40K: When evil spirits appear

Ald flicked his fingers to tighten the knot, then stepped back and stared at his armor.

It was no longer the same as before; the first frost wolf pelt he had obtained was now wrapped around his waist. Two small, oval, jet-black plates pierced through the joint between the shoulder armor and breastplate, securing a heavy, greyish-white cloak. Then came the arm armor; a bone chain made of animal teeth had appeared on his right forearm, while his left hand, from the elbow guard down, was painted completely red.

The bone chain was a gift from Krom Dragon's Gaze, which he claimed was a relic of Karik Kedor. The red lacquer was Ulric's suggestion; he believed Ald should somehow remind the wolves of his identity on the battlefield, which would be helpful in many ways and could also confuse the enemy...

At this point, the old pastor's expression was actually quite unpleasant, because he really wanted to laugh, but he tried his best to control the impulse.

Alder could understand why he felt that way.

He took one last look at the armor before leaving the quiet room assigned to him and beginning his journey through Ete.

It was the height of winter in Fenris, and the chill was so intense that even the thick walls of Et could not completely block it. Taking advantage of the omnipresent winds and air currents within the massive fortress, it seeped in relentlessly, tormenting the warband servants and the young Bloodclaws every second.

The former had already donned thick clothes, while the latter still decided to tough it out, unaware that the older wolves were snickering in the darkness, wondering when these ignorant little pups would realize that Ete was located in the center of the Seven Peaks, which meant that the cold here would be even stronger than in most parts of Fenris.

Alder walked down to the lower level of Ett, nodding, making eye contact, or offering greetings directly in the crowded passageway. He didn't know everyone, but almost everyone knew him.

About twenty minutes later, he entered a long hall. Two enormous tusks, likely taken from some kind of giant elephant, hung from its ceiling. A pack of wolves moved about, but not a single blood claw was visible. Seated were Gray Hunters, Longtooth, and Wolf Guards, quietly eating; not even a cup of mead was to be seen beside them…

However, although the atmosphere was calm, it was not serious. The wolves from various companies would still chat or joke with each other between meals. However, compared with their recklessness and unruliness in their youth, they had learned to restrain themselves, and there were rarely any cases of quarrels or even fights.

Olde casually found a seat and sat down. Soon a servant came over and asked him what he wanted to eat.

What's on the menu today?

"We have everything, Dragon Slayer. The kitchen's bustling with activity." The man shrugged. "It depends on what you want."

After a moment's thought, Ald finally ordered a roasted venison. It was placed in front of him half a minute later, emitting an irresistible aroma. The perfectly roasted venison was a delicate pink, juicy and glistening, making it hard not to crave. Ald picked up a steel knife from the plate, cut it in half, then stabbed off a piece and began to eat.

Coincidentally, he had just taken his first bite when a voice reached his ears.

"How is it?" Draco Steel asked.

The Grey Hunter, who had failed in his attempt to fight the Frost Dragon alongside Ald, stood by the long table, looking travel-worn. Although he had changed out of his power armor, his beard was still covered in unmelted snow. He asked the question with a slight smile, then pulled out a chair, sat down, and ordered a bowl of knifefish soup.

Old swallowed his second bite of meat and replied, "It's delicious."

Upon hearing this, Draco raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Haven't you ever had roasted meat before? This ordinary venison is considered pretty good? By Ruth, I must take you to eat tundra venison sometime. Their meat is truly delicious; it melts in your mouth without you even having to chew it..."

Ald swallowed his third bite of meat and nodded.

As they were talking, the Steelborn's soup arrived, but before the servant could even put it down, he reached for the wooden bowl and eagerly took a large gulp, as if he were starving. Ald noticed his behavior but didn't ask any questions immediately. Instead, he quickened his eating pace, finished his meal, and then spoke just as Draco was swallowing.

"Did you just come back from outside?"

"Of course," Gang Yi said indistinctly, without turning his head, his throat still bobbing as he poured the bowl into his mouth.

"You must have gone to a very cold place."

"It's not particularly cold, just a bit far. I set off the night before last and am only now getting back to my nest."

With that, Steelborn put down the wooden basin with satisfaction. He had finished all the fish soup in it, including the two knife fish, chewing up their flesh and the needle-like bones before swallowing them. He smiled contentedly, turned to look at Old, and gestured with his hand.

"That place is actually somewhat related to you. Do you remember the child who first met you? I took people to investigate the ruins of her tribe."

Ald pictured the child and nodded.

Why?

Gang Yi sighed, his brows furrowing involuntarily, as if he were very unhappy about the matter.

"She was recently taken in by the rune priests as a handyman apprentice. They planned to teach her how to use runes so that she wouldn't follow in her tribe's footsteps. But this had only just begun when she started having nightmares every night. At first, she kept dreaming about the night the Night Watchers went to kill her family, but later she dreamed about the evil spirit you killed."

At this point, Steelborn raised his hand irritably, brushed aside his beard, scratched his chin, and narrowed his vertical pupils.

"She told them that the thing was calling her, asking her to come over. She didn't want to do it, but in her dreams she always obediently went over, even when someone was watching over her the last few times, as if the thing's words were some kind of command that was hard to disobey. The rune priests gave me a specially made exorcism charm and told me to take people over and bury the charm in the ground."

"And then?" Old asked.

"I don't know," Steelborn said, the deep lines between his brows becoming even more pronounced. "Hopefully it will work, otherwise..."

He remained silent for a while, then shook his head, not intending to talk about it anymore, but then he saw Olde suddenly stand up.

At this moment, in the eyes of the Steelborn, he looked almost indistinguishable from a Fenrisian. His once-wispy black hair was combed back, the excessively long sections braided into a warrior's braid, and even his tattered shroud had been replaced by a loose and comfortable cloth robe and fur coat. In short, if one ignored his eyes, he was no different from a Fenrisian.

But he couldn't help but look into those eyes.

Steel-blooded man stood up.

"Come on," the Grey Hunter said with a hint of smugness, as if he had achieved his goal. "I'll take you to them."

-----------------

The wise man Irnist raised his hand and wiped away the rune from the center of the girl's forehead.

He pondered for a moment, then brought over a bowl of medicine and fed it little by little to the pale-faced child with her eyes tightly closed. A few minutes later, she managed to drink the last sip, then immediately collapsed onto the bed, falling into a coma again, leaving the wise man alone in silence.

He looked at the girl with a worried expression, then turned around, put down the bowl, and went to the door of the room.

He thought, if my calculations are correct, and if Draco Steelborn isn't too stupid, he should have found the Dragon Slayer by now...

And so, he leaned against the wall by the door, arms crossed, staring at the girl as he waited. Ten minutes later, he heard footsteps approaching from the far end of the corridor. A barely perceptible smile flickered across Irnist's face. He immediately opened the door, greeting the surprised Grey Hunter and Ald, whose expression was so calm it seemed he had expected this.

He led them to the bed where Saan of the Ironheart tribe was sleeping.

"Her dreams are becoming increasingly vivid, which can be seen from her physical condition," the wise man said, raising his hand to touch the girl's forehead. "She has a fever and can't eat anything. She wants to eat, but no matter what she eats, she immediately vomits it up..."

"In addition, she is also mentally weak, which is a typical symptom of psychic backlash. However, she has been under our supervision for the past few days and has not had the opportunity to use her psychic powers. Moreover, she has no idea how to use them."

"So that... thing, it's back!" Draco Steelborn growled. He paused deliberately, refraining from uttering the word "evil spirit" in the room belonging to the rune priests.

"No, not necessarily," the wise man calmly told him. "Sometimes the subconscious of a psychic can also trigger their power, causing it to create horrors that they themselves are unaware of. This is especially common in those who have not received any training or instruction."

After he finished speaking, he looked at Olde, who was calmly looking at the girl without saying a word.

Irnist hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

"The Dragon Slayer".

Those crimson eyes gently looked over.

"What is it?"

The wise man carefully chose his words, speaking slowly, "We tried using dream manipulation and mind reading on her, but her current condition is too poor to withstand the power of the runic magic. Last time I was in a similar situation, you appeared in my dream and helped me, so I thought—"

"—No, that won't do." Ald interrupted him, expressing his refusal directly, his eyes blazing with fury. "Last time I was able to enter your dream to help you only because you were powerful enough and had established a connection with me beforehand. But she wasn't like that; all she had was a strong will. And I have long since abandoned my talents, and can no longer use any of the psionic or magical abilities you speak of."

A hush fell over the room. Steelborn looked dejected, but the wise man did not.

He slowly exhaled and said, "I knew it, but that's alright."

"It's alright?" Steelborn growled angrily. "This child is almost dead!"

Irniste calmly raised his right hand, signaling him not to get angry. The latter realized his impulsiveness and mumbled an apology, but still couldn't resist the urge to ask more questions.

"So you have a solution, wise man?"

“Of course.” Irnist smiled slightly. “She is tormented by dreams, and we cannot enter them… In that case, let’s just make the dream come true.”

Draco was stunned, not understanding what he meant, but Ald nodded.

"Good idea," he said briefly. "But such a ceremony requires a large enough venue, and we also need to allocate manpower to stabilize her mind."

"We have both, Dragon Slayer," Irnist said solemnly. "The only thing we lack is a warrior strong enough to rival the evil spirits of our dreams..."

"I'll do it," Old said. There was nothing in his tone; it was as if he were simply stating a conclusion.

Irnist bowed with his hand on his chest.

Three hours later, a sizable pack of wolves left Et and drove towards a snowfield.

The place had long since become lifeless. All the animals with keen senses of smell had migrated away beforehand, and those that remained either perished in Fenris's harsh winter or died of starvation. Their corpses lay in the thick snow, gradually freezing over. Sometimes, some daring tribesmen would even make special trips to find these ice sculptures and bring them back to their tribes.

The behavior of this wolf pack was actually not much different from theirs, except that the former only sought animal carcasses, while the latter sought human remains...

As darkness fell, the anti-gravity troop carriers came to a stop, and the rune priests disembarked. They began to wander through the ruins of the village, which Draco Steelborn and his squad had burned, searching for suitable nodes to place ritual runes. They were draped in heavy robes, their wrists bound with insignia, and their eyes glowed with a deep blue light, bringing with them a profound chill that made the swirling snowstorm even more terrifying.

Meanwhile, Saen of the Ironheart tribe had been placed in the center of the village, lying on a movable iron bed, covered with thick blankets.

The wise Irnist stood beside her, eyes closed, his right hand raised aloft a spear-like scepter in silence...

Everything seemed normal, yet not a single snowflake fell on him and Saan.

With a soft thud, Ald plunged his greatsword into the ground and stood up straight.

He looked up, gazing at the dim sky, and recalled that night.

Did he kill the evil spirit? The answer is yes, he destroyed it, first the possessed flesh and blood, then its spirit. He knew he was capable of doing so; it had been the truth ever since he killed the first demon long ago... Therefore, he knew that the girl was not tormented by an evil spirit, but by her own actions.

She can't get out of it; she refuses to get out of it.

Olde shifted his gaze to the face that refused to wake up.

Do you want to cry, child? He did. You are all alone now, all those connected to you by blood are gone, and you have the freedom to cry.

The wind and snow howled, the coldness dampening his long hair and cheeks, sliding down his eyes and disappearing without a trace.

The warrior reached out, grasped the greatsword, and began to wait.

Night gradually fell.