Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 744 Where the Wolf Pack Passed
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"Now I know why."

Led by Ramizan, the mortals carefully traversed the chaotic stone bridge and the corpses—fresh or frozen to a purplish-gray color—mixed among the broken ice and gravel. The new victims were from the earlier attack by the Shadowmoon Wolves, while the old victims were almost all former Imperial auxiliary soldiers of Valvarus. The latter were more intact than the former, but both were twisted and horrifying from being trampled under heavy footsteps.

The two women in the group also showed expressions of reluctance, while the poet looked like he was about to vomit, and the chief speaker was as pale as a sheet, not much better off.

“What?” Carl Casey frowned, carefully avoiding any footsteps that might be human tissue or something similar, while Hindman followed in his footsteps.

“I mean, I know why they call them that now—do you know why Shadowmoon Wolves got their current name? At least Sindman should know, right?”

“I’ve heard a little about it, and you can actually guess from the words themselves,” the old man said, panting as he took another breath of oxygen through his breathing mask. “It’s related to the first Luna recapture operation, isn’t it?”

"That's right. At that time, the Selena Genetic Order, the de facto ruler of Luna, made a request to the Emperor to 'recall your wolves.' So the Sixteenth Legion, which launched its first attack with the other two legions, thus earned the name 'Luna Wolves.'"

Ramizan's ears caught the sound of a gun being fired from a concealed firing port on the towering fortress. He instinctively raised his hand to shield his eyes, but the bullet fell to the ground right in front of his palm.

“Terra, it really works.” Euphrates subconsciously grasped the two necklace pendants around her neck—one she had been wearing before, and the other she had just put on—while the other three narrators all seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"This mini force field generator is quite useful... It's just a pity that these prototypes came from the Imperial Palace of 63-19, so we can't mass-produce them."

"Thank you so much, Your Highness, for bringing us such a precious item for self-defense."

"Oh, this thing isn't a panacea either. You still have to be careful of those guys who rush over to fight you in melee—otherwise, the Shadowmoon Wolves wouldn't have been able to break into the palace and kill the 'Emperor'."

“It’s a real shame that none of us were able to witness and document this battle,” Euphrates said.

“Wasn’t Messati’s interview with Loken about this?” Carl Casey continued to carefully search for a foothold among the frozen red and dark snow and rubble.

“That’s how it is.” Oriton seemed a little embarrassed when he talked about this. “But I just heard him recall how he uncovered the ‘Emperor’s’ trap on the Golden Throne and then witnessed Horus descend from the sky to shoot the tyrant and save them all before he was kicked out. Because I didn’t add a respectful title after his commander’s name.”

"That guy is really... ugh!!!!"

Carl Casey realized he had stepped into something soft, elastic, and hard. When he lifted his foot and saw that his boots were covered in human brain tissue and half a face with a mangled eyeball hanging from it, his face turned ashen. He then ran to the side and vomited up his dinner and bile from the previous night.

"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!"

"Terra."

"Kyril Hindman said softly as he slowly walked past a pile of charred, twisted flesh, topped with a head severed by a powered weapon. The dead here looked as if they had been ravaged by large, ferocious beasts, leaving nothing but horrifying destruction and brutality. Looking around, the blood, stench, and uncollected human remains formed a crimson, twisted path on the trampled, gray-black snow, leading to the jagged, dark gaping opening of the fortress gate they were about to enter.

"Terra. I can't say anything except 'It's terrifying'."

Sindeman sounded like he was about to die from shock.

"I thought a preacher like you, who has served the Empire and the Legion for so many years, should know this situation very well, right, Sindman?" Ramizan asked curiously, while kindly demonstrating to them how to step over the haphazardly broken remains on the ground.

Karl Casey immediately said he needed to vomit for a while and get some fresh air to calm down, so Sindeman and the others slowly followed Ramizan into the tiled fortress hall.

“I have indeed been talking about and teaching others that all our acts of destruction, though terrible, are right, and that Astartes is the ultimate means by which we pass on the truth and rightness of our faith like a torch and illuminate wherever we go. Our forceful promotion of truth is because we want to benefit all people, and our authority comes from justice, which I have always believed.”

The chief speaker's voice had never been so soft and cautious, as if afraid of disturbing the lingering spirits of the gruesome dead who had not yet departed. The stench of blood, burnt protein, and other foul smells in the air became even stronger.

“But I have never actually witnessed the actual consequences of the Astartes massacre… I… Malhohorst did remind me, but…”

He choked up, "I didn't know they were actually so terrible and horrific."

A slight wavering, so subtle yet undeniably leaving an imperceptible crack in the face of the chief preacher, who remained steadfast in his belief that his cause was for the happiness and justice of humanity.

"So you've discovered that what you've always believed in is just a truth you read in books while you were in your ivory tower? What a pity, Sindman. I thought a scholar like you wouldn't make such a serious mistake... In fact, that's always the case with driven wolves, isn't it?"

Ramizan's voice echoed beneath the ceiling of the ancient fortress, "It's only natural to feel uncomfortable when you discover that the wolf pack's prey is 'human,' Sindman, because humans are capable of fear, and fear drives them to desperately need to worship an object to gain a sense of security."

None of the others grasped the horror in the Primarch's words; they were simply captivated by the atmosphere. But Hindman clearly understood at least part of it, and now the old man looked as if he could barely stand.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t go any further,” he said, panting. “I…I feel I need to go back to my archives reading room and be alone…”

“Saying you need to be alone at a time like this is also a form of escapism,” they heard the man, who was actually the Lord of Steel, say in a chilling voice. “Come on, keep going. Aren’t you chroniclers? Recording the truth is your job.”

The sound was like that of a demon in the cold wind howling through the ancient cave.

"Don't even think about escaping your work."

(End of this chapter)