Warhammer: Start with a dog

The eternal battle.

In the end, they saw each other's every move, every look, and every intention.

Geratos felt very remorseful, because he had a vague feeling that this heretic's movements were in sync with the saint's, just like a man attacking his own reflection in a mirror.

There was even a moment when their faces began to overlap, and the Night Lord's filthy spiritual energy was guided to extend and fill the entire body of Sigismund, who had no spiritual energy -

He blinked, and the feeling immediately disappeared like a soap bubble.

The strange Night Lord, who could not lose to Sigismund's speed and combat skills during the two days and two nights of fighting, suddenly hit Sigismund with his helmet, and the latter's sword blade Once too late to defend——

The Templar Captain's helmet was cracked by the impact, but his blade still cut through the Crow Prince's visor.

The handsome pale face was half covered by his own red blood, but there was a strange smile in his black eyes looking at Sigismund.

"Your first blood, mine. Sigismund."

"Hey! This is a foul!" A tall Imperial Fist shouted from the side, and Geratos noticed that the double ax logo of the Executioner Chapter appeared on the front of his yellow armor.

The Night Lord turned a deaf ear to this. He just shrugged, showing a slightly bored expression, and put the halberd on his shoulder casually and elegantly, preparing to leave here.

Just as the two First Company Captains passed each other, Geratos heard a whisper that no one else heard but that only Sigismund could hear.

"There are no winners here. And, you should have seen, my brother," the sinner's voice almost did not exist in this world, "Things will not develop smoothly. The same goes for honor, and the same goes for you and me."

What does he mean? How dare this hateful traitor tarnish the Lord Templar's hearing and damage his honor with such despicable words?

But to Geratus's surprise, Sigismund fell silent.

When the pastor turned around, he saw a hollow and suspicious smile flash across the corner of that rock-hard handsome face like a phantom.

The Black Templar priests were surrounded by a nameless panic.

Then there was nothing at his feet again.

He found himself standing in what looked like a command post in an underground bomb shelter. Men and women with disheveled hair were running around shouting and wearing uniforms with Imperial Sky Eagles that he had never seen before.

And in front of him stood another shining, tall, but tired person. No, how could it be a person? The moment that great figure fell into his sight, the supreme ecstasy that swept everything ignited Geratos's heart. body and mind.

"Is it you?! Holy Dorne?! It's you! Is this the reason why I was sent here?! How can I shoulder such a privilege!"

For the first second, Geratos really thought that he was sent to retrieve the soul of Dorne, who was already far away from them.

But the experience of three scenes with different images he had just experienced made him realize that things were far from that simple.

He noticed the haze on their god-like genetic father's resolute, immobile, almost stiff face, and the darkness in his eyes. That was not caused by physical damage, that kind of pressure could only come from the mental feeling. The invisible and huge expectations, as well as his overly tall and stiff stance - the priest couldn't believe his eyes. He only saw this attitude when some unqualified new blood went to the battlefield for the first and last time. It's like - it's like - it's like -

The voice sounded again.

"It's like he is actually overwhelmed. Faced with the demands of his father's endless responsibilities and the pressure of destruction from his brothers' endless malice, they want to attack him from both sides and completely destroy him, but he is unwilling to give up because he Knowing that he alone is responsible for the fate of the entire race, the entire species, and the love and hate, vulnerability and strength, despair and hope of all of them."

The voice sighed sadly.

"How he wished that any of his brothers would stand by his side and help him! But they didn't! Geratos! No! No one! Although there may be some proof afterwards that they did what they should do, but this You can never change what happened."

The voice deepened. "Dorn, father, my lord, only I can protect him... I will do it for him..."

The priest saw Rogal Dorn speak. His voice was hard, cold, and as desperate as the smile on his lips.

"So those things that the girl told you that I once thought were superstitions really happened one after another, didn't they? I even made you suffer a lot for it. But now even Machado I started to waver, I don’t know what else is worth holding on to, maybe it makes sense to wait until we can survive this.”

The lines on the original body's face softened as he looked at the person in front of him for half a second, and then he put on the stone mask again that could not be seen to be shaken, tired, weak or giving up.

The white-blue pupils that even started to have bloodshot eyes reflected a firm and sharp face with a pursed mouth.

Donne looked at his proudest son and smiled again.

The smile was as hollow and sad as his eyes.

"Do you remember what I told you after the ceremony in Ullanor? Sigismund?"

"I remember, my lord."

"We talked about the end of the war. We talked about the truth of the empire, humanity, unity, progress, and tolerance; we talked about how we will eventually eliminate ignorance and stupidity, let reason and fairness rule everything, end warlords and exploitation, let hunger and war disappear from the galaxy, let the species we protect no longer be threatened by fear and live in fear, and after the arrival of true peace, what amazing things will future humans create, and how will they build their own brilliant and bright future."

The voice of the seventh primarch was barely audible, he was almost talking to himself.

"If that time really comes, my son, even if you don't believe me, you will be by my side."

The voice that answered Rogal Dorn overlapped with the voice heard by Geratos.

"I will always be by your side, father. No matter where you go."

"Then."

Geratos thought he would have the honor of hearing the Primarch's words in person, one of the most famous orders given by Holy Dorn to Saint Sigismund, and the beginning of Saint Sigismund's becoming the first Emperor's Champion - I set you free, my beloved, my best, son., to fulfill the mission you were originally created for (Do now what you were made to do.), to hurt them. (Hurt them.)

"My beloved, best, son, I will..."

Suddenly, the face of the Primarch, which was almost broken by the weight of the Emperor's will, the new empire and the fate of the entire human race, began to twist and change, until a brand new face carefully recast from moon silver and adamantium emerged from his neck——

Geratos, who was witnessing this sacred and solemn scene, leaned back and gasped, and was shocked by this change that was not in any record or possibility.

"I will never let you sacrifice for me again, let you be driven by Him. I have witnessed the coldest and cruelest darkness, which has been repeated again and again for thousands of years. This time."

The death mask of the holy remains of Dorne that Geratos knew opened its cold and beautiful metal lips and said so.

The white-blue eyes behind the mask rekindled the blazing flame of will and determination.

"This time. My son, this time our dreams will come true."

"And this time, you and all of you will be by my side."

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And this is the sick and melancholic Peiren and his dirty paws that everyone is concerned about.