Most of the time, Sarah's consciousness remained attached to the mini Ripper, only occasionally diverting to process macro-level commands for the swarm's development on Dead World-B. The swarm there was growing steadily, but due to constraints in biomass and genetic templates, the population consisted mostly of low-level units like Hormagaunts and Termagants; hatching high-level units remained a significant challenge.
The rest of her time was spent "scanning" her surroundings with psionic vision. That wretched Inquisitor was still lurking at a distant vantage point, radiating vigilance and hostility. Had Raynor not forbidden her from eating the woman, she would have been in Sarah's stomach long ago.
The simple-minded Dobby was currently clutching a children's primer, sitting in a corner and struggling with his fingers to calculate addition and subtraction within ten, scratching his head whenever he got a sum wrong. The soldiers repeated their daily routines of patrolling, training, and resting—cleaning weapons, whispering stories of home, or writing letters that would likely never be delivered.
Then there was Gethsemane, the man Raynor had replaced. He often stared blankly at the training soldiers, thumbing a worn medal of honor. Leo and Hammond, the primary generals, were constantly hunched over fortification blueprints, brows furrowed as they discussed tactics with their staff.
But what Sarah enjoyed most was focusing the vast majority of her attention on Raynor. She felt the mental ripples of his thoughts, his intense focus while handling official business, and the way he rubbed his brow when exhaustion set in. She even sensed his occasional lapses into helplessness or cold resolve toward this dark universe.
As the days passed, Sarah began to experience a new emotion: boredom. She also felt a slight repulsion toward the cramped environment of the office. She yearned for vaster spaces, more freedom of "movement," and above all, to be out there with Raynor.
Late one night, as Raynor was reviewing yet another lengthy supply requisition, his stylus sliding rapidly across the data-slate, the mini Ripper against his skin nudged him gently. Sarah's cool voice rang out, carrying a trace of suppressed anticipation and tentative hope.
"Raynor... can you... walk with me? Outside? It's stifling here."
Raynor stopped writing and rubbed his strained eyes. A mountain of work still awaited him, and fatigue washed over his nerves like a relentless tide. Yet, he didn't hesitate for a second. He looked down at his sleeve, his gaze tender.
"Of course. Where would you like to go?"
"Anywhere. Just... away from here. To see the outside," Sarah replied, her tone slightly buoyant.
Raynor immediately began to plan. Going out directly would be too conspicuous; Solene would certainly follow. He needed a plausible reason to lose the Inquisitor's tail.
Half an hour later, a "Frontline Outpost Inspection Order" was issued. Raynor boarded a standard Bison armored personnel carrier, accompanied only by a Genestealer officer as the driver. Under the pretext of "inspecting perimeter defenses and comforting the garrisoned troops," he departed the command center.
As expected, Solene's silhouette appeared in the rearview mirror during the early stages of the blizzard, following from a distance. However, due to the powerful psionic presence Raynor projected, Solene feared being detected if she drew too close. Unable to confirm Raynor's specific destination in the worsening storm, she eventually abandoned the trail and retreated to the vicinity of the command post.
Having shaken off the tail, Raynor instructed the officer to wait at the entrance of a glacial valley while he stepped out with Sarah into the vast, howling wind. The arctic wind whipped sleet against his face with painful force. Raynor activated the heating function of his bionic armor, took the mini Ripper from his collar, and placed it in his palm, huffing a breath of warm air onto it.
"Is it cold, Sarah?"
"Not cold. I like the wind," Sarah's voice carried a hint of excitement. The mini Ripper crawled gently across his palm, its antennae extending to sense the flow of the blizzard.
The two wandered through the snow without a destination, walking aimlessly. Raynor occasionally introduced the local flora or hidden ice caves, while Sarah listened quietly, asking the occasional question. In this moment, there was no war, no conspiracy, and no endless paperwork. There was only the two of them on the vast ice plains, enjoying a rare moment of solitude.
Elsewhere on the ice plains, Snowclaw Rain and Icefang Kuai led their respective guards, trekking through the storm for a full week toward the coordinates Raynor had provided. When the destination finally came into view, everyone was struck speechless by the sight.
It was a majestic, twin-peaked glacial mountain. The two nearly vertical spires pierced the grey sky of Brevis like twin swords. In the narrow gap between the peaks, a brilliant, pure, almost holy white-gold light cascaded vertically. It looked like a pillar of light descending from the heavens, reflecting a circular halo onto the snow-covered foothills.
This halo formed a stark contrast with the dark, freezing plains surrounding it. The relatively warm light dispelled the worst of the cold, even causing the surrounding snow to melt slightly, revealing the permafrost beneath. The sight was extremely rare on the Brevis plains—it looked like a miracle. The wildmen warriors were instinctively struck with awe, bowing their heads and not daring to look directly at the radiance.
"Is this... the place the Ice Master guided us to?" Snowclaw Rain whispered, her voice trembling with shock.
Just then, the white-gold light between the peaks seemed to ripple. A colossal figure slowly materialized within the radiance: a cyan-blue dragon!
It was even more massive and majestic than the psionic illusion Raynor had displayed before. Its scales reflected a realistic, ice-like luster, each one resembling a meticulously polished crystal. Its enormous wings beat slowly, bringing gusts of freezing wind and a crushing pressure that forced the surrounding blizzard to veer away. Its long neck curved as its head lowered, those cold dragon eyes looking down upon the mortals at the mountain's foot. Her gaze was neither joyous nor sorrowful, but held an ancient, soul-shaking indifference.
This was the "miracle" Raynor had specifically instructed Sarah to manifest, intended to thoroughly cow these clans and solidify their faith in the legend of the Ice Master and the Frost Dragon.
Under this terrifying pressure, even warriors as formidable as Rain and Kuai found it hard to breathe. It felt as if a giant stone were pressing against their chests, and their legs shook uncontrollably. The Ice-Spine Striders beneath them had long since prostrated themselves, whimpering in terror. The warriors behind them fared even worse, kneeling in the snow with foreheads pressed into the frost, lacking even the courage to look up.
This pressure, born from mythological authority and absolute power, forced these children of the ice plains to realize their own insignificance.
The dragon did not linger. Its massive form gradually dissolved back into the white-gold light as if it had never existed.
At the foot of the mountain, within the blurred halo of light, eleven figures emerged from the depths, their forms gradually becoming clear. They were dressed uniformly in thin, teal robes embroidered with golden patterns, seemingly indifferent to the bitter cold. Their skin was an even pale purple, and their faces were calm to the point of being wooden, devoid of any superfluous expression. Their most striking feature was that they were all bald, with head shapes slightly more elongated than those of ordinary humans.
They walked in unison, silent as paste-and-paper dolls. Their eyes were vacant, yet they seemed to perceive everything. The leader of the teal-robed figures stopped, his gaze falling upon Snowclaw Rain and Icefang Kuai. His voice was flat and toneless, echoing directly within their souls:
"Mortals, why have you come?"