40K: When evil spirits appear

As the eerie blue light that signaled the start of the ceremony slowly illuminated the ruins of the village, Draco Steelborn felt a chill run down his spine.

Coincidentally, several Bloodclaws accompanying him also let out low, panting breaths. This was the first time they had witnessed the power of the rune priests firsthand. Their previously vague impressions and the ghostly tales they had heard in tents as children now merged seamlessly, driving them to constantly scan the surrounding ruins, their wolf eyes narrowing warily into sharp needles.

In contrast, the Steelborn, though far calmer than the others, also instinctively gripped their axes tightly.

A few seconds later, he looked away, gazing at the child convulsing in agony on the iron bed, and exhaled a long, warm breath. The white mist was dispersed by the increasingly fierce wind, the howling now sounding almost like the wailing of ghosts, and the sky had completely darkened, becoming a heavy curtain that pressed down on everyone's shoulders...

For no apparent reason, Gang Yi recalled a story he had heard decades ago.

The protagonist of the story is a veteran with long teeth who was seriously injured when he went to hunt frost spiders without any weapons or armor.

During those sixteen days of delirium and agonizing struggle for survival, he experienced numerous bizarre dreams caused by the poison. Later, when he returned to Et with the Frost Spider, the wolf priests said that he had been plagued by nightmares because he had been poisoned by the Frost Spider and was too badly injured to metabolize the toxin. However, Longtooth offered a different explanation, insisting that this was not the case.

"In my dreams, the night sky is filled with the faces of tens of millions of dead people," he told them. "I believe it's true, at least part of it."

Draco slowly raised his head, and the starless night calmly looked back at him.

The rune priests began chanting incantations, their voices shrouded in the snow, becoming secret whispers. Meanwhile, the cold light gradually changed color, transforming from its original ghostly blue to a blazing, deathly white, before suddenly surging upwards, illuminating the entire ruins as bright as day.

A change occurred at that moment. Draco Steelborn sensed it, his brow furrowing. The Bloodclaws, bewildered, reflexively raised their upper lips, baring their fangs menacingly. Only the warrior remained calm, even though he could clearly hear the sounds: the crackling of burning wood, the indistinct voices, the soft breathing of a sleeping child...

He heard these sounds clearly, and then he began to see the original appearance of the small village that had been burned twice. Many shadows were moving through it, their faces blurred, everything was distorted like unformable smoke, only the eyes were clear, black and empty, with nothing inside, just a void.

The girl on the iron bed suddenly screamed.

Even though her eyes were tightly closed and she was still trapped in a dream, she seemed to have witnessed everything herself, and her face turned extremely frightened.

Even if she had truly witnessed it all, a child's scream shouldn't outweigh the howling wind. This defies logic, it challenges human reason—however, for the wolves at this moment, reason was secondary; the most pressing problem was the excruciating pain shooting through their ears…

Their incredibly sensitive hearing was protesting in this way, and the Bloodclaws groaned uncontrollably, some even spurting blood from their ears.

The Steelborn roared and called to the wise man Irnist, wanting him to do something, but the latter remained unmoved, still holding his long staff high, his eyes fixed only on the warrior.

The latter calmly nodded and then raised his greatsword.

The steel made a muffled thud as it left the hard earth and thick snow, instantly silencing the distorted, terrifying scream. Then, something happened that Steelborn and his squad couldn't comprehend—the shadows suddenly all looked over, then softly called out the girl's name.

"Sahn..."

Their voices mingled together, yet still sounded soft and gentle, like parents calling to their young child. But the truth was far from that. The warrior could clearly smell the twisting and decay beneath this gentleness, and even see the enormous form hidden in the wind and snow. It crouched, its back hunched, like a frail old man, its arms raised high, each fingertip adorned with vein-like threads connecting to the shadows, which danced incessantly, filled with excitement and malevolence...

"Saan, come to us." The puppets called out in a familiar tone. "We're waiting for you."

On the iron bed, the girl's body, bound by ropes, began to tremble violently. She appeared to be in immense pain, tears streaming from her tightly closed eyes, falling into the snow and disappearing.

The soldier suddenly moved.

Unlike the previous two battles, he didn't vanish instantly. He simply walked calmly, each step sinking deep into the snow, leaving visible, deep footprints. The snow fell on his face, most of it melting and evaporating from the heat emanating from those footprints, turning into swirling wisps of mist.

He walked up to the monster's feet, then looked up and stared.

"Attack!" Irnist suddenly roared from not far away.

As soon as he finished speaking, the runes that had been shining brightly throughout the village suddenly dimmed, and darkness regained the upper hand until a flash of silver light disappeared.

It arrived without warning, yet like moonlight brushing across the deathly darkness, briefly illuminating everything again—Irnist's deathly pale face, the weapons gripped tightly in the hands of the Steelborn and Bloodclaws, the monster's rapidly dismembering body, and its ecstatic face...

Then came a muffled thud, sounding like someone was chopping down a huge, completely soaked and softened log with an axe.

But what followed the sound was not the sound of wood scattering, but a deafening roar from something.

The second glimmer of moonlight was born when Draco Steelborn chose to raise his left-handed blaster and fire.

Gunfire flashed, and the explosive shell, its tail bursting with a blinding flash of fire, flew towards the monster, now missing an arm, and exploded precisely in its face. Black smoke billowed, and it roared again, not because of the Gray Hunter's accurate shot, but because it had lost another hand.

The arm, which had just come to life and acquired flesh and blood, fell heavily into the snow, twitching like a worm. What gushed from the severed end was not fresh blood, but a pungent, black, and filthy pus, which hissed and corroded the snow...

However, at this moment when he could have easily swung his sword a third time to decapitate the monster, the warrior took a step back, sword in hand.

He turned his head and looked at Saen.

At this moment, a cold light representing psychic energy quietly bloomed beneath her body, making her skin almost translucent, and her bones, blood vessels, and nerves clearly visible.

"She's still dreaming!" The wise man's roar briefly cut through the gale, echoing in everyone's ears. "That thing has become reality!"

"Evil spirits!" Draco Steelborn growled.

The warrior withdrew his gaze and looked at the newly born evil spirit in front of him, which had completely shed its illusory identity, and suddenly asked a question.

"Do you want to remember them and keep living, or forget everything and go with it?"

No one knew who he was asking, at least the evil spirit didn't. It was currently basking in the joy of rebirth, stretching out its previously hunched back to fully reveal its true form—the Steelborn nearby were shocked to discover that its face bore a striking resemblance to the Night Watcher Zarek Frosthowl, only many times more hideous and grotesque. Its skin was loose and mottled like an old man's, and beneath its bony ribs was a huge, protruding belly, inside which something seemed to be alive, kicking and protruding its horrifying silhouette.

"finally......"

It whispered with boundless joy, then looked at the warrior with eyes as black and empty as the shadows, before opening its blood-red maw and biting down with agility far beyond its size. The warrior, however, neither flinched nor dodged, remaining rooted to the spot, only slightly raising his greatsword...

"Bang!"

After the deafening roar, sparks flew as the evil spirit's mouthful of steel needle-like fangs crashed headlong into the blade of the greatsword.

It grinned maliciously, its foul-smelling saliva dripping down its face, but the warrior remained unmoved. His right hand, holding the sword, slid down to the end of the hilt and pressed the button to activate the disintegration force field.

In an instant, lightning flashed.

With a chilling buzzing sound, the evil spirit's smile instantly turned into a wail, and bits of flesh, pus, blood, and rotten black bone flew everywhere. It shook its head in agony and began to retreat frantically, two horrifying sword wounds now appearing on its jaw and face, almost splitting its entire face in four, while the greatsword remained stuck in its face, crackling and splintering in the wounds.

"Chase it!" Draco Steelborn immediately ordered in Volgan. "Kill it!"

The soldiers' voices could be heard from afar.

"No," he said. "Not for now."

He then turned and walked toward Saen. The child was still asleep, but tears streamed down his face, and he was even sobbing softly.

"Do you want to remember, or forget?" the soldier repeated.

A few seconds later, perhaps miraculously, Saen slowly opened her eyes. The psychic light still shone within them, and her body trembled uncontrollably from the violent power, but all this pain did not prevent her from speaking.

"Why didn't you kill it, Dragon Slayer? Isn't it an evil creature?" the girl asked, her voice choked with pain and tears.

Not far away, the evil spirit's body was gradually disappearing into the snowstorm, still howling, though its voice was growing fainter and fainter. Steelborn desperately wanted to chase after it and kill it once and for all, but a force within him whispered, constantly urging him to obey the warrior's words, even though those words didn't sound like a command at all.

The warrior didn't answer, only staring into the girl's eyes, those eyes now tinged with a deep, dark blue. He knew what was happening—Saen's talent was slowly awakening; the Wolf Pack called psionic power an extremely subjective force, capable of being greatly amplified or weakened by the user's emotions...

But that's not what he's most concerned about right now.

"Answer me!" Saan screamed.

Her voice was distorted by psychic energy, carrying a heavy echo that shouldn't have appeared, while the ropes that had bound her body snapped one by one, and an invisible force lifted her up and floated away.

Seeing this, the wise man beside him sighed as if he had expected it. As a rune priest, he knew very well that this was not all of Saen's power. Their psionic energy was also mixed in, providing passive assistance for her impending rampage.

The evil spirit is fleeing.

With every second it lives, its existence in the material world becomes more secure, while Saen's psionic energy becomes like firewood in the furnace, slowly being consumed by it. Irnist knew perfectly well that the best course of action was to kill the girl, which would kill the evil spirit instantly, but he was unwilling to do so.

The wolves were unwilling to do that.

A day earlier, Logan Grimner, the alpha wolf, had told him and his colleagues this.

"That child should have died like her family, but she didn't, which means her lifeline shouldn't end now. Besides, she's already joined the wolves, just like the Night Watch. Find a way to save her, gentlemen... before she truly becomes an accomplice of evil spirits. We cannot allow an innocent soul to go astray, nor can we destroy her before she commits evil."

His words echoed in the wise man's ears, and all he wanted to know now was how the warrior would respond.

And Old spoke softly.

"I can kill it, but it belongs to you."

The child was stunned and wanted to retort, but Old continued. His voice was still very soft, yet it was enough to drown out the howling wind, and his red eyes were completely calm.

"I understand how you feel. Although true empathy doesn't exist, I can understand a small part of it. That evil spirit was born from your nightmares, from your longing for your loved ones and your hatred for the Night Watch. Don't deny it, I know you hate them; that's obvious, otherwise it wouldn't have taken on Zarek's appearance."

Saen's lips trembled slowly. She shook her head repeatedly, still trying to deny it, but then she remembered those nights. She lay alone in Etne, the person she knew best being the murderer who had killed all her loved ones. Then came the nightmares, that thing looking at her with her mother's eyes, calling to her with her father's voice, reaching out its right hand to her with her brother's smile...

She knew it was all fake, but she still couldn't resist. How could she resist?

"It belongs to you; its life is intertwined with yours," Ald repeated. "So choose, child, to remember, or to forget?"

He turned and walked into the howling snowstorm, his figure gradually disappearing from sight... and the howl of the evil spirit rang out again. It roared incessantly, as if fighting some invincible enemy. The ground trembled incessantly, the pack of wolves solemnly stared at the snow curtain, gazing at the slaughter-like battle in the distance, and the Bloodclaws began to chant in a low voice, singing their ancient songs once more.

Steelborn should have punished them for this, but they didn't, and even joined in moments later.

The girl had already fallen to the ground.

A chill seeped into her body, but she ignored it, staring blankly at the snow-covered landscape. She shouldn't have seen the entire battle, but her psychic powers allowed her to know every detail. She could clearly hear the whistling wind created by the warriors' swords, the monster's roar, and the voices of her loved ones coming from its swollen belly.

They were still calling her name, even though they were dead and their souls had been devoured by another evil spirit at the moment of their death, yet their voices sounded so real and so sorrowful.

"Come on, Saan, come on, we're just missing you. We're all here, can't you hear us? Come, join us..."

The girl trembled as she walked forward step by step into the snow.