[Lucas received your warning and reacted instantly. His hands flew across the Thunderhawk's controls, initiating emergency evasive maneuvers without a moment's hesitation.]
[A terrifying psychic bombardment slammed across the transport's wing. Where the warp energy touched, frost formed immediately, spreading across the ceramite plating in crystalline patterns. The metal groaned under the supernatural cold, stress fractures appearing in the armor.]
[You braced yourself in the open hatch, both hands gripping your bolt gun. You switched to burst mode and unleashed a covering barrage at the Thousand Sons sorcerer below.]
[Bolt after bolt erupted from the weapon's muzzle, each one a mass-reactive shell capable of tearing through power armor. The projectiles streaked downward in a deadly rain.]
[The sorcerer barely moved. A psychic barrier shimmered into existence around him, an invisible shield of warp energy. The bolts detonated against the barrier in rapid succession, creating a spectacular display of fire and shrapnel that left the traitor completely unharmed.]
[Simultaneously, you felt the building pressure of gathering psychic power. The air around the Thousand Sons warped and twisted, reality bending to accommodate forces that shouldn't exist in material space. An even more devastating spell was forming in the sorcerer's palm, building toward catastrophic release.]
["Lucas! Start the laser cannon! Blast him into the sea!" you roared toward the cockpit.]
["Captain!" Lucas's voice carried back through the engine noise, and you heard genuine frustration in it. "This Thunderhawk doesn't carry any weapons or ammunition! They removed everything to prevent us Blood Claws from unauthorized military operations!"]
[Your lips pulled back from your fangs in an involuntary snarl of frustration. Of course the transport was unarmed. The Chapter leadership didn't trust Blood Claws not to start unauthorized wars.]
[You drew a deep breath of freezing air, centering yourself. The bolt gun went back to its magnetic clamp at your waist. You reached over your shoulder and drew Frost Fang, the double-bladed power axe settling into your grip with familiar weight.]
[Your orders came rapid-fire. Lucas was to circle the Thousand Sons, maintaining as low an altitude as possible while you searched the ice surface for a landing zone that could support an airborne assault. You needed ground that wouldn't immediately collapse beneath you.]
[The power axe hummed to life in your hands. Its energy field activated with a series of low, thrumming sounds. Azure energy wreathed the weapon's sharp edges, the frost-rune embedded in its center pulsing in harmony with the field.]
[You chose your moment carefully. Then, without fear or hesitation, you jumped from the Thunderhawk's open hatch.]
[Biting wind tore past your face as you fell. Your mottled gray hair whipped around your head. The sensation of freefall was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.]
[Your cyan wolf eyes locked onto a single target. The damned traitor. The Thousand Sons sorcerer who threatened your brothers.]
[Faced with your desperate aerial assault, the Thousand Sons had no choice but to interrupt his spell preparation. The energy he'd been gathering dispersed partially, though not completely. He raised his palm toward your falling form.]
[Psychic lightning erupted from his hand. The bolt was massive, thick as a tree trunk, crackling with impossible colors. It writhed through the air like a living serpent, tracking your descent with unnatural precision.]
[A wolf's howl tore from your throat mid-fall. You swung Frost Fang forward with both hands, putting every ounce of your enhanced strength behind the blow.]
[The power axe's energy field met the psychic lightning. For a fraction of a second, reality itself seemed uncertain which force should prevail. Then the axe blade cleaved through the warp energy, splitting it cleanly.]
[The sundered lightning dissipated around you. Residual energy crawled across your power armor like living electricity, crackling and sparking. Your enhanced Astartes physiology absorbed the punishment. It hurt, but not enough to stop you. Not nearly enough.]
[The Thousand Sons, apparently anticipating your resilience, was already moving. His power armor's servos whined as he jumped backward, propelling himself away from your impact point.]
[Your feet crashed down onto the fragile ice surface. The impact was tremendous. Cracks radiated outward from the point of contact, spreading like a spider's web. The ice groaned ominously beneath you, but held. Barely.]
[You had no time to worry about the ice's integrity. You launched yourself forward immediately, Frost Fang raised high, charging toward the Thousand Sons with singular purpose.]
[Get close. Get into melee range. Thousand Sons sorcerers specialized in psychic powers and long-range firepower. Once you closed the distance, he would become nothing more than a moving target. One good strike would end this.]
[Then you felt it. A pulse of psychic energy beneath your feet.]
[You looked down. Glowing lines appeared on the ice surface, forming complex geometric patterns. Runes and symbols you didn't recognize lit up in sequence, each one feeding power to the next. The entire formation had been drawn in advance, concealed beneath a thin layer of frost.]
[You'd walked directly into a trap.]
["Wolf cub, you've been deceived." The Thousand Sons' voice emerged from his helmet's vox-grille, hollow and vague, distorted by warp corruption. "The Lord of Change sends his regards."]
[You tried to run, to escape the magic circle's boundaries, but it was too late. The formation activated fully.]
[Terrifying psychic energy leaped between the runes, building exponentially. Violent teleportation light erupted around you, completely engulfing your tall frame in impossible radiance.]
[Everything began to distort. The ice beneath your feet. The sky above. The very air twisted into shapes that hurt to perceive.]
[Through the chaos, you caught a glimpse of the Thunderhawk. Lucas had sent it into a dive, attempting to reach you. The transport was coming in fast, too fast, sacrificing safety for speed.]
[You saw Lucas through the cockpit viewport. His wolf-like yellow eyes were wide with desperate urgency. His expression was ferocious, lips pulled back from fangs. His mouth moved, shouting something you couldn't hear.]
[Your consciousness began to blur. Thought became difficult. Reality lost cohesion.]
[You were torn from the material universe and thrown bodily into the Immaterium. Into the Warp itself.]
[You were caught in warp turbulence of unimaginable violence. Currents of raw psychic energy buffeted you from every direction. The Warp tried to unmake you, to dissolve the concept of "you" into the roiling chaos.]
[You suffered injuries beyond counting. Some were physical, flesh torn by forces that shouldn't be able to touch material matter. Others were worse, wounds to your soul itself, damage that had no physical manifestation but hurt more than any blade.]
[You drifted through the Warp, consciousness fading in and out. Time had no meaning here. You might have been tumbling through the immaterial realm for seconds or centuries. There was no way to tell.]
[You approached death. Your body began shutting down, systems failing one by one as they reached their limits.]
[Your second heart continued beating even as your primary heart faltered. The gene-seed organs fought to keep you alive. The Canis Helix refused to let you die easily.]
[But it wasn't enough. You were dying.]
[You entered a state of suspended animation. Your consciousness retreated into the deepest core of your being, conserving the last sparks of life in the desperate hope that rescue might somehow come.]
[This simulation has ended. Total time: Ninety-one days.]
[This simulation has obtained reward options.]
[1. 'Frost Fang' Double-Bladed Power Axe (Master-Crafted)]
Annotation: "A gift from Logan Grimnar, Chapter Master of the Space Wolves, in recognition of your achievement in meeting the Wolf King and returning with his message."
Annotation: "Though only a replica of the Axe of Morkai, it has been carefully forged by the Iron Priests and blessed extensively by the Rune Priests."
[2. Great Wolf's Wings — Space Wolves Thunderhawk Transport (Standard)]
Annotation: "Both the exterior paint scheme and internal structure embody the rough, practical style of the Space Wolves."
Annotation: "Believe me, it can carry far more than you might think."
[3. Second Heart — Heart of Leman Russ (Primarch)]
Annotation: "This is a special creation of flesh and blood, saturated with the genetic legacy of Wolf King Leman Russ. In some ways, it is functionally identical to the Primarch's own heart... though of course, this cannot actually be the Primarch's heart."
Annotation: "It appears to have been blessed by the Emperor Himself. Open your chest and let it beat within you."
Annotation: "It will alter aspects of your appearance and inner nature. You will need time to adapt to these changes."
Annotation: "Advice from Wolf King Leman Russ: Little cub, remember why you fight!"
Annotation: "I suspect the Emperor's expectations of you far exceed your imagination..."
[This simulation time has exceeded 24 hours. Simulator cooldown is not exempted.]
[Cooldown time: 910 hours (10 to 1 ratio)]
[Current available stored cooldown time: 1,289 hours]
[Do you wish to consume stored cooldown time?]
[If cooldown time is not consumed, the simulator will enter natural cooldown (exemption can be applied at any time)]
The moment the simulation ended, Nolan's eyes snapped open.
He sat up violently, like a dying man given sudden reprieve. His body moved before his conscious mind fully registered what was happening. He practically launched himself upright from the medical bed, momentum carrying him to his feet.
For several heartbeats, he didn't even notice the waves of pain radiating from his still-healing injuries. Everything else was forgotten. His attention fixed completely on the simulator interface, on the words displayed before his eyes.
His expression gradually shifted into something approaching shock.
Breaking his survival time record wasn't particularly surprising. He'd been pushing that boundary with each simulation, learning how to survive longer in the grim darkness of the far future.
But this was different. This was the first time, across countless simulations, that he'd survived beyond the simulation's end point.
He'd been dying, yes. Thrown into the Warp with injuries that should have been fatal. But the simulation had ended with him still alive, still clinging to existence in suspended animation.
Alive. He was alive.
However, this revelation was merely a small surprise compared to what awaited below. As Nolan's gaze moved down the list of reward options, as his brain processed what he was seeing, his breathing actually stopped for a moment.
A Thunderhawk transport. An entire aircraft. One of the Imperium's most versatile and durable military vehicles, capable of operating in space and atmosphere, able to carry troops or vehicles, equipped with formidable weaponry.
The second heart. One of the many enhanced organs that transformed baseline humans into Astartes. A crucial modification that provided redundancy to the cardiovascular system, allowing Space Marines to survive wounds that would kill normal humans instantly.
But this wasn't just any second heart.
The Heart of Leman Russ.
A heart created from the Primarch's own genetic template. Blessed, apparently, by the Emperor Himself.
Nolan stared at the description, reading it again and again, unable to quite believe what he was seeing.
What in the Emperor's name had he stumbled into?