40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 811.8. Abominable Things
The Ember Legion is a support unit exclusive to the Ash Hammer. Their relationship is similar to that of the Gladiators of Nukelia to the Warhounds—comrades-in-arms and family.

This bond, forged in blood and fire and tested countless times over a long period, had long since reached a point where it could be trusted unconditionally. Therefore, on the transport plane, Norn subtly revealed his Primarch's attitude to Captain Liz Catra, who would be traveling with him for the next period of time.

The latter's reaction was pretty much what he expected; after a brief moment of shock, the captain quickly calmed down.

“So, the situation is really bad,” she said, frowning, her nearly ashen face grave. “I never imagined that one day he would ask the tribespeople to abandon their traditions.”

That's true. Norn sighed softly.

In the days when Vulcan banished the twilight ghosts, there was no distinction between city dwellers and tribal peoples on Nocturne. The shelters of that time were simply gatherings of a few larger nearby tribes, barely managing to survive. In those days, the primitive beliefs from the wilderness had not yet completely vanished behind magnificent city walls as they are today.

Therefore, Vulcan himself was actually a tribal person, and he passed down his beliefs after making slight modifications.
This is the Prometheusian Way that the sons of the dragon follow today.

However, in general, it has nothing to do with ancestor worship or deity worship; it is regarded as a philosophy about fighting, life, patience, and forging skills.

"I'm worried"

The captain spoke in a low voice, interrupting Norn's thoughts. He wasn't annoyed; instead, he was very curious about what she hadn't said aloud.

"worry about what?"

She shook her head, and the dragon tattoo on her greyish-white skin, a result of her birth, seemed to come alive.

“As you should know, several tribes north of the Dragon Ridge Mountains have been fighting each other for the past few years. Although the law doesn't prohibit it, they've gone too far, to the point of escalating into a blood feud. Four months ago, my company commander received orders from his superiors, and then he summoned me, asking me to lead a group to mediate this matter.”

"When I arrived, I found that their war had ended. Men, women, and children from all four tribes had moved to the ruins of a quarry. They seemed to have put aside their hatred for each other and were living together without any resentment."

"Hunters passed on their experience to each other, children competed in skinning and tanning, and the elders composed poems about what they had seen and heard to sing at dinner—I must say, sir, it was a sight I had never seen in my life. I never imagined that a migrating Sand Whale tribe could share a drink with a mountain people who had always been prejudiced against them."

Norn was somewhat puzzled.

"Yes, I know about it. But even though I don't know how they let go of their hatred, isn't this a good ending, Captain? What are you worried about?"

“I’m not finished yet,” Liz Cattra said. “Two months ago, I received news that they had grown into the largest tribe near the Dragonspine Mountains, and unlike traditional united tribes, they were not led by elders and shamans. They had elected a Grand Elder to lead everything.”

She paused for a few seconds, then hesitated before uttering her last sentence.

“This is very unusual, sir, because it means that these tribesmen who live together no longer value their original ancestors and traditions.”

These words silenced Norn for a moment.

He then took out a data panel, opened the holographic map of the Dragonspine Mountains, and located the abandoned quarry the captain had mentioned. Staring at the specially marked dark shadow, he issued a new order.

Two hours and twenty-six minutes later, they landed at a secluded military airfield atop the Dragon Ridge Mountains. Needle-like, pale gray trees grew tenaciously between the dark soil and rocks, spreading downwards and outwards, creating a spectacular sight. From the air, one might even mistake it for millions of steel swords standing upright with their blades pointing upwards.

After five reinforced off-road vehicles were dispatched from the airport, Norn and thirty soldiers from the 4th Company of the 12th Regiment of the Embers set off for the abandoned quarry, a journey that took another four hours.

Using hovercraft might be much faster, but the constantly changing gravity on Nocturne makes the use of such ground vehicles extremely difficult. Even the sons of the fire dragon have given up on using hovercrafts, let alone the soldiers.

By the time they finally arrived, the sky had begun to darken slightly. The sun hung above strange, thick clouds stained black by radioactive dust, and its relentless heat had finally subsided somewhat.

Norn knew that soon, the cold would assail everyone in this forest. Nocturne had always treated its people with extreme harshness, showing almost no mercy; you had to endure its cruel trials before you could earn even a sliver of praise.
He got out of the SUV, straightened his clothes, and then walked down a newly built stone path.

The flickering firelight and the faint sounds of voices could be heard from behind the repaired steel gate of the quarry. A squad of guards carrying bows and arrows and holding spears stood on a wooden watchtower watching them. One of them quickly realized who the newcomers were, grabbed the rope next to the ladder, and threw himself down.

He hurried to Norn's side, an excited smile already on his face. Norn smiled back at him and greeted him in their dialect.

After a brief exchange, the gate was pulled open by the guards behind the wall—and the scene that appeared before Ashhammer was quite strange; he had never imagined that he would one day see such a scene in a tribe.

He saw several clearly redeveloped areas, now completely filled with wooden buildings. Most were still unfinished, but he could still discern their intended use: schools, shops, and residences.
This is no longer just a simple settlement of united tribes; it looks like the prototype of the Sanctuary Cities.

But the question remains: can this abandoned quarry really withstand the threats of the upcoming trial?

Furthermore, even if they do manage to survive, how will the forces within the original seven great cities treat this newly emerging settlement?

Numerous questions flashed through Norn's mind, but he remained calm and simply walked forward.

In the flickering firelight, he saw many different faces, some mature, some young. The only thing they had in common was that they all wore smiles. It was a luxurious smile, a happiness that only those filled with hope for the future could display without even realizing it.

He noted this down and then, following the guards' directions, went into a large gray tent located next to the livestock pen.

The captain and her soldiers stayed outside to scout the camp, while he came to meet the mysterious and powerful elder.

However, to Norn's surprise, he had not expected that the elder chosen by the tribe, who had abandoned the old traditions, would be a young man.

"Flames!" The other person exclaimed with an excited smile, rising from behind the low, round table. "I never imagined that a son of a fire dragon would visit us!"

Norn smiled in response to the greeting. What followed was a series of pleasantries and inquiries, interspersed with some minor probing questions, all of which the young man answered fluently and with remarkable ease. His maturity beyond his years surprised Ashhammer greatly.

Therefore, after a brief pause, he did not choose to get straight to the point, but instead asked, "Four months ago, you were composed of four tribes—"

The young man immediately understood, and he smiled excitedly, his smile full of pride and anticipation for the future.

"—Now there are eight tribes, sons of the fire dragon."

"What kinds are they?" Norn asked, suppressing his surprise.

The young man immediately began to recount: "The Sand Whale tribe that migrated from the Cremation Desert, the local Lin'er people, and the Morning Deer."

He rattled off the names of all eight tribes in one breath. Five of them were native to the Dragonspine Mountains, while the other three had migrated from all over the country, each occupying their own territory. But Norn's focus was no longer on this matter.

He maintained his smile and asked, "And how did they all join? For example, the most recent one, the Shitar tribe?"

The young elder, oblivious to what lay behind his smile, continued to smile.

In fact, the smile on Norn's face never stopped from the moment he entered the tent.

"It's actually quite simple, esteemed Fireborn. You see, the four tribes that first united were weary of blood and death in their back-and-forth battles. We are all children of Nocturne, even brothers and sisters by right; we shouldn't be shedding blood among ourselves. Once we realized this, we stopped." "But what about the others? Nocturne is vast, and at least several thousand tribes remain in this tragic state of wariness towards outsiders and infighting. They have no idea that they are actually fighting against their own kin. We didn't want to see this, so we went unarmed to their camps and sat down with them for a proper talk."

"With the elders?"

“No.” The young man smiled and shook his head. “The shamans—they are the main ones.”

"And then they all agreed?"

"The process was somewhat tortuous, but the result was good."

Norn smiled again, slowly stood up, and said, "I want to go and see those Shitar people."

“Go ahead, Fireborn.” The young man gestured to him. “They’re right outside; you’ll see them as soon as you step out of the tent.”

What he said is true.

A few seconds later, when Norn ended his gaze and lifted a corner of the tent, he did indeed see the Shitar people.

Their clothes bore the same markings as Immo's, and their light brown skin was nearly identical to his; however, they all stood silently outside the tent, expressionless.

Standing beside the Shitar people were people from other tribes: the Sand Whale, the Morning Deer, and descendants of fishermen from the Assebian Sea. The flames of the torches rose and danced, but they couldn't illuminate their faces, only their eyes—so many eyes.

They reflected a pale white light.

The night was eerily quiet, a deathly stillness pervading the air. Shadows danced in the wind on the soil and stones, quietly twisting and turning.

Norn clenched his fists.

“Captain,” he called in a low voice. “Where are you?”

A figure squeezed out of the crowd; her grayish-white skin was healing, or rather, healing itself, and behind the gradually disappearing crack lay an abyss of blackness.

She stared at Norn in silence, and more faces from the Ember Force followed behind her, arriving at the front of the crowd.

Norn recognized these faces; he knew perfectly well they wouldn't show him that kind of expression.

"What are you?" he asked the young man, who had his back to the tent.

He received no answer, only a gust of wind, followed by a tremendous force—Norn resisted for less than two seconds before being flung away. Upon landing, he even thought he was wrestling with a dragon. But his extraordinary physique kicked in, allowing him to get up immediately.

The crowd had already surrounded him.

The voices of young people came from behind them.

“I said I was glad you came, and I wasn’t lying, Fireborn, I meant it,” he laughed. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you.”

Norn ignored him and looked instead at Liz Catra and her soldiers in the crowd.

"Are you still there?" he asked in a low voice.

No one answered.

He then turned to the other tribespeople—whose pale eyes already answered the question he had not yet uttered.

well.

The enraged Ash Hammer spread its arms and charged into the crowd.

With sheer physical strength, he unleashed a storm of death; severed limbs and blood flew high into the air as if falling from the sky, only to soak into the pool of blood upon landing.

In just a few seconds, he had torn through the weak line of defense and reached the rear of everyone. The thing with the youthful appearance stood there, still human, without any abnormality.

Norn scrutinized his enemy in a fit of rage, but could not detect even a trace of the stench of the Undead on him.
He seemed to be a human being, a tribal chief with lofty ambitions.

Norn walked toward him.

“You really should pay more attention to them.” The young man raised his hands and backed away. “They are your blood relatives, your brothers and sisters. How can you be so indifferent after tearing them to pieces?”

Norn didn't want to pay attention to the words, but he did hear a strange creaking sound behind him. He quickly turned around, but all he saw was darkness.

The flames had long since died down, and in this dark night, thousands of tall, thin shadows rose up and pounced on him. This time, however, Norn's fists failed to have the same effect; his power was completely absorbed by the bizarre bodies of these creatures.

They swarmed in, their bodies growing increasingly bizarre, like stretched rubber, eventually weaving into a giant net—a net that pinned him down, pinned him down, and controlled him.
Norn struggled desperately, but suddenly heard a creaking sound.

He turned his head and saw a piece of the net twitching. Its surface, which was pitch black, quickly changed, and something with a texture unique to humans, like mud, turned over from behind the blackness.

Eventually, it transformed into the shape of a captain.

She looked at Norn with a puzzled expression.

"What's wrong with me, sir?" she asked.

Ash Hammer did not answer; he had finally made up his mind.

He yanked hard, breaking free of her right hand, and the captain suddenly screamed as if struck by a gun or knife—while her brother's heart had hardened. He reached into his robes and grasped an insignia.

The next second, a pillar of fire shot up and engulfed everything, then shot straight into the sky, illuminating the entire Dragonspine Mountain Range.

Deep within the dead volcano, Vulcan's ever-present forging hammer suddenly stopped.

"What happened?" his brother asked anxiously, as he remembered him. "Have they come?"

“No,” Vulcan said. “It’s something else.”

(End of this chapter)