Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

"It looks like we're being thwarted."

"Yes, Lord Dorn, maybe there are some problems with our tactics."

"Don't be so tactful, Guidores. There was a problem with my tactical decision-making. My hastiness created the predicament in front of us, and you and the other guards did not point it out in time: we all made mistakes."

"It is meaningless to discuss these issues now, my lord: give me an order. Should we stay here and wait for reinforcements, or should we break out before they attack?"

"If it's the latter, then please leave the task of being behind the scenes to me, sir."

"……No."

"I come myself: you come with me."

…

Frankly speaking, Rogal Dorn actually vaguely realized that something was not right about the situation four hours after the war began: not only the original body himself, he believed that the warriors around him had already realized it.

They rushed a little too fast, and there was a risk of being disconnected from the main force. Not only were the two companies responsible for the rearguard gradually unable to keep up with the original body, but even other related units that needed real-time data were unable to adapt to the original body's close movements. The Guards advanced too quickly.

Whether it is the naval gun support in low-Earth orbit or the fire cover in the rear, they are all taking action because of the violent surge of the original body and others. They are afraid that the artillery fire will accidentally damage the soul of the entire Seventh Legion. As for those teams responsible for logistics support, They were left far behind from the very beginning, and many Imperial Fists began to run out of ammunition.

Dorn noticed all this, he noticed every problem, and the warriors around him were no exception: but neither the Primarch himself nor the warriors around him chose to stop.

As for the reason?

No one can tell.

Perhaps it was because Perturabo and the Iron Warriors on the other side of the battlefield never stopped advancing.

Perhaps it was because the lands they conquered had already been planted with the double-headed eagle flag, and the Imperial Fists had no tradition of abandoning their lands in a hurry.

Or maybe, it's just that they simply don't want to retreat, and it's the flaws in their character that lead to extra stubbornness, or in other words: paranoia.

Although the Sons of Dorne have always been regarded as calm defenders and builders of fortresses, don't forget that a combative man like Sigismund is also a warrior with Dornish blood flowing through him, and Their number is definitely not a minority in the Seventh Legion.

The Lord of Invite is certainly a sincere and reliable great warrior, but he is not perfect without flaws: he is arrogant and stubborn, and he also has a paranoid warrior soul in his heart. The green-skinned orcs of Zexi are not much different. These people who also inherited the Dornish bloodline are proof of the character flaws of their genetic father.

It's just that in normal times, Dorn suppressed this flaw very well. He tied the wild soul with calm thinking, until there were too many factors in this expedition that made the Primarch's ideological chain no longer so complicated. Solid: Whether it was the long command and control, the alien army that was far more troublesome than imagined, or even the brotherly battle with Perturabo, it all became the last straw that overcame his calmness.

Dorn and his guards advanced in silent fury. The Imperial Fists he chose beside him were all the most violent forces in the Seventh Legion. Compared with them, even Sigismund was He can be considered a pacifist who hates weapons and doesn't like fighting.

(Note: Let me say here that although I like Donne very much, don’t think that he is a perfect saint. He also has many shortcomings, including paranoia. It’s just that Donne usually suppresses it very well, and the third There are also a lot of paranoid people in the Seventh Legion. Sigismund and the Black Templars are not even the most paranoid group in the Seventh Legion. Those brothers who were more paranoid than them were later killed by Dorn himself. Taken to the steel cage.)

Therefore, when the Lord of Invite was rarely trapped by his paranoia, he lacked the advice of his descendants and had to blindly run rampant on the battlefield until everyone was trapped in the wave of Hruds. Even so, they did not intend to retreat. Instead, they repaired the fortifications in the alien fortress they had just built, and raised the double-headed eagle flag symbolizing the empire on the spot.

Stay where you are! Another battlecry in the lineage of the Imperial Fists.

A brutal offensive and defensive battle ensued. The wave of Hrud swept across the sky and occupied all the field of vision in the blink of an eye. Even the dead air was distorted by the numerous time force fields on them. Looking from a distance, It was like a rising purgatory. Under this purgatory, there were countless explosions and alien roars.

The Primarch walked on the fortress, constantly engaged in the war. Wherever the front was in danger of being lost, Rogal Dorn appeared. Within ten minutes of the attack, he and his descendants He killed an alien army that was a hundred times larger than his own, but this was just a drop in the bucket in the long tug-of-war.

One after another, sentry towers and small strongholds fell in seconds that seemed to last forever. Rogal Dorn watched with his own eyes how the fallen warriors turned into ashes, and their rusted armor peeled off until Overwhelmed by more aliens, the original body could only grit his teeth and continue fighting, while desperately suppressing his desire to pick up the giant sword in his hand and rush forward to avenge his descendants.

He knew he couldn't do this. The scar on his left hand reminded him all the time: on the original body's perfect golden armor, only an ugly wound was left on his left arm. Although the flesh and blood inside had long since healed, the outside was melted. Metal is still frightening.

It was a failed attempt. It came from Dorn's attempt to lead a team to recapture a vital guard tower, but then they discovered that the Hrud had launched their heavy weapons, and the strange waves it fired were really It can have a fatal impact on the original body: Although it was only slightly rubbed on the arm, Dorn still felt that his biological age had disappeared for at least twenty or even thirty years.

Although twenty or thirty years is a very short period of time for the almost endless life of the original body, when this change suddenly happened to him, Dorn still fell into silence and shock: he was The frantic Imperial Fists forcibly dragged them back to the fortress. Before the attack was repelled, the original body spent more than ten seconds in an indescribable self-thought.

No one knows what Dorn went through in these ten seconds.

But he quickly stood up and directed the uninterrupted defensive operations as always: only Guidoreth, standing beside the primarch, could see that when the Lord of Invite returned to his post again, in the past The paranoia and stubbornness that had been occupying those pupils for the past few hours had mostly disappeared without even realizing it.

Rogal Dorn's voice once again became the kind of calmness without fluctuations. He commanded his warriors, resisting simultaneous attacks from three directions, frowning and muttering something during the bloody battle: Guido Reis could hear clearly that the Primarch was complaining about his weakness.

It was only now that the Lord of Invite discovered that he seemed to lack a means specifically for long-range attacks. He found that he had no powerful strength when facing these Hrud people who could not engage in close combat with them. But he couldn't use them all: not even as good as his Olympian brothers who were armed to the teeth.

But even so, Dorne, who regained his sanity, still turned the tide of the battle. The Hrud never touched the edge of the fortress, even though their offensive became more and more violent. Because just behind Dorne and others, the Imperial Fist's The large army has tried its best to move closer to the original body, and the sound of crazy bolt fire is not far away from the position of Dorn and others.

Maybe in fifteen minutes, or maybe twenty minutes, they will be able to escape from the predicament at hand, Guidores thought, and did not forget to carefully glance at the original body: he instinctively felt that his genetic father After escaping the fatal blow, he seemed to have figured out something in the moment of life and death, but now was obviously not the time for him to ask questions.

The captain of the Huskal Guards wondered which troop would join them first. Is it the Imperial Fist companies that are desperately moving towards this position? Or that hybrid force that is rumored to be fighting in conjunction with the Iron Warriors? What is their company commander's name? He seemed to remember that his name was Polux?

Guidores couldn't remember the name, and he hoped it wouldn't be this unit: after all, the addition of the Iron Warriors would always make the Imperial Fists' rescue look awkward and useless.

Does their Primarch still need the Iron Warriors to rescue them? The participation of even one Iron Warrior in this group would be a source of dismay to the entire Seventh Legion: nothing would be more devastating to these Astartes warriors than the inability to protect their Gene-Father.

But unfortunately, the development of the matter was far worse than what Guidores originally expected: just seven minutes later, the rumble of artillery fire from the reinforcements reached the ears of Dorn and others, But it didn't come from behind them, but from the front and left of them.

Several guards around Dorn had subtle expressions for a moment. They knew that was the direction that the Iron Warriors were responsible for: How could reinforcements come from that position?

Several guards looked at each other, even Guidores was no exception. They expressed their inner anxiety with their eyes: after all, what if their current predicament was solved by the Iron Warriors or even Perturabo himself? , then this is too much...

"Our support is arriving."

Unlike his descendants, Dorn looked in the direction of the gunfire, and then calmly looked at his own guards, completely unaware of how humiliating it was to be rescued by another brother.

After seeing that his most trusted auxiliary officers still seemed a little shocked, the Lord of Invite even frowned and said the next sentence urgently.

"Notify us and prepare for the battle."

"We can't let our friendly forces fight alone there."

"..."

The silence was followed by a low response, and the primarch's attendants and military attachés followed the order and left. Only Guidores stood beside Dorn, licking his lips reluctantly. He looked into the eyes of his genetic father, and confirmed again that the trip to hell just now seemed to have made Dorn figure it out. Something happened, and the Lord of Invite seemed to have some new ideas.

"Father."

He spoke tentatively.

"We just need to hold on here for a while, maybe only five minutes, before we can wait for the Imperial Fists behind us. We can join them and break out, instead of choosing now..."

"Choose to accept brother's help?"

Dorn smiled. The haze caused by the war made his face not very clear, but Guidores could still see the smile: very short, and full of Invite-style restraint. .

The Primarch of the Imperial Fists just looked at his most trusted heir and muttered to himself.

"You know what, Guidores."

"Just at that moment, I suddenly understood a very simple truth."

"…What is that, Father?"

"A mistake, my mistake."

Dorn looked up, and he happened to see the Iron Warriors' reinforcements firing at the Hrud in the distance: Perturabo's secret weapon was once again thrown into the battlefield, and the aliens at the edge of his field of vision were appearing in patches. Falling down, Dorn was forced to admit that his brother was better at carnage than he was.

"Guidores, my warrior, you should remember what views I have held on my brother Perturabo's previous battle plans since I joined the Kraken Abyss expedition, right?"

"Criticism, my lord."

"Yes, criticism."

Dawn shook his head.

"Actually, until now, I don't think the battle plans Perturabo chose before were correct. I still have reasons to persuade him from a more reasonable point of view: but it is this kind of superior persuasive posture that starts to make me Becoming arrogant has made me look arrogant, causing me to ignore the strengths that still shine in my brother and focus all my attention on those shortcomings.”

"You should notice one thing, Guidores: before this, every conversation I had with Perturabo was accompanied by arguments, and I pointed out his problems, but I don't know when. I seemed to only point out his problems and criticize his shortcomings sharply, pushing every conversation we had to the forefront.”

"It also implicates our blood relatives."

"I only saw his flaws, but turned a blind eye to his strengths."

"This is not right, Guidores."

"grown ups……"

"Because I only saw the shortcomings in Perturabo, I took it for granted that I would not be worse than him, so I became reckless and blind in this war, only thinking about not falling behind Peturabo. Bo, ignoring the calmness and planning that war really requires."

"But until the shell passed by me..."

Dawn sighed.

"Until then, I realized that there was nothing I could do against these aliens. My performance on the battlefield was no more dominant than yours, because I lacked weapons that could attack from a distance. I was good at holding a shield or wielding a sword, but I'm not good at fighting opponents who can't fight me up close: compared to the things I'm good at, this lack of long-range attack means is my shortcoming."

"So, in those few seconds, I suddenly figured out something: What would Perturabo do if he were in the same position as me?"

"He must have a way. He has so many long guns and short cannons that he carries with him, as well as endless ammunition reserves. He alone is a firepower output platform. He can easily kill large swaths of aliens, instead of being afraid of hands like me. Afraid of feet, difficult to move.”

"Perturabo is far superior to me in this regard: absolute victory."

"And in that case..."

The primarch pursed his lips and chuckled, as if laughing at himself.

"Since my brother can clearly surpass me in this aspect, how can I take it for granted that I will surpass him in other areas? Maybe, I just haven't seen his ability in those areas. Shining point. And blindly thinking I’m better than him.”

"It was certainly a stupid thing: that's what I figured out in that brief moment, Guidores."

The original body smiled again and patted the guard captain on the shoulder. Guidores seemed to have not yet come out of this long speech. He was not sure whether his father's heart was turned upside down or whether he had just broken through a small part of the haze: Based on these words, he felt it was the latter.

"So, my lord, why were you laughing there before?"

"nothing."

The primarch shook his head.

"I just briefly reviewed the fight between me and Perturabo during this period, and then asked myself a question: What reasons and motives do I have to compete with my blood brother? "

"..."

"Then I realized I couldn't answer the question."

"……That's it."

Dorn picked up his chainsword, and the most elite warriors were gradually approaching their original body in the distance, waiting to work with him to launch a new attack on the aliens ahead: the Hrud were precisely because of Petula Shaken by Bo's attack, now is the best time to completely crush their wave.

"Okay, Guidores, we will talk about more things later."

The primarch's eyes grew serious.

"Now, let us see why Perturabo came to support.

"Do you want to thank him, my lord?"

Guidores was still a little unwilling.

"Maybe."

Dorn was silent for a moment.

"However, I don't think the matter on his side has been resolved: if Perturabo failed to do his part, he casually handed over the command to others, and then came all the way to me if……"

"I'll thank him."

"Then point out what's wrong with him."

"Like, what I did before."

"...I understand, sir."

Guidores breathed a sigh of relief. He finally saw that familiar feeling, quietly returning to Dorn: a moment of emotion is fleeting, and eternal indifference is the true nature and soul of the Invite people.

The Imperial Fist smiled.

fortunately.

Dorne is still the same Dorne.

——————

Still so annoying.

It's... annoying.

The Lord of Steel watched coldly as his blood relatives walked toward him, and even forgot to wipe the dirty alien blood on his armor: After less than twenty minutes of massacre and assault, the two originals finally found their way to the Hrud Mountains. They met on the pile of corpses reclaimed from the sea. Their joint attack had disintegrated the alien army in the area, leaving only a few remnants, which became a foil to the sound of explosions outside the field of vision.

But despite this, the resistance of the Hrud people has not completely disappeared. Their remnants are still hoarding in the fortress further away. It is a strong city that requires at least two legions to join forces: although Perturabo has already He ordered his most trusted leader of the Trident, Frix, to lead the army to attack, but he just learned from the communicator that Frix's offensive did not achieve the expected results.

The Lord of Steel didn't say anything. He just coldly ordered Frix to continue the attack. Then he abandoned the guards around him and walked straight towards his Invite blood relatives. The two originals ended up on the alien corpse mountain. When they got together, they were not accompanied by their heirs.

"Thank you for your assistance, Perturabo."

Before the Lord of Steel could stand still, Dorn spoke. This straightforward thank you made the Olympian raise his brows, and his heart briefly brightened, but it didn't take long. The stubborn guy snorted coldly, and no corresponding good words came out of his mouth.

"I'm just worried that the situation on your side will affect the overall war situation, Dorn."

"I share this concern."

The Lord of the Imperial Fist nodded and ignored the sarcasm of his blood relatives. Instead, he looked curiously at the scarred team behind Perturabo. They looked no more like those behind Dorn who had fought a long and persistent battle. The Imperial Fists are even more glamorous.

"How's the front going on your side?"

"There's still one last step left."

Perturabo smiled, viciously showing off his victory to his blood relatives.

"I have led my legion to eliminate all obstacles in front of me. If I were not worried that the situation on your side would affect the development of the overall war situation, I would have planted the flag of the empire on the alien fortress."

"However, even if I am delayed for a while here, it is no problem. Even if I rush back now, I will complete the final offensive within an hour: You'd better move faster, my brother, I won't Will be waiting for you at this stage."

"You don't have to wait."

Dorn frowned at first, listened carefully to Perturabo's description, and mentally sketched the situation on the battlefield on the Iron Warriors' side. After confirming that Perturabo had not delayed any military operations to support him, he Witte nodded, and then he patiently and calmly answered the questions about blood relatives.

"The defensive battle just now made me realize that there were problems with my tactical deployment, Perturabo. Therefore, I plan to temporarily shrink the defense line, reassemble and adjust the troops, and then launch an attack in the actual control area of ​​​​the Hrud people. Offensive, it might take two to three hours of my time.”

"..."

Perturabo was silent, but the silence was filled with suppressed rage.

The Iron Warrior first listened to Dorn's explanation with a look of astonishment, then bit his lip and stared intently at his Invite brothers. Various twisted spirals appeared one after another on his resolute face. , the hands behind his back were shaking constantly, until he squeezed out the sentence of accountability through his teeth.

"What... do you mean? Dorn!"

"……What?"

Dawn blinked in confusion.

"What are you talking about, Perturabo?"

"I said, what do you mean!"

For no reason, Perturabo suddenly yelled, and the sound even covered up the distant artillery fire, causing the Astartes warriors on both sides to look here slightly nervously.

The Lord of Iron stared at his blood relative tremblingly. His unreasonable anger made the Lord of the Imperial Fist frown, but Dorn's confusion in turn angered Perturabo.

"what is this?"

"Give up? Or give up?"

"I led the army here and spent several hours in this damn war just to see which of our troops could capture the alien fortress first! Now, the competition has reached the final step. Now, Seeing that victory is firmly in my hands, are you going to back down from me here? "

"What do you mean? Do you want my victory to be less than perfect?"

"..."

"I didn't mean that, brother."

Dorn frowned. After hearing Perturabo's words about competition, he instinctively wanted to point out the mistake of the Lord of Steel in adding so many personal emotions to the war, but soon, Dorn realized At the point where he is actually not qualified to blame his Olympian brother on this issue, because he made the same mistake not long ago.

Therefore, the Lord of Invite could only choose a cautious answer.

"Although I did intend to compete with you before this, in the war just now, I realized that competition on this battlefield is useless: I have planned to give up this meaningless competition. Compare.”

"Pointless?!"

Perturabo roared next.

"Do you think this competition between us is pointless?"

"So far, yes."

Dawn nodded without any sign of compromise.

Then, he saw Perturabo's face fell into a kind of paleness that he could not describe in words: it seemed to be a huge sledgehammer forged by the combination of shock, humiliation and anger, and it hit hard. It hit the Olympian's face, leaving him speechless.

Perturabo stood there, as if Dorne had failed him. He gritted his teeth, grinding them again and again, making an ear-piercing friction sound, and looked at him unwillingly. The pupils of Invite's blood relatives: After confirming that Dorn really had no intention to continue competing with him, the trembling Lord of Steel stood there, seemingly wanting to destroy something to vent his anger, but in the end He just shook his fist in vain at the air.

"up to you!"

he then roared.

"Since you insist on retreating to the rear and being your coward, then abandon your glory. I will lead my army to take down that alien fortress. I will defeat it in the shortest possible time in front of you. Capture it and plant the imperial flag with your own hands: all the glory of this war will belong to me!”

"Then I congratulate you, brother."

Dorn nodded, confirming that he was blessing sincerely, but for some reason, this blessing made Perturabo's face seem even more angry.

It was only then that Dorn realized something was happening.

"Wait, Perturabo, you said you only led your legions to attack there?"

"That's right."

The Lord of Steel sneered.

"What? After hearing this, are you unwilling to part with such a huge honor?"

"That was not what I meant."

Dawn shook his head.

"I just want to say that with the strength of a legion of Iron Warriors, it is very difficult to capture this fortress alone: ​​I suggest you wait until my legion is repaired, and then we capture this fortress together. This It’s the option with the highest success rate, brother.”

"If you insist on taking the honor, your legion can go up first."

"..."

Once again, the Lord of Steel was silent.

"..."

Once again, Rogedo was extremely confused to find that although he sincerely proposed the best solution and had taken care of the wishes of his blood relatives, unreasonable anger was still burning from the Olympian, and even More vigorous than before: even Perturabo's voice trembled.

"What do you mean? Dorn!"

"……I……"

"Are you saying that my Iron Warriors alone can't capture that fortress?"

"That would be more than worth it, brother."

"Are you questioning my ability?"

"I'm not questioning your ability, I'm just pointing out the current facts..."

"enough!!!"

The Lord of Steel rudely interrupted his blood relative's explanation. He stared intently at Rogal Dorn's face, but he still did not see the slightest hint of ridicule or malice from it. This made his anger difficult to dispel: In the end , he growled lowly and issued his declaration to his Invite blood relatives.

"Take your legion back, go back to your comfort zone, I will lead my soldiers right away, and capture the alien fortress in front of your eyes: just like I said before, I will personally Before your eyes, the battle flag of the Human Empire rises, Dorne!"

"Let me tell you, what is called war, what is called victory!"

"But……"

Dorn was about to speak, but his blood relatives were obviously not interested in listening anymore. Perturabo led his warriors in a hurry, but walked away after a brief exchange, leaving only the Invites full of confusion. Standing there, he still didn't understand which of his words aroused the anger in the Lord of Steel's heart.

When he turned his head and recounted the scene just now to the approaching Guidores, hoping that his guard captain could give an answer, the reliable Imperial Fist also thought hard for a long time before he raised his eyebrows. squeezed out a vague answer.

"Sir, I think this is because..."

"Uh...because of your blood relative..."

"His name is Perturabo."

"Yes, Lord Perturabo, I think he is a little bit..."

Guidores just pointed to his temple and said nothing more.

——————

"Flix! Answer me!"

"I'm here, father. I've adjusted the strategy here. I promise..."

"Lead your people and go back to your original post! I will go back and take over my position immediately! I will personally lead the people to take down that damn fortress."

"But, sir, if you follow your original plan, there will still be a lot of supplies..."

"Excuting an order!"

"Do you want me to say it again?"

"No... no need..."

"I'm leaving now, my lord."