Warhammer: Start with a dog

Seeing that the World Eater's eyes were finally beginning to recognize him, Kellorn smiled and handed him a slender metal test tube.

"Water," he said simply, "maybe a little salty."

Dae'ol took it and drank it down almost gratefully and impatiently.

Indeed, as the Luna Wolf said, these precious liquids are a bit salty and have a metallic smell, so they are obviously recycled.

But it's already good. The air here is full of dust after burning. It will never rain again, and there is no surface water. It's good to moisten the withered throat.

It would be better if there was some medicine that could make his head less painful.

He handed the test tube back to Kellorn, wiped his chapped lips with the back of his hand, said a vague thank you, maybe saying thank you, and watched as the other person stuffed the test tube back into a certain position on his thigh and re-locked it.

"Are you confused again? Dae'ol, it looks like you bit your nails very hard this time."

The soldier next to him who was wiping his helmet and eyepieces said with a smile in his aristocratic tone, as if this dilapidated little shelter with nothing was the splendid salon of a noble lady. It would be hard to believe that a warrior as polished as Pirames, who spoke so polishedly, would use the most vulgar roars to cheer up his deft battle sweeps.

But the fact is that he does, and now Pirames of the Third Legion is sitting on a huge concrete block that fell from the shattered ceiling, his luxurious gold-embroidered cloak well rolled up in his armbands, even so Despite the rough environment, he could still cross his legs as gracefully as some mythical creature.

The swordsman and gunner exhaled while carefully and tirelessly polishing his already mottled golden helmet and royal purple power armor. The bright eagle still shined on his chest, and the emblem of the Third Legion was proudly displayed by him. Wear it where it will always be visible.

Contrary to the former Son of Horus who tried his best to remove the traces of the old Legion from his body, although the dust everywhere stained his beautiful white hair, the Emperor's Son still carefully maintained the crest of his Legion, "Let those ridiculous The traitors should obliterate the emblem of the Third Legion. I am, I still am, and I will always be the glorious Son of the Emperor." He once explained so seriously.

"Persevere, just hold on a little longer, brothers. Believe me." Pirames, the Emperor's Son, encouraged the others confidently as always, "Believe in me, just like you believe in our original body, my genes. The father of the Lord, the great Fulgrim. He is currently meeting with the Lord of the Tenth Legion. Their relationship is very good. He must not know what is happening here in the Isstvan system. When he comes back, he will Discovering that everything is wrong, and the witchcraft on Lord Commander Eidolon, he will definitely be able to remove it! The noble Purple Court Phoenix, the Shining One! He will definitely be able to work with Lord Ferus to bring order to the chaos and bring Lord Horus to justice. His Highness Fulgrim will definitely be able to bring back the beautiful character and self of other Highnesses. If anyone can do this, it must be him."

The other three warriors, including the Death Guard who had been silently trying to piece together the broken idol he had found in the ruins, all hissed.

The last to join them, the elite sniper, had spent the past few weeks trying to use whatever he could find to create adhesive to piece together the nameless god in his hands.

After fighting countless guerrilla wars on Istvan III, with fewer and fewer people fighting, equipment and supplies getting worse and worse, and soaking in death for more than ten weeks, they were tired of continuing to hear that eternity was only a few days away. The Third Legion and its leader were perfect.

"It seems to me that this is a test." The Death Guard muttered slowly from his throat. It was unclear whether he was talking to himself or commenting on the Emperor's Children's speech. So, tenaciously, silently and slowly. "You see...he is testing all of us..."

"To be honest, I think Gormu may have collapsed or is about to collapse." The Luna Wolf whispered to the World Eater in a low voice that was polite to the person being talked about.

"Will the Death Guard collapse?" Dae'or felt as if Kellorn said a strange sentence that he couldn't understand. "They are the Death Guard, they will not collapse."

Kellorn whispered as low as a whisper, "Everyone will face it sooner or later. Death or collapse, it depends on which one comes first."

The Emperor's Son on the side responded to the Death Guard's words with the same courtesy, out of the nature of his blood.

"Who is testing? What test? Brother."

"The Pale King...for some reason we cannot know...he is testing our tenacity, testing how we endure and survive suffering..."

"But we are not the Death Guard, brother," Pirames told him as gently as he could.

Gormu just shook his head gloomily and continued to try to piece together the broken statue in his palm. "This is his test for us..."

As the World Eater listened, his mind began to be urged again. His body curled up as much as his armor allowed, his arms almost touching the crooks of his knees, his muscles twitching, and his face contorted.

More blood began to gush out from the depths of his skull. His nostrils, ears, mouth, and eyes felt hot, itchy, and painful. Things hidden under his scalp and skull were biting him, urging him, and devouring him. .

"Brother? Are you okay? Are you okay?" Kellorn grabbed his hand that was trying to scratch his head desperately, and the World Eater threw away his hand in annoyance.

"You are from the 16th Legion...you are not my brother!" He bit his back molars, and the taste of blood became stronger and stronger.

"Okay, okay, but you are already my brother." The Luna Wolf warrior coaxed soothingly, pulling away his hand that started to scratch his face, and then letting go of his arm.

"You are my brother too," the Emperor's Son said with a slight nod.

They turned to look at the death guards who were mumbling in a daze. As expected, Gormu said nothing.

The World Eater shook his head, the nails telling him something. The nails caused him to twist himself, expressing restraint into a gesture that looked extremely painful on the outside.

"This..." His Adam's apple rolled up and down.

"I...think this is our reward," he finally said.

"Reward? Why do you say it's a reward?"

The World Eater grinned at Kellorn, almost a gash of teeth, gums, and blood.

His facial muscles twitched and twitched, and his smile was twisted and painful, stained a deep, clotted color by the acid and blood of his genetically modified salivary glands.

Da'or thought of his mentors and comrades who died the day Angron came.

The living people are burdened with more despair.

"'He' rewards our loyalty with death."

Suddenly a bolt shot through the darkness, exploding on the stone beside him, and they heard the sentinel's warning cut short in the splash of some liquid.

They were discovered.

The World Eaters' saturation rampage against the loyalists began.