Warhammer: Start with a dog

Chapter 631 Returnees

Fortreton sat in the cabin of the Stormbird, his breathing sounded unusually clear in the helmet. Although the model of this power armor itself was very old, the feeling of this helmet being buckled on his skull was still very strange to him.

He glanced at the data, symbols and various codes that quickly flowed across the eyepiece, several of which were flashing now.

Fortreton thought about it and remembered that these were the icons of the power armor's life monitoring system, reminding him that his heart rate was a little too fast.

Granted, this was a bit of a poor way to think and react for a Space Marine, but that wasn't Forte Layton's fault.

After all, just a year ago, he was just a member of the Rocks City Defense Force reserve roster and not even a regular soldier.

After being taken away by the conscription ship, this young man who had never been to space underwent gene seed implantation, transformation surgery, and brainwashing-style war-related knowledge within a year - including how to disassemble and maintain various weapons, how to make simple weapons, how to destroy city walls, how to obey orders, etc. - only knowledge related to war, all other knowledge was judged to be of no use to the war and omitted.

He was then thrown directly onto the battlefield to fight against the Hrud.

There he survived the first battle of his first campaign by a stroke of good luck.

But it was then that Fortreton discovered that things seemed completely different from what he had imagined when he was standing on the ground in Olympia and looking up at the sky, "a grand war and a member of a glorious legion."

His battle-brothers did have tactical qualities, and they were indeed a good legion, but if it came to the saying "iron inside, steel outside", Fortreton would say that the latter might be fine, but he felt that the mental state of many of his superiors and predecessors was not as good as steel.

Just like those tightly stretched mooring chains on the shore, they are usually very strong, but if they pull on the ship in a storm that lasts longer than expected, they will slowly but unstoppably deform and stretch until they suddenly break with a "snap".

Fortreton had seen this happen many times, and then the ships that had lost their chains would drift away along the waves. Fortunately, although the lake was large, most of the drifting ships could always be found along the shore.

But if the battle with the Hrud continued, he wondered if he would be able to hold out - but he suspected his battle-brothers would be succumbing before he was.

As the latest recruit, his perception has not yet become cold and numb like his predecessors. In order to survive, he is eager to learn everything he sees in battle like a sponge. The sharpness brought by his survival instinct has allowed him to notice various ominous signs in the company:

Although on the surface everyone seemed fearless, obeyed orders, and cooperated with each other, a kind of "uneasiness" that could not be called "fear" had indeed been circulating secretly before Fortreton joined them, and this situation became even more serious after the newcomers joined.

According to the information that Fortreton learned from Kinus Kalefion, the friendliest and most helpful flamethrower operator in the entire squad, before he joined them to fill the vacancy, the death rate of the members of the 7th Tactical Squad, 165th Company, 16th Battalion had exceeded 50%.

Given Fortreton's limited tactical knowledge, he believed that the fact that they were able to maintain their integrity and combat effectiveness while fighting those damned space rats was enough to prove that the Iron Warriors were worthy of the Iron Litany.

But the combat brothers who lost half of their familiar comrades in a short period of time obviously did not think so. The reason why Fortreton said that Ginus was the kindest one was obviously because the others were not very kind. The veterans were taciturn and unwilling to speak, but they were very easy to be suddenly angered. A word or action that seemed inexplicable to others might make them jump up and burst out with amazing murderous intent; the new recruits seemed reckless and impulsive, and preferred to use direct violence to solve any problems they encountered.

——This was actually contrary to the tactical doctrine of the Iron Warriors, but no one would listen to a rookie like Fortreton. Their company commander Anabasis no longer used nicknames or special code names to command their actions. He began to call and command them with cold and simple numerical sequences, just like their primarch did before.

When he thought of what Baldan - another veteran who would still talk to him - had told Fortreton, that Anabashis had never been like this before, Fortreton felt a dull pain in his body where the fresh nerve interfaces met the flesh and blood because of the pulling that had not yet fully grown - he had never felt such pain before, and he was not sure whether every recruit would experience such long-term pain or whether the pharmacist performed the operation too quickly so that he might have received a poor healing and suturing technique.

The Stormbird began to close its doors and start its engines; the sounds of sirens and warning lights brought the recruit back to his senses from his memories.

Ah, but that's not the most important thing now.

He looked around at the people around him: Ginus Kalefion was right next to him, turning his head towards Baldan who was sitting on the other side. From their postures, Fortreton guessed that they were communicating on a private channel; the big man Gasero Zankato, nicknamed "Boxer", was crossing his arms and muttering to himself in dissatisfaction. It was unclear whether he was chanting the Iron Litany; their team leader Wodan Zalske was talking to the Danteforo brothers, and the rest of them either remained motionless or closed their eyes to rest. They were all members of other teams, but their bloodline came from the same area as those of the members of the Seventh Tactical Team.

Except for the team members who belonged to another region and went back first, all the others who were there when he joined the Seventh Tactical Team were here. Because their respective hometowns now used the same transit port to continue to divert the returning Iron Warriors to the next-level towns, they were assigned to the same Stormbird that traveled between Olympia and the fleet.

And now, the stormbirds have begun to fly towards the land of Olympia.

Fortreton could feel that as the subtle feeling of the planet's gravity was exerted on everyone, the emotions of each Iron Warrior, like a taut chain in a storm, began to obviously subside. Although they were still nervous, it was something else. He couldn't say what it was, but when the Storm Bird landed with a slam, the rear hatch opened, the long-lost slightly cold mountain mist, the smell of fog in the valley, and the pale golden sunlight of Olympia shone from outside the hatch onto the silver-gray, mottled power armor of each of them.

Fort Leighton felt his eyes sore.

To prove that an Astartes would not shed tears, he recited the Iron Litany aloud, most sincerely since he became a legionary.

Everything is different now.

It's like a dream.

He was suddenly filled with thoughts.

Just before Captain Anabasis was about to order five squads, including the 7th Squad, to launch a joint general attack on a major Hrud settlement, the Iron Warriors suddenly received an order to retreat.

Then they were told to return to the ships one by one and wait far away from the galaxy. A week after witnessing from a safe distance how the migration of the Hrud would cause an irresistible spectacle of destruction on an astronomical scale, they all left the swampy and muddy edge of the star abyss that was constantly devouring the lives of their comrades and began to return to Olympia.

He still remembered the shock he felt when he heard a steely man like Captain Anabashis suddenly break down and choke up during a company-wide broadcast, and the disbelief and shameful ecstasy he felt when he heard the even more shocking order to retreat.

Their father, their Primarch, declared that he was willing to bear all the punishment from the Emperor for them, but he said that he would let his tired children return home first, leaving behind the meaningless sacrifice!

Fortreton sincerely thanked the merciful Lord of Steel again in his heart, and felt guilty for some of his previous speculations about him.

After hearing that the Primarch ordered his descendants to retreat to a safe distance first, while he personally took his flagship to block a wave of time shock waves caused by the hateful aliens for the Sublime Steel and her commander, all the depressed, confused and tense emotions that had previously spread in the 124th and 125th Expeditionary Fleets were immediately dispelled by concerns about the Primarch's safety.

After receiving the obscure gossip released by the Pharmacy Department, some people even thought that the Sublime Steel was too ignorant to dare to accept the Lord of Steel blocking the impact for them. They should die first and not implicate the Primarch.

After hearing the Primarch's speech at the time, Fortreton thought that they were a bit harsh on Captain Urdek and his men, but he had to admit that when he heard their Primarch declare in person, "As my son, you don't have to feel ashamed or punished for accepting your father's protection," even he felt an unprecedented warmth flowing through the depths of his soul in addition to great shame.

Therefore, they had no objection to any actions and orders of the Lord of Steel. Although the big fool Gasero Zankato still muttered from time to time that it would be better to send him back to the front line to kill all the aliens instead of farming, the others quickly united to suppress his complaints. This allowed the Seventh Tactical Team to pass the evaluation, received good reviews, and was able to take this Stormbird flight back home first.

"What are you still standing there for?" Someone patted him on the shoulder. Fortreton looked up and saw that it was Ginus Kalefion. The heavy weapon bearer looked tired but comforted. "It's time... to go home, kid... brother."

The recruit nodded, raised his feet, and followed the person in front of him down the metal ramp formed by the rear hatch of the Stormbird.

Alien dust from tens of thousands of light years away fell onto the ground of Olympia following the boots of the returning Iron Warriors.

After they all got off, they walked to the open space beside the apron and habitually stood in a line according to the tactical team formation.

The wind whipped across the surface of their old-fashioned power armor.

Therefore, under the sun, I feel lost like a stranger.

"Fort—Layton—! Foyle! Is that you?! Is that you?! Child! Is that you!"

A woman suddenly rushed out from the dense crowd of people standing at the edge of the tarmac, but hesitated because of the black muzzles of guns. She screamed Fortreton's name and rushed towards the team of scarred and murderous steel giants.

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She ran so fast that her headscarf fell off her long, dark brown curly hair and one of her shoes came loose, but she still stumbled towards them.

They saw her face filled with tears as she looked at their team.

Fortreton suddenly realized that he should have known her in the past.

He must know her.

He had 100% known this woman before.

He had once been extremely, extremely, extremely familiar with her.

A year ago, before he left for the recruitment office, he complained that the cheesecake she made was not tasty because it had not enough cheese...

she is……

"……Mother?"

At this time, the crazy woman had rushed to them at incredible speed and accurately selected him among the crowd of people wearing helmets.

She raised her hands and laid her palms on his breastplate - he was so much taller and stronger than she was, and she was so small, haggard, and thin, but there were such tears of joy in her eyes as she looked at him.

The tactical eyepiece pointed out dozens of fatal spots on Fort Layton's body that could be shot at as she stood there at a loss.

"Kid! Frey! I know it's you! Is it you?!"

The Iron Warriors stood there, looking at her in silence, as if what stood there were just ruthless statues of war made of steel.

She quickly became panicked, wiping her tears with one hand, but still holding his arm tightly with the other.

"...Kid, take off your helmet quickly." Dante Folo's voice came from the team channel. Following this reminder, he took out a hex wrench from his waist and handed it to the recruit.

As if he suddenly realized something, Fortreton hurriedly used a wrench to remove the bolts that secured the helmet, and quickly fastened the helmet to the magnetic lock around his waist.

He had barely time to complete the action when the woman looked him in the face and let out an even louder scream toward the crowd behind her.

"Look! Look! It's him! It's really him! I knew it was him! I knew him just by the way he walked! That's my Frey! Perturabo - the Iron King kept his promise! He gave my child back to me! He gave our child back to us!"

Then, a tide of old, weak, women and children all rushed over and began to look for their loved ones among the more landed flights.

In an environment that was gradually becoming filled with noisy crying, Fort Leighton saw the woman he once called mother stroking his ceramic steel armor with her thin, calloused fingers, which was unpainted except for the shoulder armor and tactical symbols, and was full of scratches, acid corrosion and other marks.

These flesh and blood fingers were extremely fragile, but he felt a tremor as if his soul was touched by them.

"My God, look at these horrible marks... How you suffered in the battle! Even though he took you away, I still want to thank the Lord of Steel with all my heart. Thank you to the Emperor, thank you to all the gods of Olympia," he heard her say. "If only you were back. Frey."

"Steel inside, steel outside," he heard himself answer, a little nasally. "I'm home, Mom."