This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 565 I want to check the license plate!!!

Network, Network Hub around Comoros, Imperial Occupied Territory
On the rows of massive black spires embedded in the walls of the net tunnel, now owned by the Dark Eldar and imbued with their dark style, Stormbird landing craft and Imperial transport ships were moored on the open ground where the cold wind howled.

Their loading and unloading hatches were wide open, and the doors were gaping open like the beaks of thirsty birds, letting the cold wind rush in.

With their backs to the battlefield frozen in frost, tens of thousands of soldiers and logistics personnel were queuing to board the plane. Everyone was wrapped tightly in their coats, carrying weapons and tactical packs, discussing deployment notices with the exceptionally outstanding wolves in the crowd.

Harald Dead Wolf dismounted from his anti-gravity motorcycle and shoved his way through the crowd, making way for the Mechanicus members who were methodically dismantling Eldar relics and modifying the newly conquered ruins with Eldar advisors.

His goggles buzzed as he scanned the crowd for facial recognition, but he knew the person he was looking for very well.

The faces around them were frozen blue-purple, and the captured Dark Eldar squinted and shivered in the cold wind created by the Frost Crystals.

Seeing the corrupted state of these Dark Eldar, Harald Dead Wolf instinctively showed a look of disgust.

The resistance from the Dark Eldar did cause some trouble for the Space Wolves, but on a local scale, it was extremely chaotic.

Some were afraid to fully embrace Slaanesh, some were afraid and wanted to surrender, and some were afraid and planned to have one last good time.
Different demands have led to these aliens fighting independently on local battlefields.

As for those evil Supreme Heaven powers?

To put it bluntly, as a former governor of Fenris who spent decades in prison and operating within Fenris, and who has a comprehensive understanding of the Imperium's reality and the development of the warp, Harald Dead Wolf's assessment of the Imperium's current use of psionic energy can only be described as even more sinister.

With a wandering gaze, Haradel the Dead Wolf looked at a group of Dark Eldar hanging on the flags of various squads, howling in the golden flames.

The Dawn Banner first appeared during the Dawn Expedition, distributed along with various sacred artifacts.

Not only can it shoulder the responsibility of isolating or amplifying the effects of the subspace, but it can also manually create an advantageous combat environment for Astartes against different opponents.

Each unique banner, crafted by the Astartes through its ability to absorb and record every battle and its spoils, and by transforming them through the burning of souls, represents the glory that every Astarte strives for.

Through successive iterations, these banners have also been given different functions based on the combat habits of different legions, in order to adapt to the ever-changing battlefield environment of the galaxy.

To those with a thorough understanding of the warp, it appears more like a mobile altar of chaos—

It is a great creation used to project the great power of the Father and his sons, to enable the Astartes to directly seek the wisdom of genetic lineage, and to seek the well-being of the human race.

In short, under the illustrious leadership of the Allfather and his sons, the valiant struggle of Astartes, and the selfless dedication of humanity, the Dark Eldar's petty tricks were as utterly ineffective as the species itself.

Shaking his head and clearing away the series of official statements that popped into his mind, Harader the Dead Wolf suddenly realized that the unforgettable decades in Fenris seemed to have left indelible marks on him.

Of course, many more people still live in the illusion of the Eldar Empire.

They fantasize that Comoros, the Web Hub, can defend everything of the Ancient Elven Empire as it did ten thousand years ago, and that these unreflective monsters can continue to maintain the luxurious and decadent life bestowed upon them by their ancestors.

The next step is to end all of this.

Harald Dead Wolf always felt that this battle taking place in the net had a special significance.

Even shrouded in the shadows of the subspace and reality, countless troops gather and set off here, soldiers marching toward history, or going to shape unprecedented history.

Just like long ago, the Great Expedition began here.

This is also a glorious place to welcome back.

Harader the Dead Wolf sincerely believed that he would witness the triumphant return of great heroes, the grand parade in honor of them, and the shining laurels and banners bestowed upon them.

Thanks to the great 'Imperial Regent' for the recommendation.

If Guilliman hadn't singled out Nigel the Windcaller, allowing him to legitimately take over all of Fenris's affairs, his indefinitely extended sentence for offending Logan would have gone on for who knows how long.

Harald Dead Wolf couldn't help but thank Nigel the Windcaller, who, while imprisoned in Fenris, used his powerful psychic abilities to establish a connection with the Fenris planetary soul, providing the Space Wolf with spiritual protection and incidentally serving as the governor of Fenris.

You run Fenris, overseeing all matters of psionic power and politics, while I fight on the front lines to win honors and receive praise from the Primarch—all for the sake of the Legion.

Bang~ Bang~
Harald Dead Wolf pounded his chest, heartbroken that Nigel the Windcaller's familiar face was destined never to return, never.

He then put the matter out of his mind, suppressed his smile, and tried to stop thinking about it.

He found his goal.

The man was on the loading ramp of a Stormbird with an ice-blue paint job. He had been worried that he might have missed the first transport plane to depart and thus miss out on the honor of being among the first to reach Comoros in the next round.

Fortunately, he made it in time.

The waiting soldiers made way for him.

"Senior citizens."

He stepped forward and said.

Bjorn, the alpha wolf among alphas, was talking with Logan and a group of officers when he heard the noise and turned around.

The smell of alcohol emanating from him made Dead Wolf sniffle.

But he resisted the urge to take out the mead from his waist and drink it.

"The 'Death Wolf' team is ready in Dalian, and we hope to participate in the first round of attacks against Comoros."

There's no way around it; it's become formalized.

Legion characteristics are acceptable, and legion culture can be developed, but that's something that only happens during periods of rest, after a war, or when cultural activities are being held.

It's not uncommon for Wild Wolves to have made mistakes due to drinking, so it's understandable that Dawnwing would include such behavior in their management scope.

Bjorn, who had lived for ten thousand years, served Ruth, defeated Magnus, and told the wolf cubs the story of "Ruth's Journey" for ten thousand years, was the main supporter of this project.

If the veterans have already given their support, what else is there to say?
Do you understand the despair of being woken up from your coffin every hundred years by wolf cubs to watch them drink mead and have a feast, while you can only shrink in your coffin and tell them dry stories?
Bjorn sincerely believes that it is necessary to carry forward the Legion's spirit of hard work and perseverance, so that the Space Wolves can have a new look in the new era.

The key is that the wolf cubs couldn't resist either.

Their bodies are nowhere near as tough as the Primarch.

"no need."

Upon hearing the report from Dead Wolf, who had completed preparations, Bjorn, who was listening to the report with one hand and holding a glass of mead in the other, shook his head.

Which wolf cub got ahead of him this time?
Hadral Dead Wolf was puzzled at first, but then shook his head.

He's been in prison in Fenris for so long; these guys who've only been in office for a few months and are already thinking about running away are nowhere near as experienced as him.

Is it that damn Logan again?

Dead Wolf immediately looked at Logan, who seemed to have just been reporting something.

It was one thing to throw him into Fenris prison because of personal grudges back then, but now he wants to steal his credit for being the first to scale the walls?
"Senior citizens."

Logan immediately said, "The Thirteen Greats have been found, along with Thousand Sons who lived with them in the Web Path. They are currently being escorted to the War Council."

"What's the situation on the outskirts of Comoros?"

Bjorn asked again, and then casually took a sip of mead.

That pose made all the wolves, including Logan, drool.

"The elimination of external forces of the Dark Eldar has been completed, the Wolf Pack has been integrated, and all participating forces, including the Black Templar, the Phoenix Sages, and allies of the Shattered Legion, have completed their subsequent deployments in the occupied territories."

Logan replied again.

"very good."

Bjorn nodded and checked the shimmering psionic runes in his hand once more.

"Form ranks and board the ships."

His gaze left Logan and fell upon the pack of wolves still eyeing the mead in his hand. He raised an eyebrow, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

Then he addressed the crowd.

"We are withdrawing our troops."

"Huh? Withdrawing troops?"

The dead wolf, who was still fantasizing about climbing the highest city in Comoros and stuffing Victor's ass into the Slaanesh's realm, suddenly changed his expression.

"No."

He first glanced at Logan, who appeared calm, and inwardly cursed him as a coward before deciding to make a few attempts.

In war, how can you stop fighting when the enemy is right at your doorstep?

They haven't lost many men; their main force has remained at 130,000, and they haven't even used up their reserves waiting outside.

"What about Comoros? We don't want it anymore?"

"Yes, no, thank you."

Bjorn replied confidently.

"What about garrisoning? You're not going to take back the territory we've conquered?"

"Yes, I don't want it anymore."

"what?"

The dead wolf suddenly felt like the sky had fallen.

"So, that means we're done with this?"

He asked again in disbelief.

Dead Wolf didn't seem to have any intention of disobeying orders, but he visibly wilted.

I don't know about the other wolf cubs, but in Fenris's thirty years, the dead wolf's sharp edges have been basically worn down.

If Astartes dares to use his spikes now, and gets sent to Terra along with those unlucky guys, his service career will be over.

"Who said that?"

With a meaningful smile, Bjorn patted Dead Wolf on the shoulder, amidst Logan's equally expectant gaze.

"The commander has given us a new mission..."
-
In Comoros, the suffocating siege by the empire suddenly came to an end.

It stopped right there outside those brightly lit nets, as if someone had pressed a switch.

Victor pressed a switch next to his ear, sending a nerve signal that disabled the noise suppression system on his helmet.

He still felt deaf, as if his ears had gone completely deaf within hours of hearing the screams of the last Dark Eldar scout.

But he realized he could still hear himself clearly; he could smell the fear in the Comoros air, see the chaotic underbelly under the pressure of extinction, and hear the scraping of his warriors' armor.

Victor knew that the Empire's attack on Comoros would not be so simple.

He was also well aware that the power struggle between the gods would not be limited to a single, long-decayed city.

He didn't have many ambitions.

Having lived for 20,000 years, climbing from the sewers of the Comoros to the towering Black Towers, Victor had experienced almost everything. Victor only wished to continue his indulgent life and satisfy his ambition for domination within his limited time; he never considered gambling his future on the games of the gods or the revival of the Eldar.

That is why he is so confident in saving Comoros.

"continue."

Victor said coldly.

His conspiracy leader's goggles were covered in blood as he looked down at the nightmare.

He used sign language.

Continue offering sacrifices.

Among the troops who were entrenched beneath the tower, anxiously awaiting the surprise attack under the preparations of the Lord of Youdu, some members who had been itching to act began to stir again.

They dragged out those lowly half-born children, ignoring their pleas, and threw them into those ancient magic circles.

These are most likely instruments of torture created by some thrill-seeking ancient races. They would inflict endless pain, obliterate the physical bodies of the victims, and then cast their near-immortal souls into the warp.

As a highly developed psionic race, the Medusas, who have long been integrated with the Dark Eldar over the millennia, served as members who could spy on the results of their sacrifices from the Warp.

Comoros does indeed have regulations prohibiting psionic energy, after all, Comoros, as a hub of the Web, also has a large number of portals connecting to the warp.

After the Slaanesh were born, most of them were directly linked to the Slaanesh realm.

Unfortunately, this regulation was only used to restrain the lower-class half-children and the fallen, in order to prevent the situation in Comoros from becoming too uncontrollable.

In fact, which of the high-ranking members of the Dark Eldar does not use psionic energy?
Even if the risk of using it themselves is too high, they still need to keep a few psionic slaves.

Soon, the screams of the half-born children faded away atop this spire, whose length should be described in astronomical units.

Medusa, the tentacles of these parasitic psionic creatures flickered, conveying a message to the top-ranking officials.

Are you satisfied with how things turned out?

Ahriman asked the question calmly.

"Just as I predicted."

Victor replied, "The galaxy will be engulfed in war once more, and Comoros will be but a glimmer of light in the fire. War is endless, the conflicts of the gods are eternal, but Comoros need not perish."

"Did you foresee this moment?"

Ahriman asked again.

Victor remained noncommittal, clearly displeased with the matter.

"It's not comprehensive. I admit I didn't foresee your involvement at first, but that's the nature of prophecy; the threads never stop, they only change."

"Indeed, but the twisting of the threads does not determine my path. I lead others to follow, and every action will bring a thousand different fates to the world, but my path will only be determined by my actions."

Ahriman replied.

"Few people can foresee the future and choose the right path."

Glancing sideways at Tzeentch's chosen one, who had just been trying to question him but then started comforting himself, Victor took a few steps forward and looked along the narrow slit of the black spire at the net tunnel exit that resembled a starry sky.

His consciousness was constantly being adjusted.

After overcoming the white noise that had persisted for countless six years to resist the constant, jarring impact, and after this troublesome question from the thousand children, he could sense that the current tranquility in Comoros seemed unnatural.

It is impossible to maintain the blockade by relying on those semi-abandoned outer fortifications.

The Empire's offensive was too fierce; their traitorous cousins ​​unleashed the Empire's unparalleled naval fleet, which allowed the Empire's already excessively large army to be unleashed.

Squadrons of Stormhammers, Brutal Blades, and other super-heavy tanks roared with cannon fire; petrified lizards and Medusas rained down shells as countless Imperial naval warships of all types flew through the air.

All of them are documented in eyewitness accounts.

All units were arrayed and deployed in the plaza formed by ancient ruins and the remains of the Dark Eldar.

The silence continues.

On the various defensive lines that were barely organized in the upper reaches of the Comoros, the turrets and fortresses always pointed towards the outer network area.

An eerie pink mist swirled from the bottom, emanating from the chaotic half-children.

The noise and vibrations from those ancient weapons drawing energy from subspace were extremely unsettling.

The sky shimmered with a bronze glow as the God of Blood gazed upon these warriors, whose ranks were not perfectly aligned, yet who were bursting with an insatiable will to survive in the face of life and death. He pondered what could possibly break through this impregnable defense of this vast city destined to be ravaged by bloodshed.

The Lord of Pleasure was somewhat disappointed. He had thought that the Wings of Dawn would be more aggressive, but unfortunately, even though his demon princes were already sharpening their knives, the being worthy of his attention had not yet shown any sign of himself.

Then, the scale of the war once again sent chills down the spines of those facing it.

Standing on the edge of the spire, watching the reactions of billions of individuals in the psionic detector, I felt the chilling cold that came from the depths of my heart.

Victor, the Lord of the Underworld, realized that this was just the prelude.

He entered the silent first ring, the starlight behind him, passing through the highest spire, casting a long, thin shadow over the complex city of Comoros, light-years away, as if this shadow were the only remaining piece of his world.

He had already anticipated the worst-case scenario, but it seemed things were going to get even worse.

Clang!
It was as if it were responding to his unease.

After what could be described as a long wait, something broke.

It started off low and gradually grew louder, like a sound coming from next door.

Victor's cheeks were soaked with sweat.

The explosion shook the heavens, psionic energy surged, and the veil thinned.

Comoros, a high-altitude dimensional anchor used to stabilize cities and to hold together matter from light-years away without it coalescing into a sphere due to gravity, seemed to have been removed in an instant.

It was so practiced, as if they had done it a thousand times.

In the region closest to the network, the cities ruled by the secondary cabal groups are now seemingly caught in an endless vortex, their forms and structures undergoing unprecedented and drastic changes.

Every change is accompanied by the rewriting of certain physical laws, and the world seems to lose its former tranquility in the face of such forces, with the massive structure frequently undergoing the spectacle of overturning and reorganization.

That's a technology that humans couldn't possibly possess.

The fortress's front edge and walls looked as if they had been bitten by a greedy giant. The black spirit bones were blasted open, a series of towers and avenues were completely torn apart, the buttresses were turned into fragments, and the thick armor was completely flattened, like metal foil.

In an instant, most of the wall cannons, laser platforms, and the troops guarding the area, along with the towers that supported them, disappeared.

That was definitely not the space wolf that was expected.

"This is."

As Victor gazed at the gray steel figures surging within the blurry scene, a sense of familiarity emanating from his bloodline made him ponder the identity of the newcomers.

He subconsciously didn't want to believe it.

But all that remains is beyond the control of the Lord of Youdu.

Along with these unexpected visitors, whose names Victor didn't even want to mention, came the terrifying realm of the subspace, a realm that transcended the dimensions of the material universe, whose boundaries became more blurred and fragile than ever before.

Just as Victor had predicted, those originally tightly protected network barriers, like fragile paper, teetered on the brink of collapse in the psionic storm and were eventually easily torn apart.

The tentacles of the warp, carrying the terrifying will of their masters—those ancient and powerful beings—crossed the barriers and descended upon this battlefield already shrouded in madness, colliding with the green domain that opposed it, spreading outwards like a torrential flood.

It craves.

It searches.

It calls out!
"Roar!"

The Blood God let out a piercing roar, and red clouds lit up the sky, a gift to celebrate yet another grand war.

"Hehe~"

The laughter of the Lord of Pleasure began to climb into the hearts of every Dark Eldar, gripping their pounding hearts and leaving them no time for anything else.

Simply to save their own lives, these Dark Spirits who had reserved beds in the Sixth Ring Road in advance naturally unleashed unprecedented power.

"Let's do it!"

The Crimson King, who had usurped the heavens, roared impatiently, no longer paying attention to the region affected by the power stirred by the gods, and began to wholeheartedly pursue his revenge, which he had been waiting for for ten thousand years.

The governors of Victor, the lords of the Witchcraft Cult, and the masters of the tribes of wizards climbed to his side.

"gather!"

He gave them orders.

Regardless of what it is, the only thing that can be confirmed is that it is indeed the enemy they have been waiting for for so long.

The rest is unimportant, and you shouldn't think about it.

Almost no one realized what had happened.

There's only one thing that Ahriman can understand right now.

Now he desperately hopes he's wrong.

Even the thought itself felt so familiar to him that he was only just beginning to realize what it was.

fear.

Just like when he first chose to hide the Empire's intentions from Magnus, and when he first cast a scarlet spell.

"what is this?"

He looked at what appeared before him: those soulless machines, those dead who should have been buried in time long ago.

It's not the Space Wolf, not even the Black Temple, not the Phoenix Child created by that fake.

What about the Space Wolves, and that 130,000-strong army that has already surrounded the Comoros?
What about the Primarch? There's another Primarch.
He almost screamed, but in order to maintain his dignity, he could only keep repeating the question to himself and those around him.

"What's this?!"

　P.S.: My goodness, with all this artillery fire these past few days, I'm starting to miss curfew.

　　I cried.

　　Also, I'm really grateful to everyone for keeping writing this long, sob sob.

　　I just couldn't live with myself if I didn't write it.

　　I love you all, sob sob sob

　　
　
(End of this chapter)