After briefly tidying up the trouble in the fragmented world, Duanmu Huai returned once more to the Empire. He first went to Altdorf, where he was informed that because the Chaos army was marching south, the Emperor had already led the coalition forces to Middenheim. Thus, Duanmu Huai once again set foot in that bleak, frozen city.
Upon receiving word of his arrival, the Emperor immediately had him escorted into the fortress.
"Oh, my friend, you've finally returned!"
When Duanmu entered the hall, the Emperor, seated upon the throne, instantly rose with a booming laugh. He strode over, threw his arms around Duanmu in a firm embrace, and clapped him heartily on the back.
"I've already heard the details from Lord Bardo," Karl said with a grin, then glanced at Duanmu again. "So, how did things go on your end?"
"No disgrace to the mission," Duanmu replied with a curt nod.
"The ratmen are no longer a threat — at least not for a long time. They won't be stirring up any more trouble."
He didn't mention outright that he had killed the Great Horned Rat himself; he knew that such a concept would be incomprehensible to the people of this world. For the Inquisition, the Great Horned Rat was merely another warp creature of moderate power on a single planet — but to the mortals here, it was still a god. If Duanmu told Karl he had slain a deity… well, whether Karl would believe it was another matter entirely.
"As I expected!" Karl burst out laughing. "I knew you wouldn't let me down! I suspected you'd done something— that's why those vermin fled in terror!"
"Oh?"
Duanmu raised an eyebrow. No one should've known about what he did. Could Karl have received divine revelation?
"It's like this," Karl explained with a smile, reading Duanmu's confusion. "Not long ago, I received a message from the High King himself. He said he had been granted a vision by the gods — that the threat beneath the mountains had been purged. In return, the dwarves would join the alliance against Chaos. I knew then it had to be your doing!"
"Ah… so that's it."
Duanmu instantly understood. The dwarves and the skaven were sworn enemies; destroying the Great Horned Rat would have delighted their gods. It meant the collapse of the entire ratmen race. Naturally, the dwarven deities would respond in kind — sending their faithful to support the Imperial coalition.
The dwarves had long been divided largely because of the skaven menace. Now that the rats were finished, they had no reason for dissent. With the High King holding divine sanction, the dwarven hosts had gathered at once to march for Middenheim.
Karl was overjoyed. The Chaos forces were overwhelming; the coalition was barely holding. The dwarves' arrival meant not just fresh troops, but also their superior weapons and engineering — exactly the aid he needed.
"So, how stands the front line?"
After brief formalities, Duanmu went straight to business. He had no patience for small talk about the weather — one look outside at the blizzard told him enough.
"To be frank," Karl's tone grew grim, "the situation is not optimistic."
He led Duanmu to a large war map and began to explain.
The Chaos horde had deployed its finest, sealing off every approach to Middenheim. Were it not for the city's defensible position — and for Ulric's holy flame, which repelled the monsters of Chaos — Middenheim would already have fallen.
At the forefront of the Chaos army marched the hosts of the Plague God, supported by the legions of the other three dark powers.
Here it was worth noting: the northern tribes' faith in Chaos was rarely singular. Any tribesman might bear the favor of multiple gods. Which dark patron finally claimed him depended on both his nature and which god found him pleasing.
Leading the vanguard of the plague host were the Brothers Glott, champions of the Plague God — one a hulking daemon-beast, the others his chosen warrior and pestilent sorcerer. Alongside them rode the Pox Maggot Knights of the Ice Peaks, spreading disease and corruption with every hoofbeat.
Then there was the Blood Queen Valkia, warlord of the God of Slaughter, commanding her berserk warriors — and even a host of vampiric Blood Dragon knights who had turned to the same god.
The servants of the God of Desire, led by Sigvald the Magnificent, fought with terrifying beauty and artistry in their cruelty. His exquisite, "creative" methods of murder filled foes with horror and dark fascination.
And then came the champion of Tzeentch, Vilitch the Curseling, the twisted twin whose mastery of sorcery warped the winds of magic into curses and despair across the battlefield.
The only reason the Chaos army hadn't already annihilated the coalition was Ulric's holy flame — and the freezing winter, which was exceedingly unkind to Nurgle's "blessings."
If it were springtime, Duanmu thought grimly, the entire city might already be blooming with pestilence.
Karl understood this perfectly; he hoped to end the war before spring's thaw. Though Middenheim's northern latitude meant spring would be late, it would come eventually. And before that… defeating the entire Chaos coalition seemed nearly impossible. Especially since their fabled Everchosen, Archaon, had yet to appear.
Yes — like in an RPG, you had to beat the Four Horsemen before the final boss showed up.
Worse still, the long-troublesome Beastmen had also joined the Chaos legions, swelling their ranks.
The "grand" coalition Karl commanded looked impressive on paper but was a patchwork of exhaustion and loss. Altdorf required garrisons, the imperial borders needed guarding, and his three idiot heirs' civil wars had already drained his manpower. His armies were far fewer than Chaos's endless hordes.
The elves had only sent a token embassy of a hundred, and Kislev's famed warriors were down to ragged remnants. Thankfully, the Green Knight's Bretonnian cavalry had arrived to help fill the gap — which was why Karl had nearly wept with joy when the dwarves promised reinforcements.
Otherwise, they'd run out of men before the war even began.
"So," Duanmu murmured, studying the map, "our plan is simple: kill the Chaos champions, then draw out Archaon and finish him."
"That's right," Karl said. "What's your idea?"
"My idea's simpler — just hit them hard and break through."
Duanmu placed his gauntleted hand on the Chaos side of the war table and pressed down. The little flags and tokens scattered and shattered under his grip.
"I've brought an army of three thousand. I believe they're more than enough to handle this lot."
"Oh?" Karl blinked. In this world, an army of three thousand was no small force. He didn't know where Duanmu had found such troops, but he welcomed them wholeheartedly.
"Of course — any new force is welcome. Where are they stationed?"
"They'll appear once the battle begins."
Duanmu didn't intend to reveal his reinforcements too early. The Guardians aboard the ship had been complaining that they were rusting from inactivity — a robot worrying about mildew? Want me to oil your joints, maybe?
Still, they hadn't been idle. His starship had been observing the battlefield from orbit, recording Chaos troop movements and magical signatures so they wouldn't charge in blind. Though the Guardians couldn't die in the usual sense, Duanmu preferred not to test that theory unnecessarily.
Now, their time was almost here.
This time, Duanmu would only bring Augis and Anne with him. This was a full-scale war, not an adventure — the other girls weren't suited for mass combat. Guleya, still tied up with affairs in Regnis, would stay hidden for now; her "Dragon Roar" could turn the tide if things went dire, but revealing her too early wasn't wise.
After his meeting with Karl, Duanmu wandered alone through Middenheim. Wartime had hollowed out the city — most civilians had long fled, leaving only soldiers marching through the snow-choked streets.
Eventually, he came to stand before Ulric's Temple, gazing at the great brazier that burned with pure white fire.
So this is Ulric's Holy Flame…
Staring into the sacred blaze, Duanmu fell into thought. He remembered reading on the forum: when the Chaos armies took Middenheim, they unearthed a powerful artifact beneath Ulric's temple — the event that destroyed this world.
But according to Karl, as long as the Holy Flame burned, Chaos could not enter the city.
So… what caused the fall?
Did the Holy Flame go out?
If so — why?
The forum hadn't said. Perhaps even the players never learned.
But for Duanmu, this question was crucial.
He'd have to keep an eye on the flame.
After a long moment, he turned away from the brazier and walked off into the icy wind. Tomorrow would bring another great battle.
Yet just as he prepared to return to the fortress and rest, a voice called out behind him.
"Long time no see, Sir Knight."
Duanmu turned — and there she was, smiling serenely: the Everchild, Alithsara.
"Ah, hello, milady. It's been some time."
He inclined his head politely. She met his gaze, eyes glimmering with excitement.
"You seem even more impressive than before," she said softly. "I can't imagine what you've been through to gain such… power."
"Uh… thanks for the compliment. I just cleaned up four plagues, that's all."
At her words, Duanmu twitched an eyebrow, uncertain whether she was praising him or teasing.
"I've heard from His Majesty that you'll be joining the next battle," Alithsara continued. "To fight at your side — it's truly an honor…"
Her voice trembled, her expression shining with something close to fanatic adoration — like a diehard fan seeing her idol. Duanmu instinctively stepped half a pace back, baffled by her intensity. She seemed to realize her loss of composure, straightened quickly, and bowed.
"Forgive me — I got carried away. Until tomorrow, then."
With that, Alithsara curtsied and departed gracefully.
Duanmu watched her disappear down the snowy street and scratched his head.
"What on earth is that woman's deal…?"
(End of Chapter)