Warhammer: Start with a dog

When Geratos embraced his soul full of collapse, fragmentation and grief and opened his eyes, a snowflake was falling precariously from the leaden sky.

It fell softly into his eyes.

This hexagonal cold crystal was immediately melted by the extraordinary person's body temperature and turned into a crystal drop of water dripping from the corner of his eyes.

Everything he had devoted his fervent devotion to had collapsed.

The idol he once believed in with all his heart has completely negated the meaning of his past existence.

If everything he had believed in had collapsed, was the crime he committed really "just" as they had always believed...?

They have never become adults. The boy uses his faith as a millstone to grind away all his rationality and humanity and polish himself into a complete weapon.

In this way, when the weapon is swung at any target, there is no doubt about the significance of swinging the weapon to harm others.

You can tell yourself that everything is taken care of by a higher one.

Just give yourself completely.

Just hand it over.

The weapons of the gods require no self-will.

The last thing the Empire's weapons need are humans.

In a daze, he remembered the roar of the first Night Lord he had killed before his head was cut off.

"You slaves to lies! Idiots! That's just the throne of lies!"

*

So tired.

An unprecedented sense of fatigue swept through Geratos's soul.

*

The priest closed his eyes, and more and more snowflakes began to cover his eyelashes.

He lies here quietly waiting for the end, and death.

If everything was a lie and their existence was meaningless, then let his own ridiculousness end.

*

"Hey, you can't just lie here."

A boy's voice sounded near Geratos.

The priest didn't move, he was annoyed.

But he didn't even have the motivation to raise his bolter and give the troublesome young mortal a shot.

His muscles were as strong as ever, his magazines filled with witch-hunting bombs, but he now had no will to activate any of his nerves.

Just like this, after a while, this ungrateful mortal child will lose interest and walk away on his own.

"Get up, stand up. You can't just lie here."

The child repeated, "You will die soon - even if you are wearing such a thick armor, the freezing cold night is coming soon, and no matter how thick the metal is, it will not do much to keep your body warm." "

After a few seconds of silence, Black Templar still had his eyes closed, but he opened his mouth to answer the boy.

"I'm fine. My power armor can provide heating. Since the polar night is coming, you'd better leave quickly and leave me here alone."

He paused, and a little impatience of emotion ignited weakly in the embers of his almost cold soul.

The Astartes' fingers moved an inch, groping for the bolter's trigger.

"Go away. Leave me here and leave me alone."

The boy should have noticed Geratos' massive deadly weapon, but there was no flinch in his emotion.

"Then you have to get up too. And it's best to be quick. Who let me see you? You are so strong and strong, you must be good at hunting. It will be very difficult to survive this polar night without your big house."

"No, I don't belong to anyone. I...I...I don't need anyone now."

The bitter and pantothenic taste once again filled the Astartes' tongues. It tasted like the adrenaline combat medicine injected into their blood from the syringe built into the power armor before each battle.

"How is it possible? No one here would not need a strong person like you. But I have never seen you before. If I had seen you, I would definitely have an impression. Are you a wanderer? It's so rare, any wanderer No one will survive the first polar night here. One must have a place to go back to in the darkest and coldest times - with water, food, and a place to sleep by the fire."

The boy shrugged, knelt down next to him, and touched the coating with the Templar Cross on Geratos's shoulder armor through his thick animal leather gloves with a rigorous and restrained curiosity.

"So, I can't wait for you too long. I have to leave before the polar night completely begins. You have to get up quickly."

"Get up? Where to go? I have nowhere to go."

"Is that so? You can follow me there." The boy stood up and pointed to a ray of light on the horizon in the distance.

"Go to The House (Note 1)."

"The House? Who does it belong to?"

"There are many houses. House Dorne, House Lann, House Polux... but the one I pointed out to you is mine, it's the closest to here."

A particular name vibrated his auditory nerves, allowing Priest Geratos's limbs to regain some vitality that drove him to stand up.

Black Templar sat up, and the frost and snow that had begun to form a shell of ice cracked cracks and slid down from the surface of his armor.

"Dorne...family?"

"Yes, it seems you know my family."

"The Dornish family...is your family...?" The Black Templars Astartes turned his neck in the boy's direction stiffly and in disbelief.

The person who caught his eye made Geratos involuntarily let out a disappointed sigh:

It was a boy wearing a windproof coat and warm clothes made of various animal furs, with his head and face tightly wrapped in multiple layers of woolen fabrics, and even his eyes were protected by a large primitive sunglasses half-mask.

The boy's head was wrapped too thickly in the outer fabric and fur, and Geratos could not see any facial features at all.

But judging from his height and body shape, this was a mortal boy, without extra mutant limbs, probably in pre-puberty. He was holding a sled in his hand, with some unidentified goods piled on it. There were two large sled dogs with thick fur on the sled, staring at the tall stranger in black armor with their teeth bared but their tails tucked between their legs.

The boy looked up at him from behind his sunglasses, "My God! You are so tall!"

This mortal child did not seem to be afraid of him at all. Geratos wondered if this was because mortals had never seen Space Marines in their short lives and did not know what they represented.

For some reason, this made him feel strangely at ease.

No one here knows him...

"Let's go! Hurry up." The boy urged again, "The polar night is really coming!"

He walked forward, took hold of Geratos's gauntlet, and led him to walk towards the place with lights, braving the increasingly heavy snow and wind.

——————————

"Hi? Hi? Magna?"

Lami Zane waved in front of Magna, who suddenly froze, "What's wrong with you? Are you okay? Is it down? Is the Destiny Steel okay?"

"How could it be down? The upper limit of its main processing array has not even reached 50%, and we don't have any combat or high-energy real-time data to process now."

Perturabo shook his furry tail, jumped off the desk and walked over, then jumped onto Lami Zane's arm, stretched out his head, and carefully looked at the death mask of Rogal Dorn on Magna Dorn's face, which he had cast himself.

The dog's paw hooked a secret maintenance switch and started running the detection code.

"Nothing is wrong, strange."

Perturabo's bright brown shepherd's eyes stared sternly at Magna Dorn's white and blue electronic bionic eyes.

"You are not..."

The other party blinked and immediately hugged his teacher, rubbing his cheek against the shepherd's fluffy and warm fur.

"Tsk, it seems it's not him."

Perturabo wagged his tail and began to order his flagship machine spirit around.