Not all of us wish Humanity's destruction

Legend's never die

Black Library Record

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DISPLAYING CONTENTS

What is the meaning of a warrior?

To Die?

To take lives?

To Protect?

All of them, none of them and more of them. The Term Warrior, it is just a label. It applies equally to the golden heroes and the lowly cowards. However, those with true steel in their heart and courage to face the unknown. They are Warriors. They are not murderers. They are Warriors. They fight not for glory, not for blood but for the greater good. They will lay down their lives for the innocent and redeem the lost. Life is not a currency to be spent freely. Every step must be taken to fight for it. One life or a billion, they are all lives.

Only a madman knows no fear. A warrior know what fear is. He feels it and understands it better than anyone else. What makes him strong is conquering the fear. Every battle, over and over again until the last breath. For when it becomes instinctual. Victory will come.

A lone ghost in the mists walked through the dark, cold corridor of a decaying ship. It's victim, desperately running away. Each step leaves not a sound, only the continuous creaking of rust. It's eye glow with vengeance, bathing the metal in yellow, unnatural, pulsing light. Silently, it arrives at an opened door, it pushes it open without contact, the hinges unleashing an unnatural screech of protest. Only when it walks on the deck does it finally made a sound. The decks groan as the apparition makes a step. The German commander glanced back. It had to be a nightmare. Yet it was so true. The spectral blade swings rhythmically, dosed in the blood of his compatriots. His 1934 Mauser clicked dry as he frantically aimed the barrel at the spirit. A dull thud was heard as the magazine dropped on the floor as another one was slammed in. Eight times the pistol barked. Eight times did the rounds splinter the deck. Lindemann scrambled out of the way before tripping over a disintegrating chain.

"Nein," Lindemann whispered. However, he knew in his heart this was the end. There was no mercy from the ghost. It had taken countless lives. One more would not change it. As the blade was lifted solemnly above the ghost, ready to deliver its final verdict, a blur of movement slammed into the ghost. Before the officer could regain his senses, he was taken roughly by warm hands.

"Shhhh," as the German was dragged away by a man in nigh pristine black uniform, standing out of the rusted ship like a candle. The man that had saved him was Kerr. The main identifier was the lion head on the pommel of his sword and the style of uniform. Perhaps the obvious symbol was the anchor on his cap with the crown. The symbol of the Royal Navy. "Who was that?" Lindemann asked is stalling English. He pointed to the..........Being that had saved him.

It was a most unusual saviour. It was almost Siren-like with it's panels and glowing cracks. However, where red and yellow were, there was warm blue. Black and white replaced with dark azure and grey. It's power source, clearly centred from it's chest, was a fan washed in Blue light, rapidly spinning as the light brightened with every move. The shattered, panel, knight danced gracefully around the spectre, each blow deflected by a similarly shaped beam of blue light. Amidst it's swirling movements, the ray of dazzling light from it's helmet combined with core, made the duel look like a dogfight in the skies, each one with a unique colour trail, the ghost with its cold, white and the warm cyan. A clash of blades brought Lindemann back to his mind and reality as the blades collided. The Knight turned to the pair of officers and uttered in a monotone, grey voice.

"Request, Leave immediately. Reason, Hindrance on Combat."

As usual whenever two captains saw kansen do battle, they felt hopelessly out-matched and useless. Kerr gave a salute before lifting Lindemann to his feet and guided him to the relative safety of a derelict 2cm Flak gun. As the dance of swords grew more intense, the clashes became more frequent, hiss of the sword of light as is came in contact with the supernatural steel.

Suddenly out of the Ship's intercoms came somewhat jovial music. The music was contradicting to the tense situation that the officer found themselves in. Kerr paused in his nervous fidgeting of his pommel as the two continued to duel. He tilted his head to listen to the music better before a look of utter, utter confusion feel on him. "What?" he questioned the dark seas softly, "It's like that time I went to a clubroom, I think it was at least. Some kinda, Italian music?"

"Affirmative, Style of music, Scherzo. Origin: Language of the Italian state, Meaning, Joke or Jest..."

Somehow, their saviour had managed to hear them despite being a good dozen meters or so, while under the pressure of a fierce duel with the ghost. Each word said slightly brightened the visor and dimmed. The spectre constantly did hard, heavy blow to the knight's torso which he deflected or avoided before launching his own retaliation strike which was block. It was clear that the warrior's method of fighting was based of pure mathematics and physics, something that felt wrong when facing a creature of the supernatural plane. A whirr of motors distracted them from listening to the humourous song, it's source, The knight.

""And it will play an endless schzero in my head", speaker, Bismarck of timeline [REDACTED]."

The almost, automation like being, rolled off the words like a script as the tempo of the tune sped up as the apparition grew more aggressive with its battering of their saviour. Just as soon as the music had came on, their saviour fired off a beam of light similar to his sword into the spectre, burying it deep into the crumpled turret of the ship. Just like what kansen had done many times in front of their eyes, a set of "riggings" manifested before them in the shape of single, behemoth of a shark. It's gazed at the captains and read their vitals before focusing on the enemy in front of it. With a sign of a swipe of it's sword, the jaws opened as a cannon, glowing with barely contained energy, extend it and what seemed after a lifetime, fired.

A shell cocooned in what could only be described as electricity of some kind. The impact was spectacular, The turret was vaporised and the ghost was no more, the deck had been burned and charred as molten slag splattered and hissed as they landed. A single ornament dropped from where the ghost had been standing. The Knight walked over and picked it up. It was an Iron Cross. A slot opened which the cross was placed in perfectly.

Finally, their saviour walked over to them. Both captains straightened themselves as they saluted the knight which saluted back.

"Name, Devastator, Nickname: Y/N. Lead ship of the Devastator-class, Alliance, Azur Lane"

"Captain Ralph Kerr, Captain of HMS Hood, Royal Navy"

"Kaptan zur see Ernst Lindemann, captain of the Bismarck, Kriegsmarine"

Devastator nodded solemnly at the captains before dismissing his riggings.

"This is an anomaly in the timeline. You should not be here. Therefore, you will be mind-wiped as I return to my own timeline. Affirmative?"

Lindemann looked around the ship. It was the Bismarck but clearly decayed. Around its decks was the littered shattered corpses of his compatriots, the ghost had done a through job. He sighed before looking back at Devastator.

"Will my crew be returned?"

Devastator nodded again before pulling out a pulsing orb from seemingly nowhere. Around it was currents of changing texted, each in a different language.

"Resetting in 3....2.....1...."

The world light up and faded once more into the multiude of time lines as everything was restored. The event, erased from everyone's mind.