40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 689 71. Interlude: Resurrection (1)

It was dark now, but the sky was still twinkling with starlight. Blue and white, with a dazzling halo. Anyone who dares to look at it with the naked eye will suffer from burning pain.

Experienced elders often healed such injuries in the tribe for young people who did not listen to dissuasion, and continued to warn - don't raise your head at night, you can't afford the price.

You can't afford a disaster of that magnitude. They spoke earnestly.

They said it over and over again, ad infinitum, on and on. Ten million mouths merge into one, constantly wandering on the border between stupidity and folk customs, and are finally infiltrated by the wisdom of the world, becoming a deep moment among the countless wrinkles on the old man's face.

Bjorn looked up to the sky.

The vast majority of Fenrisians have never left this frozen and tragic land from birth to death. Likewise, they know nothing about other worlds. The old man's warning always lingered in their minds, deeply ingrained in them, forming a line of bones filled with blood.

Countless dead people lie behind this scarlet line, with mouths filled with dust open, revealing shrinking gums, and lips that are dry and tightened, as if they are smiling.

They smile and say: Don't look up.

Bjorn stared at the stars in the night sky, his expression gradually becoming tense.

He held a spear tightly with his right hand. This primitive weapon has been with this violent race since humans held torches and fought in the dark, and has never really left it.

But this spear is different. It can no longer bear the responsibility of being a weapon. The dull cracks silently revealed its final outcome to everyone who saw it, just like the numb face of a doctor or the sad eyes of a relative.

Bjorn finally lowered his head and looked at the spear.

"Did you do what I asked?" Leman Russ asked vaguely.

His voice sounded so weak, so dull. Looking back on his memories, Bjorn realized that there had never been a moment when his alpha wolf had shown such vulnerability.

"Bjorn?"

"I'm here, Ruth." The lone wolf responded almost meekly. "I did as you asked. The rune priests have gathered."

"Did they scold you?"

"Of course, Chief Wolf, they must have scolded me badly. You have to take some time to clear up my grievances."

"Don't worry." Ruth smiled softly. "Wait until I wake up."

He couldn't finish the sentence.

Endless hot wind roared from Bjorn's feet, blowing his fur cloak up and down.

The sky is still shining, unaware of the brief farewell here. Only the sound of the wind collided back and forth between the rock walls and flowed into Et's primitive ventilation system with bruises and bruises.

The warm tunnel built by the geothermal energy conveyed the whining sound of the wind to every wild wolf in the lair.

The young Bloodclaws were puzzled by this. They touched the simple knots and ornaments on their armors and looked at each other. Perhaps a second ago, they were still doing their own things, such as drinking, overeating, or fighting, releasing the endless wildness and violence in their hearts, but the sound of the wind changed everything, forcing them to stop and listen to it blankly. sound.

The Wolf Priest responsible for training and teaching them knows the truth, but they won't say anything.

Even across the entire galaxy, there are very few people who can dig out useful things from the mouths of these particularly stubborn wolves, let alone the mere Blood Claws. But priests will also feel sad, and after a few minutes, or hours, they will meet with their brothers to drink a cup of mead by a fire or a long table.

Then, they will say -

"—See you in the winter, Russ." Bjorn murmured.

This was the second time the wolves had said goodbye to him like this.

Bjorn let go, intending to let the spear choose its burial place.

At first, it fell to the ground, and soon slid down along the gravity. It spun on the small stone platform here. It could not support it for long, and then fell into the bottom of Etter, which was open and abyss-like. in the eternal darkness.

The lone wolf walked slowly to the edge of the platform, stared down, and felt the hot wind blowing against his face. He wanted to hear the sound of the spear falling to the ground, so he did not hesitate to wait for a long time, but he still could not catch the slight collision sound.

So he raised his head and looked at the sky of Fenris. Sure enough, a surging white storm was raging in the center of the sky. Although its wind sound was so shrill, it sounded like a promise to Bjorn's ears.

No, that's a promise.

The lone wolf turned around expressionlessly and walked into the rugged cave.

His footsteps were loud, far from his habits as a killer. Looking back, he once had such simple and pure ambitions

It's just killing, no other expectations.

At that time, he was an angry person who would get into a rage over the smallest things. Wolves are inherently savage and they have no intention of hiding it, and Bjorn is certainly the best among them.

Despite this, he is not proud of it, but feels painful because he cannot control this wildness and can only let it choose the time to explode at will.

It was time that taught him calmness and tolerance.

To be more precise, it was the time spent fighting with the other four that taught him such a precious quality.

It's like taming a beast. Lone Wolf thought unusually calmly. Or maybe I am willing to be tamed.

Abandon your wildness, take responsibility, and transform the silent footsteps of the killer into the loud strides of the leader, so that people will know he is coming.

So that the wolves know that the lone wolf is still there.

Bjorn couldn't help but smile. He understood that he had already become an indispensable symbol like Russ. But if anyone thinks he would be proud of this, they are dead wrong.

A few minutes later, he walked into a cave that shone with silver and rolled with storms and lightning.

There are many people standing here, and Bjorn can tell the total number without even taking a glance - five per large company, which means that there are now a total of sixty-five rune priests standing here.

Sixty-five pairs of golden eyes looked at him without blinking.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to explain something?" A sullen voice replied.

Bjorn sighed. He didn't really want to answer the question, but doing so would seem a bit too impolite - of course, politeness is not something a Fenrisian would care about in most cases. What prompted him to reply was actually very simple.

"Okay," Bjorn couldn't help but mumbled as he covered his forehead with a headache. "Please don't cause trouble for me at this time."

"look for a job?!"

A huge shadow slowly stood up from the storm and ice, extremely tall and huge, with the muffled sound of machinery and the collision of steel. The other rune priests gave way and lowered their heads to show their respect for this man.

Finally, two red lights suddenly appeared.

"I woke up from a deep sleep, full of expectations, thinking that I could kill more demons and more traitors - even sending me to destroy a few infantry camps would be a good thing! But there is none of this, nothing, only you This old man said softly, don’t cause trouble for you!”

The roaring sound turned into a violent wind that could be seen with the naked eye, blowing over Bjorn's face, blowing his long hair that was tied up and gathered into pieces. He gritted his teeth and raised his right hand to make a 'stop' gesture.

"I swear to All-Father, Ornn Badwinter, that I will never insult you in any way." Bjorn said solemnly. "But I really hope you can use the synthesizer speaker to talk to us. Ruth, please use less psychic power!"

The wild wolf buried in the feral iron coffin grumbled a few times in dissatisfaction, but still followed Bjorn's words. A synthetic voice with a mechanical tone soon replaced his original voice and echoed in the cave.

"It's the Leviathan that's bad, Bjorn." Badwinter said in an emotionless synthesized voice. "Every time I speak into its system, I feel like my non-existent vocal cords are itching. You're going to have to let me drink some mead, don't you think?"

His words elicited a burst of laughter.

This is strange, because rune priests are usually stern people, but the identity of the person speaking is really special - Ornn Badwinter, who was besieged and had to Enter fearlessness.

Before that, he had been one of the best rune priests in the pack, and his reputation had spread far and wide since Bjorn was still a Bloodclaw.

Perhaps this experience gave him some special powers. Even in his sleep, Badwinter can communicate with the wolves through spiritual energy. Therefore, if you really want to do the math, all the rune priests present are actually Is his apprentice.

"I'll pour some on your grave," Bjorn replied expressionlessly.

"Oh, then you may have to make some efforts to enter the Eye of Terror, great lone wolf."

Fearless responded with a shrill, monotonous laugh in a synthesized voice. Ha ha ha ha. Only this time, his joke didn't resonate.

"So, let's talk." Badwinter turned back to his real voice and sighed. "What on earth is going on?"

Bjorn didn't know where to start for a while. Although he believed that this old guy had already passed the anger with other rune priests, it was still difficult for him to put these things that you knew and I knew into sentences - okay Now, he is now very good at doing these difficult things.

"Ruth has left temporarily, returning to the embrace and glory of All Father. He will return, but for at least the next five hundred winters, we will no longer be able to listen to his advice and absorb his wisdom and courage."

Shock and anger surged up in an instant, and the storm and frost projected on the mottled stone walls of the cave even had a faint hint of turning into reality. Bjorn paused for a moment and looked around, seeing bone-deep anger and deep sorrow.

And, the peace that only one person has.

Ornn Badwinter rumbled in his iron coffin.

"Then, his return this time will be the moment of prophecy." He said in a sleepy tone. "Hour of the Wolf?"

He searched for the answer, deliberately using the name "Hour of the Wolf", and did not let go of any possibility of getting any clues from Bjorn. This is a very obvious little thought, with the insignificant cunning between brothers.

The lone wolf smiled.

He simply shrugged, deliberately making the answer ambiguous - in fact, Ruth had not disclosed this matter to him, but how could he let go of an opportunity that could cause trouble for this old boy five hundred years later? Woolen cloth?

However, Bad Winter was not fooled.

"Ah, you're at it again," he said sternly. "Forget it, I won't pursue it, just keep talking. There's a second thing, right?"

Yes, there is the second thing. Or the first thing.

"Ruth's departure was because of a rescue."

Bjorn lowered his eyebrows and slowly began to tell - his tone was so low that he seemed to be telling a story, as if there was a snowstorm outside the grotto and they were sitting cross-legged around the fire.

The mead is swaying, the roast meat is fragrant, and the seriously injured person has fallen into a coma, muttering to himself. Some people are sharpening their knives, some are spitting blood, and some are roaring loudly, full of indignation.

The wolves listened attentively, and sixty-five pairs of eyes looked at him without reservation.

"The Emperor taught us that killing and saving have always gone hand in hand. We have lived up to him, and so has Russ."

"At this moment, far away in another galaxy, far away around a world called Kamath, the Dark Angels are fighting. Their enemy is called Ten Thousand Eyes, the gathering place of traitors and the sinking place of shameful people."

"In the past ten thousand years, they have changed the direction of their swords and fallen from protectors to accomplices. Naturally, this battle cannot be complete without the presence of the lion. Logically speaking, he should call us, right?"

The priests nodded silently - Bjorn's words may not make sense at first. Why did Leon El'Jonson call for wolves when facing traitors? But if you know the inside story, you will know that it originated from an oath.

I have the word and permission of Gunnar Gunhilt. Leon Eljonson said. Until Ruth's revenge is avenged, I will be a member of the wolf pack. I will hunt with you.

Since then, in every hunt for traitors, the Lion has never broken his promise. The Dark Angel and the wolves have fought for countless years, but this time, he did not call them again.

The older Rune Priest had vaguely guessed the reason.

Bjorn nodded slowly, his voice echoing throughout the grotto.

"Yes, as you can imagine, he didn't call us because he didn't intend to deal with this matter as one of the leaders of the wolf pack. What he wanted to face was his own son, from the scars of his legion. The evil thing that was born.”

"We know this history because he means what he says. He is one of us and there is no lie to each other."

"The Lion wanted to be sincere to those traitors, but he was betrayed again. His heart bled dry for this, and his life was completely extinguished for this, but Russ rescued his corpse——"

The wolves howled, and Bjorn's voice stirred up the raging anger like a tsunami. Hoarse and extremely angry.

"——Ruth gave our commander a chance to survive." Lone Wolf said. "The Emperor taught us that killing and saving have always gone hand in hand. Russ carried out the killing but was unable to save again, and now it is our turn."

With a clatter, he drew his sword out of its sheath.

"Now, it's our turn," Bjorn said. “We will not disappoint him.”