Othere Wodmek, Rune Chaplain of the Space Wolves' 5th Great Company, crushed gravel beneath his mechanical leg as he strode through the ruins with his head held high.
[All evil Wizards should be destroyed.
Today, it was the Thousand Sons and Prospero.
Before long, it would be the Shadow of Order and Nimrod—and Sanchez!] He clenched the Golden Staff in his hand.
Wodmek's cold gaze suddenly shifted to the Tactical Interface.
Rows of iron-gray Runes rapidly vanished.
Hundreds of crimson Runes swept past in an instant before finally turning into crimson numbers: [425!]
[The Thousand Sons have joined the battle?] Wodmek thought. The 5th Great Company's losses had instantly surpassed all losses suffered since the Wolf pack's landing.
Such casualties could never have been caused by mortals. They had to be the result of evil sorcery.
As he pondered this, the communications channel suddenly rang with the roar of his Wolf Lord, Amrodi Skarsen Skarsenson.
"Brothers—all of you—attack—"
Blizzard-like static interference flooded the entire communications channel.
Wodmek frowned deeply and raised his head, his blood-yellow eyes fixed on the distance.
A foul glow of sorcery expanded toward him as swiftly as foam.
Wodmek raised a hand and gripped a Wolf Tooth Talisman on his body as the ominous sorcerous radiance swept over him.
Despite the rune protection of the Fenris Forge, he still tasted bitter metal in his throat.
"Ptui!"
Wodmek spat.
Cold light flickered in his blood-yellow eyes. The inability to coordinate attacks would weaken the Ultramarines, Iron Hands, and Iron Warriors, but the Wolf pack possessed sufficient autonomy and experience in fighting independently.
He looked toward the towering flames and continued onward.
After taking only two steps forward, Wodmek suddenly stopped.
He spun around and looked back in the direction from which he had come.
"My lord?" the