40K: When evil spirits appear

The Mokai Axe swept past with a whoosh, the sound of its blade slicing through the air sounding like a cannonball hitting the ground. Such a powerful strike, yet it missed its target. It had originally aimed for the neck; if it had hit, it would have surely severed the enemy's head, instead of letting the ghost, with its translucent fingers outstretched, pounce on it, its eyes burning with cold fire.

Then it caught him.

Logan didn't know how to describe the feeling—was it cold? Perhaps, but he had a different perspective. He felt it was some kind of curse, some endless hatred…and he couldn't resist it. In a world where flesh and strength reigned supreme, Logan Grimner could be a king, but here? In this mysterious world beyond the senses and the mind?

All right......

With his teeth chattering from the cold and his veins congealing, Logan released his grip, letting the Mokai Axe fall to the ground, and then grabbed a short blade at his waist.

His muscles were spasming and his bones were aching terribly, but that didn't stop him from drawing his sword with lightning speed and then showing the exorcising talisman at its tail to the ghost.

He expected hissing smoke and a wounded roar, but none of these things appeared—the ghost simply remained unmoved, even somewhat confused, as it released its grip and then drifted away, as if it felt that its lifeline had been severed and it was not worth the effort.

What a disgrace...

Logan chuckled to himself, gritting his teeth as his eyes caught sight of the axe on the ground.

Just as disgraceful as you are, isn't it? So many powerful enemies were cleanly and decisively cut in half by you, but have you ever been like this, unable to even touch your enemy?

The alpha wolf reached for his axe, stood up, swung it with tremendous force, and hoisted it onto his shoulder. The giant axe whipped up a whirlwind, causing the bones of the corpses to clang against each other. His eyes remained as bright as gold, and the ghosts looked back. The one that had attacked him let out a howl like the wind, but did not come again.

Its hands were hanging limply, and its face, contorted with uncertainty, seemed somewhat confused.

Logan nodded at it, and then at them.

"A wandering ghost," he said, his voice devoid of fear. "Do you think you can kill me with a single touch? I am Logan Grimner."

He gripped Mokai's Axe, intending to raise it and declare war once more, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of another figure. That man was crouching on the ground, tidying the scattered bones of the dead, frost wolf pelts lying like cloaks on the ground. His hands were long and strong, and the muscles on his forearms, barely covered by tattered shrouds, throbbed with an inhuman ferocity as he moved.

Logan couldn't help but narrow his eyes. In his perception, these hands should have been used for indiscriminate killing, not for what they were doing now...

He looked at the ghosts again and found that they had lost interest in him and drifted away, surrounding the man.

Their previously indeterminate and constantly shifting faces suddenly became clear and real. Although still lifeless, they were no longer evil spirits or demons, but men, women, the elderly, and children. They even looked more primitive than the most savage tribesmen of Fenris, and the animal skins they wore were uncut.

To Logan's surprise, he discovered that the ghost that attacked him was just a teenager with a still somewhat immature face.

Suddenly, they all opened their mouths, and a mournful wind quietly blew up inside the tomb, sounding almost like a lament.

Logan frowned, slung his axe back over his shoulder, and sheathed his knife, rubbing the back of his neck to try and calm the goosebumps. Meanwhile, the man who called himself "Weapon" slowly rose. The frost wolf pelt draped over his shoulders reached the ground, and surrounded by the eerie blue flames, he looked like a fallen king of a destroyed kingdom.

Logan glanced at the shroud peeking out from his chest and suddenly realized that it didn't seem so out of place anymore; in fact, it suited the atmosphere perfectly—graves, corpses, and ghosts, the shrouds were a match made in heaven, like an axe and a shield, mead and roast meat.

He lowered his head to hide his smile, but there was a hint of self-mockery in it.

"Too reckless," he thought. He couldn't resist drawing his weapon at the sight of the victims being buried alive...

I will correct my mistakes.

He listened like that until the last note of the mournful song faded into the air before he looked up again. The tomb returned to silence and darkness, and the man remained standing there, only now he wrapped his fur tighter around himself, as if he truly felt cold.

Logan strode over to him, gestured, and asked, "Why do you say they've wanted to hurt me for a long time?"

"They will hurt anyone, but you are with me."

"Oh..." Logan raised an eyebrow. "Then I should feel honored?"

The man looked at him in confusion, and after a long while shook his head: "There's no need for that."

The alpha wolf snorted coldly and said, "Do you think I didn't see that you actually helped me just now? You restored their sanity, didn't you? Otherwise, I don't believe they would have let me live. In short, I admit my mistake and will correct it. Now let's talk about something else. Do you have a name?"

"I don't--"

"—You need a name." Logan interrupted him, his tone leaving no room for argument. "A name is one of the first connections a person establishes with the world. You must have a name for us to communicate. Otherwise, how am I supposed to address you, a weapon? Even if I'm really that rude, you still have to tell me if you're a longsword or an axe."

"...I am neither of those."

Logan waved his hand dismissively and tossed out a name: "Then I'll call you Old for now, it's a word after all."

The man, now given a name, slowly nodded, accepting it. The alpha wolf grinned, turned, and went back up the stone steps, but didn't return; instead, it continued downwards. A few seconds later, footsteps sounded behind him again, along with Ald's still-confused voice.

Aren't you going to turn back?

Why should I turn back?

"But, if we go any further..."

"Will I encounter more ghosts?"

"Yes."

"That's alright, after all, I'm traveling with you." The alpha wolf turned its head slightly, its eyes full of cunning. "So I'll be fine, right? Hmm? Ald?"

A few seconds later, he received a response.

Logan laughed and continued striding downhill.

When they reached a depth of about 24,000 meters, they saw light, and the stone steps stopped extending. Instead, they came to a small hall, which did not appear to have been built by the wolves. However, they still managed to leave their mark and warning—on the right wall of the hall entrance, a huge talisman for exorcising evil spirits had been smeared with the ashes of burnt wood.

Logan walked over, reached out and touched it, knowing that what lay ahead was probably one of those difficult-to-explore underground ruins.

He had no idea what he would encounter inside, after all, the journey had only just begun a few hours ago, and already something like a ghost story had happened...

But he didn't want to turn back.

As the old leader Bjorn said, he also believed that the miraculously preserved wooden box that Hauser carried was no mere coincidence, but rather something was at work. Moreover, whatever it was, it had been lurking on Fenris for a full ten thousand years.

As the alpha wolf, Logan felt obligated to find the truth to ensure the safety of Fenris and the pack.

He turned around and saw Olde looking up at the dome of the hall, its curvature indicating that it was not naturally formed, but rather the product of cutting and careful polishing.

"Have you been here before?" he asked.

"No," Ald said, pulling the frost wolf pelt tighter around himself. Two crimson dots moved slowly in the darkness, as if identifying a path. "But I know where this path leads."

"where?"

"Their city." Aldridge paused. "They built it after the war."

Logan wanted to ask who "they" were, but he swallowed the words back.

Combining the contents of the stone tablets Hauser collected, he had already guessed the answer, which could resolve some of his previous questions—for example, if everyone in that civilization died, how was this history recorded? Clearly, some survived... When their brethren sacrificed themselves, these people chose to flee; when warriors fought to the death against the demon horde, they chose to hide. And after that, they went underground.

The alpha wolf asked no more questions, but simply strode across the hall, leaving the exorcism talisman behind. He abandoned the wolves and the human realm, for the city of ghosts awaited him in the darkness.

Its scale was far larger than he had anticipated.

It is a true underground city, located more than 24,000 meters below the surface. The buildings were carved directly from the rock, extending upwards in layers, with the tallest possibly reaching several thousand meters, yet still unable to reach its man-made dome. Numerous gems emitting a dim light are inlaid together, forming a false starry sky, casting a negligible glow upon this desolate city.

It bore no resemblance to the city Logan had seen on the stone slab; there were no floating buildings, no traces of psionic energy, and every inch of it was built by human hands—but how could that be? Could a highly advanced psionic civilization also possess advanced technology?

The alpha wolf pondered for a moment, then quickly felt helpless about his foolish prejudice: the technology of the Old Night era might have been far more advanced than it is now, after all, the mechanical guild's archaeological work made new progress every year...

He stepped away from the passageway connecting the city and the halls, onto a wide main road, his footsteps echoing all around. Olde followed closely behind him, the distance never changing.

And so they passed through markets, workshops, and residential areas, then towering spires and low, indefensible walls. Logan noticed that all the doors and windows were open, the furniture inside arranged neatly, but not a single person could be seen, not even a skeleton...

Finally, they stopped in front of a stone monument. It was located in the center of the city, towering twenty meters high, and its surface was covered with inscriptions.

Logan didn't recognize them, so he turned to look at Ald.

"Can you read these words?"

The latter nodded.

"What do they record?"

Old's lips trembled slightly, and he replied in a low voice, "...repentance."

"repent?"

Old nodded: "They are apologizing, begging for forgiveness, for standing by and doing nothing."

Logan crossed his arms, struggling to suppress a mocking sneer: "So this is what they did? After abandoning their people and you, they burrowed this deep into the ground like rats, dug this huge hole, and then, in self-deception, erected this stone engraved with apology? What a remarkable act of help."

The flames in Ald's eyes blazed like they were being torn apart by a raging storm: "You know about those things...?"

"I've read a bit of history," the alpha wolf replied, deliberately speaking calmly. "So those ghosts are the inhabitants of this place?"

"No," Old said. "They are descendants."

As he spoke, he suddenly stepped forward, raised his hand to touch the stone tablet, closed his eyes, and the lines under his eyes suddenly became bright.

Logan silently showed respect, turned away, unwilling to witness this sorrowful scene, but suddenly the mournful song he had heard in the tomb not long ago echoed in his ears...

Its melody was so faint as to be almost nonexistent, but Logan could still hear it clearly.

Suddenly, deep wrinkles appeared between the alpha wolf's brows, but he seemed to have no reaction. With superhuman control, he controlled every muscle in his body, then gently moved his right hand to grasp the short knife at his waist, his thumb resting on the exorcism talisman and gently rubbing it—but this was completely in vain. The song continued, and, compared to the song in the tomb, the one that was now playing in his ears even had lyrics.

Its melody is elegant and varied; only a brilliant civilization is qualified to create and use such a language... but this song is not; it is profound and sorrowful.

What kind of disaster could have given birth to it?

The alpha wolf listened intently, his brows furrowed, but a glimmer of light caught his eye out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw a slender figure standing beneath a spire, gazing in their direction.

Another ghost? He grinned and gripped the giant axe behind him with his other hand.

"She doesn't want to hurt you," Ald's voice came from behind him.

The alpha wolf was silent for a moment, then released his grip, turned to him, and asked, "So what does she want to do?"

Old was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the shadowy soul, before he softly replied, "She wants to tell you the truth so that your exploration won't be in vain."

"Could wandering ghosts be so kind?" Logan nodded inwardly, "Okay, what's the truth?"

His words had barely faded when a howling wind suddenly arose in the city, and what changed was the illusory starry sky. It was reflected by a stronger light emanating from the unfathomable darkness beneath the city, turning it into a rough mirror that made everything around it shine as pure white. Logan looked around and saw what seemed to be a long, reverse-flowing river surging around the ancient city, containing countless faces—men, women, old people, children… Unlike the ghosts clad in animal skins in the tombs, they wore magnificent robes, were strong and tall, with elegant and beautiful faces, yet filled with sorrow and regret.

The next second, Logan Grimner suddenly saw a blazing sun appear above his head, and then heard lively shouts, conversations, and children's laughter...

He realized that he was standing in a completely different city.

A city on the surface of the earth, a city that has long since disappeared.

"The truth behind the destruction of our civilization," Olde said calmly, standing beside him.