There was no warning, no warning, and no evidence to be believed, but the bear of Fenris knew it at once—or rather, Bjorn of Fenris.

He knows something, and in what language does it have to describe it?

He drew his fist blade in confusion, but the battle axe in his right hand remained unabated, and the blade brutally cut off a helmeted head, and the scarlet headless corpse immediately trembled and fell to its knees.

Blood splattered, and Bjorn staggered back two steps, hallucinating in a sense of astonishment. He felt like he was standing on a piece of water, not in a dark ruin full of traitors and demons.

There was a mist escaping from all around, not the foul-smelling fog from subspace, but the fog that belonged to early morning or dusk.

The new life and the end of the fog.

He lowered his head, and indeed saw a piece of water, but he also saw his own face from the water, a bloodstained face with furrowed brows.

Then, a sharp pain struck him, not muscle spasms or a sudden problem with one of the organs. If I had to describe it, it was as if he was being pierced in the chest with a lightning claw.

Why Lightning Claw?

Bjorn howled with tears in his eyes, feeling a sense of intense sorrow, as if he had witnessed his father's death—and it was. He fell to his knees, his head hanging uncontrollably, his throat grunting and shaking like an epilepsy.

In the midst of this torment, he suddenly saw four glittering claws peeking out of his chest, and then a thought.

An idea that came out of nowhere, but is very serious, very serious.

Riemann Ruth's thoughts.

And the voice of Riemann Russ.

"I know I'm going to make mistakes, but I can't do it now. What are you going to do when I'm gone? Who will sit in my place? Ah, don't let Gunnar come, that stubborn and honor-obsessed bastard will take you everywhere and hunt all over the galaxy."

"But I don't want this, don't do this, wolves don't mourn the dead, the purpose of wolves is to protect each other, to survive in the cold, so that the pack can continue. So, who's coming? ”

"No, no, forget it, I don't care, you decide. But—"

There was silence.

Björn slowly looked up and saw Rieman Ruth.

"—don't grieve." He bowed his head and said to Björn, as if he were another person. "Remember to tell my story, because I'm going to come back. See you again in winter. ”

There was snow in his eyes, snow from Fenris. As he said, Björn obeyed this command. There was no sadness, no anger, not even mourning, he just lowered his head and made a muffled voice.

"See you in winter!" He covered all his emotions and shouted. "See you in winter, Ruth! See you in winter! ”

The illusion faded with a speed far beyond comprehension, and Björn shook his head in silence, and suddenly rolled like instinct, dodging a barrage of bullets coming at him.

He barely stood up, but the ground was still shaking - not their problem, but Bjorn's own. He could no longer stand still, and extreme sadness and fear rushed from the darkness, like a bloodthirsty wolf biting his throat.

He can cover up, but they can't disappear. I'm sorry, Ruth, but I know I'm going to change my mistakes. Björn thought.

And so everything began to slowly disappear at this moment.

Memory, reason, thinking, even his own name - in the agony, he even lost his name. He roared at an unbelievable volume, his teeth clenched tightly, and the bruises on his neck bulged.

Instinct began to drive the strong, savage body into the direction of the gunshots. The blade of the fist was handed out, brutally slicing open the chest of an object. Blood covered his face and eyes, making everything scarlet, and then more killing.

In the blood, he heard the wolf howl of Fenris, and he listened, listened, listened, listened. It wasn't until the howl was over that Bjorn barely picked up his name.

At this time, he found that there were twelve corpses lying beside him.

Or rather, thirteen, because one of them is not dead.

He was cut in half, and his too-young face was full of fear, as if he had seen something he couldn't understand. Björn exhaled a breath of blood-smelling air and suddenly realized that there was something in his mouth.

He bowed his head and vomited blood, and he vomited out some teeth and scraps of flesh from nowhere. His teeth were intact, which meant he had just bitten something.

The wolf laughed, and he walked over to the young man, but instead of killing him, he kicked his weapon away first. Then he began to observe him closely, even sniffing several times during the process.

Eventually, he came to the conclusion that the young man was not a speaker.

The Whisperers are a bunch of fanatical religious lunatics, a group of well-trained warriors who would never fall into fear so easily. In fact, they are so fanatical that they don't even know what fear is.

What's more, this person is too young, and he even has a smell that belongs only to mortals. Bjorn reached out and picked up a piece of entrail in the other's screams, looking at his bones.

He weighed the vertebrae with two fingers, then reached down and pulled his lower body and struck the scarlet armor with his fist. After doing this, Björn raised his axe.

"Fuck off! Monster! I don't care about you! The young man cried. Get away from me. ”

"Shut up." Bjorn looked at him amusedly. "You can wear their armor and hang their coats of arms, but you are not them. I'm going to kill some of the real Speakers, you know, traitor? ”

He wields an axe.

Blood splattered, and he stood up and began to sniff the darkness, trying to find the scent of the wolves.

It has never been the case that a member of a wolf pack would never fear that he would one day become separated from his tribe – until now.

Bjorn realized in his distraught that he could only smell the stench of the subspace, and that he could not trace his race. And it's been a long time since the vengeful spirits started to land, at least past.

Wait, how long has it been? Björn frowned.

"Time? Time?! He growled again, looking even more agitated.

He couldn't keep his sanity, because he realized that time was chaotic. More importantly, what about the sons of Horus? Where did those damned traitors go?

We're in Terra while they're here. They're there too.

It can't be like this. Björn told himself. So he bent down and began to look for what he needed.

He found a blaster with the mark of an eight-pointed star engraved on it, as well as three full magazines. Bjorn destroyed the mark with his fist, and then walked into the darkness with his gun.

He's going to go on a solo hunt, and it doesn't matter, because he's in Terra—there's no way he's going to do it alone.

However, fate seems to be happy to play a joke on him.

After minutes or hours or years of walking, Björn stopped, and he saw a . people, while the other party is struggling in the collapsed ruins.

It was a blind man, with empty eyelids, and a rare Astarte blind man—he was wearing no armor, but a cloth robe, and he was doing his best to prop up his back and protect a book beneath him.

"Idiot!" Bjorn cursed angrily and walked over to pull him out, but he didn't forget to take the book out of his hand.

The blind man staggered to his feet, gasped for silence for a few seconds, and suddenly asked, "Wild bear, is that you?" ”

"It's Bjorn."

"What?"

"It's Bjorn, the bear is Bjorn, you idiot nerd."

"No, you don't understand—" The blind man waved his arm and took the book from his hand. "—I swore to Lord Ruth that I would protect the book."

"So?"

The blind man turned his head in Bjorn's direction in a daze.

"So?" Bjorn repeated, looking impatient. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you stay on board? ”

"Yes, it should be, but"

The blind man, or rather, Azek Ahriman, a thousand sons, frowned slowly.

"Something, no, a demon. The demons of subspace have attacked your ship, and I hear the sounds of battle everywhere. I also wanted to fight, but a violent impact made me faint. ”

He kept his mouth shut, looking a little ashamed. Bjorn looked down at the crippled Astarte, who had not shown mercy at the time, and did not regret it at the moment, but felt more irritated.

"You can't fight." He said coldly. "You're already a wreck."

Azek Ahriman opened his mouth and hesitantly raised his hand, a flash of lightning slowly blooming from his fingertips. It had barely taken shape, and in less than half a second, Bjorn kicked him to the ground, and the axe was already on Ahriman's neck.

"If you dare to use it, I'll kill you right away." Björn said. "Don't forget why your father died."

"I want to help!" Ahriman immediately roared. "I can help!"

"Come on." Bjorn scoffed. "Help? Have you forgotten what happened to the last time you helped? Your father's death, and the fall of your legion, are inseparable from you, you-"

"-What are you doing?" A voice asked. "Put your hands up."

Bjorn jerked his head back to see a tall warrior in blood-stained gold armor slowly approaching behind him with a sword. But it wasn't him who spoke, but another Astarte in tattered purple-gold armor.

The lone wolf narrowed his eyes, his nose twitched a few times, and suddenly asked, "Saul Tavitz?" Saul Tavitz, son of the emperor? ”

"Exactly." The man said. "Who are you?"

Björn grinned.

"I've never fucking missed you proud bastards so much!" He laughed. "I'm Björn! Björn of the third company of the wolf pack! ”

There is also a chapter pinch.

(End of chapter)