pertwk Chapter 72 Support, Legion's Friendship
Chapter 72 Support, Legion's Friendship
The moment the sandstorm receded, the devastated landscape, resembling a horde of corpses, was fully revealed.
Those ordinary soldiers and technicians who were fortunate enough to survive to the end, armed with weapons, removed their gas masks and face shields from their lips.
Feeling the grime that they couldn't cough up from their lungs, the painful blockage, they were certain they were still alive through the pain. They embraced, they wept with joy, and they shared their happiness at surviving.
The Dawnbringer wiped away the blood-stained crimson from his goggles, finally able to observe the battlefield.
Almost all of these cultists were shrouded in black robes, and the vast majority could still be considered human, but others were no different from the aliens as defined by the Empire.
Their skulls were twisted and deformed, and each of their corpses had extremely obvious changes in flesh and blood, and they were all different.
Bone spikes, resembling sharpened iron rods, replaced their hands, depriving them of the human ability to wield weapons.
Their bodies were almost torn apart, flesh and blood churning and breaking apart, yet strangely stuck together.
"What are these things?" a Dawnbringer asked the Space Wolf Brothers beside him.
"What threat did you encounter?"
The space wolf removed his helmet, revealing his head. His three lungs were operating at full power, barely managing to expel enough clear air.
Without rushing to respond to the brother who had come to their aid, he seemed to have finally come back to life, letting out a long breath and then laughing heartily without any guile.
He walked to the Dawnbringer's side and patted the Dawnbringer's back heavily with his heavy gauntlets.
The strength was so great that the Dawn Messenger initially thought the other party was looking for trouble.
"Thanks, brother," he said. "The support came at just the right time. I have to treat you to a good drink."
The Dawn Messenger frowned. He disliked the other party's frivolous and barbaric attitude, but he wouldn't stoop to speaking ill of his cousin's smile.
He picked up the explosive gun, turned around, and walked away.
But the dark gray space wolf, clad in gray-blue power armor, came right up behind him and placed his hand on the Dawnbringer's shoulder.
The Space Wolves are fierce and savage; they are the Emperor's executioners, unwelcome by any Legion, and indifferent to the opinions of other Legions.
But they are also passionate, especially when faced with the Dawnbringers who rescued them.
The Dawnbringer was annoyed, but as a new recruit of the Trojan Upper Nest nobles, his upbringing made him, as in the beginning, unable to respond to the unguarded, enthusiastic smiles with harsh words.
This kind of thing happens on every battlefield.
The space wolves, like phantoms, swarmed the approaching dawn messengers.
"You must be Commander Wardmaker."
A dawn messenger approached Wardmaker, who had one hand on his axe, and reached out a hand to ask with certainty.
Wardmaker looked up at the other man, then, without any courtesy, violently shook his body like a wolf that had fallen into the water. Clumps of dust from his wolf pelt scattered, some landing on the Dawnbringer's armor and outstretched hand.
Even after being treated this way, the other party still did not withdraw their hand. At this moment, Wardmaker fell silent.
He reached out and firmly grasped the hand of the Dawnbringer, holding the hand of a cousin for the first time.
"I am Oshel Wardmaker, the rune priest of the Fifth Company," he said. "Thank you very much for your timely support, brother."
"What should I call you?"
The dawn messenger removed his helmet, revealing his face beneath.
It was a face that was equally rugged, resolute, and hardened by the bitter cold.
"Nicholas Aulas," the other person said.
He then burst into laughter: "Just call me Nico, bro."
The face made Wardmaker feel very close to it, and he reached out and patted the other person hard, then bumped shoulders intimately.
“Brother Nico,” he said, “just call me Wardmaker, brother.”
The friendship between the two legions was quickly established within a small circle.
One Terra time later.
The battlefield was cleared by the Trojan Guards and a large number of combat aircraft that were subsequently airdropped, and the two armies formed a simple but orderly and dignified square formation.
The surviving 67 Space Wolves and more than 20,000 mortals straightened their clothes and stood up straight.
However, whether it was the Dawnbringer or the Space Wolf, their overly stiff, standard postures betrayed their tense emotions.
Led by Nico Aulas and Oshel Wodmaker, two Astartes phalanxes, one large and one small, raised their heads and gazed up at the starry sky, awaiting the arrival of the Primarch's chariot.
Before long, several angular fighter jets pierced the sky, closely protecting the original vehicle inside.
As the deafening roar of the engines ceased and the hatch opened, a company clad in black Terminator armor, wielding gleaming spears, and bearing laurel wreaths and shield-spear insignia engraved on their shoulder armor rushed out, clearing a path for the Primarch's arrival.
"My lord."
"grown ups."
Hel Kavis, Bach, and the newly appointed company commander of the 15th Company, Anhol Kara, followed closely behind this tall and imposing demigod.
Upon seeing Hector, Wardmaker held his breath, looking with reverence at this noble and aloof Primarch who seemed so out of place among the space wolves.
Hector wore specially made ivory-white armor that matched the legion's uniform. When the light shone perfectly on the silvery-white light armor, it brought a sense of peace and closeness to Wardmaker's heart.
Unlike the alpha wolf Ruth, he was not forged by the frozen sea of Fenris, nor did he possess the savagery and ferocity of brutal battles.
Hector is as steadfast and unyielding as the walls of Troy, with bull patterns engraved on his leg armor and a majestic white lion on his breastplate.
The white lion on the armor pattern seemed to come alive as Hector moved, deftly circling around.
"My lord," Wardmaker said, lightly tapping his breastplate in a respectful greeting.
"Osher Wodemaker," Hector called out his name, his voice gentle and friendly, without a trace of condescension.
This caught Wardmaker and Space Wolf Astartes off guard, who had always viewed other legions with a "we are barbarians" mentality and were disliked by them.
They could feel Hector's genuine goodwill, and the vast gap between the Primarch and them did not prevent Hector from smiling and being friendly to a defeated army.
"My lord," Wardmaker spoke again.
But this time, Hector waved his hand to stop them. He looked at the Space Wolves and the mortal auxiliary soldiers who still stood tall and fought to the last moment.
Although they remained tenacious, still as sharp as a drawn sword, Hector could see their frustration and resentment.
It was as if the arrival of the dawn heralded their defeat.
Hector's smile vanished, replaced by an extremely serious expression. "Tell me, warriors," he said, "have you lost?"
"Have you been defeated?!"
"Are you willing to slink back in disgrace, become losers, admit your defeat in battle, and let my brothers see your pathetic state?!"
Within the formation, there were the howls of the Fenris giant wolf and the restlessness of the other space wolves, the Astartes.
"Absolutely not!" the first soldier shouted.
This square formation, which consisted of only 68 men including Wardmaker, along with the mortal auxiliary troops behind them, actually erupted in waves of sound.
The roar brought a brief smile to Hector's face, but it quickly faded. He raised his arms and roared, "Then fight back! The way the Space Wolves do, the way that will make my brother proud!"
"Let those damned bastards know just how powerful and indomitable my brother's legion is!"
"Remember this, warriors! The Dawnbringers are not villains who plunder your glory and dignity, but blood brothers who fight alongside the Space Wolves!"
"We will help you get back on your feet!"
"Now, tell me, soldiers, what is your duty!"
"For Ruth and for the whole Father!"
"What is their wish!"
"annihilate all enemies of humanity!"