Little Captain (Part 2)

"Hey!"

"Report in—what's the situation over there?"

"Sir! They're all heading your way, those Motorcycle Units!"

"All of them!"

"Looks like the Sulfa people weren't lying after all!"

Kasgar glanced back at the countless black dots roaring behind him and barked into the communicator.

"Evade the main Sulfa force ahead. Kite them with the tactics I taught you. Get the refugees to Karax Fortress first—don't worry about me."

"Sir, we can break away, but you—"

"I said, don't worry about me!"

Kasgar shouted emphatically into the communicator, then turned a grim face toward the two children cradled in his arms.

Abandoning the children to ensure the main force's survival—on paper, it was the optimal choice.

But he had promised Fulgrim, promised all the people of Karax, that he would bring every refugee safely to their destination.

If he started haggling over a promise like that, how could he, Kasgar, stand among the Third Legion as a model for all?

How could he speak of perfection?

Besides.

These two children were far more than they seemed.

Kasgar's Master-crafted motorcycle far outclassed the Sulfa people's scrap heaps; shaking off pursuit was hardly a challenge for him.

"Here, fasten this strap around yourself—yes, just like that."

He leaned down and spoke softly to the children.

Once both kids were secured to him, he finally freed his hands to leave those black dots farther and farther behind.

"Kasgar, this bike is so, so fast."

"Fast?"

Kasgar grinned.

With Corleon's giggling exclamation, the motorcycle's speed surged again.

"Wait till you ride a starship—it'll be even faster!"

"A starship's faster than this?"

"Of course!"

The sky was clear, the desert endless.

Wind howled, scenery blurred past.

A lone rider, heart soaring free.

He was starting to understand the Khan a little.

Riding fast—what a thrill!

But of course, at this perfect moment, something filthy had to ruin the mood.

Kasgar spotted a few Sulfa people converging on him from the left front.

"Kids, close your eyes for a bit."

He drew his blade.

"Prophet! That bastard's got what we need and he's getting away—can't catch him!"

"Do not panic."

"If a lost lamb wanders far, it will one day return to us."

"Then what do we do? Just sit here?"

The Prophet nodded and said no more.

Corleon was obedient.

He only felt the bike swerve suddenly.

Then warm liquid, mixed with curses, splattered onto his head.

A dull explosion followed from behind.

"Alright, you can open your eyes now."

Kasgar wiped the blood from his face.

According to the bike's onboard detector, that was the last pursuer nearby.

Now, with no enemies within a kilometer behind him, he had successfully broken through the Sulfa encirclement.

All that remained was to take a slight detour back to Karax Fortress, and the escape would be complete.

It should have been.

If not for the sudden mass of coalescing sandstorm not far ahead.

Impossible.

This was absolutely impossible.

Kasgar's mood plummeted to rock bottom.

Fulgrim's weather estimates could not have been this gravely wrong.

No waves without wind.

With a clear sky and no strong winds or thermal convection, how could a sandstorm arise from nothing?

Not to mention that Chemos's sandstorms were far more terrifying than ordinary ones.

The "sand" here was not merely sand.

Massive amounts of toxic substances and metal fragments from Chemos's surface would be swept up by the storm, producing destructive force capable of reducing a person to bones in seconds.

Charging straight into the sandstorm meant only death.

Without a doubt, he could only turn back.

Retrace his steps.

"Kids, close your eyes again."

Watching the approaching Motorcycle Unit draw near, Kasgar tucked the Ignition Pistol into his waist and drew the blade he had just sheathed.

The situation was grim.

He had to conserve ammunition.

The distant sandstorm showed signs of intensifying, and the Sulfa people's pursuit from behind was closing in—

He had to finish this quickly!

He stomped on the accelerator, and amid the children's startled cries, he sped toward the Sulfa people's encirclement.

"By My Lord's grace, the dream shall soon manifest."

"We are His chosen and His forsaken. If He looks upon us, He shall grant us joy; if He abandons us, even honey brings no delight. His transformations are like dreams and illusions, like dew and lightning—thus should they be regarded—"

The Oracle began murmuring again.

"Ah!!!"

Suddenly, she let out a violent scream. Countless frosts coalesced, and innumerable waves of surreal distortion accompanied her, tearing at her body.

"Oracle?"

Seeing this, everyone froze in place, unsure of what to do.

"By My Lord's grace, the dream shall soon manifest. By My Lord's grace, the dream shall soon manifest. By My Lord's grace, the dream shall soon manifest."

Overlapping, endless voices of dreams and nothingness echoed in their ears.

"Oracle, stop chanting! You're driving our men mad!"

The leader covered his ears and roared.

But what he didn't know was that their Oracle, Shaman, and Prophet—

Had never spoken a single word.

Kasgar had a bad feeling.

After slaying another Sulfa motorcyclist who drew close with his sword, he pulled out the Ignition Pistol again.

He aimed at the largest vehicle chasing him—the one most like a Greenskin's scrap heap, carrying the most junk.

Strike the leader to capture the king!

If he killed the Sulfa people's leader here, these scavengers would scatter like birds and beasts!

With that thought, he aimed the gun at the rapidly spinning tire of the Armored Vehicle.

Hum!

Hit!

Kasgar silently cheered.

In the years of training under Fulgrim, besides swordsmanship, he had never slacked off in marksmanship.

Even while moving at high speed, Kasgar was confident he could hit his target.

His confidence was not unfounded.

The Ignition Beam was indeed heading straight for the vehicle's fragile tire.

But just as it was about to strike, a translucent barrier suddenly appeared in front of the vehicle, dissolving the beam completely.

Damn it!

These scavengers even had a Wizard among them!

Wizards, also known as Psykers.

These individuals possess an innate talent for Warp sorcery, able to harness the energy of the Warp to create Force Shields, unleash lightning or flames, manipulate objects, and control minds. A powerful Psyker can even blow up an entire star.

They are extremely troublesome opponents.

Better get out of here first!

Seeing that his attack failed to achieve the desired effect, Kasgar quickly turned around, planning to circle back for another strike.

But just as he was about to hit the throttle, the motorcycle suddenly slowed down.

As if pinned to the ground by an invisible, crushing weight!

"Damn it, move—ah!"

Kasgar stomped on the accelerator with all his might, but the once-speeding motorcycle now could only "crawl" at an agonizingly slow pace!

The Wizard's psychic gravity field had pressed both him and the bike heavily into the earth.

Kasgar, who possessed no psychic talent whatsoever, had no means to resist such a powerful Warp sorcery.

And with such a golden opportunity right before him, his opponent naturally wouldn't give up the chase.

The Prophet stuck his head out of the Armored Vehicle's roof hatch with an eerie, puppet-like motion, muttering under his breath.

A moment later, a bolt of lightning, brimming with blasphemous energy and shimmering with a bizarre, multicolored glow, shot straight toward the slowed-down Kasgar!

This is bad.

Facing the rapidly approaching Psychic Lightning with no way to dodge, Kasgar could only silently curse his luck.

Just as he was about to fall into despair, a tiny, almost invisible spark of gold and red began to burn at the center of his brow—without him even noticing.