm word as "observation," but rather words like "dissect" or "anatomize."

Norn didn't say anything, but thought to himself, "This is exactly the same style I've heard about the Tribunal."

Only then did the man speak softly.

"Could we talk about my name later, Company Commander Norn? I'd like to ask you something first, if you'd allow me to."

"But it doesn't matter."

“Thank you for your understanding.” The man nodded apologetically. “I would like to ask, where is your Primarch, Lord Vulcan, currently?”

Norn frowned and thought carefully for a moment before answering.

"If I were to answer this question, I would need to know who you are and who you represent."

"Is this important?"

“Yes.” Norn nodded expressionlessly. “Let me give you a few examples: a Midnight Blade’s entourage, a Seal of the Marker, or any Primarch’s order. I can’t help you with anything else, not even if a very senior Inquisitor sends you here, like that Alexio Halstrad who’s been in the newspapers.”

The woman in black suddenly snorted coldly. Norn kept this to himself, but then he heard the man in front of him mutter to himself.

"It seems Vulcan is in a bad situation."

He didn't finish his sentence, but even half a sentence was enough to ignite Norn's anger—he couldn't tolerate a strange inquisitor mentioning his Primarch in such a tone.

However, despite this, Ashhammer only intended to issue a warning. But before he could finish speaking, a golden shadow flashed before his eyes.

With superhuman reflexes, Norn's gaze immediately followed the shadow, and at the same time, he reflexively gripped the precision plasma belt at his waist.
Then he let go, his gaze shifting back and forth between the golden figure and the judge in front of him.

A few seconds later, he asked, "The Imperial Guard?"

Holding a long spear, the extremely tall imperial guard nodded.

“I am Constantine Waldo, Third Company Commander Norn. I believe you know who I am.”

Without hesitation, the third company commander took a step back, bowed his head in salute, and slammed his right hand on his breastplate with a dull thud.

"And the judge who has been so reluctant to tell you his name is named Khalil Lohals."

"."

"The third company commander?" Waldo frowned. "What's wrong?"

Norn Corbene straightened up slightly, looking somewhat nervous.

“I told you we couldn’t just say my name directly.” The judge, whose name was called, sighed helplessly, turned around, and began to complain. “Do you understand how terrifying it is for the two of us to stand together?”

"I think it's just you who's terrifying," the Imperial Guard Marshal said expressionlessly. "To be more precise, you are the most terrifying existence in the world right now—didn't you notice that those fire dragons submerged in magma retreated underground when our airships passed by?"

“You’ve changed, Constantine Waldo,” the judge said in a low voice.

“I think so too,” said the Imperial Guard Marshal. “And this is all the fault of that fool Oranjes.”

He turned to the still-stiff Ashhammer: "Anyway, can you take us to see Vulcan? We have important matters to discuss with him."

".sure."

(End of this chapter)