Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 741 I knew following Loken would lead to strange things, and sure enough, I ran into an old friend.
"This is an unusual, small-scale operation."

Gavial Loken addressed the group from inside the Stormbird's cabin, his magnetic boots allowing him to stand firmly on the turbulent cabin floor, while the other Shadowmoon Wolf warriors and narrators were strapped into their seats with rigid braces.

Loken was not happy at the same time thinking that, in order to meet the reporters' demand to "get a firsthand account of the Stormbird's interior and flight experience," his Stormbird had to travel slower and land more smoothly than his comrades—the last to arrive at the designated landing point.

"Such a localized and short-duration suppression mission is rare. I expect my company and I will finish the mission within 48 hours at most, so I understand the War Marshal's order for you to follow us into the war zone. However, even so, I still want to emphasize two things to you."

"First, you are the first group of reporters to follow Astartes into the war zone. Our company members will identify you as civilians in their combat helmets and will not fire on you, but the enemy will not think that way. So you must stay behind Astartes who are responsible for covering you and always follow safety instructions."

The blue-eyed man who caught Loken's attention among the four raised his hand.

"Sorry, but if the other side thinks we might be some kind of unprotected target by following you, how do we stop their snipers from shooting us in the head? Aren't we issued any armor? I mean, like helmets, bulletproof vests, or something similar."

The others glanced at him sideways, while Loken heard a soft chuckle of mockery from one of his comrades in the cabin.

This person is really strange. First, as a civilian, he raised this question to Astartes in a very equal tone. Second, without providing them with any intelligence on the ground enemy, the implication of his words was that he clearly believed that the ground resistance forces of 63-19 still possessed sophisticated weapons.

Could it be that the war general's attendant or someone else had given him some information beforehand? Judging from the attitudes of the other narrators, they clearly also implicitly respected him—although on the surface it seemed that the blonde female photographer was leading the way.

"I haven't received any notification regarding the protective equipment to be issued to you, but each of you has been issued an oxygen suit for high-altitude use. You're not carrying any weapons either, are you?"

The narrators nodded to each other in confirmation.

"I think that people who are not carrying weapons are safer here than those who are carrying weapons and defensive equipment. You can just follow behind."

"So you think the other side also has some kind of honor or rule of 'not killing civilians'?"

It was this blue-eyed Ramizam who spoke up with great interest again.

Loken began to think that perhaps it was because his reputation for his attitude toward mortals was the best among all the company commanders that he was chosen to lead this group of troublesome and annoying chroniclers in this operation.

When he gets back, he will definitely be even more stern with these reporters.

As if sensing his thoughts, when he glanced at Messadi Oriton out of the corner of his eye, the other smiled at him.

Well, Ms. Oriton isn't that bad, so perhaps there can be an exception.

"That's not what I want to talk about right now, sir. If you have any related questions, you can submit your interview request after we finish our mission and return."

Loken said expressionlessly, not wearing a helmet, as the flashes of light from other transport ships passing by outside the Stormbird window occasionally streaked across his face.

"Second, our landing site is located above a small town in the mountains of the Southern Hemisphere plateau. This settlement has now become our rear base. It is called Kasheli. We are going to take over from the auxiliary forces that have been attacking the mountains for six weeks and wipe out those tough nuts to crack that are difficult for ordinary people to chew in one fell swoop."

He paused, making sure his next words reached the minds of these mortal listeners without any misinterpretation.

"Large-scale long-range firepower strikes are expected to be few or almost nonexistent; they're all hiding in caves or similar places, so their effectiveness is limited. Our soldiers will go directly into tunnels and caves. There will be a lot of close-quarters combat and street fighting. You will see real killing, real bloodshed, dismembered limbs and dead bodies—the battles of Astartes are never neat or aesthetically pleasing. If you experience any discomfort or panic attacks, report to me immediately, and I will arrange for someone to take you back to Kasheli town. We'll return to Vengeance together after the operation is over, understand?"

The two ladies seemed completely unfazed by the description, instead engaging in a quiet discussion with the exhilaration of youthful exuberance; the plump, dark-haired poet struggled to wipe his sweat with a handkerchief—Loken suspected he might be the first to ask to leave—the fourth person; and Ramizan, again, gave Loken the strange reaction he always did.

The blue-eyed man seemed to have a slight sense of fear, as if he were about to gasp for breath, but at the same time, he also had a kind of eager anticipation.

Overall... Loken observed him discreetly.

...Overall, there was a very slight but real feeling that he was "trying to feign a human reaction." Yet his interview warrant was indeed signed by the Warmaster himself, with Malhohorst's seal at the end, and the guarantor was the chief speaker, Kerrell Hindman.

The old man was said to have originally planned to come along as well, but his frail body could not withstand the turbulence of the Stormbirds, so he would take the next batch of more comfortable logistics transport ships to the surface.

Fortunately, all four of them said they understood what Loken was saying and promised not to run away.

"I will stay close to you, Company Commander Loken," Ramizan assured him sincerely.

—Although I don’t remember exactly what happened, if I’m not mistaken, as long as I follow you, it’s just like following a certain elementary school student in a blue suit in Beika District. Something related to the later great rebellion will definitely happen before my eyes.

This was one of the reasons he persuaded Peturabo to let him disguise himself as a mortal chronicler and enter the Legion.

Ramizam thought to himself, "This is much more convenient than searching the entire fleet like looking for a needle in a haystack to find the problem."

And the events that unfolded on the Stormbirds in the next instant proved Ramizane's point of view.

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"What's going on with the communication interference? Just now, more than one soldier in the cabin reported to me that there was static on their communication channels."

Loken gripped the long metal handrail on the top of the cabin and walked step by step into the cockpit. They were now entering the atmosphere, and the turbulence was incomparable to what they had experienced before.

Two pilots sat in the cockpit, with two flight attendants positioned lower in front. The four seats, along with the various displays, instrument panels, and control levers on the surrounding walls and floor, made the space feel quite cramped for Astartes.

"What is that? We're about to land, and the communication channel must remain clear and stable."

“I know, sir, we have them here too. But we’ve contacted others, and other Stormbirds have also experienced similar interference when entering the atmosphere.”

"Any analysis results?" He raised his hand and adjusted his communication prayer beads. The static became even more noticeable, transforming from random noise into something that sounded like a language.

"Perhaps it was an accidental interception of the rebel broadcasts that had been reflected multiple times, or it could be ours."

“Find a way to filter him, or do something, I need a clear communication channel,” Loken said.

The pilot nodded, busy adjusting the instrument panel in front of him. "Perhaps I can use some frequencies to eliminate the noise..."

After a tooth-grinding, head-splitting noise pierced through his Lyman ears, the communication channel went silent.

But someone was talking on the channel.

“Terra, who’s talking?” a pilot asked.

"Perhaps it's a frequency mismatch... Let me adjust it again..."

The voice became clearer, and they could discern every word in those words, which were as dry as the death wind of the desert.

"Sams. This will be the only name you hear. Sams. It means end and death. Sams. I am everywhere. Sams. I follow you closely. Sams. I will chew your bones to pieces. Good luck! Sams is coming."

(End of this chapter)