Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

This is the last one.

Yolin-Bloodhowl's power armor was loaded with ammunition, making a pinging sound in the narrow passage. He held his bolt gun in one hand, and grasped the overly huge handle with the other hand. The power ax and the gray-white MK II helmet were hung casually on his waist, swaying around with the wolf master's feverish attack.

He breathed violently, feverishly, and happily, and large waves of heat surrounded his too-old face, but it still could not hide the most primitive desire to hunt. He longed to chop off the heads of every Duran. , or simply bite their throats out and rip their ridiculous power armor into mere shreds, it makes no difference.

This is the last, last Duran fortress.

This shitty war is finally coming to an end.

He howled and cheered, running wildly in the narrow and dark passage, like a real alpha wolf, emitting a chaotic and disorderly roar. This barbaric cry was not alone, it was in the sound of The moment they landed, at least fifty random cries of ghosts and howls sounded one after another, responding to their alpha wolf.

This corridor was dark and long, but the Astartes' running at full speed soon conquered it. Yolin almost threw himself at the light at the end: that was the only part of this orbital fortress that had not yet surrendered. This corner of the empire is the last piece missing from this battle.

He rushed in, and the dazzling light replaced the darkness of the previous second. Yolin's amber pupils flashed with bursts of light. In the next moment, he could clearly see the situation in the room, and his body's reaction Even faster.

A group of Duran professional soldiers called [Fache] are stationed there, about a hundred of them. These mortal opponents have locked themselves in power armor as tall as the Astartes. In the room The other end formed a formation most suitable for volley fire, waiting for the wolf's army.

Those clumsy armors were noticed by Yolin: compared with the muscular Astartes, the Duran armors looked extremely thick and clumsy, and every movement was slow and laughable, but these round-headed and round-brained armors looked extremely heavy and clumsy. The things are not without their headaches: every armor of every Fache soldier is airtightly wrapped in a light energy shield, which makes any long-distance hunting method impossible. A kind of futility.

Those weapons called interference guns fired the first row of bullets the moment the Space Wolves rushed in. The whistling was harsh and the air was vibrating. Those Sons of Russ who had no time to avoid could not help but let out a cry of pain. Roaring, on their bodies, scattered armor fragments and melted flesh were mixed together, like disgusting abscesses. The special bullets unique to the Duran people were rebuilding the things they bitten at the molecular level. Arranged, those soldiers who were hit in the chest and thighs could not help but stagger, while those whose helmets were hit fell silently.

Yolin knew he had to do something.

The Wolf Lord, who commanded the Thirteenth Company of the Space Wolves Legion, had just dodged the first round of attacks and raised his power ax high.

"For Ruth and Allfather!"

He roared and shouted, and was the first to charge towards the Duran array. All the warriors who could still move responded to his call with roars and roars. Dozens of Space Wolves formed a gray wave. The hurricane swept in front of the Duran people in the blink of an eye.

This is not a reckless attack. In fact, this battle has been going on for nine months. The Wolf Lord has personally chopped off the heads of no less than a hundred Duran warriors. He knows how to fight against these stubborn enemies. He knows a lot.

For example, although the armor of the Duran people has a heart-breaking defense, once these bulky big guys are knocked to the ground, it is impossible to get up on their own.

For another example, although the weapons of the Duran people can truly threaten the lives of Astartes, these narrow guns cannot fire continuously at all: they have to reload every time a bullet is fired.

For another example, the shields that the Duran people are proud of, especially the individual shields they use to protect elite warriors, are actually unable to withstand the powerful impact of the Astartes, or they are wielded with great force. Swords, guns, axes and halberds.

(Don’t ask me what these SB settings are, that’s what GW writes. Yes, Duran, a magical country that can kill Astartes with one shot, but has to use single-shot weapons)

In the second and third rounds, the Duran people were not a group of brainless fools. They formed the oldest three-stage shooting array to ensure that all bullets could be fired in the shortest time, accompanied by the sound of gunfire. , several more Space Wolves fell on the way to the charge, but the sacrifice was worth it. Yolin and his warriors had already rushed in front of the Duran people.

The massacre began.

Dozens of Space Wolves were like huge hailstones, instantly piercing through the Duran array. The huge swords found their best stage. All the Sons of Russ were trying their best to hold on to their weapons and fiercely. Swinging down hard, the huge force broke through the psychic shield in an instant, sending the deadly blade into the Duran's chest and throat.

The descendants of Leman Russ kept roaring, tearing, punching and kicking, and waves of attacks and counterattacks came at each other. The entire hall was filled with bloody killings and life-and-death violence, with a mess of armor parts and stumps. The broken arm rolled around the room, and blood flowed freely, contaminating the Duran dragon flags woven and sewn with crimson and black silk threads.

Forty seconds later, it was over.

Yolin raised his ax high and chopped off the head of the enemy beneath him. This stubborn guy was knocked to the ground by him in the fight just now, but he still swung three heavy blows without mercy. The fist made the wolf master feel a kind of pain that he didn't realize.

The master of the 13th Great Company began to look around the battlefield that had turned into ruins and counted his soldiers: he brought 60 people to clean up this last stronghold, and lost three of them forever in this small room. indivual.

This kind of sacrifice is not surprising. Yolin just watched the pharmacist carrying out his job with some sadness. But fortunately, none of his injured companions suffered any serious injuries, and they only needed to rest for a while.

The Wolf Lord took a deep breath of the cold air that smelled of blood and corpses, and then exhaled a long breath of hot, fishy breath.

Finally, fuck, it's over.

A whole few months of hide-and-seek, chasing and fighting around almost the entire star sector, knocking down the Duran fortress over and over again, strangling the same opponents stationed above again and again, and losing them again. Several comrades.

This group of Duran fools even set up the same number of troops to defend the fortress, nine fucking battalions every time.

"Tell our genetic father that the last fortress has been captured by us."

Yolin called to his confidants and gave simple instructions.

"We have captured the last stronghold. If the code deciphering by those oil guys is not wrong, starting from the Mandeville Point here, the next galaxy is Duran. Our final destination, that bastard Duras is hiding in There is a galaxy out there, waiting for our genetic father to pluck his head off.”

"We have to hurry, as soon as possible, who knows where those dark angels are advancing now..."

He was still giving instructions, chattering a little, but the voice from Bravier on the communicator interrupted him roughly.

"Jolin! You have to come and see!"

The Wolf Lord frowned, like a twisted glacier.

"what happened again?!"

Bravier paused, and Yolin could hear sharp scoldings and the most savage howls made purely by beasts from his section.

His comrades were obviously trying to contain something, preventing someone who could destroy the Legion from completely losing control.

Yolin didn't notice that his voice began to tremble.

"here we go again?"

"...Yes, it's Harald's situation again, and this time there are two of them."

"...fuck you."

Ruth, Allfather, what the hell is going on.

When faced with endless death and blood, when asked about the smelly wreckage and carrion, Yolin never frowned even once, but now, his eyebrows seemed to be knotted. .

He thought of Harald, poor Harald, what a young and lovely warrior, no one disliked him, he was a model of a legionnaire, Yolin even considered whether to promote him as an exception.

But that was the past. Harald's life had been taken over by Mokai, and it stayed forever two weeks ago. Yolin personally ordered his execution, giving him the last mercy when he was in endless pain.

(Mokai: The god related to death in Fenris native mythology, seems to be a giant wolf)

Yolin still remembered Harald's last appearance: he was no longer human at all. His armor was torn apart by his swollen body, covered with bloody internal organs and pieces of flesh, and messy hair fell from his body. His limbs and bones were growing like crazy, even covering his once handsome face. His hands and feet were turning into pure claws, squatting on the ground like a wild beast, with no pupils in his eyes. He lost even a little bit of his brilliance as a human being and a warrior.

Jolin had tried to calm him, to control him, to awaken the human part of him with words and glory.

But he failed.

The best new blood in the legion fell under the gun of his own people. He did not even die as a pure human being. In the last moments of his life, he looked up to the sky and howled like a real beast. He looked at his comrade with pure hunting desire, until the bolter's fire turned him into a piece of rotten flesh.

…fuck you.

What a terrible way to die.

Yolin's heart was roaring, but there was nothing he could do.

"Should we inform father?"

Bravier's already hoarse voice was transmitted through the poor signal of the communicator, becoming even more harsh.

"This is not the first or second time, Yolin. This happens in almost every battle. This is obviously not a problem that can be ignored..."

"Don't worry about it yet."

Yolin could hear his canine teeth snapping at each other.

"The war is the most important thing. Just treat them as our battle brothers. Before you smash Duran, don't let this kind of thing disturb our genetic father. And, you know, there are still outsiders in this sector now. ."

Bravier nodded.

"I know, I'll take care of it."

Yolin didn't speak anymore. He was silent, listening to everything on the other end of the communicator: futile attempts to stop and persuade, uncontrollable roars, and sudden gunshots.

…

Go to hell.

They must destroy Duran early and solve these messes without anyone knowing. They must be careful not to let others know, especially the Dark Angels...

I don't know where they went.

——————

"This is Duran, sir."

When the first battleship spray-painted with swords and wings passed through Mandeville Point in the Duran System, there was not even a shadow of the Space Wolves' vanguard.

The Lion King's most trusted heir was standing beside him, and Coswayne softly reported the names of the first batch of battleships that entered the battle: [Flame of Redemption], [Sword of Numac], [No. [Compassion and Purification]...

These most powerful legion warships drove more escort ships, and as the vanguard of Zhuangson's will, they pounced on the last fleet of the Duran people. The all-out battle between the fighter groups was the first to start. This small galaxy It was soon crowded with all kinds of laser rays, explosion flames and metal fragments, and the randomly floating debris even obscured the view on the Indomitable Truth.

Through the divination box, the Primarch of the First Legion can clearly observe everything he wants to know, whether it is the specific situation of the slightly dim star Duran or the position and status of each battleship under his command. The existence and data were all recorded in Zhuangson's mind as a footnote to a perfect battle.

Zhuang Sen actually doesn't care much about the merits of this Duran country. He never cares about these small disputes that only involve one galaxy or world, but this does not mean that he will treat it all with a reckless attitude.

In the final stage, his fleet sailed almost swaggeringly towards the Duran star system. If his brother, whom he had never met, was too stupid to seize this opportunity, then he deserved to miss the essence of this war.

Thinking of this, Zhuang Sen couldn't help but have a sarcastic smile on his face, but then he realized that now was not the time to think about this. He needed to do his best to face the war in his eyes: just like he had done before That way.

The interstellar fighting was reflected in the pupils of the Primarch. He witnessed his fleet knocking open the first space defense line of the Duran people little by little. The momentum of the attack was already weakening, but Duran's defensive strength Haven't been really hit yet.

He needs some solid, powerful and efficient means, even as a candidate.

Thinking of this, Zhuang Sen turned his head and looked at Coswayne.

[Go and get Morgan. 】

Coswayen nodded in agreement, but just as he turned around to leave, Jonson seemed to remember something.

[By the way, tell her...]

[Wear more formally. 】

[I remember that the Forge Order had a set of power armor specially made for mortal women, and told her to wear that. 】