Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

"It's been a while since I saw you, Hector."

"Yes, Senior Trazin, it's been a long time no see."

——————

Ever since the young [Tusk] set foot on this battleship, similar sounds of greetings and nostalgia have been heard endlessly. After all, everyone in the fleet was deeply impressed by this surprisingly tall rising star, and the years-long journey The war also really took away many people.

Hector fought on the front line of the war with Ran Dan for several years, maybe five years, maybe seven years. In short, he rarely rested and rarely counted how long he had been fighting.

At the beginning, he tried to mark the course of the war with his fallen comrades, but after endless bloody battles, he wisely gave up this idea. For him, the only thing worth mentioning was Fortunately, his four-man team has remained unscathed to this day, at least not reduced in number: this is truly a miracle.

In Hector's view, this may be the second most proud thing in his life. As for the first most proud thing, there is nothing more than the secret buried deep in his heart that even Teacher Kailon does not know: his The Primarch, his genetic mother, the arbiter of his bloodline.

He always abides by her will: to keep this secret and to improve himself at all costs in this war. He regards these short words as the current creed of his life and carries out it selflessly. He does not know that this task will When would it end? After all, how could he guess what the Primarch was thinking?

Such thoughts circulated in Hector's mind. He walked in the corridor of the "Seeker", involuntarily puffing up his chest, and his eyes kept admiring the recording paintings on the walls.

The interior decoration of the battleships of the Second Legion is probably different from other legions. They do not make their void home into a work of art like the Emperor's Children or the Blood Angels, but they do decorate it carefully, but Among the battleships of the Second Legion, the most decorated items are not paintings and statues, but rather documentary paintings.

These paintings will use the most general expression to record what the battleship and its members have experienced: maybe it was a battle, an adventure, even a round of arguments or other interesting things. An interesting planet, meeting a creature with primitive intelligence, or reuniting with a human world that struggled to survive in the long night under the banner of the empire.

These paintings are not an official act. Anyone can hang them as long as they feel that their experience is meaningful. They can also put a small sign next to them to briefly describe it, or put a piece of art that is enough to Of course, the souvenirs that prove this story are also encouraged to be placed on them, and some of the more active warriors will even find ways to tell the stories from these guests. After all, the experiences of mortals are as wonderful as mortals.

Every battleship is like a bonfire in a carriage camp, and every warrior hides the soul of a story.

Someone once said this about the Emperor's Second Legion. Although this evaluation cannot be representative of the entire Second Legion, in some fleets, this is indeed an accurate summary.

Of course, in other fleets, it may be a different scene. After all, the Second Legion is now divided, and the painting style of each fleet is naturally very different. The Second Fleet where Hector is located prefers to record With some healthy archaeological activity, the Third Fleet is more interested in the art of psychic energy, while the Sixth Fleet is more interested in contact with mortals...

It is said that this recording custom originated from the battlecruiser Hecht is currently on, the Seeker, and the person who knows this custom best is undoubtedly the oldest soldier on this battleship...

"I'm looking for Technical Sergeant, Trazin."

Hector's request was quickly responded to. He turned left and right in the corridor based on the address provided by the mortal servant, and finally came to a room deep in the battleship. It was more like a storage room because it was too It's a bit stuffy because it's close to the engine, so no one usually hangs out here.

He opened the door and walked in. The first thing he saw was a variety of parts and inspection tools, and then various equipment waiting for repairs were neatly listed on the workbench, next to them. There were some scattered small items, obviously personal items, and at the other end of the room, some worn-out armors and even bigger guys could be vaguely seen.

Frankly speaking, this room is actually very spacious. It is actually more suitable for the name warehouse. However, because there are so many things on display, it seems a bit crowded. However, the owner of the room is obviously very adaptable to this. Hector is very Soon he saw a figure hidden under a robe slowly getting up from a pile of old equipment and unknown objects and walking towards him.

Hector stood still and saluted politely.

"Senior Trazin."

"Ah, Hector, you haven't been here for a while."

This senior is still the same as before. He does not wear a battle armor, but wears a simple linen robe. According to Astartes standards, he is a little skinny and a little tall, but overall he is still very inconspicuous. The one among the Astartes who would be ignored as a matter of course.

But no one will underestimate him. Even the most experienced ancient warriors cannot tell when Trazin joined the Legion, but what is certain is that he was one of the first batch of soldiers of the Second Legion to go to Mars for further training. 1, and soon got the title of technical sergeant. He liked this position very much, and repeatedly refused to command the team or be promoted. To this day, this seemingly ordinary technical sergeant has actually become He is one of the most senior people in the entire Second Fleet.

Trazin rarely participated in battles, but he had unique skills in archaeological activities. He could always find the hidden ancient ruins very accurately, and then let the legion return with a full load. Hector even remembered the only time he participated in such a legion. The construction activity was spearheaded by Trazin. About two hundred volunteer soldiers followed the veteran to a wonderful place: there was no breath of life, and as far as the eye could see, it was full of cold machinery and sleeping metal skeletons. It was as if the tomb owners were already corpses before being buried in this mausoleum.

That place looked like a small dynasty from countless years ago. The Fangs broke in and spent some time cleaning up those strange metal skeletons and seized a lot of usable things. But the only pity was that , when they rushed into the place that looked like a throne room, they discovered that the most precious things had disappeared, but the other treasures were extremely intact.

However, Trazin did not seem to be disappointed.

"Repair, or is it needed?"

The technical sergeant led Hector slowly to his workbench, and there was always an inexplicable smile in his dry voice.

"I hope I can repair it, Senior Trazin. You may be the only one in the legion who knows these techniques."

"Ah, I only know one thing, Hector, I can't promise to fix it."

Hector handed his weapon to the technical sergeant. He had taken the Star God Phase Sword from Trazin's hand, and he was quite comfortable with this weapon.

"How do you use this weapon?"

“It’s okay, overall I feel like I’m getting the hang of it, but I always feel like I’m not using it to its full power.”

"Maybe they're still sleeping, but who knows?"

The technical sergeant did not touch the weapon immediately. Instead, he went to the bookshelf nearby and picked through it. He took out one worn-out book after another. He flipped through two pages of this one, glanced at that one, and returned to it from time to time. In front of the workbench, he was recording something, but despite this, he did not stop chatting with Hector.

"How is the situation on the front line? My little Hector, we haven't had any new stories back to the Seeker for a long time. I even feel a little lonely."

Hearing these words, Hector suddenly remembered some fragments: It is said that the Second Fleet's tradition of collecting stories was first initiated by the ancient warrior Trazin, but that is already an unclear history. Who Don't know if this is true.

"Plain often means safety, Senior Trazin, but Ran Dan has indeed not launched a large-scale offensive for a long time. The mainstream conjecture on the front line is that their slave state has been damaged by such large-scale bloody wars. The main race has declined and fallen into turmoil, so it cannot continue to support this war with no end in sight."

"So, do you think this war will end with our victory?"

"It is true that it is not yet a victory, but we can already see the dawn on the horizon. Senior Trazin, even the most pessimistic frontline officer, only thinks that we may no longer be able to prosper the northeast and north of the galaxy. , after all, the traces of destruction caused by this war are really difficult to remove.”

Trazin smiled as he turned his back to the young warrior and busied himself on his bookshelf.

"I've been through a lot, more than you can imagine, Hector, and my memory tells me that tranquility in war is not always a good thing."

He turned his head, a smile so deep that it was a little unsettling.

"War is a storm, boy."

"Tranquility does not belong to it."

"...you mean?"

"While your various tactical teams were broken up into pieces and were constantly fighting and collecting intelligence on the front line, I was also listening to other information out of boredom, some information from within the empire and from the center of the galaxy."

"Do you know the Eleventh Legion? Their home system has always been considered one of the safest areas in the empire, but in recent days, it is said that there have been some strange alien fleets there."

"Oh, and the Eleventh Legion itself. They have been invested in this war for too long. It has been too long, and it is not normal."

"How long has it been since you received a message from the Eleventh Legion, boy?"

"us……"

Hector opened his mouth, instinctively wanting to answer the question, but then he froze in place, opening and closing his mouth, but still unable to give a suitable answer.

yes……

How long has it been since they received news from the Eleventh Legion?

Ever since the purest Primarch led his legion into the core area of ​​the Randan Empire, how long has it been since he sent anyone back?

One year?

Two years?

Or three years?

Or... longer...

——————

Zhuang Sen breathed with some difficulty.

He leaned under a broken pillar full of sand, trying his best to adjust his breathing and regain his physical strength and energy: Although the wounds were rapidly healing under the superhuman physique of the Primarch, his physical strength and energy were still there. The consumption is also real.

He was a little weak, a little tired, and more importantly: he was so embarrassed that he didn't want anyone to see his current appearance.

Although he didn't care during the violent fight just now, when the battle ended, when the duel was won, when the burning anger and recklessness finally cooled down in the cold air, Caliban's lion suddenly realized that he What kind of stupid thing are you doing?

…

In a sense, that bastard Ruth was right, they were just like two idiots.

No, that stupid wolf must be the stupider one, he messed up everything, Magnus and Lorgar combined are not as stupid as him.

Zhuang Sen lowered his head and looked at the tattered armor on his body: the damage to the armor was not a big deal, but the fact that his body was covered with sand and dust really hurt the reserved heart of the King of Knights.

especially……

When the sound of large footsteps appeared next to his ears.

Obviously, a large number of his descendants are coming, and he has to show this shabby appearance in front of his subordinates. Although the Dark Angels may think it is nothing, just appearing in front of outsiders in this dirty beggar state is a big deal. Zhuang Sen himself couldn't accept it.

This is not okay.

He tried hard to dust himself off, only to find that the dirt had spread all over his body, deep into his eyebrows and nails, and even every strand of his golden hair had become entangled with the gray soil and formed a layer of dirt. Disgusting locks of hair that look like a worn-out khaki sack

Damn it, he can't look like this...

Zhuang Sen gritted his teeth, and then he heard a strange sound.

The Dark Angel's footsteps seemed to be stopped urgently. Then, the argument between the two voices reached his ears. He immediately recognized the richer one as Arachos. He persisted until he came in immediately, and the colder and colder one. The clearer one is Morgan, who is blocking the Dark Angel's actions with an almost unreasonable attitude: she can't give any reason, but instead talks here and there, blocking the Dark Angel's footsteps.

While this unreasonable argument was going on, a small psychic whirlwind floated all the way to Zhuang Sen's feet without anyone noticing. Zhuang Sen looked at this familiar psychic power. , he stood up with considerable struggle, and then, this spiritual energy enveloped him.

Like the spring breeze, or the clear mountain spring water, Zhuang Sen could clearly see the dirt on his armor and face being blown away by spiritual energy at an extremely fast speed, just like the autumn mountain breeze blowing away the rotten dirt. The leaves even ruffled his blond hair, making it shine again like the sun peeling back the clouds.

He accepted it all submissively. When the last trace of spiritual energy finally left his body, he even felt that his spirit had improved a lot. At the very least, he could take a few steps again.

At this time, the stubby quarrel outside the room came to an end: he could even hear the sound of Arachos drawing his sword. Obviously, the silver-haired lady's blocking behavior allowed the Dark Angel to easily overcome his little fear of her. .

【enough. 】

Zhuang Sen spoke out, and his order ended everything easily through the wall. Then, he slowly walked out of the room, not letting his heirs come in and see what was going on here: Ruth was in the other corner of the room, He didn't look too good. Although Zhuang Sen could hardly say he had a positive opinion of him, he still didn't intend to embarrass his brother in front of his heir.

He walked out, met his subordinates, and accepted their presence and concern. His gaze seemed to casually glance at the silver figure beside him: she was standing on the periphery of the team, looking uninterested in joining the father-son interaction. Zhuang Sen looked at her, then turned his head and glanced at the room behind him as if unintentionally.

Then, Morgan nodded and raised a finger. On her fingertips was the same psychic breeze as before. She waved her hand and the breeze blew into the room to help another person who was still unconscious. of the original body.

Zhuang Sen felt a flash of satisfaction in his heart.

Starting now, or rather, starting a long time ago.

The communication between him and his blood relatives no longer required something too direct and troublesome like language. She only needed a look to know what she was thinking.

…

Some times.

He even wished Morgan would be mortal.

——————

When Leman Russ woke up, he had been moved to the hall by the Space Wolves who had woken up first, right in front of Tyrant Duran's throne.

The Wolf King of Fenris opened his eyes. He spent a moment confused, awake and recalling what happened. Then, he jumped up.

"Where's Jonson? Damn it, where's that bastard? He still owes me a punch."

Then before this roar could last even a second, a roaring wolf howl and a lot of black and gray striped fur completely drowned the wolf king. The wolf king spent a while and finally This group of bastards pounced on them and grabbed them one by one.

"Alright! Alright! You little wolf cubs, tell me, where is my brother? Black Blood! You answer!"

The Wolf King's personal guard stood up and informed him that the Dark Angel's fleet had just set off.

"...fuck it."

Russ wanted to curse a few more words, but the enthusiasm of the wolves overwhelmed him: his descendants were extremely eager to know which primarch won the battle. After all, the one standing out was Jonson. Many Dark Angels raised their noses to the sky in front of the wolves.

Russ thought for a while, without hiding anything, and explained everything clearly. Obviously, Johnson's last [sneak attack] made every Space Wolf feel indignant, so Leman Russ naturally became a wolf. The winner in the crowd, although he is currently thinking about other things.

It wasn't until the Wolf King glanced at everyone in front of him again that he suddenly discovered that there was a mortal among them: the chronicler of the Space Wolves Legion, one of the few mortals that Leman Russ liked, and he did not participate. The battle was on the front line, but the withered head of Tyrant Duran was now in his hands.

"Salute to you, Wolf King."

He stepped forward and saluted.

"Lord Johnson has told us everything that happened in the fortress. The battle between the two of you to kill Tyrant Duran will become a legend for the expedition fleet. Even the most picky officials on Holy Terra can't say anything. .”

"..."

Russ was silent. It took him a few seconds to understand what he meant.

"You mean... Zhuang Sen told you that we worked together to kill the tyrant Duran?"

"This battle will be the best evidence that the Space Wolves can fight well. Sir, those who criticize us will definitely have nothing to say this time!"

"...Ah...Yeah...That's great...I mean...that..."

Ruth scratched his face and looked closer at his narrator.

"Did he tell you anything else? Like... about werewolves?"

"...What? Sir?"

"I mean, my brother, did he tell you anything else!"

"Lord Zhuangson only told us how he joined hands with you to kill Tyrant Duran, and then left with the legion."

"……oh……"

"...That's it."

Ruth's eyes rolled, and he wanted to smile happily, but then he felt a sense of shame and regret.

In this strange feeling, he looked around randomly, but accidentally discovered something engraved on the tyrant's throne.

He stepped forward and took a look.

Then, laughed.

"grown ups."

Blackblood walked up, and the Primarch guard hesitated before hesitantly confessed to his Primarch a failure, or in other words, a complete fiasco.

"Huh? Well...that's it."

To his surprise, Leman Russ's mood became very good for some reason. After listening carefully to the wolf pack's tragic defeat, he casually patted his son's shoulder and comforted him. sighing in a joking tone.

"According to what you say, that little guy named Morgan is not bad."

"It's not bad...it's really not bad..."

Leman Russ muttered to himself, greeted his cubs, and walked away from the room happily. On the contrary, the narrator walked towards the tyrant's throne out of some curiosity.

He found that there were several words carved on the throne, which were words carved with a sword and an axe.

He read it softly.

——————

【Not the next example. 】