40K: When evil spirits appear

"Four hundred people," Logan Grimner said.

He had reached the ground at Armageddon, returning to the defensive line that was still being reinforced and expanded, and now stood inside another makeshift command room. All the results of the remote sensing mapping had been transmitted from the Gilfaheim and transformed into a detailed map.

A crimson horizontal line bisects it, the footprints left by Ald over the past four days, and he now stands at the tip of the sword—a hive city that fell at the very beginning of the war, named Srich IV.

Logan could picture it as it was now: a mountain of blood-soaked corpses.

Staring intently at the map, he repeated, without blinking, "I only need four hundred men."

Upon hearing this, the wolf lords exchanged glances.

Their presence made the command room so crowded that it was fortunate that it was built after the wolves arrived; otherwise, it would have been impossible to accommodate so many giants.

A moment later, Sven Bloodhowl, who commanded the Flame Howl Great City, was the first to speak. His eye sockets and most of his face were covered with blue battle tattoos, and his long reddish-brown hair was simply tied back.

"I'll give you two hundred men," he said in an unquestionable tone. "I'll give you my best warriors, Alpha Wolf."

"two hundred?"

Before Logan Grimner could answer, another wolf lord, Harald the Death Wolf, immediately let out a cold laugh.

"We have twelve Dalians, Sven, and you're asking for half of them?" Draco Steelborn Wolf Lord said. "You're truly greedy; even the Kraken in the deep sea would have to admire your appetite."

Sven gave him a cold look, and was about to speak when he was slapped hard from behind—he turned around and saw Krom Dragon's Gaze standing there with a grin.

He spoke with a low chuckle, his eyes filled with malice.

"Don't get angry, brother. Harald's right, your appetite is indeed a bit too big. How about this: I'll put up fifty, you put up fifty, what do you say?"

Sven immediately turned his anger into joy, took a step back, and stood shoulder to shoulder with Krom.

This move immediately sparked widespread discontent, with the two wolf lords, Gunnar Redmoon and Byrne Redthroat, swiftly expressing their opposition. Amidst the heated debate, a mix of Yuvik and Volgen, Berek Thunderfist, who had previously remained silent, spoke up, summarizing their thoughts and adding his own opinions.

Of course, it was done through yelling and insults.

Starting with him, more people joined in, and the once quiet command room was transformed into a dangerous place by the Wolf Lords. Even Engel Siren's End, who usually disdained participating in such debates, spoke up, angrily emphasizing that his Dalian had the most Swiftclaws...

Logan simply watched coldly from the sidelines.

He stood with his arms crossed next to the map, wondering when they would finally stop—and he waited like that for a full ten minutes.

Finally, Logan Grimner took a deep breath and took the initiative to stop the argument, which seemed unlikely to end without bloodshed.

"Shut up, all of you!" he roared. "Except for my company, each of the thirty men in your companies, you can choose yourselves! I don't care who you choose, but this matter ends here!"

"Why are you allowed to bring forty more people? This is abuse of power for personal gain..."

Someone muttered something, and the alpha wolf glared angrily, but the wolf lords had already turned away, preparing to leave. Some of them even had a sly smile on their faces. The command room returned to silence, and for a moment even seemed a little empty, however, apart from Logan, there was one other person standing there.

She was a mortal, a mortal wearing the bright yellow uniform of the Armageddon Steel Legion. At this moment, she looked even more haggard than she had a few days ago, with thick bandages wrapped around her thighs, and although her uniform had been cleaned, it was still visibly torn and filthy.

"Colonel Rhys," Logan greeted her, composed himself. "Is there anything else?"

The colonel lowered his head deeply and spoke slowly.

"Sir... please take us with you as well."

Logan looked at her calmly for a moment, then asked softly, "Do you know what we're going to do?"

"Know."

"Then you should understand even more clearly that mortals are useless in battles of that caliber," Logan said slowly and ruthlessly. "Don't mistake my words for contempt or belittling; I'm simply stating a fact."

The colonel kept his head down, but did not back down or waver: "I understand, sir, but I still stand by my point of view."

"Reason," Logan said.

The colonel finally raised her head. At this moment, she looked even calmer than the alpha wolf, like a piece of solid ice weathered by time and sculpted by countless storms, which nothing could shake except shatter.

"The reason is simple, my lord—we cannot stand idly by. I don't know why the Dragon Slayer became like that, but he was a member of the wolf pack, wasn't he? He came with you from faraway Fenris to Amegidon to fight for us... and the Amegidonians are not ungrateful."

Logan nodded almost imperceptibly, signaling her to continue.

The colonel smiled gratefully, but then subtly changed the subject: "But I'm not the kind of commander who lets enthusiasm cloud his judgment. You're absolutely right. If we were to join the battle, we would only be a burden to you. Therefore, I only ask that you take one person with you, one soldier."

The alpha wolf watched her silently.

"I know what I'm saying sounds absurd, but sir—" The colonel raised his hand in a hawk salute. "—Please listen to me. I'm not stupid. I know you invited me here only to have me bear witness. This meeting is essentially a wolf pack affair, and if I were grateful, I should have left as soon as it ended, instead of continuing to speak shamelessly like this. But I hope you can at least see him."

Logan made a gesture expressionlessly, and the colonel turned and left.

A moment later, she brought in an old soldier.

He wasn't tall, and had a scar that stretched from his forehead to his jaw, almost splitting his face in two. He carried an old-fashioned light gun with obvious signs of use on his shoulder, but his uniform was brand new, and his chest was covered with medals.

Logan had some recollection of him—four days earlier, when the wolf pack launched their counterattack, it was his artillery company that provided fire support from the distant high ground.

"So, what does this mean? A shoddy military parade?" Logan asked somewhat mischievously. "Otherwise, why would you bother changing into your brand-new uniform and wearing all your medals?"

The old soldier smiled sheepishly, and only now did a hint of life return to his face, weathered by war and prematurely aged. He wasn't actually that old, at most around thirty, but he looked like someone in his fifties.

Logan stood with his hands behind his back and calmly gave the order: "Attention, soldiers. What's your name and rank?"

The veteran instinctively straightened his chest and answered loudly, "Kyle Riddo, sir. Sergeant, 4th Artillery Company, 72nd Regiment, Armageddon Steel Legion."

"Very good, Sergeant." Logan nodded slightly. "Your superior wants to see you, and I'd like to know why."

Kyle Rido hesitated visibly for a moment, and Logan could easily catch a complex mix of emotions on his face, but in the end, it all subsided into complete calm.

He had seen similar expressions on the faces of many people who were already dead.

"Because I received a revelation from the God-Emperor, Alpha Wolf." The sergeant spoke with unusual seriousness, his voice steady as if reciting some kind of truth. "It started on the night of the retreat. I dreamt of him... He couldn't speak, but I could feel that he was in great pain. I wanted to ask him what had happened, if he had something to say to me, but he couldn't utter a single word. When I woke up, I thought it was just a hallucination, until I discovered that all my wounds had healed, both old and new."

"Then came the second night. I went to sleep with trepidation, but I saw him again. This time I was closer to him, and I could even see the legendary throne clearly. He was sitting on it, but his body was covered with countless cables, like probes from a treatment device, my lord, but they didn't seem to be treating him. I asked him again what he wanted me to do, but he still couldn't speak. But this time, I was able to understand what he wanted to tell me."

Logan glanced at the colonel standing to the side, looking uneasy, then looked at the sergeant in front of him who showed no fear whatsoever. He didn't say anything, but just continued to listen.

"He wants me to kill that thing," the sergeant said, then took a deep breath. "...Angron. That's what he calls it."

After a moment of silence, Logan spoke softly.

"You know its name now, do you understand what that means, Kyle Riddo? Angron doesn't exist for most Imperials. The name and everything it once represented have been persistently erased from our history by a few. Only a select few are qualified to know what it is, and you—"

He suddenly stepped forward, bent down, and stared into the sergeant's eyes.

"—You know who he used to be, don't you?" Logan asked.

The sergeant nodded firmly.

"Very good." Logan straightened up and smiled without sarcasm. "So, what miracle happened on the third night?"

"He gave me this," the sergeant said.

He raised his right hand and lightly touched the alpha wolf's arm guard. Logan granted this presumption, and in that instant, a vast expanse of shimmering gold appeared before his eyes...

He had never experienced anything like it in his life, not even when he drank the wine from the wolf cup*(1). He felt as if he were drifting alone in a dark and gloomy space where there was nothing but darkness and a faint golden light in the distance.

And that light is the Father.

There was no mistake, Logan was convinced of this, even though his reason was frantically telling him that it couldn't be true, his heart and intuition yielded, because it was indeed the truth—the moment he looked at that point of light, he had crossed an indescribable distance and arrived before that golden sight.

He saw a throne, and countless familiar faces beneath it.

He recognized these people; they had all fought alongside him, including mortals, Astartes, his brothers, and even his wolf lord... Aswald Stormsor stood among them, fully armed, nodding and smiling at him.

"Kid, I have to admit," he said. "You did a really good job."

"The Wolf Lord?" Logan murmured blankly.

Then he raised his head and looked at the throne.

Contrary to his imagination and the "Emperor and Golden Throne" series of paintings created over the years, the person sitting on it is not majestic.

The truth was quite the opposite. He leaned against it with his eyes closed, wearing a black robe that was only worn when a loved one died. His thin, bony body arched sharply beneath it, and his hands, resting on either side of the throne, gripped the rough, uneven stone tightly, as if he were enduring excruciating pain.

"Father!" Logan shouted at him. "Father!"

He tried to get an answer, but the Emperor did not respond, and everything before his eyes was rapidly receding... A strong sense of weightlessness and palpitations followed, forcing the alpha wolf to growl and subconsciously enter battle mode, only to find that he had returned to the real world, while Kyle Rido withdrew his right hand, his face pale.

"My lord, he wants me to kill him and end all this," he gasped, repeating softly. "So you must take me with you; there is no other way."

Logan remained silent for a long time, forcing himself to regain his composure, before asking, "So, what will you do after that?"

Upon hearing this, the veteran smiled happily and even raised his hand to touch the medal on his chest.

"I will fight for him," he said.

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

The warrior slowly rose from the pool of blood.

How long had he been fighting? He didn't know, and he preferred to continue... He could sense the subtle disharmony, in this living hell that had appeared on earth, where everything that had once been believed had been overturned, including even the once indestructible laws of physics.

He knew there was something wrong with the timing, but he gave up on finding the answer.

There's no need; the truth won't help him in his fight.

He clenched his fists again, staring at the broken form opposite the blood pool... It was becoming whole again, empowered by the pervasive evil in the city, which gave it power and countless chances to start over, like a cheap puppet—it could certainly be damaged, and its master wouldn't care, because with just a little mud or ashes, the puppet would become a puppet again.

Angron. He murmured its name, or rather, its former name. Why don't you rebel? Or have you already believed in this so-called god, allowing Him to bestow His miracles upon you?

Opposite him, the beast, oblivious to everything, stretched out its regenerated wings and, amidst blood, pain, endless rage, and the roars of countless demons, once again grasped the sword.

It charged at him.

A loud, booming laugh flashed by.

The soldier heard it clearly.

He lowered his head slightly, and a deep roar came from his tightly closed mouth.

Since the start of the battle, he has finally shown some anger.