Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 892 I don't care what you, War General, are doing here or there. I, the Pale King, am going to do a zero-yuan purchase today!
"We'll be arriving in Lupecalia soon."

After ten days of a monotonous, flat, and tedious journey, Mortalian—the only one in the entire crew cabin who remained in high spirits—rose and announced.

Apart from the powerful roar of the Spartan's engines, the crew cabin was completely silent.

Lehman Russ, like a giant gray wolf, nestled in a corner, fast asleep, his head resting on his weapon.

Pallas leaned against Russ's back, seemingly drifting into a tired sleep. Beneath his silver-white hair was a face that was more delicate and slender than his other brothers'.

Beside his axe lay the remains of half a steel hand. This tenacious survivor seemed to be affected by the atmosphere in the crew compartment; his electronic eyes were dim and his naked eyes were half-closed. His exposed spine, cables, and body leaned lifelessly against the cabin wall.

As for Caleb Arin, this digital biotechnological marvel with the soul of a believer and the body of a great enemy, he was kneeling on the other side, muttering to himself with his head bowed in utmost devotion.

The Pale King's face scrunched up after he overheard some of the most classic, officially sanctioned versions of the Holy Word.

"Never mind, this is a new state of affairs anyway... Alin? Caleb Alin?"

The demon who was called out hurriedly got up and swayed as he quickly reached out to hold onto the tank wall.

"grown ups?"

"Doesn't your throat hurt when you recite your prayers?"

"Yes, sir. Your tongue, teeth, throat, lungs, and internal organs will feel like they're on fire."

"Then why are you still reading?"

"But, thanks to the body you gave me, when I finish praying and rest, I will enter the cycle of decay and rebirth again. The metabolic rate is only a few breaths, and I can recover quickly, so..."

"so?"

“Therefore, I regard the pain of prayer as a spur and test of my faith, my lord. I believe he will be pleased to do so. I will also pray for Company Commander Gara, and for the saints and others… Of course! I will also pray for you and everyone else here! My will is tested by my pain, and my prayers, through such steadfast repentance, will surely be delivered to the Divine Emperor…”

"...That's why I found it difficult to talk to fanatical ascetics after I got my first bachelor's degree."

The Pale King muttered.

"What did you say, sir?" the Life Eater asked uneasily, still somewhat affected by the emotions emanating from the Creator.

"Nothing, um... wait a moment, are you already familiar with your power armor?"

"Yes, sir, but its speed..."

“Numerology can solve all problems.” The Pale King arrogantly raised his chin. “I’ve prepared a flight pack for your Saturn Terminator. You just need to stay put and guard the Spartan Tank. If you really need high-speed mobility, use that.”

“But I don’t know how to use a flight pack, sir.” Arlin rubbed his hands nervously like an ordinary person. “I’m just a squire who failed the Death Guard trial. I was chosen by the combat company commander, and I’ve always maintained Commander Gara’s weapons and armor… I can’t do it…”

"If you don't know how, then learn! How do you know you can't do it if you don't even try or persevere?!"

Suddenly, a surge of anger erupted from Mortarian's stomach, rushing all the way to his proudly calm mind, but the fiery surge of blood that ran through his eardrums subsided a second later. He took a deep breath, letting the taste of blood dissipate from his throat.

Somewhere he couldn't see, the Border Collie beside the crystal ball also sighed.

Then, in as calm a tone as possible, he spoke to the demon who was clearly terrified and consumed by emotion and anger, “I have already transferred the installation and usage instructions for the flight pack into your Terminator power armor. It won’t take long to learn it… If anyone breaks through your armor, remember, Arlin. Remember, spit in their face.”

The great demon, who had once been Gara's servant, nodded as if he understood but not quite.

“I understand, sir.”

“Alright.” Mortarian turned to Ruth and Pallas, who had somehow woken up and were now ready to stare at him.

"Put on your helmets and activate your camouflage. Further ahead lies the territory of the Sons of Horus and their Mechanicus allies; we must proceed with caution."

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The Spartan assault tanks, painted in gray-black, did not encounter many attacks along the way.

Their appearance is extremely deceptive—is it?

Mortarian claimed that "because of some fundamental rule, we are generally much safer as long as we don't paint ourselves in the colors of the warring parties," a statement that surprisingly came true after being ridiculed by Ruth.

Therefore, the Wolf King once again fell into a deep doubt about his own common sense about war.

Meanwhile, they began to advance along the northern edge of Lupecalia, Dr. Mortarian's eyes scanning the oracles sharply, searching for something.

"What are we looking for?" Pallas squeezed to the front and asked. "I thought we were going to sneak into Lupecalia and find the cave that the War General was taking his men to, and ambush them there."

"What are we going to do there?" the Pale King countered. "Go there ahead of time and witness it kill the Guardian Angel and obtain its memories? I already know the general outline of what happened there, so there's no need to risk dealing with that experimental subject again."

“We can’t lie in ambush there… Oh,” a look of realization dawned on Pallas’s face, “The fate here cannot be changed?”

He wisely refrained from asking what the "experimental subject" was, keeping the question to himself.

“Change would be counterproductive,” Mortarian replied. “It’s already just something in Horus Lupecal’s skin, and you want me to add even more instability?”

"The part that Foggrim was in charge of..."

“His whereabouts are unpredictable,” Mortarian frowned. “We only know that he has landed on this planet, but we don’t know where he will go. Therefore, we need a more purposeful and definite target.”

"So, are we heading north now to find this target?"

"To provide support—or rather, to locate the retreating Imperial garrison driven over by the Warmaster's tank formations and Titan Legion."

"What do you want with them?"

“I’m not looking for them,” Mortarian replied, his gaze intense, “but I can see that particular soul moving swiftly towards Lupecalia among the fleeing mortals. Clearly, the immortal guard He left behind is also heading somewhere.”

Why did we find her?

“Although it doesn’t make much sense for us to go to that cave beforehand, as the guardian of Moro, she is likely the one who witnessed the ‘Emperor’ enter through that door and emerge with the power. I think that once we find her, she will be of great use.”

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"Damn it!" The pigeon, no longer caring about its image, flapped its legs in the air from someone's palm and shouted, "He can't, and shouldn't, go and capture her ahead of time! She is the last guardian I left for the warp gate of Moro! Only she knows how to chant the spell and seal it once she arrives there!" The faces of everyone present showed indescribable expressions.

"A spell? Hmm?"

"You've left a warp gate on such a populated planet for so many years without closing it?"

"You didn't leave behind a guardian who is still in a completely mortal form and with only ordinary strength, did you?"

The last question clearly made the pigeon pause for half a second.

Ramizam exclaimed "Wow!"

"You really left someone here with no ability, power, or position other than immortality... to guard something so important?"

"Isn't immortality enough? There's an old saying of yours: 'The truly great hermit lives in the city!'"

"But even a great hermit needs to have his own trump card and skills! If you can feel pain, get killed, and can't get up on the spot to continue fighting and prolong your life, then the use of immortality isn't that great!"

"She did a great job! And she's not just immortal, she has other abilities too!" the pigeon argued. "She must have already successfully killed quite a few people trying to crack this secret!"

"...That only proves that you really left a lot of flaws or clues, okay? Quite a few people were able to get close to your secret in such a short time. And even so, you didn't let the guards surround you. Did you think that letting the secret run wild would keep it more secret than having normal guards? Leon is really your favorite son."

"Such a dangerous thing, and they didn't destroy the door after obtaining it? That doesn't make sense." Even Magna couldn't help but speak up.

“Such a precious thing…” the pigeon said dejectedly, “The main problem is that after obtaining the power inside, I can no longer get close to it. Otherwise, I would definitely have added a seal to close it.”

"Why can't you go any closer to that door?" Ramizam asked deliberately.

The pigeon stammered.

"Because if you go back, you'll be dragged back inside, right? You either stole something inside, or you cheated during the fight or when you left?"

"I didn't cheat!" the pigeon cried.

"Oh……"

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"Palas, do you need a Titan pilot?"

Motalian asked abruptly, his voice echoing in the crew cabin.

“It is necessary,” Pallas replied. “After all, piloting a Titan is completely different from piloting a Dreadnought. We are not currently allied with any Titan legions. The Armory excels at intelligent control of mechs, but the size of a Titan makes it a different story… While Medusa can find some Titans, pilots will always be a problem. I guess, well, since you have your eye on the Titans here, you want to help Perturabo and the others…?”

"Titan pilots are usually very difficult to switch factions, especially the best ones. Among them, naturally divergent twin pilots are a particularly rare type, whether among humans or Eldar Titans."

Dr. Mortalian adjusted his non-existent glasses, stared at a few peculiar spots on the oracles, and suddenly began to talk about unrelated things.

"Furthermore, forcibly seizing Titan Legion pilots will generally incur retaliation from the legion. And if you cannot guarantee the pilots' loyalty and judgment, then the entire Titan's co-pilots, maintenance priests, and even a whole host of other personnel will become... extremely troublesome. There have been attempts to corrupt the pilots, but the vast majority of people would choose to kill the entire Titan, or directly corrupt the Titan along with the entire crew. Because in practice, this has proven to be more convenient."

"So……?"

"So normally, we can't recruit a pair of exceptionally skilled twin Titan pilots. But if it's a pair of survivors of the Titan Legion, filled with a thirst for revenge and mostly wiped out in the Martian Civil War..."

“Excellent,” Pallas said. “Perfect match. Now I only have one question.”

“You always have the combined sharpness of Felus’ trained mind and that of Fugrim, making you the best questioner. Go ahead and ask.”

"Do we have any more room to fit an amniotic fluid tank? Should we bring in a larger vehicle?"

"Well," the Pale King revealed a terrifying smile, "keeping them fresh is no problem... Would you and Ruth mind carrying a few more human trophies?"

"Hey!!! We're not here to carry your shopping bags!"

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Someone outside the crystal ball applauded the Pale King's behavior of looting everywhere as soon as a new map appeared, leaving him with bags full of purchases.

"Well done, very much like me! Ah! If only I could talk to him! I have so much more to tell him about Moro!"

"..."

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"Those two Titans from the Fortified Legion don't look too good."

"After observing for a while," Ruth said.

"Their momentum seems severely depleted; the flashes of the Void Shield indicate they were hastily awakened, yet they continue their charge toward those traitorous Titans. Glory, glorious and solitary warriors, what a death! How can we possibly preserve them in a battle of this scale?"

“They only have two Warlord Titans and four Warhound Titans.” The Wolf King’s gaze assessed the possible routes and terrain. “But those Corrupted Titans have five Warlord-level units, six Raiders, and four Warhounds.”

"In a battle of this scale and firepower, if we are not careful, even if we are the Primarchs, we may not be able to escape alive if we get caught up in it."

"Are you afraid?"

"Wild wolves are not afraid."

Ruth bared his canines and narrowed his eyes. "But things need to be divided into feasible and non-feasible, and priorities. If it were just a battle, of course, there would be no problem. I could even take you guys up to the Titan's cockpit and pull those guys out. But we're talking about protecting them and stealing them from a battle of this scale, aren't we? It's not like the other side would just obediently stop and let us take them away."

“I think…” Pallas carefully observed the energy fluctuations on the scanning array and the oracles, “These are indeed very skilled pilots. They’re setting a trap. The Fortified Legion is about to claim its spoils.”

As he spoke, a Marauder-class Titan, drawn away from its main force as if by its dying prey, charged toward the two Warlords that appeared weakened by insufficient offerings and hasty awakening.

Immediately, two valiant Fortified Warhound Titans sacrificed their lives to break through and entangle the corrupted demonic engine and its follower warhounds. Meanwhile, the Fortified Legion generals and Titans, who had just appeared very weak, used an unconventional and risky maneuver to instantly maximize the power of their plasma reactors.

This insane maneuver was clearly unexpected even by the rebel Titans. Risking an instant reactor overload and being blown up into a nova, the Warlord's weapon systems were instantly filled with raging fury, and its cannons were already locked onto the first nearest Marauder rebel engine.

With the firing of weapons, salvos, and the whistling and explosions of missiles, the last bastion legion, determined to exact revenge, stepped over the wreckage of the explosions and marched resolutely towards the menacing rebel Titans, beginning their final act of vengeance.

(End of this chapter)