Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

Morgan has always been a very docile person in front of the Primarch of the First Legion.

She will not oppose any orders, nor will she be found to have done anything that is either overt or covert. She always advances silently, hunts ruthlessly, or pours out her thoughts in an unabashedly lazy tone at insignificant moments. .

Jonson always knew there was something wrong with her.

But he has never had enough reasons and motivation to eliminate this hidden danger.

This silver-haired woman has been following him silently. She has never shown true awe, but she has never let her value fall below the red line of being purged. Her abilities and achievements have grown with the spread of the war, and even Even the most stubborn Dark Angel will respect and understand the fact that she exists on the Indomitable Truth.

Many times, when the [Lion]'s fingers lightly traced the pattern of the sword hilt, he was imagining the scene: the sword was unsheathed, tearing the air, slicing the snow-white neck, letting the cold sword Blades and even colder air poured into the hot blood vessels, like a ruthless flood that broke through the delicate dam, sucking the fields, cities and life into an irresistible whirlpool, draining all vitality and Sadness sucks it all up.

She might die from blood loss, or she might die from a pulmonary embolism caused by a blocked airway. If he had been stronger, her beautiful head would have fallen like an abandoned crown, but in that case The scene was too barbaric and would remind him of some bad memories.

But there is no doubt, but it is inevitable that someone will bleed, and a lot of blood will be shed. The arrogant long neck of the white swan will be contaminated by the scarlet snake, and her face that is always filled with laziness and thinking may be It will appear slightly purple, just like the rows of mellow wine she brewed.

In the end, that thin body will fall down without even a trace of dust rising. She may accept it calmly, struggle angrily, curse viciously, inquire unwillingly, or use small means of witchcraft. and other unexpected methods to confirm his unreal identity.

It will all end anyway.

As long as he really swings that sword.

Everything will come to an end, to the right end.

His sensibility, his instincts, his human side, the flashy armor he put on in order to squeeze into the cage of the empire, are all roaring, admonishing, they long for his The sword was swung out, causing wanton blood to splash onto the wall in everyone's shock, causing the malicious masked girl to die in a stunned whimper.

The Primarch's fingers stroked the pattern of the sword's hilt, feeling the fishy sweetness soaked in blood and death.

The next moment, his fingers passed through all of this, patted the shoulder armor on the other side, and brushed away the ashes that had been blown away by the fishy wind.

He doesn't need to do that.

It is a waste, a shameful waste, a wrong judgment, a cowardly hesitation, and the most stupid act that costs far more than the benefits.

Look at this silent mortal. She can do many things, overcome many sufferings, and allow him to boldly take her to the most dangerous front lines, the worst battlefields, the most extreme areas, and the bloodiest places. Her ability in the task is obvious to all, her attitude deserves recognition, and her death will not make people particularly sad. It is just a little more of her brother's narrow-minded discrimination.

And more importantly, the most important factor above all these reasons is: she is controlled.

Her residence is in his fleet, and her comrades are his most loyal children. Her neck, her head, and her fragile little life are all tightly held in his palms. He didn't even need to take action, the hidden devices of Coswayne and Arachos were enough to make the most insane psyker as powerless as a lamb.

He had no reason not to make good use of all this, issue orders to his heart's content, and wield this sword to his heart's content, until she was completely broken, or he no longer needed her.

What reason did he have to refuse all this?

His rationality, his savagery, the shadow he left in the deep forest of Caliban, and the real [Leon Jonson] hidden deep in his heart all spoke of this truth earnestly.

This silver-haired masked girl still has value that has not been squeezed out. She is still controlled by herself. She has not yet touched her bottom line because of ambition and stupidity.

Therefore, she could still leave a small life to conceive her own plan in the shadows, and he didn't care about all that.

She could survive, for now.

But when he no longer needs her, she must get out of his army, or remain silent forever.

It won't be long, maybe a month later, or maybe after this battle is over, he will soon drive her away and drive away this hidden danger.

——————

Three years ago, Zhuang Sen thought so.

——————

【Something is wrong. 】

When they were only a short distance away from Ran Dan's command center, Morgan finally spoke again.

[With all due respect, Lord Zhuangson, don’t you think this is going too smoothly? 】

【It went very smoothly. 】

There are no unexpected opponents, and there is no real desperate struggle. This core area that controls four million Ran Dan warriors and hundreds of millions of slaves seems to place all its destiny on that ethereal concealment. Dan has never been such a weak race.

The Primarch nodded, and then he chuckled, and through the lion's helmet, the laughter turned into a loud sound that vibrated back and forth between the metal.

【so what? 】

【so……】

Before Morgan could finish his words, Arachos rushed up from behind them.

"My Lord, Coswayne is reporting that a huge subspace energy is suddenly on our right side..."

【I've already seen it. 】

Following the words of the Lion King, in the endless wind on the right side of the Dark Angel's front, a dark blue psychic door suddenly cracked open from the storm like the mouth of a giant beast, and just here, Behind them, to their left and in front, portals were opened simultaneously.

They were so tall, dozens of meters high, silently telling the horror of the existences on the other side of the gate.

[What do you think this could be? 】

Morgan heard Jonson's slow inquiry.

She didn't even have to think.

[If it is a counterattack, it will be too late. 】

[If it is a struggle, it is too early. 】

[But if this is an ambush, a trap, and a big gamble using Ran Dan’s majestic war commander as bait to kill the [Lion] and [Soul Drinker] that are bothering them, then it is indeed a calculation. good time. 】

[I saw some familiar memories. It seems that they have guessed what happened in the Sabis galaxy. They guessed how you hunted their compatriots in the first place, so they started to imitate it, although it was a failure. 】

[They think that the so-called hunting only requires placing the bait neatly, and then setting up traps and hunters. These aliens will never understand that what truly makes hunting successful is the noble, savage and cunning heart. 】

Through the steel helmet, the corners of the Lion King's mouth were slightly raised, and he spoke.

[It is indeed a big gamble. 】

[But I have no reason not to eat it. 】

[Arachos, call all the troops behind. 】

He spoke the order, and then turned his attention back to Morgan, watching the mortal tilt his head slightly, putting on an innocent look.

[Behind my Ninth Knights and five hundred people, there is a military formation of about a thousand people. They are all veterans brought from Terra or the Knights of Caliban. Before I came back, these one thousand people Follow your command. 】

[Stop those guys in the portal, I don’t care what they are, stop them, or destroy them. 】

[They are not enough to make me give up a hunt. 】

Morgan smiled, her pupils like the ice-blue sun standing in the storm.

[As ordered, Your Excellency. 】

——————

War is the most ruthless competition and the greatest teacher.

It is fair, brutal, ruthless, and methodical.

If you don't study, you will fall behind.

If you don't make progress, you will be beaten.

If you don’t win, you will perish.

In the face of war, no one dares to be a lazy student. A delayed plan may be followed by the collapse of a front. A skill that is not spread in time may cause thousands of deaths. Even if you learn the basics, Maybe in a few years, or even a few months, everything will look different, and you can only learn, continue to learn, study hard, and make progress.

Because in war, no one gets a second chance.

When the Empire and Ran Dan were fighting in the endless stars and worlds, they were also engaged in a silent contest in the greatest school in the galaxy.

On Mars and countless forge worlds, Tech-bishops and priests loyal to the Emperor risked everything to collect Randan's weapons and decipher their secrets, taking the greatest risks.

In the trenches and camps, countless pamphlets and countless meetings were being held, and all the veterans imparted their experiences to others, just to give others a slight chance of victory when facing those twisted aliens.

In the Parliament of Terra and in the frontline headquarters, countless plans turned into scrolls, being proposed, refuted, revised, adopted or abandoned. The most terrifying Randan individuals were frequently mentioned, and how to assassinate them became One of the most important components of the war.

No one would think that all this is unnecessary, because everyone knows that Ran Dan is doing the same thing: cracking the empire's technology, stealing the empire's intelligence, and writing down the empire's best commanders and generals in assassination lists. superior.

Both sides are learning, plagiarizing, and making progress, and they dare not not do so, because the only bet in this contest is what they must never abandon: the eternal destiny of their respective races, who will die and who will live forever. , who will remain unknown, and who will embrace hegemony.

The weapons in the hands of the Sandalwood Order and even every Dark Angel are becoming more and more deadly to Ran Dan, and among the alien armies, blasphemous weapons that have never been seen before, but can cause more terrible damage, are constantly emerging. Astartes weapons began to appear in the hands of Randan warriors, and beside them walked Land Raiders, Brutal Blades...

Even……

"Titan!"

The dry roar was swept away by the wind, but everyone knew what he was going to say, because they had seen those behemoths with their own eyes, heard the dull footsteps with their own ears, and felt the trembling of the earth with their own eyes.

Titan, the machine of the gods, the pillar of the empire, the most powerful battlefield behemoth that every legion desires to possess.

This is what they once were.

But now, everything has changed.

What appeared before the eyes of Morgan and a thousand Dark Angels was the most blasphemous creation, enough to make a mechanical bishop's skull smoke or even explode out of rage and madness in an instant.

These behemoths, great behemoths, have completely completed Ran Dan's blasphemous creation: their bodies are in dilapidated condition, and the huge chest front armor and leg armor are still covered with hideous scars, telling the story of their fall. Those battles were so brutal, and at those fatal wounds, at the connection between the joints and the mechanical arms, countless flesh, flesh and veins were filled in them. Together with the alien's blasphemous technology, these dead giant beasts could be revived. He stood up again and again and became a sinful weapon loyal to Ran Dan.

Morgan looked at the mobile scourges in front of her: war dogs, marauders, wolves, warlords... She even saw an ancient Mars-Alpha model, with the two triple laser blasters on its shoulders now exuding an ominous shadow. .

What drives these dead behemoths is not the power of machinery and energy, but a ruthless squeeze: in the bodies of these titans, there are imprisoned psykers who have been squeezed until they are almost exhausted. Ran Dan was tortured to the point of complete madness, and could only howl in disorder. Driven by those torture instruments, squeezing out every ounce of spiritual energy, these huge beasts were accompanied by sharp screams that resounded through the sea of ​​souls. Yelled, surrounding Morgan and a thousand Dark Angels.

And the moment they walked out of the portal, the attack began. Invisible air waves were emitted from the flesh and blood of these giant beasts, divided into four angles, and roared towards Morgan's location.

And Morgan just raised her scepter.

[Guns] gather again.

But this time, her chant seemed different.

She whispered, her voice being torn to pieces by the wind, which was immediately pushed to the ground by the blasphemous weapons that strode to kill her, and was trampled into dust in the endless yellow sand.

【ah……】

[Banshee. 】

——————

Jonson's hunt lasted approximately one Terran standard hour.

When he wiped away the blood and rushed back to this battlefield, the hunting here had also ended.

The Primarch raised his head and glanced around. His pupils couldn't help but shrink severely when he saw everything. Then, he took some stiff steps and left the five hundred people who were already stunned in place. Behind him.

A thousand Dark Angels, most of whom are still alive today, are obviously trapped in some kind of strange oppression. These survivors lined up neatly in a circle to welcome their genetic father.

In the center of the circle, Morgan sat there, sitting on a hill made of ruins and steel.

She is laughing.

And the Dark Angel is moving away.

They stayed away from her, as if it were a terrifying beast that was absolutely invincible.

Zhuang Sen walked up and looked at the always deferential mortal advisor. She was sitting there with an unusually rare and obvious smile on her lips. That smile was obviously not for any sweet emotion.

【what have you done? 】

The Primarch raised his head and asked.

She opened her mouth and seemed to feel the hoarseness of her throat, so she whispered out a few letters.

【anger. 】

【……anger? 】

[That’s really obvious. 】

Zhuang Sen turned around and once again looked at the completely different desert: the sound of the wind had completely disappeared, as if it had been swallowed by a barbaric god, and at this moment, the scenery had changed.

Torches, there are torches everywhere, burning torches are scattered all over this endless desert, and there are billowing smoke everywhere. Each stack of torches symbolizes a pile of completely scrapped metal, and each stack of torches symbolizes a piece of completely scrapped metal. The thick smoke symbolizes a completely dead war beast.

Zhuang Sen looked at them with an unprecedented serious expression.

Then, he turned around and gathered his team, and behind him, on the desert, seventeen stacks of blazing torches were left behind by everyone.

Well, starting from today, this book will be renamed "Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana". As for why the name was changed... According to my various investigations, the name Emperor's Bane seems to be too unpopular, and many readers have a bad first impression. .

So I decided to trick them in and then kill them (not).

In addition, today, for the first time in my life, I am promoting a book!

The title of the book is "Warhammer: I Don't Want to Be a Bad Can!" 》, right at the starting point.

You can tell at a glance that it is written about Mortarion's cub.

The author is a newbie like me (but I am a collector of Gossamer), but he has a very good grasp of the rhythm of the story, and the plot advances very steadily. The inner drama of the protagonist is occasionally a little active, but the overall style of Warhammer is mastered , and the Death Guard really needs a more active character.

In short, let’s py with him here, hoping that both of our books will make good progress.