Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

Kagos watched the drop of scarlet blood roll down in front of him.

He didn't know whose blood it was, maybe it came from the crowd around him who had already fallen into a frenzy: but it was indeed beautiful, lazily lying on the iron-gray stone surface, and the roars around made it particularly delicious and tempting.

Kagos licked his front teeth. He knew what he was going to do. His thirst for blood had made his tongue twitch between his teeth: he responded to the enthusiasm of the people around him with a low roar, and patiently waited for the sound of another collision of weapons on the ring to pierce his eardrums.

As expected, everyone began to cheer heartily. Taking advantage of this time, Kagos quietly stretched out his tongue, completely ignoring the rubble on the stone surface that cut his tongue, and rolled other people's blood and his own blood into his stomach: this was more delicious than he had originally imagined.

Boiling, sticky, passionate...

The smelly blood in the brain rushed out through the ruptured blood vessels.

The blood-spitting man smiled foolishly, savoring what he had tasted, turning a deaf ear to the games on the field and the noise around him: the current games were not enough to make him look sideways, there were only some young people on the field, if these people bumped into him on the battlefield, Kagos could kill them in two minutes.

They were not enough to...satisfy him.

Kagos murmured in a low voice, rubbing his teeth carelessly, as if he wanted to bite them to pieces, the sound of metal tearing dissipated in the cheers of the crowd, the blood-spitting man's eyes became more and more red, eager to go on stage to fight, eager to get delicious blood in the battle.

No, don't get me wrong, he is indeed a blood-spitting man, but he is not a blood-sucking man, although he and Amit of the Ninth Legion are chain brothers who can entrust their lives: they have fought side by side in three battles, and won 101 victories in different gladiatorial pits.

But their glorious winning streak also ended at this great number: whether it was Kagos, the Bloodspitter, or Amit, the Fleshtearer, they each met a father who did not like to see the bloodless, which fundamentally cut off their winning streak.

During the period when only Sanguinius returned to the human empire, Kagos could still quietly pull Amit to the warhound's warship for several life-and-death duels, but when Angron also returned, the two of them completely lost the opportunity to fight the bloodless.

But Kagos had no complaints about this. He respected his original master, and the 101st consecutive victory was enough to make him proud. The Bloodspitter also imagined whether fate made his bond with Amit stay at this number: it symbolized the end of the previous reincarnation and marked the beginning of the next reincarnation.

The bloodless of the past stopped here, as if telling the arrival of a new era.

But Kagos, obviously, could not adapt to this new era.

He longed for the battle, longed for the moment when the defeated fell at his feet, longed for such sweet songs to be heard in the crowd, praising the blood on his joints, and the taste of victory was as refreshing as the warm breeze in the jungle.

As for who he defeated? The enemy on the battlefield or the brothers in the legion, the blood-spitting man didn't care much about it: he didn't have many brothers in the legion, and he would not deliberately respect anyone. Apart from the Primarch, only Kahn could get his respect.

After all... Kahn could really kill him.

Thinking of this, the blood-spitting man couldn't help but laugh at himself. He looked at the viewing platform of the three Primarchs, but he couldn't see Kahn's figure: the centurion's previous instructions still echoed in his mind, like an invisible nail.

Yes... nail.

Kagos remembered, and the corrosion of blood made him temporarily sober.

He remembered the head-on confrontation between him and Kahn in the arena: it was caused by a joke that Kagos told his centurion Kahn after he followed the 4th Assault Company to take down a tough fortress when they were conquering a particularly stubborn alien world.

He still thinks it was a pretty good joke.

"If we had the Butcher's Nail in our heads, would we be as difficult to deal with as these lunatics? These people are just like hungry beasts. I don't think even the Butcher's Nail can do that."

In the Blood Spit's view, this sentence was just a joke on the battlefield, and Kahn didn't say anything at the time: it was just that after the battle, the centurion broke into the company's public dormitory fully armed and dragged the Blood Spit onto the duel stage without saying anything.

That was the day when Kargos was closest to death. Even his memory of the duel was fragmented: he only remembered that Khârn defeated him in the axe duel and convinced him, then knocked him to the ground in the bare-knuckle fight, repeatedly asking him to stand up, and then they beat each other, and finally even used teeth and head spikes.

The battle lasted for several hours, from the beginning of the evenly matched, to the end of almost one-sided abuse: the blood-spitting man had no doubt that if their primarch did not hate the blood-free, Khârn would beat him to death for that joke. His expression was so cold that it was deeply engraved in the depths of Kargos' memory.

He broke more than a hundred bones and finally appreciated Khârn's power and understood that nails should not be joked about: but there are other things that Kargos cannot learn even if he breaks more than a hundred bones.

That is: the desire for blood.

The Bloodspitter rested his forehead against the cold stone surface, listening to the broadcast calling out the names of the victors. He finally heard the names that interested him, which made him grin and grit his teeth, with saliva flowing down his lips.

He knew he was going to play. After this battle, he would climb onto the duel stage to release his anger and beat the unfortunate guy who stood in front of him to the ground: the desire for blood roared in his heart, which had lasted for several months, making people itch.

Even the previous war did not satisfy Kagos.

After all, in order to keep up with the pace of the Primarch, the 4th Assault Company ignored all opportunities for massacres, and Kagos only harvested a dozen heads in total, which was not even an appetizer: he would not object to the Centurion's strategy of following the Primarch, but he would not refuse to face the bloodthirsty desire in his heart.

He was going to fight.

Let the blood... flow...

Also... don't stop bleeding...

Don't stop bleeding... don't...

No...

——————

"Not bad."

"Really good."

Wodmaker nodded repeatedly, his rough fingers wiped the corners of his mouth, but brought more meat to his scattered beard, but this did not ruin the old wolf's good mood at this time: the plump meat danced on the tip of his tongue, and the son of Fenris could not forget it.

"You are really a group of gourmets."

The rune priest nodded to the Dawnbreaker, his words full of praise.

"When I find a chance, I will also let my other battle brothers taste it: the Sixth Legion should open a special import channel for this kind of food, and it deserves a special transportation route. Even the Primarch will not refuse such a request."

"I think it's difficult."

Hector smiled and shared a glass of fermented grape juice with Ahriman, while Hedmaker refused this drink. He loved the unknown liquid in his wine bottle: it smelled like diesel in the engine.

"Even in the Far East, this kind of canned food is a very scarce commodity, and there is no surplus for export. Even we, the Dawnbreakers, can only get a share of what we need on weekdays. If we want to eat more, we have to rely on our personal connections."

"Really?"

The old wolf stroked his beard.

"But I see that the mortals under your command can also eat these things."

"They are qualified."

Ariman answered this question: he was no longer surprised by this equality.

"If you stay in the Dawnbreaker Legion for two more years, Hedemaker, you will understand that the status of mortals here is very special: to give an inappropriate example, just like the four-legged wild wolves around you, the Dawnbreakers regard some of the mortals as their companions to a certain extent, rather than servants."

"Well, then I understand."

The rune priest nodded, and then he looked directly at Hector.

"So, this is why you stopped us from attacking the town during the battle?"

"Not entirely."

Morgan's son gave the Fenrisian a look without any emotion.

"The main reason is what I told you at the time: that town and that fortress have already accepted the rule of the Empire, and it is completely unprofitable to kill them, and they did not raise the banner of rebellion after your butcher knife left, as you said."

"They are very obedient."

"Not surprising."

The old wolf grinned, not embarrassed at all by Hector's ridicule: in terms of open-mindedness or shamelessness, the Space Wolves Legion has inherited the excellent bloodline of their genetic father very well.

"After all, I didn't want to massacre that town, brother."

"...What?"

Hector frowned.

"That's not what you said at the time."

"At the time, there were hundreds of bloodthirsty wolves behind me, but now there are only two Dawnbreakers sitting in front of me, and they can maintain their own rationality: the external conditions are completely different, brother."

Hedemaker laughed, and he blinked his eyes cunningly, which made Hector stunned: he realized that the rune priest in front of him was not the bloodthirsty madman he met on the battlefield. He was very smart, even cunning, and a real wolf.

"You mean, you followed the ideas of your subordinates and slaughtered them?"

Faced with Hector's question, Hedemaker did not give a direct answer.

"In the entire Sixth Legion, 90% of the people are bloodthirsty madmen."

"But are you the other 10%?"

Ariman continued to ask, and the rune priest just nodded indifferently.

"Yes: I am."

"In fact, in the entire Space Wolves Legion, the only one who really dislikes massacres is our Primarch Leman Russ: although he will give orders to massacre and turn a blind eye to the blood at his feet, he will never really devote himself to it. He hates this kind of mindless killing from the bottom of his heart."

"In addition, there are adults including me who can slightly understand Lord Leman Russ's thoughts, but because he never explains it to us clearly, we can only rely on his orders and the situation at the time to figure out for ourselves whether to condone the massacre or tighten the bridles on the mouths of those wolf cubs."

"As for the remaining 90%, they are complete madmen: even though they obey the orders of the original body and us, we cannot completely restrain them: when 90% of the entire legion is rioting , what can the remaining 10% do?”

"The only thing the Primarch can do is to pull us adults into the position of officer, which is why I lead them and not one of them leading me: because only I can pull him off when necessary. We must live with them, but more often than not we have to tolerate them.”

"..."

Hector closed his mouth tightly. There were thousands of gaps in his heart, but he couldn't say a word: Looking at Hedmaker's clear but cunning eyes, Hector knew this. The old wolf had no reason to lie to him.

Morgan's proud son had to accept the sad reality in another distant legion: a group of lunatics, a group of smart people pretending to be crazy and acting stupid, plus a helpless wise man, formed a legion.

Dawnbreaker smiled reluctantly.

"So, when will you restrain your men?"

"It... depends on the situation."

The old wolf's voice was very long.

"Just like in the last battle, I will not restrain them. After all, that battle requires a butcher: you Dawnbreakers and World Eaters can naturally play compassionate characters, but someone must die for them. Only through deterrence can they willingly give up their independence and accept the rule of the empire."

"Let me guess: that town surrendered to you because of our massacre?"

The sly smile on the old wolf's face left Hector speechless.

"Keep your tongue in your mouth and hold your big stick in your hand. You should understand this simple truth."

Dawnbreaker nodded.

"Are you always like this?"

"No."

The old wolf felt a little emotional.

"It wasn't like this before, but who told you that all of you have become better, and someone has to be the villain of the empire: The Wolf King will never give us these instructions, and many times we still have to rely on us officers. Understand for yourself whether this battle is to restrain them or to make those opponents feel the terror of the empire. "

"All in all, both the primarch and us officers manage our legions by some kind of semi-feral intuition: we don't know what the primarch is thinking in his heart. And the bloodthirsty impulses of those wild wolves, It’s not something we can control, just let him go.”

"Perhaps at some point, some of us figured it out?"

"Are there any successful cases?"

Ahriman looked interested.

"As far as I know: no."

The old wolf shook his head.

"For me personally: my thoughts always stop at just one thought."

"My brothers are about the same."

“When it comes to wild wolves, it’s always hard to think about.”

"..."

Hector had nothing to say, because what Hedmaker said was indeed reality. In the past, the empire had many legions that could perform this kind of punisher mission, such as the Night Lords Legion and the World Eaters Legion: It’s just that After meeting a certain spider queen, these original butcher legions began to deviate slightly...

"I hope you can realize it in time in the next battle."

After a long silence, Dawnbreaker always uttered these dry words, and the old wolf responded with a bitter smile.

"Trust me, brother."

"No matter what the scene says, I don't want to lead a bunch of butchers."

"If I enjoyed killing, I wouldn't have chosen to be a rune priest."

"I believe that."

Hector also smiled back. This harmonious scene made Ahriman, who was sitting in the middle, heave a sigh of relief and put his hands on the shoulder armor of the two warriors, summarizing the conversation.

"very good."

"I think I don't have to worry about conflicts breaking out between you in the next battle."

"What if a company of two of us would still be thrown on the same battlefield?"

The old wolf replied, and the three warriors laughed at the same time, and the haze above their heads receded: they began to concentrate on enjoying the game on the field. As the first hour of the Wild Wolf Night passed, some The games that are truly worth watching have also begun.

Those guys who have already made a name for themselves in their corps are playing one after another.

"Who is that person?"

The old wolf asked the Dawnbreaker. He pointed to the agile figure on the field: That was a Dawnbreaker warrior who looked very young. He had won six or seven consecutive games. His agile posture and elusive spear made him famous. The cheers surrounding him continued one after another and never stopped.

"His name is Cu Chulainn, my subordinate."

Hector was very proud.

"He is not young anymore. He has served in the legion for forty or fifty years. I dug him out with my own hands on Avalon. The boy was originally named Kulin or something, but he was discovered during a first landing. After his service, the Primarch himself bestowed upon him the name Cuchulain."

"He's pretty good."

The old wolf nodded bluntly.

"But I don't think he will get another victory."

After saying that, Hedmaker pointed his finger at the challenger who had just appeared. Ahriman and Hector followed his hand and pointed towards it, their expressions becoming solemn.

"you're right."

Ahriman nodded.

"That's a tough guy: I remember his name is Kagos, right?"

"I think so."

Hector was a little absent-minded, leaning forward, concentrating on the battle that had already begun on the duel stage: Kagos was like a beast out of a cage, catching Cu Chulainn's nimble shadow in the air.

For some reason, Morgan's pride suddenly felt uneasy.

"Ahriman, what do you think is Cu Chulainn's chance of winning this time?"

"Well, I think..."

——————

(There will be another chapter later... probably)