Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

"The Primarch is coming."

"Coming soon."

"It is said that she will arrive on the ground with the next batch of battle brothers, join us in the battle, and fight alongside us: when the time comes, we will launch a new attack! End this damn war!"

"In an hour?"

"No, I heard it's half an hour later."

"I hope she can land here. After all, I haven't seen our original body much. She always doesn't like to go out, and I have too many missions."

"I'm not very optimistic: she will definitely land on the most dangerous front. Look at the other side of the mountain. The Dark Angel has just smashed another battleship. This is already the seventh ship in an hour: Although I don't want to Admit it, but these guys are really working hard.”

"It won't work if we don't fight hard. Look what we are fighting. Any cowardly thoughts will only speed up death. It might be better to become a madman now. At least a madman cannot understand human speech. I'm tired of all the chatter in my head telling me to do something."

"Go and have a look at those think tanks. They are more active than anyone else now. The concentration of subspace here is so high that they are as happy as the Word Bearers who fell into the church world."

"Your news is out of date. Those guys can't protect themselves now..."

"What's wrong?!"

"You don't know? That's right. After all, you seem to be one of the last batch of vanguard soldiers to charge."

"Come, let me tell you..."

"..."

No matter at any time, war is always contradictory, complex, and ever-changing. On the smallest battlefield, it will also be rich in the greatest social projection, just like a deep ocean with a sluggish surface, containing countless waves. The clouds are dripping, moody and turbulent.

On the sunny side of the highlands, the combined forces formed by the Dark Angels and Space Wolves are operating at full strength in absolute silence. They need to build the fallen fortress into a firm forward position before the next battle: if they can do If we reach this point and firmly hold this highland in our hands during the enemy's counterattack, the imperial army's control area will once again advance a large distance, which is enough to have a qualitative impact on the battle situation.

Although there is some dirty hatred between Jonson's heirs and Leman Russ's wolves, the progress of the war obviously does not allow for the influence of this [personal friendship]. With a senior knight commander With a Wolf Lord as the absolute core, a large number of Astartes warriors who had their original organization shattered were forcibly fused into a cluster, abandoned in this vital fortress, and asked to continue their work in the next For a period of time, they felt like brothers and sisters, using their blood and lives to protect this hard-won strategic key: this is already the best configuration the empire can come up with here.

As for whether this will cause dissatisfaction among some people: Frankly speaking, every commander who faces the overall situation of the war has to face tens of millions of huge problems at this moment. Among these problems, [the safety of his soldiers] Dissatisfaction] is as important as the word [caution] in Magnus's mind.

After all, according to the plans of the high command and even the temporary field headquarters, the garrison of these fortresses would not survive the moment when the front was pushed forward again: the empire's army had already captured almost twenty important buildings like this in this world. In important fortress areas, this law has been proven to be reliable time and time again.

Reliability written in blood.

On the dark side of the highland, only separated by a short hill, the Dawnbreakers who had just been rotated out were enjoying a short and sincere rest. Although they still need to tense their nerves at all times to support the front line, this does not hinder them. As more and more warriors returned to the temporary rest camp, all kinds of rumors and rumors were like shadows following their footsteps, stumbling into the ranks of the Dawnbreakers who were looking for each other's companions.

Mazzaro is the most ordinary of these Dawnbreakers. He is neither a veteran of Terra nor a new blood from the Far Eastern Frontier. Instead, he came from the Storm Star Territory before the Second Legion reunited with his genetic mother. A soldier recruited from a certain world, this made him an extremely rare group in the legion, a real minority.

Fortunately for him, the Dawnbreaker Legion does not have the [township party system] that is as serious as other legions. Mazzaro, who is relatively mediocre in talent, performed his duties step by step and became the silver frontman of the Son of Morgan. An unknown drop in the wave of swords, he enjoys an "ordinary" life that is envied by many battle brothers from other legions.

Unfortunately for him, when the war reached this point, even those organizations that received the most attention and respect, such as several top-ranked main companies and even the Old Guard, Like heavy chips, they are being pushed into the war compass in piles. Mazzaro and his 37th company are naturally far less important than these main elites and cannot escape. This wave of mutual strangulation.

The company, which was not particularly elite, lost some of its most elite strength in the battle to seize the fortress on the other side of the mountain. As an ordinary soldier, Mazzaro also lost his team leader and had a close relationship with him. The other team members lost contact, and he had to follow the rotation and retreat all the way to the rest base at the rear, looking for those he was familiar with among the various Terragothic and Avalonian accents. face, looking for the little bits and pieces that could make him feel at ease in the midst of the crazy war.

He first bypassed the mortal troops who were pushing building materials and carrying corpses: these mortal servants from the Dark Angels, Space Wolves, and even the Alpha Legion were not placed in any battle sequence, and were not even discussed by the Primarchs. In the war meeting, the regulations prohibiting any mortal army from landing on the Dead Star also subconsciously ignored these inconspicuous logistics troops.

The so-called mortal troops in the regulations actually refer to the elite auxiliary troops brought by the Dawnbreaker Legion. During this long expedition, they used their combat effectiveness and will to gain the recognition of every legion, and at the same time they also paid the heaviest price. casualties, but there is no doubt that as long as these survivors can return to the Far Eastern border and pass on their experience and courage to the next generation, the Second Army will soon have a group of more powerful auxiliary troops.

Then, he bypassed the think tanks who were curled up and mumbling in pain. These warriors who were familiar with the power of subspace were still able to shine in the first battle, but as the Supreme Sky The waves in this world are becoming more and more crazy, and those think tanks that are not strong enough soon fall into absolute pain. They whisper: Those indescribable waves are surrounding the land under their feet, and those who are trapped in the supreme The giant beasts in the sky are constantly tearing at the increasingly fragile curtain. They predict the coming disaster, but they can never tell what the disaster is.

But in any case, they are indeed not suitable to participate in the next battle. Only the most experienced think tanks can withstand this corrosive wave. They stand at the forefront of the war, stick to their posts, and use extremely regretful but unshakable The speed is falling one after another.

The rear areas filled with logistical supplies and wounded soldiers were a familiar sight: the mechanical priests who had the qualifications and courage to dare to fight with the army on such a battlefield, and hunt for goods while driving their machine slaves. And a few skitarii, as well as various large transport aircraft, let the road construction closely follow the footsteps of the legion's pioneers.

The wounded soldiers camp of Dawnbreaker was another noisy scene. The wounded soldiers who were seriously injured by toxins and penetrated into their flesh by the traps hidden in the flesh-colored land were the most conspicuous people, but the number was smaller than that of the injured soldiers. Most of them are pharmacists who work for dozens of hours in a row, and occasionally need to save people, kill people, curse people, shout people, pull people, and drive people away. They are the injured ones. The largest number of seriously injured people fell in the barracks.

Mazzaro, on the other hand, found Hilde, who was out of place among those trainee pharmacist apprentices with black circles under their eyes and masturbating with some glucose in their mouths: seeing this person who had been fighting alongside him for decades. It was indeed a happy thing that the old man was still alive. He immediately leaned over. The two Morgan sons looked at each other and nodded, taking it as hello.

"Who did you come back with?"

"Second Company, what about you?"

"Ninth Company, how is the situation of our own company?"

"It's okay. Terra veterans, as the main force in the last charge, almost died. Many of them didn't even make it to the wounded soldier camp. They didn't even have to use Dauntless. Ziegetu's team fell directly into the mud. There were no bones left, and at least five of Avalon's new blood died in the self-destruction of the flesh engine factory. When the knight mecha filled with meat was destroyed, at least they died again. Two people."

"It's so damn..."

"We have only been up for a few hours and have lost a quarter of our strength. If this war continues for a few more days, I am afraid that the entire 37th Company will cease to exist: just like the 29th Company, It is said that the original body is already considering mothballing their organization. Too many people have died, and what is left cannot be called an army at all."

"Forget it: look at the other three legions, they are the only ones left."

"According to the above, the 37th Company is no longer suitable for fighting alone. They decided to split our troops and subsidize them into those companies that still have most of the combat effectiveness. You know: combat clusters, teaching books This knowledge point has been mentioned several times, and we often take it in exams. We are quite lucky, the person in charge of commanding our battle group is His Excellency Bayar."

"It's useless for anyone. How many days have we been in this world? Five days or six days? Holy Terra's time is completely meaningless here. The battle never stops, and the rest time for each rotation is even. In less than twenty minutes, when I opened my eyes, I saw all kinds of flesh and blood monsters, and they all had faces that were familiar to me."

"Mortals, greenskins, Eldar, Antbulls, and Astartes warriors, plus Grott beasts, charged together. Behind them were several Orcs' garbage ancient giants and Martian Titans, and among their blasphemous In his throat, he was still shouting words similar to those for the emperor: I thought to myself, no matter how colorful and self-degenerate I am in this life, I am afraid I will never see a scene like this."

With small complaints pouring out of his mouth, Mazzaro had just sat down when he took out a small knife from the armed pouch at his waist and began to carefully peel off the stinky minced meat stuck to the tips of his arm armor and hand armor. He did not dare to let it go. These things have been retained for too long: after all, the Dawnbreakers have witnessed with their own eyes the warriors who were stained by the fleshy mud in the battle. Soon, the fleshy mud eroded their armor in the desperate wailing, and they could only be embarrassed. A life was saved.

And that's not all: these fleshy pulps, or these biomass hidden on the surface, as an imposed part of this world, have been fighting against them. They are so strong that they can even soften the firepower of artillery shells, and phosphate weapons It took far longer to destroy them than expected, so long that the empire's army had to trek through this trap.

Some biomass is very quiet, like a mass of dead matter, while some will only become a nightmare on the battlefield: either grotesque armies stand up from it, or they themselves are part of the war trap, swallowing up those Imperial soldiers who were not alert enough.

And when these flesh-and-blood creations lose their last fig leaf and allow an entire army loyal to the fallen primarch to crawl out of the sudden crack, it will be a scene that can only be recorded in horrific legends: These things will try their best to imitate the appearance of the individuals they once swallowed, and use their images and martial arts to fight, but after all, they are not those living minds. When the armor of unknown elements on their bodies is shattered, inside They are nothing more than chaotic balls of flesh and ferocious howling faces, reminding the Astartes warriors all the time that the enemy in front of them is not just a collection of individuals, but is living on a large piece of pure flesh. The finely divided products above are like dense colonies growing on a huge fungal rhizome.

What swarmed towards them was not a creature, nor even a transformer who was a mutant. It was a terrifying wailing wall made of unintelligent flesh, the harbinger of nightmares, and something that could only exist among mortals. Extraterrestrial evil creatures born in evil fantasies. However, these things are here now. They have terrifying wings, rough necks, and spider-like eyes. They scream like devils, showing fangs and hoes. The cracked teeth like pickaxes bear on the face that has been pinched with facial features or a big mouth.

Whenever such a wave of flesh and blood occurs, the battlefield will become an active purgatory in the world: even purgatory is more amiable than it. After all, the devil in purgatory will only show pure evil thoughts in front of you, not It will transform into those abominable forms that tear your familiar memories apart beyond recognition.

They are cheap cannon fodder and consumables that have been wiped out at will. This seems to mark a more terrifying reality: the fallen man that the empire needs to crusade has never invested in the real trump card in his hand. There is no telling what kind of monster is lurking near the approaching fortress.

At the very least, it seems that there are still some stupid people in the Eleventh Legion who followed the fallen primarch until the last moment. Their fate may be the bloodiest part of this war.

The empire's crusade army braved such a terrifying craze and opened a channel of blood and fire on the Dead Star. The advancement of the front never stopped, and the confrontation between charge and counterattack never stopped. There were countless This time, the wave of desecration of the army even rushed into the rear camp. Not only did it cause another casualty, it even scared many mortal servants who were doing logistics work to death. The Dawnbreakers had to cremate these poor people. Lest the Mechanicus-priests drag their bodies away and make them into the Skitarii's next meal.

If these are not bad enough, then the hell storm in the subspace is the last straw that destroys the will of many people: they not only torture the think tank, but as time goes on, more and more blood will be shed. As it flowed, the power of subspace also increased visibly to the naked eye, beginning to torture ordinary people who had no more sense of subspace.

Although these ferocious roars were not specifically aimed at the Imperial legions, they still had an unusually huge impact on the Astartes warriors. They had to fight in a desperate simulated environment: the front was likely to be attacked from the ground at any time. The army of flesh and blood emerged from it, and behind it was the roar of endless beasts, as if it was backed by a cage full of beasts, and the railings themselves were made of rotten steel.

In such a desperate situation, even the oldest inner-circle veterans in the First Legion had to maintain their awareness of combat through frequent rotations. Even those masters of the think tank with exquisite skills must also be cautious. Use your own power to maintain the thin final curtain between the subspace and the physical universe: although it is only a matter of time before this curtain is broken.

No one knows what kind of disaster will befall the battlefield when this curtain is shattered: even a legendary army of demons will never be worse.

Everyone thinks so.

In such a desperate situation, it seemed that only the activity of the Primarch could give people real hope: Jonson and Leman Russ had already arrived on the battlefield during the first landing and never left again.

As for Konrad: Although no one can tell when he appeared, the midnight ghost wandering on any bloody battlefield has become something that has nothing to do with salvation in the hearts of all the hard-working Astartes warriors. A symbol of strangeness, unknowingly, this lonely Primarch seems to have gained a certain reputation among the four legions. After all, his wanderings have indeed saved many fronts that were on the verge of collapse, and saved hundreds of people. Thousands of warriors.

Another Morgan: It seems that the Dark Angel is already calling him this, and Midnight Ghost expresses his emotional stability about this title.

No one knew about Alpha, and even the existence of the Alpha Legion was taboo to the Astartes in these trenches.

As for the last Primarch, she has been staying in low-Earth orbit for the past time, commanding a steady stream of logistics troops and supplies to arrive on the ground, and regulating the relationship between the four Astartes legions with ease. Linkage: Morgan seems to be more and more adaptable to coordinating the interaction between large legions. She has become one of the few primarchs who has actually handled multiple legions. Even Horus, the Wolf Shepherd God, is here. Below her at one point.

It is precisely because of Morgan's existence that the imperial army has laid a firm base on the ground, and after several days of bloody battles, it has gradually approached its final goal.

At this point, the time for competing in strategy and size has passed. The focus of this war has also become whether it can carry out the last fatal swing. A large-scale ground attack has become more important than the supplies across the entire galaxy. Mobilization is more important: Naturally, news that the Lord of Avalon is about to arrive on the ground to join the battle in person began to spread among all the participating troops, especially the Dawnbreaker Legion.

Morgan's scions swore to this, and no Dawnbreaker doubted that their Primarch would stand with them in the final stages of the war.

"I haven't met the Primarch a few times. It is said that she can tell the names and experiences of each of us."

While Mazzaro used a knife to shave off the fleshy flesh on his wrist armor, he asked Brother Hilde beside him: His battle brother had once been personally awarded a medal by the Primarch for an outstanding performance. , which made him the envy of the entire company.

The Dawnbreakers would not drag such brothers into the arena or anything. After all, their performance on the battlefield is obvious to all, and everyone knows that they deserve this.

"Yes, that gentleman can personally tell me my name, serial number, origin, and even when I joined the legion, what honors I received, and how I achieved this feat in battle. : She knows it better than I do."

"It's not just me, everyone who was awarded the title with me has such treatment: I don't think this is the result of her preparation in advance, because the original body doesn't seem to be reciting a piece of information at all, but like Common sense that was already clear in the mind of the person telling it.”

"Then do you think other Primarchs can do this?"

After Mazzaro cleaned himself up, he threw the knife aside. The increasingly clear roar in his mind made him frown. At the edge of his vision, he found two battle brothers supporting a think tank. , quickly walked through the central area of ​​the wounded soldiers camp: Although the think tank had no wounds on his body, his wrinkled face told the torture of his soul.

Situations like this have become more and more common now, and Mazzaro can no longer even look at it with sadness. He can only feel a kind of sad numbness.

His last bit of panic in this war seemed to have disappeared after Preda's death: that was another of his battle brothers and the mentor who led him to join the legion. This elder's luck has never been very good. And it was the same today: after those artillery positions made of flesh and blood sent another blasphemous rain of fire at them, Preda used his last bit of luck.

By the time they found him, he was all over the place.

"I don't know. It is said that Sanguinius seems to be able to do this, but Guilliman or Perturabo probably can't. They have too many descendants, and they probably don't have the heart to do these tender behaviors. .”

"Don't let the Iron Warriors in our legion listen to your words. They will definitely catch you, put you in a cage, and sentence you to two hundred years."

"Two hundred years?"

"Yes: for insulting a Primarch, you should be sentenced to twenty years anyway. The remaining one hundred and eighty years are because you leaked the Legion's secrets of the Fourth Legion."

"Is this considered a legion secret?"

"Dark Angel is not an angel?"

The two Dawnbreakers looked at each other and let out short bursts of laughter.

"Hehehehe..."

"..."

"!!!"

But this relaxed laughter did not last long, and the two sons of Morgan suddenly became quiet again: expressions of astonishment appeared on their faces at the same time, and they looked at each other, communicating with their eyes and deep breaths.

"You...you feel it?"

"The same to you?"

There were no unnecessary answers or further questions. The two warriors stopped everything they were doing, and even stood up and looked at a place in the distance. Their eyes could not capture that place, but this did not It didn't stop them from looking in that direction like devout believers: even the Dawnbreakers in the entire camp were doing the same thing as them.

They got it.

They knew it immediately the moment it happened.

No matter the distance or what they are doing: because the blood relationship in their minds has told them everything, this feeling is like some kind of vortex bomb being detonated, and the huge shock wave makes every soldier unable to even stand. , let alone unnecessary thinking.

Many people staggered until they stopped completely. Even the most experienced warriors forgot what they should do. Although they were not surprised by the bloodiest challenges, they had no idea about the dead star in front of them. Awe, but when that sudden sense of happiness filled their hearts, but when their vision blackened by war suddenly lit up a bright light like a morning star, everyone could clearly understand I felt a shock that went deep into my bones.

What follows is endless confidence, peace of mind, and sense of mission.

It is an indelible connection, the highest creation of character and truth, a fiery emotion that even the coldness in the stars cannot completely freeze: the Dawnbreakers who have long been bound by harsh self-discipline are still able to suppress themselves The impulse in their hearts sticks to their posts and positions. Only those soldiers who happen to not have any positions can climb out of the trenches and run towards the direction of the light under the envious eyes of others. A teleportation array that they could not detect with their eyes, but destined to reach straight to the sky.

The top light of the teleportation array pierced the dim clouds, leading directly to the farthest low-Earth orbit, and directly to the Queen of Glory where their genetic mother was. It was like a huge searchlight projected from the ground into space, even if they were separated from each other. Even from such a long distance, they could see the faintest outer halo.

Mazzaro could hear a small metallic sound, and then he realized it, but he took off his helmet, and then he took a deep breath: everyone had done this, they took off their helmets, and inhaled the poisonous Enjoy the bitterness of the air, enjoy the smelly wind flapping their faces and long hair, lest they be led away by happiness and calling, lest they forget that they are on the battlefield.

Everyone was looking at each other, and they could clearly see the joy on each other's faces. Then, a strange noise not far away attracted Mazzaro's attention: I don't know who was the first to pull out his sword, pointing the sword at High in the sky, there was a roaring wave of war cries and cheers without any words.

The next moment, such cheers swept through the entire camp, infecting everyone at a speed visible to the naked eye, shattering every pessimistic attitude towards this war.

No one spoke, no one could say a single word with complete meaning, but the purest joy appeared on their faces, becoming the most united symbol of the entire legion.

They all know what happened: relying on the activity of the Supreme Heaven, the blood relationship between them has never been as strong as it is now, and the influence of the Primarch on them has never been as great as it is now. They can feel the power of blood. With every move they made, they felt that their original body was no longer far away, but within their reach.

They knew that their Gene-Mother had come to the surface and that their Primarch would fight alongside them: she had not broken her word, just as every promise she had ever made to them had been answered in the best possible way.

As always, she never broke her promise, and she became, as always, the mother of genes that they could always believe in, follow, and be proud of.

Morgan is here.

The war between the Dawnbreaker Legion will really begin at this moment.

——————

Everyone was caught up in the carnival, but in this extreme wave of cheers, no one noticed an ominous omen: the soldier who had just been helped back to the wounded soldier camp, huddled in the shadows, seemed to be intoxicated with Vietnam. Among the increasingly deeper and more twisted murmurs, he himself did not notice, nor did the soldiers beside him notice: The giant ship loaded with armies in the subspace finally found the weak lighthouse light and threw out That steel anchor that's enough to keep it there.

The huge cheers and satisfaction caused by the arrival of the original body call for a new round of emotional storm in the supreme sky: this storm may not be strong, but it is enough to become the last bargaining chip to break the balance. The curtain that had been so painstakingly maintained finally had a real and terrible crack that could not be repaired or turned a blind eye to.

So, at the moment when the last Primarch participating in the battle arrived on the surface, the first warrior from the highest sky also appeared in the remaining blind spot of vision between the warring parties.

And behind it...

A word changes everything.

One thought becomes an army.

The demon appeared in this world: when no one noticed, the first demon serving Khorne, waving its blade, began to search for the breath of war and death in the air, and he walked The crack he passed through also shone with dark blue, dark green and lavender auras.

At this moment, it is alone.

And the next moment, behind it was an army of millions.