"Who?"

Björn heard Saul Tavitz ask.

His smile quickly fell, and he had something he wanted to say—not civilized, but he resisted the urge at all.

It was obviously not wise to scold an emperor on such an occasion, and he quickly turned around and aimed the blade of his left hand at another person in the darkness.

The man glanced at him, but the sword in his hand was still firmly pointed at Ahriman on the ground, and there was not a drop of blood on the sword.

"Sigismund" Björn whistled. "What day is this? You're still there? ”

"I've been there." Sigismund said calmly. "And I will always be."

Björn glanced at his breastplate, which was densely covered with claw marks and dents. With just one part destroyed, it was not hard for him to imagine the brutal fighting the defenders had endured before they reached Terra.

"Put down your sword." Saul Tavitz said behind him. "It's really a wolf, the throne is above, what will happen below? Another ship crashed in Terra? ”

"Don't call me that." Bjorn looked back and said. "It's a pack of wolves, not wolves—"

"—Etter, not the lair." Saul Tavitz picked up his words and smiled softly. "I remember it all, Bjorn."

The lone wolf looked at him strangely.

"I see." Björn said.

They sat together, a piled bonfire burning in front of them. It was an unwise idea to set up a camp under the current circumstances, but Björn agreed, because just now, Saul Tavitz had pointed out to him their mission.

Björn decided to join them, and he didn't need a reason. After all, what reason is there to compare to the nobility and honor that comes from fighting for humanity?

Furthermore, while it would be unwise to set up camp when the enemy was unknown, it would be a different matter if they were to protect the Torch.

Anyway, there aren't many of them, so it's better to light a bonfire in the dark and attract the enemies. Still, there was one thing that Björn cared about.

He couldn't help but care.

He looked at the warrior named Thunder, who was now leaning on a stone that had been brought and half-lying on the ground, slowly sharpening the knife in his hand.

If asked, Björn would very simply admit that he liked the knife in his hand very much.

The knife was a short combat knife rather than a main combat weapon, but its wide blade and brutal arc proved to be very good at slashing. Moreover, its owner also maintains it very well.

Bjorn stared at Thunder Sharpening his knife without blinking, as if he had forgotten all about what had happened not long ago. Of course, this is not the case.

"What are you looking at?" Thunder asked without raising his head. "I don't think the wolf is such an animal that likes to join in the fun."

"I'm watching you sharpen your knives." Bjorn decided to tell the truth. "At the same time, I was still wondering how I was going to get this knife out of my hand."

Thunder finally glanced up at him.

"Take?" He asked, his voice soft.

"Yes." Bjorn nodded, his voice equally soft.

"I'm afraid you won't be able to hold it until I die." Thunder grinned. "Also, if that's what you've been thinking about for a long time and finally coming up with a conversation topic, you're really not a good chatter."

Saul Tavitz looked up from the monotonous task of counting bullets and took a moment to observe them. He eventually came to the conclusion that there was no need to care.

After all, in a way, Thunder and Bjorn are the same kind of people.

Despite not being together for long, Tavitz believes that the Thunder have a survival philosophy that coincides with Fenris's wolf pack. There's no way they'll be able to fight, and even if they do, he'll be able to watch a good show.

Besides, he now has another thing to do.

"What is this book called?" He asked the disabled and blind Azek Ahriman, with no sympathy in his eyes.

Bjorn didn't hide what the thousand sons had done, in fact, they didn't hide anything from each other. Except for Thunder, everyone told a story or two about the past.

Regardless of why, few people can say no to a wild wolf, especially around a campfire. Björn took the place of Ahriman, who didn't want to speak, and said his share as well.

As a result, Ahriman received a new nickname, blurted out by Thunder after hearing the story. Surprisingly, there is nothing insulting about this nickname.

"It doesn't have a name." Ahriman, who looked down and flipped through the book, replied.

A blind man bowed his head and flipped through a book—a paradox, but Tavitz was too lazy to make a fuss, though the spine-edged book had called out to him more than once.

He had sworn that he would be avenger, not an avenger.

"That's right." The Emperor's Son nodded with disinterest, and looked at Sigismund again, but the movement of his hand was not slow, and the bombs were still passing through his hand armor one by one.

"Have you made contact with the company?"

"Nope." Sigismund said.

He's wearing his helmet again now, and he's busy trying to use the communication channel at the moment.

There is no doubt that this helmet was recovered from a certain war dead. There is no shortage of such things on the battlefield, and this has been the case since ancient times. However, for the Astartes, such a dilemma is still very rare.

In other words, how cruel is the war that can put the Astartes in such a predicament?

After a few minutes, the Imperial Fist took off the helmet he had picked up, turned it around, and placed it on the ground facing him. He had turned on the eyepiece's recording function, and Tavitz knew what he was going to do, so he quietly closed his mouth and didn't speak again.

"This is Sigismund." He said. "I don't want to talk about my title or military position, it doesn't make sense. I'm a member of the Fist of the Empire, that's all. I would like anyone who receives this video or audio recording to set off immediately in the direction of the Torch, we need support. Any form of support is fine. Civilians or soldiers, armed with weapons or courage—the Torch needs you, the Empire needs you. If you can't make out the direction, close your eyes in the dark for a while, and you will see the torch, trust me. ”

He picked up the helmet, put it back on again, and began to send.

"What a terrible speaker." Tavits heard the crippled Chiko say. "But what he said is true."

"What's true?" Tavitz asked.

"The matter of the Star Torch."

Azek Ahriman raised his head slightly, his empty eyelids quite uncomfortable. He used his voice to orient Tavitz, who was now facing him.

"I don't have eyes, but I can still feel the brilliance. It's right behind us, isn't it? ”

"Yes." Tavitz said.

He closed his eyes, and in the silence of the darkness, the crackling of the fire was still distinct, as well as the sound of the other four breathing, which had no resemblance.

Sigismund's breathing sounded inside the helmet, dull and serious. Azek Ahriman breathed cautiously, like a fallen leaf. Bjorn's breath was long but savage, and the thunder was as sound as its name suggests, with each breath being the most pronounced, sometimes even loud.

Tavitz held his breath, and gradually, he heard a sound distinct from the sound of his breathing and his own heartbeat.

It was an extremely faint hum that shouldn't have been caught by anyone, but it fell into his ears. At the same time, with the appearance of this voice, a blazing golden pillar of fire also suddenly rose from the darkness, illuminating the world after he closed his eyes.

Saul Tavitz opened his eyes.

"Yes." He said to Ahriman. "It's right behind us, which means we're the last guard if no other reinforcements arrive."

As the words fell, he counted the last bomb, pressed it into the magazine, hung it on the belt, and slowly stood up.

There were only five men in this broken squad that did not deserve to be called an army, and one of them was blind, but at this moment, they all turned their attention to Saul Tavitz.

"I think we're going to hold it." Saul Tavits said. "After all, we have the Fist of the Empire, the Space Wolf, the Emperor's Son, and the Thousand Sons here—"

"—and me." Thunder said. "Thunder Warrior."

"So we're going to hold on here, and die here." Saul Tavitz picked up his words. "But it's not really a speech, after all, I'm not good at words. But I just want to say that if death does come, I will be honored to die with you. ”

"Are you sure you want to include him?" Bjorn asked meaningfully.

Saul Tavitz nodded solemnly, no one understood why he was so sure that Azek Ahriman would fight with them until the last moment - in fact, if Björn had given this speech, he wouldn't have even divided the Thousand Sons into combatants.

"I'm thankful for you, Company Commander Tavitz," Azek Ahriman took a deep breath. "But I cannot tarnish your glory, for what I have done is enough for me to die ten thousand times. I'm a man of no honor, and if I count it, I can even be classified as a traitor. What's more, I am not capable of fighting. ”

"So, would you like to die with us?" Sigismund asked suddenly.

Ahriman froze, and for a few seconds he was making a strange sound in his throat. Then, he nodded violently.

"Then that's enough." Tavitz said.

He closed his eyes and began to continue staring at the flaming spark. Deep down, he already knew the outcome of the battle, but he wouldn't accept it.

He didn't know how long this war would last, if reinforcements would arrive, and what the situation really would be in the outside world. But, to be honest, he didn't care about these things at all.

Just as Sigismund didn't care why he was able to get up from the siege of demons again and again, just as Thunder didn't care why he was able to call out the dark flames, just like Björn didn't care how many enemies might have, just like Azek Ariman didn't care about his disability and stood here.

— and Leon AlJohnson cares.

I'm sorry for being late, I still have a toothache after eating, and I'm writing slowly.

Also, the long Siege of Terra chapter is a last resort, and I certainly wouldn't say that I wanted to split up the story like the main story (I'd try it if I could, but I obviously couldn't), but I wanted to at least make it clear. Probably so, good dreams.

(End of chapter)