The son of the God-Emperor in Warhammer Fantasy

In late autumn, the chilly air and damp cold wind swept across the highlands of the gray mountains. The place was gloomy and wet, with a drizzle falling from the sky. The fragile canvas of the tents had many holes but still managed to fend off the rain.

Inside the tent, a weak flame crackled on a pile of wood. The people inside were sleeping soundly, lying on muddy, slippery grass with simple blankets, fully dressed.

Such favorable living conditions naturally belonged to the count's pikemen regiment.

The army was gradually approaching the Blackstone Outpost. Although there had been no large-scale battles along the way, there had been many small skirmishes. Scattered undead roamed the wilderness, and the knights' army crushed and eradicated them one by one. After defeating each small undead army, the knights would gather the soldiers and proclaim how they saved the country from the hands of the greenskins, chaos, and undead. They proudly displayed their courage in punishing the wicked. The young ranger knights, in particular, liked to criticize the serfs for their unchivalrous behavior and then ordered them to loot the corpses.

For income and survival, the serfs had no choice but to comply.

Outside, the sky was beginning to brighten with the first light of dawn.

Pikeman Raymond found himself unable to sleep. He got up, donned his gear—a sturdy breastplate, a blue and white tight-fitting suit, leather gloves, a pike, and a short knife at his waist. Noticing the weak flames in the fire, the young pikeman added a wet log to the fire, lifted the tent flap, and stepped outside.

He took a small square box from his pocket and began his morning prayer in the first light of dawn: "My Lord, God of Justice, your follower Raymond prays to you."

The young pikeman's brown hair was slightly disheveled, and his slightly tanned skin contrasted with his blue eyes. His face was healthy and ruddy, his mind a little foggy from waking up early, and there was an indescribable fervor. Just three days ago, he and his pike had tasted the first blood of an undead monster.

Opening the small box revealed a stone-carved statue of the God of Justice. Though not finely crafted, it depicted the god holding a warhammer and scales, its hollow eyes quietly watching Raymond.

"My Lord, God of Justice, I pray to you. With your blessing, I have made it through another day. As dawn arrives and darkness retreats, I know it is another day blessed by you."

"Today is my twentieth birthday. Thank you, my Lord, for your grace over the past twenty years, which has made me strong."

"I may still be weak, still feel fear, still stumble, but the power from your heavenly throne blesses me, giving me the courage to face everything. My loyalty remains steadfast. I serve you without fear of death or pain. My Lord, God of Justice, may you judge all with your warhammer of justice and balance all with your scales of fairness. I do not know the path of tomorrow, but I know you hold tomorrow and guide me."

"I will prove myself with my pike and my faith. May you grant me honor."

"Prayer finished." Raymond raised his head as the dawn light broke through the clouds. The entire knightly army camp had awakened, knights searching for their horses and squires, dwarf war machines slowly moving, plowing deep furrows in the muddy ground, and the loud sound of drums echoing across the land.

The rain intensified, and in the distance, the faint sound of the undead army's horns echoed. Raymond gripped his pike, knowing it wasn't an illusion. Small-scale battles had already been fought several times on the way from Gisoleaux to the Blackstone Outpost, and the soldiers were no longer unfamiliar with the undead.

"Good prayer, young man." A soldier in green, wearing a tricorn hat, approached Raymond. "So today is your birthday?"

"Yes, Mr. Bertrand." Raymond picked up his helmet, which had lost its plume in a previous battle. Wearing the plume-less helmet made him look bald, but he was genuinely grateful it was the plume and not his head that was lost.

"Happy birthday, soldier." Bertrand handed him a flask. "Imperial dark beer."

"Thank you." Raymond took the flask, drank a mouthful of the dark beer, and felt invigorated by its rich taste. He returned the flask to Bertrand. "I hope today won't be my last birthday."

"Heh." Bertrand shook his head, gesturing for Raymond to look around.

The army was assembling under the knights' orders. Four thousand knights shouted commands to prepare for battle, and the lords led their respective troops, shouting regimental numbers to gather their soldiers.

The soldiers of Bastogne, in red and yellow, the troops of Winford, in blue and white, the soldiers of Montfort, in black and white, and the armored dwarf army were all gathering in the dawn light.

Lords, knights, warriors, and serfs each had their roles.

The cold wind howled, and the white snow on the gray mountain peaks watched the knightly army. The majestic peaks had witnessed the story of the first knight king Arthur and the first Grail knight, Duke Marcus of Montfort, a thousand years ago and would now witness a new legend.

During the march, gusts of mountain wind continuously blew from the northeast towards the army. The horizon in the distance had become blurred. As the army advanced, the land gradually darkened, corrupted by the undead. The forest had withered under the influence of the vampire corruption, like dying old men huddled together.

The incoming mountain wind carried the smell of dead bones and the damp scent of graves. The upstream waters of the Grisomoré River rushed along the banks.

The undead army was near.

"Prepare for battle! Soldiers of the Count, you know your duties. You know what you must do. You enjoy the Count's wages, live in fine houses, benefit from tax exemptions in the Count's territory, and are respected by all. You know why this is!" Grail Knight and Ryan's standard-bearer, Armand, held Ryan's banner high and shouted to the serf soldiers, "Now, the time has come to repay the Count with your actions, for honor! For Ryan! For the gods you believe in! For your homeland!"

"Yes! Yes! For our homeland!" The soldiers raised their weapons and shouted.

Raymond scanned the military formation.

For honor, most of the knights, including Lord Ryan and Duke François, were gathered on the left wing. They were dressed magnificently, their formations orderly, and their lances bristled like a forest, forming the backbone of the army. Each group of ranger knights was led by a kingdom knight, and each group of kingdom knights was led by a Grail knight at the front line!

Grail knights, family crests, and banners depicting various heroic deeds fluttered in the drizzle. This splendid, solemn formation was the epitome of the Old World's mightiest knights.

The front of the central army consisted of numerous infantry regiments—pikemen, spearmen, swordsmen, and shield-bearers. The Imperial Free Militia formed phalanxes supported by numerous archers, crossbowmen, and dwarf gunners. Behind them, a group of waywatchers from the wood elves and dwarf thunderers and artillerymen stood proudly at the back of the line.

These hooded figures, who were always mysterious, could shoot arrows up to 300 meters!

On the right wing, King Belegar Ironhammer of the Angrund Clan swore that he and his army would fight for honor and never retreat.

From Count Ryan's female courtier, Elder Veronica Bernadotte, and her bright magical steed, the army received sufficient protection and confidence. Raymond swallowed, realizing his hands gripping the pike were trembling.

Damn it, not now, Raymond! Remember who gave you everything. Your mother and brother are waiting for you to return!

The young serf gripped his pike tightly and looked into the distance.

The undead appeared, as always. First came the numerous, tireless zombie hordes. Their formation was a mess, a horde of mindless beasts relying solely on numbers to win.

They can't break through our formation, Raymond instinctively thought, glancing at his comrades.

The solid formation was orderly, with distinct lines. The pikes and spears glistened in the morning light. The soldiers covered each other, breathing in the damp morning air, both nervous and tense as they tightly gripped their weapons. Soldiers shouted to boost morale.

The zombies' footsteps grew closer, their loud clamor, the stench of rotting corpses, and their mindless muttering overwhelmed Raymond's mind. He kept reminding himself not to worry about these zombies—they posed no threat. In his previous battles, he could easily handle five or six zombies alone.

"Hold steady! Soldiers, don't waste your ammunition and arrows on those zombies!" Kingdom Knight Hux's voice cut through the crowd. This knight, responsible for training, held high prestige among the infantry, especially with the authority granted by Duke François and Duke Furcad. He commanded all infantry: "Do not shoot! Do not fire at the zombie horde!"

The soldiers nodded in agreement. Under their control, the zombies, untouched by cannon fire or ranged attacks, approached the formation.

They were met by dense pike formations. The infantry loudly thrust their pikes into the zombies, slashing them into pieces, like cutting through cloth.

"Kill!" Raymond stood his ground, thrusting his pike to impale a zombie's head. His arm muscles flexed and strained with his movements.

Just like cutting meat, just like cutting meat.

Raymond tried to avoid the heavy guilt, silently reciting the God of Justice's name. "I can do it."

The zombie horde, as the knight lords had said, looked terrifying but were actually a bunch of weaklings. The serf infantry quickly realized they could easily handle the zombie horde. The zombies were slow and weak in combat.

The first and second waves of zombies posed no threat to the soldiers. The human and dwarf alliance's ranged weapons and guns hadn't fired once.

But the undead army wasn't limited to zombie hordes.

The enemy seemed to realize the zombies couldn't absorb damage, so from afar, the truly powerful troops began to appear.

Dozens of dire wolves, their mouths dripping with saliva, ran quickly. They cunningly hid behind the zombie horde, ready to feast on human flesh.

Behind them, several skeleton legions advanced slowly.

But the alliance was prepared. Mounted on his warhorse, Kingdom Knight Hux raised his lance. "First volley, fire!"

"Fire!!" Squad leaders and company captains shouted, and the crossbowmen and dwarf gunners obeyed, pulling their triggers at the dire wolves.

Hundreds of guns and crossbows fired together. The powder rounds hit first, engulfing the greediest dire wolves in flames. Then, the dense arrows followed, piercing the wolves.

The first volley drowned the entire dire wolf pack. When the volley ended, only three dire wolves, covered in arrows, survived.

The cannon fire roared next, the dwarf cannons' shells exploding within the skeleton warriors' dense formation, shattering the skeletons. The thunderous explosions made Raymond cheer, and the soldiers shouted in joy, every cannonball destroying dozens of skeletons, blasting them to pieces.

The soldiers' morale soared further as even the tomb guards couldn't withstand the dwarf cannons. One tomb guard, commanding the troops, was hit directly by a cannonball, shattering his seemingly indestructible armor and splitting his filthy body in two. The soul fire in his eyes extinguished, and his body collapsed.

"Nice!" Raymond shouted, using his pike to pierce a skeleton warrior's chest and decapitate another. The pikemen fought tirelessly, or rather, all the infantry faced the undead's assault. Amidst the cannon and gunfire, the crossbowmen and serf archers fired relentlessly, invoking the Lady of the Lake's name and shooting at their enemies!

However, mortal efforts were far from enough.

The undead's wails and screeches echoed at the base of the gray mountains, reverberating through the peaks. More skeleton warriors and tomb guards charged onto the battlefield. The shrill howls nearly drove Raymond mad. He could no longer hear his own breath. The pikeman barely pushed the enemies away, realizing the undead tide wasn't stopped by the powerful ranged firepower.

These undead knew no fatigue, no fear. They just advanced, the fallen pushing the ones behind forward, creating a relentless wave!

Thousands of undead began to overwhelm the human formations. The lines held firm, but every skeleton warrior or tomb guard caused the lines to waver. As gaps widened, the first serf infantry units began to break. Their pikes shattered, forcing them to face the rusty swords and rotting pikes of the skeleton warriors. The infantry fell back, many dying, others retreating slowly.

Human bodies seemed more fragile than the undead. Flesh was torn, organs ripped out, and serf infantry fell in droves. A single grave guard could slaughter half a dozen soldiers before being shot down.

The crossbowmen and archers continued raining arrows, the dwarf thunderers kept firing, and cannons covered the undead formations. But the undead army emerging from the horizon seemed endless.

"Ahhh!" A pikeman beside Raymond had his pike broken and was immediately stabbed by three spears—in the arm, chest, and abdomen. Blood covered the ground, and his body was torn apart in seconds.

"Die!" Raymond seized an opportunity to slash a skeleton warrior with his pike. The comrade's body was lost to the tide of corpses. The young soldier gave up on retrieving it, knowing he couldn't move. Another young pikeman immediately filled the gap.

Three seconds later, that pikeman was decapitated by a tomb guard, and another soldier stepped up.

Humans were using their bodies to resist the undead's onslaught.

The line was gradually retreating; they couldn't hold out much longer.

The count won't abandon us, Raymond believed firmly, despite his aching arms and the steady retreat. His comrades fell one by one, exhaustion permeating his body and soul.

The count won't abandon us. Gripping his pike tightly, Raymond executed a perfect thrust, killing an approaching dire wolf. He thought again.

"Toot!" A horn sounded from the west. Amidst the dense hoofbeats, Raymond's strained hearing caught a familiar sound, a speech filled with honor and faith.

The knights were ready to charge.

"Oh, I like this," the young soldier muttered. He was about to rally his comrades to join the knights' counterattack but was stunned by what he saw.

The undead formations also sounded identical horns, and a large group of undead cavalry entered the battlefield.

In the sky, a giant beast with terrifying features and wings spread wide breathed green fire towards the human army—Raymond didn't know its name but knew it wasn't on their side.

"Oh, my God, Justice above." Fear gripped Raymond's heart as he trembled and backed away.

"I don't like this."

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