40K: When evil spirits appear

Ulric remembered clearly that today was the seventeenth day since the wolf pack arrived at Amighiddon, and the fourth day since they lost Ald.

The war continued, and the Blood God's army officially descended upon Amegiddon, with countless demons reveling wildly in the fallen hives and cities. The World Eaters had no objection, joining forces with them to build mounds of corpses. The wolf packs ceased their offensive operations; the appearance of the demonic Primarchs forced the Fenris to tie their own hands, fighting a defensive war in the trenches and fortifications behind the riverbank.

For them, this was unacceptable, but the main reason wasn't actually their fighting spirit or competitiveness, but rather because—

"—We left him outside!" Draco Steelborn growled.

As he said this, his expression was extremely ferocious, as if he were enduring some kind of excruciating pain.

Ulric witnessed the entire scene but chose to remain silent, simply lowering his head to continue polishing the greatsword. Over the past four days, he had meticulously maintained the sword several times, removing every drop of blood stained by its master's killings. This was not his duty, but he insisted, and the Iron Priests finally relented.

"My lord!" the steel-blooded man emphasized. "Are you listening?"

"certainly."

"We must strike; we can't let him fight alone," Steelborn said through gritted teeth.

He knew very well that these were not words he should say, but he still chose to overstep them. Interestingly, he was not actually alone; many golden vertical pupils were observing and waiting not far behind him, and among them, there were not many blood claws, but mostly veterans... And further away, the wolf lords stood side by side.

The wolf pack is waiting.

"No," Ulric said.

"grown ups,--"

"—I say no, Draco." The old priest looked up at him, his tone emphasizing. "I know why they pushed you out—it's simply because you have the best relationship with the Dragon Slayers, I understand. But this isn't a problem we can solve by going to war. There are still loyalists on Amegadoton, and intact cities. Until Imperial reinforcements arrive, they can only rely on us and this line of defense beneath our feet. We must hold it until reinforcements arrive, or everything will be over."

Steelborn remained silent for a moment, finally managing to utter only a soft rebuttal: "But he needs us."

Ulrik calmly shook his head: "No, he doesn't need him, we need him."

The truth is always bitter, but that's the reality. Ulric had thought about this many times, and this was his final conclusion—Old owed the wolves and the Empire nothing. He didn't have to participate in this war, much less fight Angron, but he did anyway.

Logan returned to orbit two hours after the retreat, ordering remote sensing mapping of the ground every thirty minutes. The results showed that, over the past four days, Ald's footprints had covered the entire continent of Amegadoton. He left traces of battle in every fallen city...

Meanwhile, Angron and Khorne's demonic army relentlessly pursued him.

Thanks to him, in the past four days, only thirty-seven enemy forces have attempted to attack them.

Bait. Ulrik thought, his right hand gripping the oilcloth, veins bulging.

In the end, Steelborn chose not to argue further and turned away, but it wouldn't be long before he came looking for Ulric again.

Logan gave him temporary command of the wolf pack, and until he returned from the tracks, any decisions regarding proactive attacks had to be made by the old priest. This was an undisguised trust, something that had never happened before, but he preferred not to accept this "honor." In Ulric's memory, the wolf pack had never abandoned its allies.

Until this very moment.

A moment later, the killer stood up, his fists clenched, and gazed into the distance. But all he could see was the sickly sky of Amighiddon and the burning earth.

Where are you fighting, Ald?

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

The soldier clenched his fist.

He didn't remember how long he had been fighting; keeping track of time would be pointless, but he knew he had been fighting for a very, very long time. He had probably killed hundreds of thousands of demons, but the more he killed, the more frenzied they became, even charging at him in a frenzy, just to strike him and leave a wound.

The bull-like demon fell, and the warrior withdrew his arm, looking around to see countless crimson lights.

Blood, demons, and corpses—the three coexisted, making the world he saw filthy and depraved, like hell. The demons howled and surged forward like a tide, trying to engulf him.

The warrior darted away from the terrifying encirclement, stepping on their heads as he sped away. Then, he leaped down and landed at the base of a tall tower in the center of the nest city.

He climbed to the top and gazed at the surging tide of demons.

They hadn't yet realized he was gone, still roaring and brandishing their weapons, relentlessly slaughtering their own kind, all in an effort to get a little closer to the warrior they imagined...

Above them, a doomsday star was hurtling down at high speed.

Two seconds later, accompanied by an apocalyptic explosion, Angron landed in the center of the demonic tide.

As soon as it landed, it began a bloodbath, each swing of its sword killing hordes of demons as if it were mowing grass. In less than half a minute, it had carved a vacuum in the center of the demon horde, but it hadn't found the enemy it was searching for. This enraged it, and it roared in fury, swinging its sword again and beginning its slaughter of demons once more.

The thing that controls you, that so-called god, doesn't care where the blood comes from, does it? the warrior thought.

The wind atop the tower reeked of gunpowder and blood. A few rays of dim sunlight pierced through the thick clouds, illuminating his battered armor. Only his eyes remained unchanged, burning with unwavering intensity. A few seconds later, he released his right hand from the tower's summit, bent his knees, and launched himself forward, crashing headlong into the bloody battlefield.

The demons immediately roared, and Angron was among them, but he no longer stood out. Instead, he merged into one, composing a frenzied war song.

Once again, they swarmed towards him.

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

The instability caused by distance is eroding the integrity of the hologram, making the projected face look rather ridiculous—the person's nose is crooked, and one eye is below the rest of the face while the other remains properly in its socket.

Normally, this scene would have been enough to make Logan smile, but now, he was completely expressionless.

"Please do not worry, High King* (1), we will arrive in ten days at most," Lord Inquisitor Gasme Kisnaros promised, his face still twitching.

“I’m not worried,” Logan said. “Besides, just call me Alpha Wolf; we don’t need to follow any more formalities.”

The judge smiled, though the smile looked rather strange due to the holographic imagery, he still tried his best to be friendly.

"Very well then, Alpha Wolf—"

"—But I have something to tell you first," Logan interrupted him rather rudely. "As things stand, the rebellion and the Great Enemy are only active on the main continent of Armageddon. We will do everything we can to prevent them from crossing our lines and endangering the inhabitants of the subcontinent's hive cities. Therefore, they are pure and completely innocent, you understand? They are protected by us and the soldiers of Armageddon, untouched by the corruption of Chaos."

Gusme Kisnaros gave a look of sudden realization: "I think I understand what you mean."

"I'm not sure if you really understand. And you, Grey Knight?"

Another hologram appeared, showing a giant clad in gray armor nodding but remaining silent. This made Logan frown, his expression somewhere between displeasure and gloom.

"I want a definite answer," he said to the man. "Did you hear me, Grand Master Joros?"

The Grey Knight, referred to as the Grand Mentor, nodded again, and this time finally spoke. His voice was not hoarse, and his speech was clear, as if he were participating in a debate rather than a tense pre-battle meeting.

"I understand what you seek, High King," he said calmly and gently. "But the corruption of the Great Enemy of Chaos is all-pervasive, and you cannot expect us to abandon our duties with just a few words. But I respect you, and therefore I hope we can discuss the treatment of the Amighidodtons again after the war."

"No, no way." Logan refused without hesitation. "Do you think I don't know your and the Inquisition's ways? Pointing guns at allies you just fought alongside, slaughtering loyal Imperial Guards, even silencing those who have only met you once and have no idea who you are... Let me make this clear to you: if you don't agree, then the Wolf Pack will refuse you participation in the battle."

The Grand Master pondered carefully for a moment, then shook his head: "Whether we participate in the war or not is not your decision, High King. The Grey Knights have already assembled, and we will banish that beast that has desecrated our Lord's glory and grace, no matter how many brothers we sacrifice. I think we should agree that it must die, don't you think?"

Logan laughed, his fangs protruding from his lips: "I'm afraid I really do have that authority."

“You don’t,” the Grand Master said. “In the face of the great enemy of Chaos, any conflict can be temporarily set aside. I believe you are not so rigid as to see us as butchers or executioners. The wolves should understand our necessity better than anyone else. Therefore, let’s leave those words for later. The immediate priority is to banish Angron.”

After speaking, he voluntarily ended the communication, clearly not intending to continue. Logan turned his gaze to the previously silent Lord Inquisitor and spoke again.

"If that's the Grey Knights' final answer, then I won't accept their participation in the war."

"Alpha Wolf..." Gaisme responded in a conciliatory tone. "Do you really intend to let the Grey Knights watch this battle from the sidelines? They will never accept that."

"Then you should try to persuade them; you seem to be at least smarter than that great mentor."

The Lord Inquisitor laughed again, then shook his head: "Grand Master Joros's wisdom far surpasses mine, but I will try my best. We'll discuss the rest when we meet, Alpha Wolf. Farewell."

The holographic image went out completely.

Logan walked off the projection stand expressionlessly and came to a porthole on the side of the main bridge of the Gilfaheim* (2).

From here, he could see the ravaged world below the tracks, where the endless war had turned the largest patch of land on its surface into a scorched and crimson coloring game.

He pondered, his gaze gradually losing focus and settling into emptiness.

The Grey Knight's argument is valid; Angron must be banished—this is the most urgent matter. Otherwise, its mere existence will continue to summon the Blood God's demonic tides. Only by eliminating it can Amagidon be reclaimed.

but......

The alpha wolf's expression gradually turned serious.

He could tell that the judge was a typical backstabber. He'd say one thing, and do another. In contrast, Joros was the one he could trust; at least when faced with probing, he directly suggested setting aside the dispute, instead of giving vague excuses like "I roughly understand" like Gesmay did...

Damn it. The alpha wolf sighed heavily.

His sigh caught the attention of another wolf, his wolf guard, Brand Painthroat. The latter stepped forward and whispered, "The old pastor sent a message."

"What did you say?" Logan asked without turning his head.

"They said the brothers wanted to go into battle to help the Dragon Slayer, and even sent Draco Steelborn as a persuader."

Logan scoffed and asked again, "And what about my wolf lords? How did they react?"

"They did not object."

"That's support," Logan said. "I'm not surprised at all, those bastards..."

His wolf guards hesitated and raised their heads.

"Speak quickly if you have something to say."

"Yes, Alpha Wolf." Pain Throat lowered his head again. "But do you really want the Dragon Slayer to fight alone?"

Faced with this question, Logan Grimner remained silent for a very long time, so long that his throat ached and he felt as if he were dead. It wasn't until several minutes later that Logan broke the terrible silence.

"No," he said. "I won't do that."

Brand Painthroat was overjoyed. He even turned to the other wolf guards and gestured before immediately turning back and shouting, "Then, my lord, I recommend myself to be the vanguard!"

Logan glanced back at him, patted him on the shoulder with a forced smile, and without answering, turned and walked straight to the deck.

There, he shouldered the Mokai Axe and said to his anxious wolf guards, "Don't even think about it, I'll be the vanguard."

The wolf guards were terrified.

"What?"

"No, the alpha wolf!"

"How could you do this yourself—"

"Shut up, all of you!" Logan roared. "Shut your mouths! It's not like we're not taking you guys! Save your energy for killing a few more demons later..."