Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

"Night of the Wolves?"

"What a bad name: it sounds like a code name given by little hooligans to their nest."

"So, you're not going to participate?"

"Yes, why not?"

Ahriman looked up, the air around him was thin and cold, making his words always accompanied by a layer of frost: but this had no effect on the Astartes warriors, they were even more adaptable to the cold than the locals.

Especially those Space Wolves: these bastards were like returning home.

"I have always been looking forward to fighting with the best players in the Space Wolves, not the think tanks and cubs sent by them to learn psychic powers, but the real stuff like the Wolf Lord or the Champion Swordsman: I want to see what the wildness and fearlessness that the Wolves have boasted for decades are like?"

"But Leman Russ will also be there, you are going to fight the Wolves under his nose?"

"Isn't that better?"

The Thousand Son laughed out loud, he understood the other party's deep meaning.

If a Primarch like Leman Russ were present, then the Space Wolves in the arena would definitely exert more than 100% of their strength, and would even do whatever it takes to win: but Ahriman now needs such an opponent.

He is not afraid of strong enemies, and he does not think there will be any strong enemies among the Space Wolves: if the Sixth Legion is really as martial as they claim, then why has there never been a single name among the descendants of Leman Russ that can resound throughout the Great Crusade in these decades?

Not to mention being compared with peerless people like Abaddon, Radlon, Akudona and Bayar, even if there are people who can rival rising stars like Sigismund, Kahn, Hector or Sevatar, the Sixth Legion cannot produce even one.

"Aren't you going to participate, Hector?"

"Me? It depends."

Morgan's pride hesitated for a moment before giving an ambiguous answer.

"You know, Ahriman, I don't like fighting with people."

"But they all want to fight with you."

"Yes, but I can understand why they think so: because if the situation is reversed, I would think so too, and I would also like to challenge guys like me."

After saying this, Hector smiled bitterly, and his once tender face under his short silver hair now has the vicissitudes of a mature person: his physique has grown along with his face. Although the trend has gradually slowed down in recent decades, Hector's height is still accumulating firmly, and he has refreshed people's records.

At this point, he is already twice as tall as Ahriman when fully armed, and has become the most obvious example of the rich and colorful genetic mutations of the Dawnbreaker Legion: countless scholars have said that Morgan's Legion has the most diverse genetic development possibilities among all the Astartes Legions, and the existence of Hector and others is their best proof.

But for Morgan's proud son, the biggest distress is not this, but the inevitable learning exchange of the Dawnbreaker Legion: every time newcomers from other legions visit the [Aurora], they are always shocked by Hector's mountain-like figure, followed by challenge letters floating like snowflakes.

No one believes that a warrior with such a body would be a weakling, and the desire to defeat such a giant is a bloody instinct hidden deep in the heart of every warrior: just like those young hunters always fantasize about hunting a tiger or brown bear of their own.

At first, Hector would actively and optimistically respond to this challenge, until more challenge letters filled his room, until he found that compared to staying on the battleship, the battlefield was more like a [rest] for him: at least there was no such high frequency of single combat.

So, the captain and his company began to take part in all combat missions, and achievements and promotions followed: in less than 20 years, Hector had been promoted from the original captain of the 23rd Company to the captain of the 11th Company, and now he could also call himself a big man standing at the top of the legion.

"But this does not change the reality that you still have to squat in the trenches with us now."

Ariman laughed and buried his head in his own work. He was brushing the bolter in his hand with a wide brush. The Dawnbreakers beside him were doing the same thing: cleaning weapons, repairing armor, or taking care of the wounded in the previous battle to prepare for the next attack that was about to come.

"Have new tasks been assigned?"

"No, we still have to wait for the situation on the World Eaters Legion."

After a few minutes, the two who had completed their work stood up and walked all the way to the commanding heights of the fortress: they had captured the fortress from the locals 25 minutes ago and eliminated more than 30,000 resistance fighters inside, without any casualties themselves. Ahriman's psychic power played a great role during this period.

"I can't remember how many people we killed in the sixteen hours since we landed?"

When they reached the top, the bodies of the dead resistance fighters had not been removed. Their limbs and arms were scattered among the crushed fortifications and burning flags, telling of the previous struggle to not give up an inch of land: because these resistance fighters were all human beings, these bodies also gave people a very bad association.

"I can't remember either. I only remember that I killed at least two thousand people."

Ahriman bent down and moved half of the corpses blocking the way with his own hands. His hands were stained with blood. Those bloodless human faces made his heart tighten: these people had elegant bodies, fine skeletons, and sharp edges. , but we can still see obvious human characteristics and the highly civilized society we live in.

"In a world like this, why on earth would we resist the flag of the empire?"

Qianzi sighed.

"I always feel like we're on an Imperial world carrying out merciless slaughter."

"Me too."

Hector nodded. There was no joy brought by the war on his face, but he was focused on the unconquered land in the distance: This war has been going on for sixteen hours, but it obviously will not drag on for another sixteen hours. hours.

"Look there, Ahriman."

Dawnbreaker stretched out his finger and pointed at a burgundy mountain range at the end of the field of vision. That was the ultimate goal of this battle: the resisters had built a total of more than 300 permanent fortresses on their land, and the empire's legions had been demolished. Having built more than two hundred buildings and already controlled all residential and industrial areas in the world, the efforts of the resisters are doomed to be in vain.

But they refused to surrender.

"Our motherland deserves to die."

Hector thought of the only words the fortress's supreme commander said to him before he died when he captured the fortress. This made his mood a little gloomier, and the things he glanced at were still there. In the Burning Pale Mountains, that was the main battlefield where the Primarchs were.

"Look there, Ahriman, that's Fortress No. 224. Davout and his twelfth company are responsible for capturing it and ensuring the stability of the legion's flanks: they are the closest friendly force to us. If we are going to launch an attack on the main peak next, we must ensure effective communication with them."

"give it to me."

Qianzi nodded haughtily.

"No matter what methods these resisters will come up with to stop us, I will predict it before they do: just like when we captured this fortress before, they have no secrets in front of my ability."

"I have no doubt about it."

Hector did not refute, because the fortress under his feet was evidence of Ahriman: The Thousand Sons may have loved games in the arena, but he has always been the most outstanding psychic master, especially in prophecy. No one can compete with him, not even Conrad, who can shake Ahriman's authority in the field of short-term prophecy.

Because Ahriman is a member of the Black Crow School in the Thousand Sons Legion. The core competitiveness of this school is psychic prophecy. However, Hector heard that the Black Crow School has not had an easy time recently, because almost all the Thousand Sons have The ability to predict has gradually declined over the years: now under Magnus, the Fire Phoenix School, which can control flames, is at its peak.

But Hector does not feel that Ahriman's prophetic ability has weakened: perhaps it is because he is not sensitive in this aspect; or perhaps it is because Ahriman's environment on the path of the Dawnbreaker is different from that of his blood relatives; Or maybe it was the private lessons that the Spider Queen had set up for Ahriman before, and the psychic gadgets that he gave as gifts. They really had some unknown uses.

After all, even Morgan himself wasn't entirely sure of their usefulness, was he?

"Tsk..."

Hector had no time to think about this. His eyes quickly shifted to the battlefield belonging to the Primarchs. Relying on this commanding height, he could see all the situations at a glance, including the heroic appearance of the three emperor's sons and their Surrounded by tens of thousands of Astartes warriors.

He could see the main force of the World Eaters Legion and the more than twenty fortresses they had just captured: these warriors in blue and white armor had gathered again under the banner of their Primarch, because the other two Because all his blood relatives entered the battlefield early, Angron did not abide by his usual thirty-one-hour rule this time, but also stepped into endless blood and fire at the beginning of the war.

This made the senior officers of the Twelfth Legion look particularly manic.

Hector observed the battle process of the World Eaters Legion for a while, but soon looked away indifferently: the attack of the Twelfth Legion was not inefficient and concise, but there was no artistry at all, except for the assault. Except for the slightly biased combat and vanguard tactics, other aspects are completely featureless.

Hector even felt that they were fighting according to the [War Manual] issued by Holy Terra to each Astartes Legion: No legion would do this, but the World Eaters' combat results were indeed very fruitful. With the same number of people, their efficiency is even slightly higher than that of the Dawnbreakers.

Simple, monotonous, or rigid, this is the biggest impression that Angron's descendants gave Hector: they choose the most suitable plan from a set of standard combat procedures, and if one doesn't work, they immediately replace it with the next one, just like on an assembly line. Experienced workers.

Before a battle, there is always a short and standard attempt to persuade them to surrender. If the attempt to persuade them to surrender fails, the standard trio of regular artillery support, heavy firepower suppression, and wave-like attacks by countless vanguard teams: dozens of War Dogs from the Ember Wolf Pack Legion The Titans rushed as fast as their allies, and the only one who could guide these madmen was the faster Angron.

The World Eaters showed no mercy in the war. Any stubborn resistance would be met with all kinds of means, from sneak attacks to micro-thermobaric bombs. They ignored the wailing in the flames. The blue and white armor would inevitably turn scarlet after fighting again and again. Coupled with their expressionless faces, they showed a different kind of horror.

But the descendants of Angron were not more cruel: as long as the opponent raised the white flag and threw down their weapons, they were too lazy to pay attention to those who surrendered voluntarily. They would just drive all the surrenderers to the side and leave them to the guard of the mortal troops who followed them. The main force of the legion continued to closely follow the Primarch who kept charging.

Hector watched them capture three fortresses with completely identical means, like a group of well-programmed robots. He could not feel the slightest blood, glory or impulse from these World Eaters. If they had to pursue something, it was the desperate pursuit of high efficiency.

But it must be admitted that the progress of the World Eaters was indeed very gratifying. After paying less than 3,000 casualties, the legion of more than 80,000 people completely crushed the front line of defense. What they left behind were ruins everywhere, and a large number of surrendered soldiers, their eyes full of confusion and fear for the future: this result was slightly worse than that of the Dawnbreakers, but much better than that of the Space Wolves.

After making a comparison in his mind, Hector looked at his own legion with pride: the destruction caused by Morgan's psychic pressure attracted everyone's attention like a beacon. It was an impact that penetrated half of the canyon. At least six heavily guarded fortresses and hundreds of thousands of defenders disappeared. The traces of destruction were enough for three Warhound-class Titans to move forward side by side, or to accommodate a whole army.

The Dawnbreakers' army poured in from then on, and the progress was even faster than that of the World Eaters.

It's not that they are better at fighting, but under the deterrence of such great power. The Second Legion has successfully forced the defenders of two fortresses to surrender, forcing them to surrender their positions completely. Therefore, the Dawnbreakers can go around the enemy's rear and complete the internal and external cooperation with the World Eaters Legion. When the Titans of the Warmongers Legion arrive, it will be time to launch a joint general attack.

Such an offensive was nothing more than the Lord of Avalon's casual action. Morgan's main energy was used to suppress the hostile psychics of the entire world: in the sixteen-hour battle, she made this world famous for its psychic power completely unable to exert its own strength, and the psychic activities of the Empire in this regard reached their peak under her protection.

Those psychic masters who were powerful enough to pose a threat were ruthlessly killed by thunder and gravity within fifteen minutes of the start of the war, and the remaining people were all cut off from all connections in the warp and could only be torn to pieces by the psychics of the Empire in vain.

They also tried to gather together to fight against this silver-haired scourge, but the result of doing so was only that the wailing of thousands of the best psychics directly pierced the warp and echoed in the real universe for a long time, which completely collapsed the morale of countless resistance fighters and raised their weapons against the Dawnbreaker Legion.

But these things have nothing to do with Hector. His company was assigned to the other side of the battlefield to cover the flank and maintain contact with the third legion: compared with the World Eaters and the Dawnbreakers, the 11th Company is now closer to the Space Wolves.

However, Hector was unwilling to look at the position of the 6th Legion, which would make his soul feel sick: if the World Eaters were still willing to accept surrender and the Dawnbreakers would actively force the enemy to surrender, then in the dictionary of the Space Wolves, there might not be the word "surrender" at all.

Leman Russ and his troops landed on the surface from another direction. They destroyed the enemy's second command center and are now walking on a bloody road to join the other two legions: behind the heavy breathing of the wolves is a complete act of genocide.

Hector could see that children of three years old and old men of eighty years old fell equally under the axes of the Space Wolves. Whether it was the fortresses that resisted or the towns that did not resist, they were all destroyed by the Sixth Legion, and all the residents were torn to pieces: Leman Russ did not restrain his wolves at all, and let them throw torches into residential areas and ancient libraries that had been passed down for thousands of years. Countless buildings that survived the Age of Strife were kicked into the garbage dump under the iron hoofs of the Emperor's Wolves.

The wolves did not accept surrender, nor would they persuade them to surrender. Instead, they treated all enemies in front of them equally and carried out a thorough extermination massacre: Leman Russ's descendants were obviously good at this, because their progress was not much slower than that of their blood relatives.

When Hector saw with his own eyes that a large number of resistance fighters abandoned the fortress in fear of the upcoming bloody panting of the wolves, turned around and ran towards the position just occupied by the Dawnbreakers, and raised their hands from a distance, the huge sense of absurdity made him stop watching and determined to intervene in this battle and raise the Morgan flag to stop the madness of the wolves.

He had no intention of confronting the wolves, but if the fortresses and towns in front of him were first captured by the Dawnbreakers' army, then even the lunatics under Leman Russ would not rush in and kill them: this idea was quickly nodded by Ahriman, and they quickly walked to the commanding heights and got a company that had already rested.

"We are lucky."

Hector managed a smile.

"Before we set off, the support troops sent from above have also arrived."

"Support troops?"

Ahriman raised his head and saw dozens of Stormbirds approaching rapidly. When he saw the painting on the wings clearly, the Thousand Son's face showed joy, and he couldn't help but step forward to greet him. .

"Are these psychic troops?"

"That's right, the psychic special forces in the Mortal Auxiliary Army, the elite of the elite, each of them was selected from the Praetorian Guard Legion: they were added to our front as Astartes-level combat capabilities. , to support our next tough battle.”

"I have no doubt about it."

Ahriman nodded. He watched with satisfaction as hundreds of mortal psykers walked off the Stormbird in neat lines. Their determined expressions and scars on their faces all proved that compared to psykers, , they are first and foremost warriors, warriors who obey orders and prohibitions.

These soldiers all wore heavy military boots and winter coats to ensure they could fight in sub-zero environments. Ahriman could see the coat of arms made of swords and flowers on their silver helmets, which symbolized their It is the elite power that Morgan relies on: the sword represents the all-conquering offensive and glory, while the rose pattern of Morgan stone is the beautiful wish of the people of the Far Eastern Frontier for their queen.

"A perfect army."

Ahriman's eyes swept over them, especially the firearms in their hands: it was the psychic standard firearm that he and Yesugei jointly researched and launched, and it seemed that it was being used experimentally among the mortal troops of Avalon. promotion.

At the very edge of this group of mortal psykers, the Thousand Sons finally found the technical officer in charge of this matter: so, when the Dawnbreakers and their mortal legions set off, Ahriman took the opportunity to move forward and fight with The technical officer shook hands in a friendly way.

"We have just come down, are we going to join the battle?"

asked the mortal officer: out of pure curiosity rather than timidity.

"It depends on the situation, but I hope to see the actual combat effect of this firearm."

Ahriman smiled.

"If you don't mind, you can sign my name on this experimental report, sir: these firearms can be regarded as my hard work, and I am willing to take responsibility for their actual performance on the battlefield."

"As you wish, Your Excellency."

The technical officer nodded and handed over the document in his pocket.

"Then I wish us happy cooperation."

Qianzi took it and took the opportunity to scan the names already written on the form with his eyes.

"Mr. Orpesson: I will remember your name and help."