The poet slowly stood up.

The flame that had been lit in the middle of the woodland illuminated the side of his face and made the shriveled eyelids visible. He was tall, but also thin, dressed in a thick cotton coat and a plush felt hat, dressed like an old man.

But if you look closely, you will see that he is not old at all, and that face is even young. But that old state really spread out from the depths of his bone marrow, turning his whole body into a dull state.

"What are you looking at, blind one?" One of the warriors by the fire asked.

His crimson hair, unkempt, was draped in a mess behind his head to resemble sideburns. Not to mention the beard, which is almost all knotted on the chin and face. Food scraps and 'treasures' such as alcohol are hidden inside.

In contrast to this honor was his armor, which was not as shiny as new, but it was also carefully cared for. The fur cloak and tooth ornaments were hung in just the right place, adding a bit of grace to its owner, even though his owner was lying on the ground without a figure.

"You should know you can't see, right?" The warrior grinned and asked in a very flirtatious tone.

His actions provoked a cold stare from the other man at the fire. He slowly stood up, his hand pressed against a knife at his waist.

"Oh"

The red-haired warrior raised half of his eyebrows and stood up from the ground with a wink, but did not draw his sword. Instead, he walked up to his companion and patted him on the shoulder.

"What are you trying to slap his ass so hard for, Ragnar Thunder Fist?"

Lei Quan didn't answer, so he began to chatter.

"Will this blind man with many tongues give you the slightest benefit? Everyone knows that he doesn't do anything every day, just writes books and tells stories endlessly, but none of these stories are true, and only the leader of Bjorn is willing to treat him as a brother. ”

He leaned closer to Ragnar Thunderfist and blinked at the latter's coldness, not forgetting to lower his voice: "Also, you should know that he is not a wolf, right?" ”

With a flash of cold light, the red-haired warrior's throat was pressed against a sharp knife. The young Thunderfist Bloodclaw hissed at the red-haired warrior with its furious face, his voice growing more frantic in the cold wind.

"You insulted the lone wolf!"

"I didn't."

The red-haired warrior raised his hands quite solemnly, and there was no smile on his face.

"I'd never do such a thing, I'm a clown, I'm a fool, but I'm not ignorant and disrespectful, Thunderfist."

"Put down the knife, Ragnar." So said the blind man.

He was still looking at the sky, the flames dancing on his body, but his whole expression had somehow become very worried.

The next second, he quickly turned around, picked up a wooden staff from the fire, and limped to the other side of the fire with it, lifted a large and heavy backpack from the ground, and carried it on his back.

The snow sank because of this, and the woodland floor, which had long been frozen into ice bricks, actually made a slight cracking sound at this moment. The two young wolves glanced at each other, picked up their weapons, and walked over to the blind man.

"What's the situation, blind?" Lucas asked softly, and asked an old proverb. "What's at work in the dark?"

"It's your mother." The 'blind man' scolded rudely back. "Call me blind again, and I'll let you crawl back to the lair, Lucas."

"Satellites down? Or was the ship down? ”

Ragnar Thunderfist made two other guesses, a sword engraved with Fenris's exorcism rune in his hand reflecting the cold night light.

The sky filled with aurora was endlessly changing, but the two meteors were conspicuous and abnormal, like disaster stars tearing through the sky, and they fell straight towards the other end of Fenris.

"Neither." The blind man said briefly. "Ragnar, you and I, we're on our way. Lucas, run back to the lair for me, and tell Bjorn and the head wolf that we have a visitor, honored guest. ”

"Why me?" Lucas asked.

The blind man did not answer, but only made a gesture on his chest. So the red-haired prodigal immediately restrained his joking heart, and he returned to seriousness, with an axe in one hand and a pistol in the other, and turned away, but still did not forget to howl under the moonlit night.

"I know that I will correct my mistakes!"

Ragnar let out a cold snort as he looked away. He stepped to keep up with the blind man, who was lame but still walking fast, and asked a question again.

"Why do we have to take him, poet? He's a natural bastard. ”

"Lucas does have some cynical qualities, but that doesn't mean he's not one of you, Ragnar. He is also a wild wolf, and he is very qualified. ”

The blind man's answer made Ragnar a little incredulous, and he sniffed the woodland as he whispered.

"But he . . He's been with you for fourteen years, poet. He had no talent for being a warrior at all. ”

"Who told you that?" The blind poet asked without looking back.

"I'm not going to snitch."

"Whatever you want, Ragnar. But I'll tell you one thing, Lucas is not only a warrior, but also a very fierce warrior. Just because he's been with me for a long time doesn't mean he's not qualified. In fact, it's the opposite, it's because I have so much to teach him, that's why he's been around for so long. ”

Ragnar let out a muffled snort in silence, as if someone had broken the bridge of his nose with a frontal punch, and he looked extremely painful. His face was twitching, and he clearly didn't expect such an answer.

But the poet's words did not end there, he continued: "Don't envy him, so are you." Your wolf lord has entrusted you to me because he has high expectations for you, and you must not fail him, or you will surely face a disgraceful death. ”

He finally turned around, his face glistening in the moonlight, and the fire had long since been extinguished in the cold wind.

"Trust me." He said in a deep voice. "No one wants to die in shame and grief."

Next, there was nothing to say all the way. They stepped out of the woodland and onto the snowy fields, and the dangerous beasts and ferocious apex predators watched them depart, rarely without attacking, as if they too had been captured by the two meteors that streaked across the sky.

The wind and snow intensified, and even the young wolf began to feel a little ridiculous - it was not that he had never experienced a blizzard, but how could it be?

At this moment, the snowflakes had turned into blades and were brutally cutting his cheeks, and the blood was frozen into ice slag and fell on the armor and creaked. The wind was so strong that he had to dig deep into the snow with his sword to stabilize the swaying as he walked, otherwise he would be blown down or blown away.

Such a terrible force of nature, but the poet walked leisurely. His wooden staff was always able to sink smoothly into the rock-solid snow, and his own pace was always in an eerie balance that was close to falling but was as steady as ever.

Ragnar stared at his boots and began to wonder what kind of warrior the blind man was before he was disabled. A few minutes later, his ramblings came to an end, as the blind man stopped.

This, of course, was the main reason, and in addition to this there was a secondary reason, a huge depression that appeared in front of them.

The snow crackled with the invisible flames, and it was aged, and the hardness was comparable to that of ceramic steel, and all these ice bricks that could be fired head-on with anti-explosive shells turned into ice water.

Two icefield elk, who don't know whether they are alive or dead, licked the tiny snow next to the pothole, and when they saw them coming, they did not choose to escape, which was extremely unreasonable.

Ragnar clenched his sword and stood nervously in front of the blind man.

"Stand back." The blind poet scolded. "You can't even see where the enemy is, and why are you standing in front of me with a sword in your hand?"

Ragnar was slightly stunned, his nose twitched twice, and then he turned back suddenly, and the sword in his hand pierced through the wind and snow, and accurately hit an outstretched palm.

Two bits of dark red light suddenly lit up in the wind and snow, one thousands of times colder than them, as if the voice of Mokai himself resounded in Ragnar's ears.

"This wolf of yours owes polish, Lord Ahriman"

"Nobody owes polish."

Azek Ariman replied in a calm tone by the space wolf bard known as the Blind Man or the Blind Poet.

Then he stretched out his staff and patted it on the body of Ragnar's sword, which was still clenched.

"Can you let him go?" He asked. "You also know that wolves are always reckless and wild. They are very different from you, esteemed soul hunters. ”

The words fell, and the colossal power that had always been coming from the tip of Ragnar's sword finally disappeared at this moment. The young Bloodclaw immediately pressed the manic impulse in his bones, turned his sword into its sheath, and stood behind Ahriman.

Without saying a word, he stared at the giant who was gradually emerging in the wind and snow, and his heart was full of shock. He's sharp, and all wild wolves are sharp. However, he had just noticed that this man was approaching him.

This means that if he had been hostile, he would have died many times.

I can die, but nothing can happen to the blind. Ragnar thought angrily. To do otherwise would be to live up to Ruth's blood, and to fail Bjorn

"Why scold me?" The hunter replied, clad in scripture flapping his armor in the wind and snow, but showing no sign of detachment.

"I did it for a reason. I have no ill will towards him, in fact, I am protecting him, Lord Ahriman. If it hadn't been for me, he would probably have been seriously injured. ”

What do you mean? Ragnar frowned, but suddenly felt a pang of discord.

He looked around and realized where the discord was coming from—the wind and snow had somehow stopped. And they don't stop, they stay there as if time stood still.

At this moment, even the wind has its own shape, and the ice edges that are blown away are the direction in which they are about to go.

The young bloodclaw twitched his nose restlessly, smelling an extremely thick smell of blood coming from behind him, but he couldn't turn his head, he couldn't even move his eyes.

He stared closely at the ice edges that were about to fly, and through the reflection of the aurora on them, he saw a pair of dark eyes stuck in the white bones of Sensen. Its owner, dressed in a black robe, was a tall skeleton that was definitely tall among ordinary people.

It was staring at him, not blinking.

Ragnar didn't know what to do, and his mind froze. At the critical moment, it was a force from his right shoulder that knocked him to the ground.

The blood claw fell to the ground heavily, just in time to see the blind man's withdrawn hand, full of astonishment. Before he could say anything, he saw the blind man who had been telling the story of the wolves for 10,000 years bowed his head deeply.

"A thousand sons, Azek Ariman, heir of Magnus, the Crimson King, salute you, Great Darkness."

It doesn't have to be that way."

It took a long time for the skeleton, known as the Great Darkness, to give an answer, his voice hoarse like a ghost in the night.

Bloodclaw clenched his sword, never more eager for the exorcist rune to work.

A force came from his shoulder, pulling him up, and Astarte, known as the Hunter, gently stretched out his right hand, grabbed him, and then patted him on the cheek.

A chill passed through his hand armor, almost freezing Ragnar to death, but it also made his mind completely blind.

He bared his teeth and glared at the man, and the hunter returned with a calm gaze and bowed his head slightly.

"You will be glorified for it." He said. "Even though you don't know who you're standing on yet."

"Who? You? A villain who hides his head? Ragnar laughed angrily, so defiantly. I don't think you're going to bring me any glory, even if I tear your neck open. ”

The hunter let go of his hand with a low chuckle from under his helmet and sent Ragnar to Ahriman's side.

At the same time, a dazzling searchlight came from the sky, and a fighter plane suddenly pierced the stagnant wind and snow and appeared in front of them.

The red-haired Lucas's face loomed behind the open cabin door, but Ragnar didn't pay any attention to him. His attention was completely drawn to a muscular figure standing in front of the cabin.

The man was cloaked in a heavy cloak, his power armor was all buried underneath, his hair was full of white hair, and his beard was clanging with animal tooth charms, and his eyes contained some kind of intense emotion that Ragnar couldn't understand.

He jumped off the fighter plane, fell vertically from a height of more than ten meters, startled a pool of deep snow, and rushed towards here.

——

"Commander!" Orak Kataks roared. "You must come back and continue the ceremony!"

"Go to your ritual!" Sevita scolded. "The old antiques at home are all lost, and what kind of rituals are still going on! Tell the whole ship to get ready, and let all the wargroup commanders come and gather with me! I'll only give them five minutes, and I won't wait for it! ”

He ran wildly, his body covered in blood wrapped in a white sheet, and psionic light leaked out from under his skin, illuminating the darkness in the hallway.

The Nightblades watched in amazement as their warband leader rushed by, and they just wanted to follow, but they were firmly nailed to the spot by the cold order of the think tank director.

"The battle leader is delirious now, don't listen to him!"

"You're delirious!" Sevita turned around and shouted insults at the director of the think tank who was very optimistic about him. "I think you're dazed, Orlac! Will I be delirious? I've never been so awake in my life! ”

Seconds later, they burst into an office. Sevita waved her hand breathlessly, and a huge amount of psionic energy poured out from the tips of her fingers, putting all the files around her in place, and even the data boards were stacked back into a corner of the room.

Orak stood behind him, his blood-stained hands still trembling slightly, still stubbornly pinching spell gestures, unwilling to interrupt the ritual.

"This ritual is very important, Captain!" He shouted anxiously. "If you give up halfway, it will have a huge impact on you! This is what the mourning bird himself said! ”

"For Phil Zaloster's sake, then let them come over here and do it for me!" Sevita roared. "I'll give you five minutes!"

Without saying a word, Orak immediately distracted himself from the Nightfall, and the darkness surged, and the other four think tanks came out of it with psionic light, surrounded Sevita, and began to smear characters on him with blood.

The Nightblade Warband Leader took the burning pain of the words as he turned his head and roared again into the hallway outside.

"Four minutes to go!"

His voice made the Nightfall Horn tremble, and the readings rose again. Predictably, tonight is sure to be a nightmare for the sailors on the Nightfall.

Two minutes later, Kaul Sahola, Scaradraek and Sheikher Leng were all in full force.

Especially the Lord of the Crimson Claws, with a murderous face and two giant axes in his hands, he looks like he wants to completely tear someone or something apart in the next second.

"The instructor ran away." Sevita said succinctly. "And the hunter is among them, it's obvious that this mystic goddamn bastard has done something without us, I don't blame him, but I blame myself!"

He took a deep breath and spoke again.

"There's nothing more to say, I know the instructor for himself, and he's only going to go alone when he's decided to do something dangerous."

"Tell me, I want every child of the night to be ready for full-scale war, I don't know what the instructor is going to do, but we'll follow him, understand? What we couldn't do 10,000 years ago, we must never do again in 10,000 years! In the name of Conrad Coetzes, we will fight to the death! ”

No one answered, only three faces with different expressions, but all extremely serious.

Sevita's orders began to be passed from ship to ship, and the fleet, which was considered a medium-sized fleet at 30K, was immediately filled with an aura of slaughter, and while most of the ships were brought by the Judgment Blade, they were also the Children of the Night.

The presence of gloomy Gothic buildings and churches makes the battleship look like a Nostramo floating in space, and the fury of the black-eyed people is about to sweep across the galaxy

Until a voice came from the door of the room, it was a mortal voice, and it even seemed a little lacking in breath.

"Uh" Avenger Tujea took a deep breath and pulled his cloak from his body. "This, Larhe, says it has something to tell you, Captain of the Sevita War."

Sevita stared at him for two seconds, then strode over, surrounded by the think tanks, reaching out and grabbing Larch's silky surface.

It danced immediately, but it didn't leave Tujea, or even absorb the blood from Sevita's body. After a few seconds, Yago Sevitalyon's face grew strange.

He closed his eyes, let out a long breath, then took another deep breath before letting go of his hand, but then slammed Tujea's shoulder. He mastered his strength so well that he was pulled over, but he didn't feel the slightest pain.

"You tell this bastard, why didn't it come and tell me earlier?" Sevita asked in a gruff voice.

Tujea immediately did so, paraphrasing the language. The cloak danced in the next second, looking extremely excited.

"What does it say?" Sevita asked.

Tujea was silent for a few seconds, then replied, "It says you're an idiot, Captain." ”

"Tell it, I'll shove it into the stinking gutter of the Fenris!"

The avenger coughed twice and did as he was told. This time, however, the cloak rose to its feet in a rage, enveloping him from behind him, forming a hideous armor that looked five points similar to the one someone had worn 10,000 years ago.

Sevita sneered and pushed Tujea into the hallway with a backhand.

"It's your misfortune to put it on the table, avenger!" He shouted. "You'll know how nasty this guy really is! Good bye! ”

Darkness swelled up, completely enveloping Tujea and Larhe, who were full of shock and bewilderment, and sent them to the other end of the Nightfall. Yago Sevitaleon couldn't help but laugh out loud at this moment.

"Commander, are you really insane?" The director of the think tank asked worriedly.

"Nope." Sevita said. "I just remembered some really interesting things, and overall good things."

He turned around and said to the three battle group leaders, "Lift the combat readiness alarm, and then draw elite men, change into Terminator armor, take the company flag, and assemble on the boarding deck of the Nightfall." We're going to have to meet the space wolves. ”

The three of them looked at each other.

Sevita sighed, covered her face, and collapsed into the chair he had been sitting in for 10,000 years.

"Farce." He said so in Nostramo.

Five seconds later, someone chuckled in the dark.

"Sai, this is not a farce. I understand your tiredness, but from here on, those who really know him will know that Karil Lohals is back. Isn't that monumental? ”

Sevita jerked her head up, and found that the office, the warlord, and his think tank were gone, leaving only pure darkness and the Night Lord standing before him.

"No, I don't see any commemorative significance."

Conrad Coetzes smiled and replied softly.

"yes, I can't see it, but he's always going in a good direction, and that's enough. You haven't seen the runaway Carlil Lohals, but, believe me, there is no second person in the world who is more cruel than he was then. Revenge never makes sense. ”

"Isn't he out of control now?" Sevita asked sincerely. "Are you serious, father?"

"Nope." Said the Night King. "He's even quite sane."

The darkness dissipated, and Sevita squinted her eyes silently, and suddenly said to the director of his think tank, "Do you want to hear a joke?" ”

He got a wistful sigh.

(End of chapter)