40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 809, Section 6: Before the Anvil
Beneath the towering, precipitous, and fiery peaks of the Dead Volcano lies a vast, intricate cave system, a labyrinthine maze, with the Salamanders and Ash Hammer each establishing their bases atop one of these cave entrances.

For years, exploration of these caves and tunnels has continued, but with limited success. Often, after exploring one area, another new and complex place is discovered, and the threat of wild animals that inhabit the extinct volcano must also be dealt with.

In this situation, even the sons of the dragon dared not say that they had completely grasped the situation here—fortunately, what Norn was about to do was actually not complicated.

Carrying a heavy warhammer, he stepped off the shuttle, the familiar smell of sulfur hitting him relentlessly, accompanied by the constant roar of lava.
He returned to the lava pool he had visited during the day, but this time he was alone.

He turned and walked to the back of the platform, where he found a stone on the dark rock wall and pressed it down heavily. With a buzzing sound, a beam of blue light shot out from the gap between the stones, hitting his face and performing biometric identification.

A heavy thud echoed from behind the rock wall, and the mechanism that had been there for at least thousands of years began to operate again, slowly lifting the heavy boulder to reveal a deep passageway behind it.

Norn stepped inside, his crimson eyes gleaming as if they were truly burning.

However, to his surprise, he encountered Vulcan after walking only a few hundred meters.

"My lord."

The Lord of Fire Dragons nodded slightly and said directly, "I suppose you have a pretty good understanding of the situation?"

Norn was taken aback by those words. His Primarch saw through his thoughts at a glance, a fleeting smile playing on his lips.

"That's just the kind of person he is. If he had a choice, he would never hide or lie. But sometimes it's hard to tell whether it's good or bad. After all, complete honesty always brings a huge shock—judging from your expression, you must have been traumatized, right?"

Norn's lips twitched, unsure whether he should laugh at the humor in those words.

To be honest, he wanted to laugh, but he couldn't laugh whenever he thought about those things.

Vulcan noticed this as well. He sighed, turned, and gestured for Norn to follow. However, after walking several hundred meters downhill, the surrounding temperature suddenly rose without warning—even compared to the extinct volcano, such high temperatures were unusual.

Norn had been here many times before, and he did not recall anything like this ever happening.

This unusual behavior caused the company commander to tense up and switch to holding the warhammer with both hands.

“I have already dealt with them,” his Primarch said at this moment.

"grown ups?"

“The extinct volcanoes are devouring them, which is also the main reason for the rising temperature,” Vulcan said. “The flames here are unusual; I think you should know why.”

Norn remained silent.

He knew, of course, that in the myths and legends of Nocturne, a group of great creatures slept deep within the Death Volcano—the First Dragon, the World Serpent, and at least hundreds of similar titles could be placed upon them, all originating from different tribes.

With just a little thought, one can understand what this really means.

But no one on Nocturne has ever seen them, not even the sons of the fire dragon. They merely 'know' of their existence, as if by some strange intuition, they can faintly hear their long breaths whenever they approach a forge, flames, or lava.

But Vulcan definitely saw it, and he said 'devoured'.
Ashhammer raised his head, looking at his Primarch's towering figure, still unarmored. A question he couldn't hold back soon began to echo in the passageway, carrying the unwavering resolve of a warrior.

"Have you been fighting them for the past ten thousand years?"

“Not every day,” Vulcan said. “I only go looking for them when I need to, or when I have no choice but to kill them.”

"demon?"

“Yes—but I think it will soon be more than that.” After a brief pause, Vulcan’s voice changed. “In fact, that’s one of the main reasons I called you and Helidok here. Come on, Norn, let’s go to the forge to talk.”

So they traveled in silence until they reached the Earth's core, to the only forge and anvil that the Lord of Fire Dragons had ever possessed for millennia—a place that should have been pitch black, but the blazing fire behind everything illuminated it all.

It made the anvil gleam subtly, and it also gave countless weapons suspended by chains and hanging overhead an almost incandescent white light. Behind that enormous anvil, Norn saw Heridok, the second company commander of the Salamanders, who had clearly arrived before him. Heridok nodded to Norn, his dark forehead glistening with sweat.
Norn should have wondered what could possibly make a salamander feel so hot, but he already had the answer—sweat was pouring down his forehead, and his power armor was giving him a warning to stay away from the heat or many of its functions would malfunction.

"Let's get started as soon as possible," the Lord of Fire Dragons said succinctly. "I can roughly guess that you've sent a recall signal to the chapter. Well done, but that's not enough."

He turned to the second company commander of the salamanders.

"After we leave here, I want you to convene a meeting in my name with the governors of the seven great cities. Tell them that from now on, I want each city to prepare in advance to receive a large number of tribal people. This number may be enormous, even more than the number of people who came to seek refuge before and after the trial, so be sure to mobilize all available resources and prioritize this task."

"However, given the persistent discrimination against the wastelanders in recent years, I want you to issue an order to the legionary warriors in each of the great cities, instructing them to monitor the progress of the work within their respective cities. Anyone found deliberately delaying the progress should be warned first. If they do not repent a second time, then any dissenting voices should be executed on the spot and sent to me."

Helidok's expression changed abruptly the moment the word "legion" was uttered, and by the time Vulcan finished speaking, he was extremely serious.

He nodded silently, solemnly pounded his chest with one hand, and then made a silent oath according to the customs of his birthplace, meaning that if anything went wrong, he was willing to atone with his life.

In the past, Vulcan would have advised him not to do this, but at this moment, the Lord of Fire Dragons showed no emotion on his face.

He finally looked at Norn.

"How many of the Embers are currently located on Nocturne?"

“One hundred and thirty-two thousand seven hundred and ninety-four people,” Ashhammer immediately stated the number he kept track of daily. “You want them to communicate with the Wildlings?”

The Lord of Fire Dragons nodded slowly: "Of course. But I hope you will also participate, and you should bring this with you."

He took a badge from the front pocket of the large, black blacksmith's apron.

Gold, green, and lava-like red flow endlessly across it, constantly changing like three rivers converging at one point. A ferocious dragon head roars with its mouth wide open in the center of the emblem, its mouth full of fangs seemingly spewing out dragon flames.

Norn set down his warhammer, extended his right hand to take it, his arm trembling slightly. This was Vulcan's personal emblem, unused for thousands of years, the first item he had crafted since returning from the shattered Terra.

"My lord, is this...?"

"The biggest reason why the tribes live in the wilderness for so long is because they firmly believe that the souls of their ancestors lie deep in the land where their tribe has lived for generations. You are also of tribes origin, Norn, you should understand the meaning and weight of the ancestors to them, so you must take it with you."

"Not only that, I also want you to tell them that it was I, Vulcan, son of the Nocturne Star, who asked them to do this. In the past, I stood in the mud of Hesiod with the people of that time against the Twilight Ghost. Their ancestors trusted me and fought alongside me. And now, I want them to trust me once more."

Meeting those bloodshot, calm eyes, Norn Corbene nodded silently.

“Yes, my lord.” He bowed deeply, his voice becoming muffled. “However, there is one thing I do not understand.”

“Speak,” Vulcan nodded in response. “I will tell you everything I know.”

Ashhammer raised his head and asked, "Is what Lord Kaliel said about him true?"

Vulcan closed his eyes, and his voice suddenly became very soft.

"it is true."

Norn's throat suddenly tightened: "You've been here all these ten thousand years?"

“Not at first,” Vulcan said. “You’ve read those hidden histories; you should know how unfortunate my brother was, and how much injustice he suffered. But he never gave up the fight, even after those four false gods had completely corrupted him; the true soul of Horus Lupecal fought to the very last moment. I often think about this, and for a blacksmith, sometimes thought leads us to the anvil faster than reason.”

"So, he really can be resurrected?" Heridok asked from the side, almost gritting his teeth as he said it.

Even if he could, he wouldn't be willing.

"Vulcan said in a low voice, then turned and walked into the darkness."

“Go on, do what you must do, my sons. Remember, I have always been proud of you.”

The eldest brother and the second brother exchanged a glance, both seeing the determination in each other's eyes.
-
Four hours later, just as dawn was breaking, Norn boarded a shuttle.

The token handed to him by the Primarch felt like a piece of scorching iron in his hand, yet for some reason it didn't burn his skin. Instead, it continuously transmitted a precious warmth that reached deep into his heart. Ashhammer slowly tightened his grip on it, let out a long breath, fastened his safety harness, felt the roar of the engine, and slowly closed his eyes.
He had taken off his power armor and put on a form-fitting robe that fit his body perfectly. It was entirely black, like wrought iron, with only faint blue embroidered text along the edges.

These blue characters are in the dialect of Nocturne Star. To those who can recognize them, their origins can be discerned at a glance: the Hammer Rock Tribe of Asebian Sea.

He was the last man in the tribe.

"Company Commander!" Suddenly, a voice echoed in his ear. "The kid you brought back yesterday said he's going to hunt dragons!"

Norn opened his eyes, his previously chaotic thoughts calmed by the news, and a smile quickly spread across his face.

He reached for the communicator hanging on the bulkhead, pressed the button, and replied, "What did he say?"

“He said he had to do it.” On the other end of the communication, his adjutant, Aiken, sounded the same, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Did you tell him how big a fire dragon is?"

"Of course—but he still insisted on going."

"Alright, ask him why, okay? See if it's what we suspected. Then tell him I asked him to wait another day and read about the dragon's habits, weaknesses, and attack methods. A qualified hunter shouldn't act rashly, otherwise it's tantamount to suicide. To hunt successfully, caution, observation, and learning are essential."

What if he refuses?

“He will agree.” Norn smiled sincerely. “Believe me, Aiken, that boy is as stubborn as you and I. He will never let himself die in vain before he has hunted a dragon.”

"That's quite an impressive assessment. Understood, Company Commander, I'll tell him now."

Inside the camp, the lieutenant of the Ashhammer Third Company removed his helmet, nodded to the boy carrying a shield and a broken spear, and repeated Norn's words in their entirety.

As expected, the young tribesmen who had been anxiously trying to leave the settlement immediately quieted down and stopped asking to leave. This calmness, far beyond his years, made Aiken more and more satisfied and appreciative. He even considered asking the boy directly if he would like to become one of them.

After all, this is a child who, before even reaching adulthood, managed to traverse the Dragonspine Mountains entirely on his own; such talent goes beyond mere excellence.
But he held back; after all, it wasn't his job.

However, it is permissible to ask questions.

So he asked the Nashtar, "Where are the rest of your tribe, child? Which great city have they gone to?"

Imo looked up and gave him a complicated look—a look that immediately cooled Aiken's previously high spirits, and a very scary guess emerged.

“They’re all dead,” the last shtar whispered. “So I must hunt a fire dragon, or their souls will not rest in peace.”

The adjutant immediately suppressed the urge to sigh. He no longer regarded the other man as a child, but as a true warrior, an absolutely qualified hunter.

Out of respect, he even gave a soldier's salute, and a dull thud of chest-pounding slowly rose as he asked, "Has there been a disaster?"

If not, then it must be some kind of primitive species. The adjutant thought to himself. Although the trial was approaching, the recent monitoring data from the Dragonspine Mountains was clearly normal.

Immo shook his head, then suddenly clenched his teeth, fear and hatred dancing on his face like flames.

“No,” the boy said hoarsely. “We encountered an evil spirit that was like a human.”

(End of this chapter)