Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim

As the sharp blades slashed across the scene, the patrol team wisely dodged aside, making way for the rioters who rushed into the area.

"Why serve those noble lords! Fugrim, why!"

"Nobles cannot be trusted!"

"Lackeys, ackeys! They're all lackeys of the nobility!"

"Brothers, kill these nobles, and we'll take over Carax ourselves!"

Shouting, the leader of the riot, whose face was covered with a red cloth, kicked open the door of the central hall and looked around at the guests who were still trembling.

Among these people, there was no legendary goddess.

She appears to have left the area ahead of time.

not there?

The riot leaders breathed a sigh of relief.

Fortunately, they weren't there, otherwise they would have become the "lambs" sacrificed by the prophet.

However, their target is not just Fugrim.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the trembling old patriarch Sherlock to the side.

His smile suddenly stretched to the corners of his mouth.

"Hey, old man."

"It's time to hit the road."

The gun in his hand emitted a burst of red light.

Sizzle!

Blood exploded.

"Quickly! Protect the many guests attending the event. We must not allow them to be harmed by the rioters!"

The patrol team, which was actually well-equipped, did not appear at the venue immediately.

Herold Sherlock, who arrived a step too late and was now directing the search and rescue, was extremely anxious.

"What's going on! How could the patrol team be so negligent!"

Looking at the manor in such a state of disarray, he appeared extremely distressed.

"damn it!"

"I told you, believing that these workers wouldn't cause trouble was just wishful thinking!"

"report!"

A police inspector appeared beside him at just the right moment.

"More than ten worker rioters have all fled, and we found traces of the secret passage they used when they evacuated nearby."

".Forgrim

"It must be Fugrim!"

"She was the architect of the fortress; she must have revealed the secret passage to those thugs!"

Herod gritted his teeth.

"besides."

The police inspector lowered his voice slightly.

"We found the remains of Gentleman Sherlock in the venue."

"What did you say!!"

Herold's shout instantly rose eight octaves, drawing the attention of the surrounding guests.

"Damn pariah!"

"How dare they condone such violence, killing my father!!!"

"Where is she now?"

"According to surviving guests, she and Casca quietly left the venue before the riot began, which further confirms the possibility that they planned the incident."

"well"

Herod was so angry that he laughed instead.

"Notify the patrol team that, in the name of the new head of the Sherlock family, I will immediately launch a search and find the whereabouts of the criminals Fugrim and Kasgar!"

Outside Carax Fortress.

The raging storm has subsided slightly, and the steel fortress Carax remains nestled quietly within the mountains.

How long has it been here?

Ten years, a hundred years? Or a thousand years?

Apart from the yellow sand, no one knows anything about it.

The world was empty except for a man and a woman wandering in the wasteland outside the city.

"Unfortunately, the old patriarch trusted his son too much and was unwilling to leave with us."

Perhaps even in the end, he would not believe that he would die at the hands of his most beloved eldest son.

"I guess we'd both be wanted criminals by now."

Casca gave a wry smile, looked up, and remained silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Fugrim."

"Ok?"

"I'm sorry, I ruined your plan to control Carax. I made it less than perfect."

Not perfect enough?

Fugrim smiled.

Under the eternal twilight of Chemos, her smile was especially radiant.

"Maybe so, but obviously there are some things that are more important than perfection."

Stepping into the boundless desert, Fugrim was filled with curiosity.

The timeline has changed.

But this may not be a bad thing.

Chemos' engineers were finally freed from the bloated and corrupt aristocratic prestige.

Like a child touching the world for the first time, or a prisoner breaking free of old shackles, she tried for the first time to experience this world she had never tried to understand before.

Imperfect, but full of excitement.

A deep, heartfelt stirring.

"And what about you, Casgar?"

Fugrim countered with a question.

"Would you be saddened by losing your noble status?"

“I never worry about that.”

After a moment of contemplation, Casca shook his head.

"What I fear more is that one day we will really be like those old-fashioned nobles, staying in a place called Carax, shutting ourselves off and ignoring everything in the outside world."

"Forever immersed in the illusory glory of the past, unable to face the pain of reality; cursing and envying friends who are still walking in misery, and calling it 'perfection'."

As he spoke, Casca looked behind him.

The steel fortress with its doors tightly shut still stands there, silently facing the yellow sand, the setting sun, and the gaze of onlookers.

"How pathetic! I don't want to live like this."

"Perhaps, Fugrim."

"Maybe."

Like the bewildered yet hopeful men and women who left the Garden of Eden.

The two looked at each other and smiled.

Chapter 6 The Thinker fell into deep thought.

The sound of a man-eating storm of fine particles pounding against old, abandoned buildings echoed in Casca's ears.

Not long after leaving Carax Fortress, in order to avoid the ensuing natural disasters, Fugrim suggested that they rest for a while in an abandoned factory nearby.

Walking through the abandoned factory made of steel, amidst the dense knocking sounds outside, one feels a unique sense of peace and tranquility.

Although he didn't know where Fugrim would lead him, he always followed in her footsteps.

"The workers shouldn't worry too much."

"The livelihood of Carax Fortress currently depends on factory production, and Herod is in a hurry to seize power and will not have time to deal with them."

"Once the storm has subsided, we will use the previous secret passage to sneak back into the factory and transfer the supplies needed for survival here."

"Then we can launch—"

"Wait, what are these?"

As they descended the iron ladder step by step, Kasgar, following behind Fugrim, pointed to a floor in the dark, abandoned basement.

There, large quantities of clean water, food, and various medical supplies and protective clothing were piled up. Dozens of boxes made the already cramped hut even more crowded.

Even in terms of weaponry, there were several boxes of ammunition, dozens of knives and rifles.

Outside the room, new machinery occupies about two-thirds of the space, standing out starkly against the rusty and dusty surroundings.

"Can't you think of it?"

The puzzled Kasgar met Fugrim's white chin, which was held high with pride, like a peacock spreading its tail feathers.

She was prepared.

She had long ago made thorough preparations to deal with the turmoil caused by the failed marriage alliance, internal disputes among the nobility, and power struggles.

She meticulously planned everything, from stockpiling necessary supplies in uninhabited areas far from the fortress to preparing for the subsequent counterattack.

As for the previous discussion with Casca about the next course of action...

whee.

That was just to tease you.

The perfect Fugrim had already planned countless feasible contingency plans and would choose the most suitable one based on how things turned out.

The computational planning capabilities of the Primarch are far beyond the reach of a mere mortal like Kasgar.

Seeing that Kasgar was somewhat embarrassed, Fugrim comforted him:

"Although it was somewhat reckless to flee without preparation, our preparations regarding the climate, escape routes, and future counterattack strategies were also quite rudimentary."

"But as an ordinary person, being able to guess Herod's trick and provide a corresponding solution is already quite impressive."

Pat your head, pat your head.

"After all, you promised to 'save' me."

Fugrim pronounced the word very heavily.

That's true though.

But why does it always feel like a mockery?

Kasgar thought to himself as he was being helped into his protective suit by Fugrim rubbing his head.

Ugh.

Bad woman.

And Casca is about to be manipulated by this wicked woman.