Warhammer: Start with a dog

As the Twelfth Legion's raiders invaded, the scene in the darkness began to turn into chaos.

To the Loyalists, the enemy's numbers, firepower, and will to kill were overwhelming.

Broken fragments of stone, metal, and ceramic steel splashed on Dae'ol's ceramic steel breastplate and belly armor, making a large tinkling sound.

In his malfunctioning tactical visor, which kept flashing, he saw many of his companions over the months being struck by the World Eaters - if they could still be called World Eaters, the white and blue of the former Twelfth Legion. The power armor is now stained a deep reddish brown by stale or more fresh blood, and the huge horns seem to be coming out of their helmets. They exude the heat of smoke and some kind of chemical smell—— Tyra. What is this if not witchcraft and magic? What made the former warrior look like this?

Da'or raised his gun and shot at the gap where the attackers suddenly poured in. Kellorn turned his back to him, and was distracted by the attack, completely unaware of what was wrong with his friend.

Pirames' feathered gold crown and royal purple swayed vaguely in the flash of gunfire, and he fell into the siege, but the World Eater saw from the corner of his eye that his cloak was still following him unyieldingly. The blade danced.

Dae'ol just pulled the trigger and let the recoil of the shot feed back to his finger. He knew that he almost didn't hit anything, but doing so made the nail in his head feel better and prevented him from having to be forced again. To experience the pain of taking the life of another former brother in his only conscious second.

How many were killed? Maybe a hundred? Two hundred? A familiar and not-so-familiar face from his past in the Twelfth Legion, Da'a'ol is tired of killing, but there is no end to the nails they drive into their own heads to show their loyalty.

"I am loyal." He murmured, raising his hand and digging his fingers unconsciously into his skull.

Tears blurred his eyes.

He was pained by rage, rage at the sudden realization that the death he deserved had not been allowed to come to him.

Yes. The World Eaters totally got it.

Death was the ending that Angron, the father of genes, had given him and his brothers. There was only death.

"I am loyal." He murmured, and the Luna Wolf warriors stretched out their hands towards him, as if to pull him along the small staircase to break away together.

Kellorn was facing away from him, fighting back at the swaying, double-horned figures of the Twelfth Legion soldiers who had rushed in from the dark shadows. "We have to leave as soon as possible. This place has been lost."

he said, glancing worriedly in the direction of the Emperor's Children and Death Guard: the two brothers they fought together were separated too far, and were gradually cut off from the other side of the attacker's line.

"We have to go. If we're going to keep fighting."

"fighting?"

Da'a'ol repeated in a murmur, his fingers struggling to peel away his own skin, "Fight. I am loyal. Fight."

"Yes, fight," the Luna Wolf desperately pulled him up the stairs, continuing to fight back at every corner, "We will fight the betrayer until our last breath."

For some reason, Dae'ol had a strange feeling at this moment, feeling that Kellorn was not talking to him, but to himself.

How ridiculous, he thought, just as he was about to figure it out. How ridiculous, he said, to keep fighting.

The nails are singing.

Tell him not to care what he is about to kill.

Just pull the trigger.

He will be liberated.

In the madness and destruction of betrayal.

Liberation - death.

Da'or laughed loudly at the moment when he understood the fate of salvation he was promised. He laughed so hard that he could hardly breathe. In his vision, which was completely blurred by sweat and heat, he saw the Luna Wolf listening. to his laughter and turned to him in confusion.

In the Space Marine's neural senses, which were born for battle and battlefield and were genetically enhanced and modified, he and he both stared blankly at the bolter muzzle raised by the World Eater towards the sea pine green breastplate - Chapter 1 The Terran warrior of the Sixteenth Legion is by no means a helpless recruit. His rich experience, physical fitness and combat skills of a Space Marine are still intact with the name of the Luna Wolf.

What truly devastated him beyond belief and without fighting back was betrayal.

Like everyone else destroyed by betrayal.

"I am loyal!"

Da'or's gun pointed at the breastplate of his brother and comrade, and his index finger pulled the trigger.

The nails in his skull sang out with joy and began to explosively - and less stingily than before - pump a devastating dose of endorphins into his brain.

He saw the disbelief and sadness in Kellorn's body and posture - he didn't even have time to feel angry at him.

But so what - ever since the skies of Istvan III were lit by the spirit of vengeance, there has been no room for miracles here -

Platinum light.

The World Eater's eyes filled with tears of physiological stimulation.

"I am loyal."

he murmured, feeling the power of the trigger feed back into him, not letting go of it even as the light temporarily blinded him.

He could almost imagine the Marine across from him, who had been trying to hold him back, to call him back, the Legionnaire who had fought for Mankind and the Emperor for many years. His sea pine green breastplate was dented and penetrated by the treacherous bolts. , made many holes, and then fell backwards in tatters in the dilapidated ruins underground of Istvan III.

Dazzling platinum light filled the dark, semi-enclosed underground space.

All the creatures that were illuminated roared and covered their eyes.

Having adapted to the extremely dark environment here, they all temporarily lost their vision.

Then something came.

Very big, incredibly fast, and full of power.

He heard the sound of many ceramite armors hitting or falling to the stone ground at almost the same moment.

——The arrival of a being that made Dae'ol's heart begin to feel tired, kind, and calm, and horrified at what crime he had just committed, and made his nails roar angrily in his mind.

has arrived.

He heard a voice.

Someone walked up to him.

The World Eater's tears increased.

It was biological, he thought, but he couldn't stop them and didn't want to.

There was a hand, unusually large, so large that the skull of an Astartes would appear small in its hand.

Touching the top of his head with warmth and gentle strength.

Nail struggled a few times with unwilling roar, and then stopped as if it had been drained of energy.

There appeared to be a pharmacist's needle inserted into his armored medical port.

Before he was paralyzed by the drug, Dae'ol heard his Primarch speak to him in a noble voice he had never heard before, but had wished to hear since his first day as a Legionnaire.

"You've done a great job, now I'm here, don't worry, follow me."