Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 360: Can't there be a few more save points?

"What on earth is going on? Some kind of conspiracy? Is the enemy sneaking in to our defense to persecute my brother? But if someone can sneak in and make him do this, why go to so much trouble..."

A moment later, Kirill Sinderman, who was terrified and dragged the Terran Guard and the city defense commander "Rog Dorn" to the hidden command fortress, shook his head frantically at the questioner in extreme fear.

Before him stood a legend on earth, a banner of faith, the embodiment of beauty and ideals, wearing golden armor, with wings on his back, and carrying the scent of gunpowder, blood and fire - although the other Primarchs were unable to return immediately due to unstable communications, Sanguinius, who was the closest and most flexible, still managed to find some time to rush over.

"I don't know! Sir! Sir!" The narrator's voice was filled with tears. "I just climbed up and thought... I just thought..."

"Calm down and talk slowly." The Archangel's handsome face was still splattered with a few drops of blood from someone unknown, and he had no time to wipe it off. This symbol that implied the intensity of killing not only did not damage his brilliance, but instead gave it a unique sense of cruel beauty. There was a deep sadness between his brows, "What we don't need most now is a flustered and incoherent speech."

The narrator nodded desperately, then began to take long breaths, and as he stammered in an effort to make sense, Sanguinius walked over and tried to pat his brother, who had become very strange.

"Rog? Are you okay?"

The other party didn't say anything, but just raised his head and looked at him. This look was like a punch to the chin of the invincible archangel, causing him and his golden hair and white wings to be blown back.

Because the Primarch of the Blood Angels saw that the eyes raised to respond to him were a pair of white-blue eyes that he had never expected to see on the rock-like face of the Terran Guard, and they were almost shining with tears.

Those eyes were upright, kind, clear, and shone with an original pure light. There was no expectation, hope, perseverance, indomitable spirit, and calm confidence that billions of people, officials, soldiers, Astartes, Primarchs, and the Emperor needed at this moment, and what was behind them. There was only a child who was at a loss and who was forced to come here, and who realized that he was not only lost, but also blamed himself for making a mistake because he could not meet people's expectations.

"This won't work," the Archangel hissed, "Without Roger as the commander-in-chief of the palace, we can't organize the next defense well. Valdor... they reported that they have their own brutal front to deal with, and Malcador replied that our father is still silent. Only Roger among us can coordinate everything."

Then he and the Husakar Terminators who were surrounding them in alert, uneasy and sad voices heard a low sob of protest.

"I told you! I'm not Rogal Dorn. This is the main body's business. It's not my job!" The Iron Blood's chief controller soul, who was not even a year old, murmured, "I'm Magna Dorn! I want to find my ship, my teacher, and Ramizane!"

—Satnain fell quickly, and then the last wall, the throne room—

——Battles broke out everywhere, everything turned into nothingness and chaos, and finally, darkness swallowed everything until——

--------

Magnar Dorn blinked from his perch on the abandoned high garden terrace.

The strange rain falling from the sky once again hit his cheeks and lips.

But he would not try to take a lick of their taste this time - before the end that brought him back here many times before, each experience had taught Magna more details that he really didn't want to know.

For example, now he knows that the reason why the rain tasted so strange and bitter when he first appeared here is because the weather system inside the void shield is a temporary internal circulation - the rain is not rain, they are just the sweat, urine, tears and blood that are breathed, used, circulated, and spit out by the people under the protection of the shield, and some of them are disinfected and then re-enter the circulation.

Just like this small world that was stubbornly protected by the SHIELD, it was heading towards its end in desperate self-consumption.

Magna walked sadly towards the path hidden by dense tall bushes and vines, and caught Kirill Hindman, who was always there, before he made a surprised sound and slipped down - there were several times when the timing of his conversation with Hindman might have been a little wrong or delayed, and the narrator fell directly from a height of one thousand meters in surprise and accident, hitting the roof of the western barracks under the cliff, and exploded into a small ball of red mist and a rawhide bag filled with a mixture of solids and liquids.

"My lord, how are you--" Magna Dorn sighed sadly again.

"Stop talking nonsense. We don't have time for this." He said in a somewhat uninterested tone, "Let's go to the headquarters first. We all have a lot of things to do in our respective positions."

"Yes, my lord."

"That's right, Hindman."

"grown ups?"

"Please take the stairs when you go down."

The narrator's expression turned into a smile because of a mixture of shame, a little confusion and a hint of surprise. "Please don't laugh at me, sir."

"In this situation, we still have to learn to entertain ourselves." A helpless expression appeared on the face of the Terran guard for a second. "If it were one of my mentors and friends, he would say, things have come to this point, let's eat first."

----

Captain Mathius, the wallmaster of Saturnine Wall, was a newcomer - or as Magnar Dorn more mechanically described him, a "quickie", one of the newly recruited and rapidly produced soldiers that the Imperial Fists had recently recruited to supplement the far-too-insufficient forces on Terra.

At this moment, the company commander who was appointed just eight days ago was looking excitedly at the golden-armored god walking up the city wall.

"My Lord! I am honored..."

The golden-armored, white-haired Primarch who had arranged everything and rushed over pointed at his headphones and raised a fist wearily to stop Mathius's excited greeting. "Mathius, put on your helmet and headphones immediately and turn on the noise suppression."

He spoke to all the Astartes and soldiers who gathered around him.

"grown ups?"

"Now! Everyone! Put on your helmets!"

The next second after they did as they were told in confusion, a piercing yet loud shrieking sound wave swept in from afar, with a frequency that only the vocal cords of extreme out-of-control madness and joy could produce before tearing themselves apart. It swept across the walls and command center of the entire Saturnine salient like a tsunami wave, and all the speakers and horns exploded. The many images and projections projected in the air disappeared in the interfering rustling and snow noise, and the detection equipment or control panels connected to them were either shattered to pieces, or flashed dazzling sparks in the short circuit.

When everyone was dizzy and bleeding from the mouth and nose due to the sudden silent scream that lasted for six seconds, no one could hear Magnar Dorn's sighs and mutterings as he stared at certain places in the sky.

"Oh right, we've finally made it this far. It's really unbearable to have to start all over again every time. So let me see what will appear after this time. I hope I can successfully deal with it - it's hard to imagine how the original body managed to hold on - when will this end?! Where are the others?! Where are the reinforcements?! Oh!"

"Visual contact report! Six kilometers away!"

"Enemy attack!"

(End of this chapter)