The More Pink They Wear, the Harder They Fight

"Brother! I knew you'd be all right!" Two Space Wolves armed with heavy bolters were hiding inside a visibly tilted, crumbling building.

They spotted Wodhaus. Amid the roar of gunfire, they voiced their brotherly affection while sending bolts into the torsos of hundreds of mutants darting through the ruins.

Wherever the bolts swept, there was nothing but shredded flesh and bloody mist. Yet this did not suppress the mutants' charge. Instead, it stirred their thirst for blood.

The Blood God did not care where blood came from or for whom it was shed. So long as there was blood, that was enough for him.

The suppressive fire lasted three seconds. Then the two Space Wolves swiftly changed positions, leaping from the shattered windows of the high-rise with their heavy bolters and smashing heavily into the ground.

A barrage of heavy artillery struck the building moments later, the shells delivering the final blow to the already teetering structure. Collapsing rubble sprayed in every direction.

The two Space Wolves burst from the dust and drew close to Wodhaus's group.

"This place is chaos. It's basically everyone fighting everyone else. The situation here is no different from dueling to the death in an arena," one Space Wolf said as he checked his heavy bolter.

Wodhaus nodded. He had already realized this while making his way through the ruins. The Khorne warriors' reckless, hopeless charges had made a proper battle between two armies impossible. Everyone had to struggle simply to survive.

"The day before yesterday, we had two Leman Russ tanks that had driven out from beneath the ash, along with a squad of Vostroyans. Now they've all gone to the Golden Throne," the other Space Wolf said coldly. In his eyes, mortals like Creed were already as good as dead.

A dazzling white