40K: When evil spirits appear

"And then what happened? Did that child still dream?" a young Bloodclaw asked.

Draco Steelborn shrugged. "That's it. That's all. We're all back in Et. If you want more details, just go ask him yourself."

As soon as he finished speaking, he laughed out loud—how was he supposed to ask? Was he supposed to cross this dense jungle and long trenches, braving the firepower of countless demons, traitors, cults, and filthy mutants, and then find Old on the other side to inquire about details that might not even exist?

Arabian Nights.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but reminisce about the days before the communications were disrupted by the scum of the Dark Mechanicus. Those were the days when they had achieved considerable success...

The Grey Hunter narrowed his eyes with displeasure, and the atmosphere created by Ald's story gradually faded in the ensuing silence.

His intention was to use this story to encourage the sullen Bloodclaws and attract their attention, but now he himself had become the one with the worst mood. Anger surged within him, forcing him to stand up and gaze into the distance. Across two mighty, raging rivers, he could clearly see one of the main cities of Agmidodon, now reduced to ruins.

Many headless corpses, hanging from the crumbling walls, swayed in the wind. They had once been inhabitants of this city, but no longer were. They had been killed, their souls devoured, and the Steelborn simply did not believe the cultists did this merely as a mockery of their enemies—no, anything connected to Chaos was never that simple…

So the answer is simple: the innocent die and become nourishment for evil.

He sighed deeply, feeling a profound sorrow, and he was not the only son of Fenris to feel this way.

At the other end of this long defensive line, situated at the edge of two rivers, Logan Grimner, the alpha wolf, stared intently at the map before him, his brows furrowed. The soft blue light emanating from the projection on the center of the tactical table illuminated his face, making him appear even more serious.

His expression was mistakenly taken as a sign of dissatisfaction by the local defense commander, a gray-haired woman, but she still had the courage to speak up.

"Sir, we—"

The alpha wolf held up a finger, signaling her to be quiet. Then, he looked away from the map and focused on her, frowning as he spoke in a gruff voice.

"Don't misunderstand me, Colonel Rhys. I have no problem with your retreat strategy. Faced with countless Chaos enemies, your retreat is understandable, especially since you didn't retreat to the relatively safe cities on the subcontinent, but instead built trench lines on the spot. This is a decision that only experienced and courageous people can make... I'm just wondering whether we should launch a counter-offensive."

The colonel was visibly taken aback by those words, and her expression, which had just softened, turned serious again. Her adjutant, a man with a goatee, screamed in shock.

"What?! But, sir, the Chaos Enemy hasn't crossed the river yet! Are we supposed to abandon our tactical advantage and cross the river to fight them?"

The alpha wolf glanced at him, smiled, and then approached him, casting its shadow over him. The man gritted his teeth, stood still, looked up to meet his gaze, and did not back down.

Finally, Logan nodded. He bent down and patted the man's shoulder with two fingers, the pressure just right, heavy enough to show his respect.

"Yes, you heard me right. I'm going to launch a surprise attack across the river. Their main force hasn't left the city yet, which means they're still looking for survivors to kill. Are we just going to sit idly by? That's one reason. Secondly, if even the defenders can't think of a reason to launch a counterattack, they certainly won't. Therefore, we're bound to catch them off guard."

He straightened up, his expression returning to seriousness and gloom.

"Thirdly..." he said slowly. "I cannot allow them to continue to act so recklessly, harming innocent people."

He returned to the tactical table and quickly gave orders to the other wolf in Fenris dialect, which neither of them could understand. After turning to leave the command room, he switched back to High Gothic.

"Listen carefully, Colonel Rhys. I need you to assemble your armored forces—not heavy armor, just light armor capable of launching rapid assaults. I will also deploy our armored units to cooperate with you. I've always heard that Armageddon's Steel Legion is an outstanding mechanized infantry force; now it's time to put that to the test. Get ready, Colonel. We'll depart at nightfall."

Rhys took a deep breath, nodded, placed his hands on his chest in a hawk salute, and then hurried away with his adjutant. The simple door to the command room quickly and quietly closed. Logan Grimner didn't look at the map again, but turned to look at a wolf that had been waiting in the corner of the command room.

He began by asking, "How does war taste?"

The man thought for a moment and replied, "It's full of dust."

The alpha wolf laughed at the answer. He left the long table, came to him, and said, "This is the war of the forty-first millennium, Ald. The kind of war you fought in the past should actually be seen as battles, heroic battles... But the war I see is composed of an omnipresent torrent of steel. Tanks, gunboats, bombardments filling the sky, and the inevitable face-to-face confrontations between the two sides. It's a meat grinder wrapped in steel. Dragon Slayer, I despise it, yet I am now one of it."

Old shook his head: "We are all part of it."

"No!" Logan Grimner suddenly raised his voice seriously. "You are not, Old! You didn't need to come to this war. This is the war of the wolves, so we all came out, but you are just walking with the wolves. You are not one of us, you have never received the Father's grace, so naturally you don't need to fight for him... But you still came, and I feel guilty about it."

Ald frowned, then made an expression that the alpha wolf had never expected—more than two years had passed since the evil spirit that had been troubling Saen was slain, but this was the first time he had seen Ald express such strong and clear displeasure.

"Guilt?" He repeated the word. "You don't need to, Logan. I already said what I was thinking before I even boarded the ship."

"Yes, you did say that," Logan thought to himself. "But I still feel..."

He gave a low hum, banishing the thought that seemed somewhat insulting to the other person's resolve from his mind, and then jokingly changed the subject.

"Remember what Ulric once said? The wolf pack, like you, swore to eradicate all evil in the world... How about that? We weren't lying to you, were we?"

Olde looked at him for a while, then suddenly sighed and walked straight to the door.

"Hey! What does that mean?!" Logan's roar came from behind him. "I've never seen you sigh at anyone's words before!"

"Stop talking, Alpha," Ald said without turning his head, then paused before uttering a second sentence. "You really can't joke around."

He stepped out of the command room, and Amighiddund came into view.

This world was completely different from the one Fenris and the one he remembered. A collection of cities called Nest City crammed into it, emitting huge amounts of exhaust fumes that permanently altered its air. Ordinary people even needed masks or respirators to move around freely, otherwise they would soon cough incessantly and have difficulty breathing...

He came to the other side of the trench and stared at the massive ruins, from which pillars of black smoke rose slowly, twisting and piercing the sky. The sunlight had long been stained a sickly yellow by the clouds of this world. Everything was unpleasant, even ugly and vile.

He watched for a while, when a hesitant voice came from behind him.

"The dragon slayer, right?"

Ald turned around and saw a soldier with bloodshot eyes. He wore a half-covered respirator, and his voice was shockingly hoarse, which was clearly not entirely a problem with the respirator.

"They said you held the position alone on East 22 for forty-six minutes," the soldier continued. He looked very tired, but still stood ramrod straight.

"No," Ald said. "I'm not the only one; there are forty-two other soldiers wearing the same yellow uniforms as you."

The soldier paused for a moment, then nodded vigorously.

Alder nodded with the same force and strode away. Behind the trenches, he saw armored troops assembling, but not the wolf pack; they were Armageddoners.

Over the past two years, Ald had thoroughly read the Wolf Pack's library, and later heard more from the old priest, Ulric the Slayer, who, unusually with great respect, told him that these mortals, who most of the time didn't even have armor, were actually the main defense force of various worlds—

"The Astral Army, or the even more pathetic planetary defense forces," Old Wolf said. "Sometimes they have some decent firepower, but more often they only have a pathetic laser gun, which is only good for maintaining order and fighting off the beasts in the hive."

"Then how do they fight?"

Ulric laughed strangely: "They fight, then die, then become numb or utterly terrified, cowards among cowards... But I don't blame them, really, not at all, Ald. I'd like to say I pity them, but that would be a bit insulting, so let's say this: I find them very respectable."

A loud engine roar interrupted his reverie. Ald turned his head and saw a Land Raider belonging to the Wolf Pack. It was undoubtedly a heavy vehicle, not the light vehicle that Logan Grimner had ordered.

He frowned, then simply flipped over and leaped onto the trench, heading towards the assembling wolf pack.

The four Fenris giant wolves, who loathed the environment of Amigiddon, were the first to see him arrive. They stood up, waited for him to pass, and then followed closely behind.

Normally, Ald would greet them one by one, but he had more important things to do right now, so he only greeted them with his eyes, and the wolves seemed to understand his meaning and showed no displeasure.

He arrived at the rear of the Raider and saw a familiar face busy summoning the machine spirit—the Steel Priest Aldakreel.

Alder stood aside, waiting silently, until Aldakrel completed his entire ritual before asking a question.

"What orders did the alpha wolf give?"

"Assemble," said the steel pastor succinctly.

"In the command room, he told the local commanders that he needed light vehicles, and the orders he gave to Kratos, who was sent out to relay the message, only said to launch a surprise attack."

The Iron Priest smiled slightly and pointed to the wolf helmet at his waist. This was a design unique to wolves, intended to provide an alternative protection strategy for wild wolves who felt that ordinary power armor helmets would hinder their keen senses. There were many versions, but only one design remained unchanged: a clever air filtration system that ensured that the wild wolves' superhuman sense of smell was not impaired.

"I've restored a small portion of the communication channels," he said with a smile—or rather, a sneer. "And the alpha wolf just gave the order."

"What did he say?"

Aldakrel shrugged and repeated his words: "Assemble."

Ald frowned, but said nothing more. Logan Grimner had made one thing clear to him long before they landed on the ground in Amighadoon.

"Once we land, I'll give orders to many people. I need to make the army truly effective. But you're different, Ald. I won't give you any orders. Go wherever you want. Want to charge with the armored units? Sure. Want to fight with us? Fine. You can even stay behind to protect the wounded. I don't care."

After saying that, he turned and left, but he didn't forget to add one more thing.

"Do you know why?"

I don't know, Logan. Old thought silently.

"Hey, Ald," the Steel Priest suddenly called out. "How's your sword? Is it easy to use?"

He pointed behind Ald, where a greatsword rested securely on a weapon hook extending from under the cloak.

Why do you ask that?

Aldakrel approached him mysteriously, went behind him, took the greatsword, and began to perform some makeshift maintenance on the weapon. He inspected each component, and even adjusted the generator of the disintegrating force field before returning the sword to him.

Ald hoisted it onto his shoulder and looked at the Steel Priest with a puzzled expression, while the latter simply smiled.

"Don't think I don't know your fighting habits," he said with a snort, pointing out the problem professionally and seriously. "You rarely activate the Disintegration Field, right? That's fine, after all, I re-sharpened its blade last time... but I still want to be on the safe side, just in case there's a problem activating the field later."

"Thank you," Old said. "I never realized you were so thoughtful."

The Iron Priest pointed at him again in surprise, then turned and walked towards the Swiftclaw squad on their reconnaissance motorcycles, beginning to inspect their vehicles and weapons. Ald watched him for a moment, then lowered his sword and began to offer the giant wolves' greetings. They were almost as tall as him, yet appeared gentle, but this was merely a facade.

As darkness fell, the first wave of artillery fire began. Following it, the wolf packs and Armageddon armored forces thundered out of the trenches.

The war has begun again.

At this point, no one knew what was going to happen.