Four years ago, Zelo and his army found Gale-Breaker Thor alive at a small altar near Tragern’s territory.
He had originally been one of the materials used to build the altar, sewn into the edge of a pillar, with his older brother right beside him.
His brother loved him deeply, so when the altar was activated, his brother prayed silently, “God, if you truly exist, then take everything from me, and let the suffering meant for my younger brother fall upon me instead.
I will bear it willingly.” The altar was activated, and agonizing witchcraft was inflicted upon every person there.
Yet Thor survived.
His body remained tightly bound within the flesh of others, while his brother writhed in agony beside him for ten days and nights before dying in despair.
Just before death, his brother tore free from the threads sewn across his mouth and screamed as he broke down, “Stop torturing me!
Put it all on my brother!
No!
I can’t bear it anymore!
Torture Thor!” Thor was right there, but he was too cowardly to make a sound.
He did not even dare form the thought in his mind.
He did not dare cry out like his brother and beg for the suffering to fall on him.
Even though he, too, loved his brother deeply, that horrific torment had terrified him into submission.
And so he heard his brother’s final scream.
“Mother!” Then his brother died, and his soul was dragged into Sorcerer Tragern’s cage, to endure new, eternal suffering.
Thor spent another three days beside his dead brother’s corpse, until Zelo led his army to capture the site.
The rebel army dismantled the altar and checked for survivors.
Most were dead; some had been driven mad by the torture, clinging to their last breath and begging for the final peace.
Zelo used his psychic power to grant them rest, so their souls would not continue to be tormented by the xenos, but instead find true peace; he destroyed those souls completely with his psychic power.
When it was Thor’s turn, he did not beg to be killed.
Tears streamed from his eyes as Zelo cut away the threads sewn across his mouth.
Thor opened his mouth and let out a cry like a newborn’s wail.
“Let me join you.
I’ll do anything!
I can be a slave, I can clean the cesspits!
Let me do anything!
Please!
My brother’s soul is still with Tragern!
Please, kill it!” “No, you don’t have to be a slave.” Zelo slowly lifted Thor up.
The healing light of psychic power shimmered between Zelo’s hands, and the blood stopped flowing.
This is the soul of a warrior, Zelo thought.
Then he said, “We welcome everyone.
I think you want to be a warrior.
I think…” He looked at Thor, his pale blue eyes shimmering with an unreadable light.
“I think you will avenge your brother yourself.” Zelo’s pale blue eyes reflected the figure charging toward Tragern.
“Do you remember me, Heretic Tragern?
Do you remember the slaves who built the altar back then?” Thor cried out in fervor, recalling the utter misery of those days.
Four years had passed; he had been reshaped by Zelo and his people, forged again and again, until he became the Gale-Breaker.
“Ants!” Above the main altar, the Great Sorcerer Lord Tragern sneered in contempt.
The light at the tip of its scepter flared violently as it spat the curse.
A roaring bolt of lightning as thick as a great dragon howled straight toward Thor and his unit, yet the knight’s charge did not falter for even a moment.
“Even ants have their own will!
Let me sound the first death knell at your funeral!” “Charge with me!” Thor rose in his saddle, lifting the massive, heavy lance in his hands as he faced his enemy head-on.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he charged straight into that thunderbolt, as absurd as Don Quixote raising his sword against a windmill.
But he knew every drop of blood carried its own weight.
The Gale-Breaker Squad behind him followed closely.
Their lances swung, piercing the Daemons that surged at their flanks before the warhorses trampled them underhoof.
Thor plunged into that vast light.
Great Sorcerer Lord Tragern fixed its gaze on the radiance.
This thunderbolt had been fueled by the sacrifice of countless slaves; by Tragern’s calculations, it should have incinerated these slaves effortlessly.
That slave’s charge was nothing but a doomed, deluded attempt to halt a charging chariot.
The light would burn him to death, then, without slowing, consume the army behind him before striking the main force led by Zelo.
The heretic leader Zelo might intercept that strike with his psychic powers, but it would certainly make them suffer.
After this blow, there would be a second, and a third.
Great Sorcerer Lord Tragern’s aim was to slow this charging force.
Once their speed faltered, they would be dragged into the quagmire of ground combat; the vast Daemonic Legions would rush in and drown them in war.
Then it could use witchcraft to support those useless overseers from a distance, crushing Zelo’s offensive in one fell swoop.
Zelo’s move defied all common sense.
He had never attacked like this before.
On grand battlefields, this human leader typically employed coordinated, multi-unit assaults; in wildlands and urban zones, he chose guerrilla tactics.
But this time was different, utterly mad, like a fanatical martyr from ancient times.
Zelo had led a ridiculous band of knights charging straight in.
What was Zelo’s true objective?
Great Sorcerer Lord Tragern was still pondering, trying to unravel Zelo’s scheme so it could earn Grandfather’s favor.
But just as it was lost in thought…
Boom!
A colossal, ear-shattering blast erupted from the very point where Thor had met the psychic lightning.
The immense explosion nearly tore up the ground within a hundred meters.
“What?” Great Sorcerer Lord Tragern’s insides quivered from the shockwave, but it ignored the sensation.
Its eyes bulged as it stared at the epicenter of the blast.
The thunderbolt forged from the sacrifice of ten thousand slaves and ten overseers had vanished, gone without a trace.
And along with it, that slave had vanished too.
He had single-handedly neutralized its attack?
No!
That was absolutely impossible!
Apart from that freak Zelo, how could these slaves possess the power to match it in battle?
How?
How could the sacrifice of one mere slave unravel its attack?
Thick, heavy smoke billowed up, only to be torn apart again by the pounding hooves of warhorses.
The Gale-Breaker Squad swept past their fallen comrade, with no time to pause for mourning.
Thor no longer led them; another young man had taken his place.
“Impossible…” Great Sorcerer Lord Tragern raised its scepter again and began chanting rapidly.
Countless more slaves and overseers fell, and power from the Immaterium descended once more, sending another bolt of lightning toward the Gale-Breaker Squad.
“Charge!” The man at the front shouted, then hurled himself fearlessly into the bolt, just as Thor had done.
Boom!
Another massive explosion shook the entire battlefield, rattling it to its core.
The man in the lead vanished, but the smoke from the blast was again shattered apart, and the Gale-Breaker Squad charged onward toward the Great Sorcerer Lord, utterly unafraid.
“No!
How is this possible?
You are slaves!
How can you resist my power?” Great Sorcerer Lord Tragern roared.
It could not believe that the sorcery it had trusted in had been blocked by a mere mortal.
It opened the ten eyes on its forehead and turned its gaze toward the Immaterium.
This time, it saw clearly.
“Ha!
So that’s how it is!”