Before the rune priest could finish speaking, a sigh sounded around him, and everyone, including the warriors of the wild wolf, was shocked by the news.

Space wolves - or probably all of the Space Marine warbands - are rarely in the habit of giving up halfway, and it's normal to keep dying. What kind of military situation can make the wild wolf make the decision to abandon a qiē mission and urgently assemble?

"Who is under siege of Wolf's Tooth Fort?" A wild wolf barked.

"Or what's going on at the Kadian Gate?" There is speculation again.

"I'm guessing something happened to Tyra......"

It's the Gate of Kadian. I thought to myself, we had long guessed that Abaddon would come, but no one expected it to come so soon.

"The reason for the build-up is not specified," Velheim said, "but let's prepare for the worst." ”

"It's the best plan, it's going to be a thrilling battle like never before, isn't it?"

"That is, the whole army gathers such a big thing, and it may not be able to catch up once in a thousand years!"

The sound of the wild wolves in the crowd became louder and louder, and a cheerful atmosphere permeated the air.

I can't get into the joy, and fighting is my duty and not my pleasure. Moreover, future battles will not be as painful as they imagined, and many will die before they see the enemy, as destroyed warships will turn into cosmic dust, or be drowned on the ground by overwhelming artillery fire and even orbital bombardment.

The vast majority of them will never return.

"Why don't you cheer with us, kid?" The Velheim subpoena rings in my head. "At this time, just raise a glass for us."

He beckoned, and a barrel of honey flew into his hand, and he raised the barrel high, roaring like thunder: "Drink freely today, and the glory will return tomorrow!" ”

I really can't say anything. The warriors of the empire either never believe in fatalism, or even if they know their predetermined fate, they will go on it without hesitation.

So, at this time, all we can do is raise a glass for them.

Over the next few minutes, we drank all the mead we could find in the hall. For a moment, almost everyone, including the strong Fenris, lay down, and could only watch the wolves leave.

Due to the late arrival, I was one of the few people who could barely stand. I had been tested in the Valhalla Legion as a near-pure alcohol, and even after more than a decade of abstinence, it was not something that a mere barrel of low-alcohol honey could put down.

So, with Sylvia's support, I followed the wolves through the dark and long corridors, and took them outside the hangar on the other side of the battleship, where they boarded.

At the end of the corridor, outside the hangar, Arslan's massive, boxy body of steel stood next to Velheim and Erdin. Is this a continuation of the tradition of the last evacuation of the chief?

However, until the other soldiers had boarded the plane, they were still standing there with no intention of leaving. Instead, Arslan beckoned his paw at me and motioned for me to come over.

"Come here, my brother, we need to see each other again." Arslan's loudspeaker sounded a slow, low mechanical voice, "Every parting with a mortal seems to be an eternal one. ”

I don't know if the temperature in the spaceship has become colder, and I can't help but shiver. Although the mechanically synthesized voice can't be as heroic as a normal wolf, the tone of Arslan, which is so tangled that it doesn't look like a Space Marine, is still a little unaccustomed.

"As I said before, I owe you a glass of wine as a reward for bringing me back from the battlefield." Arslan shifted and stepped out of the shadows with a servant holding a cylinder in his arm.

I've worked with wild wolves before, so I know that this kind of airtight container for dangerous liquids or gases is often used as a container for honey wine on the wolf side. Mead is as important a supply to wolves as ammunition, and is often dropped directly from warships into battle by orbital parachutes. As for the wolf's honey, I have seen it before, it is not the product of fermentation and distillation, but uses a solvent that is almost pure alcohol to dissolve a large amount of drugs - all kinds of powerful narcotics, stimulants and hallucinogens, etc., otherwise alcohol alone would not have been able to produce a similar effect on the Space Marine.

Let mortals drink this kind of thing, if you don't get it, you'll die, right?

He took two steps forward and shook his paw at Erdien, "Come, help me open this coffin." ”

"Are you sure, brother? It's likely to kill you. The Iron Priest said.

"Am I so vulnerable? At most, I went to bed early, and I should have gone to sleep again anyway. ”

Erdeon operated on the dreadnought for a moment, followed by a slight sound of steel grinding and air leaks, and a strong smell of potions. The front armor of the mech slowly opened upwards, and I could see the inner workings of the mech, and I could see Arslan's body clearly.

I've seen countless tragic and tragic deaths, but even in my imagination, I never knew that survival could be so tragic.

It was a mangled body, completely devoid of limbs, most of its trunk had been removed, its skin wrinkled from long-term soaking in the potion, and thin, almost transparent, without any hair, and muscles and even internal organs could be faintly visible underneath. His muscles were so atrophied and dry that all his bones were jagged and bulging, and his skin was deeply sunken, but the still wide skeleton proved that this body had indeed belonged to a Space Marine in the past. His head was withered to the point of a skelet, and his body was filled with cables and conduits of all sorts of cables and conduits, sustaining his last flame of life and holding him in the massive steel coffin.

I can recall the time when Arslan fought alongside me, he struck a barrage of lethal precision in his charge with heavy explosive bolts, he slammed into dozens of mutineers with his body, he tore demons with his bare hands, brandished fragments of their corpses as weapons, his armor shattered, his wolfskin cloak and beard burned with flames, he roared in the flames, the glaciers cracked beneath his feet, and demons and Chaos Space Marines trembled before him. How could this superhuman space soldier become like this?!

The bigger question is, how can such a warrior continue to survive after becoming like this? Fenris were born with a tomahawk in their hands and were able to swim in the icy ocean, and those who were unable to do so were disqualified from continuing to survive at birth. And now Arslan in front of me can only be imprisoned in steel, relying on endless drugs to survive, and even a breath of outside air may kill him. All his strength could barely open his eyes, and he couldn't even make a sound. How could he endure this qiē?

At least, I don't think I can handle the pain and humiliation.

"You know, Mount Ill, I used to imagine if it would have been better for me if you hadn't dragged me out from under the collapsed glacier of Essland, but had let me sleep there......

Arslan eventually gave up on his attempt to make a sound with his own **, and instead used the mechanical synthesized sound of the Dreadnought.

I tried to keep my emotions in check, trying to make my voice seem lighthearted, in line with the Fenrisian sense of humor, "If I knew you had one breath left, I should have shot you." ”

－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－

This chapter was reviewed for three weeks, added and deleted five times, and finally wrote out that it was completely different from the original manuscript, and those in the group who had read the original manuscript before should be able to see it.

This chapter has been conceived for a long time, and I have enough passion to write it, but the pen power is not enough to express it, and I am very ashamed. Originally, I wanted to continue to change and write longer, but yesterday a local tyrant gave an astronomical reward at one time, and I feel that I can't say it if I don't update it.

!