Zaire awakened to the familiar scent of disinfectant wafting through his nostrils.
His fingers fumbled for the controls of the multifunction hospital bed.
Accompanied by the soft hum of mechanical adjustments, his upper body was gradually lifted by the bed.
Glancing down at the fading purple bruises on his body, Zaire let out a helpless sigh.
Not wanting to simply stare at the ceiling, he opened the simulator's interface.
Since recovery demanded rest, he thought, he might as well find something to occupy his time.
After silently offering his customary prayer to the Emperor, Zaire adjusted the time dilation settings and activated the simulator.
[Simulation starting—]
[Current identity: Mortal]
[Please choose a role to assume upon entry.]
[If no choice is made, a random role will be assigned.]
[Role selection declined.]
[Simulation starting—]
[You have entered the Warhammer universe.]
[Time: Unknown.]
[Location: Milky Way Galaxy, Obscurus Sector, Fenris.]
[You arrive on the planet's surface...]
[The thin garments you wear offer no protection.]
[A biting wind pierces every inch of your skin, seeping into the depths of your bones.]
[You take a deep breath of freezing air to stay conscious.]
[Treading through deep snow, you search desperately for shelter.]
[All you see is an endless expanse of white snow and low, gnarled, barren trees.]
[Your hands and feet begin to go numb, soon followed by sharp, stinging pain.]
[You are forced to jog to keep your blood circulating.]
[You plunge into a sparse forest.]
[Suddenly, you realize that the cold is not the only threat you face.]
[In front of you, three shaggy Fenrisian wolf pups rise slowly, their gray manes bristling as they bare yellowed fangs at you.]
[You draw another deep breath of icy air.]
[Bending slightly, you attempt to retreat.]
[Your movement, however, seems to signal to the pups that you are prey.]
[Twelve sharp claws crunch through the snow as they leap toward you.]
[You roll backward quickly, grabbing a dry branch as thick as your arm from the snow.]
[Your retreat is not an act of cowardice but a move to find a weapon.]
[You swing the branch with all your might.]
[The slightly bent stick arcs like a chainsword, striking one pup's gaping maw with a loud snap of breaking fangs and a pained yelp.]
[Dodging sideways, you narrowly avoid another pup's leap.]
[Once more, you swing your branch.]
[This time, it strikes the third pup's spine with a dull thud.]
[The force of impact causes the branch to splinter.]
[Clutching the broken remains of the branch, you roar from deep within your throat.]
[Leaping forward, you grab the paralyzed pup's neck with one muscular arm, pinning it beneath your body.]
[With the broken branch in your other hand, you drive it into the pup's eye socket.]
[Bloodshot eyes blazing with fury, you glare at the two remaining wolves.]
[The sound of their fallen packmate's death throes and cries of agony causes the two wolves to hesitate before retreating into the forest.]
[The wolf beneath you breathes its last. You release your grip on the shattered branch and collapse onto its still-warm body, panting heavily.]
[Pulling the branch from the wolf's socket, the sight of steaming blood causes your parched throat to ache with thirst.]
[After a moment's hesitation, you lean in and begin to drink from the wolf's wound.]
[The hot, metallic taste fills your stomach, temporarily warding off the encroaching cold.]
[Regaining some strength, you search the forest for stones, trying to carve the wolf's meat and salvage its pelt.]
[You manage to obtain a crude, torn wolfskin.]
[Clad in the tattered skin and gnawing on tough, raw wolf meat, you attempt to start a fire by rubbing sticks together.]
[Whether due to improper technique or damp tinder, your efforts end in failure.]
[As darkness falls, the forest grows colder, and snowflakes the size of your palm drift down steadily.]
[Dragging the frozen wolf carcass, you dig a shallow pit in the snow to shield yourself from the wind.]
[Shivering, you huddle in the pit, covering yourself with the wolf's stiff body.]
[Your body temperature drops rapidly.]
[Yet, paradoxically, you feel an unbearable heat flooding through your limbs.]
[Your consciousness begins to waver.]
[As you teeter on the brink of death, a haunting wolf's howl echoes in the distance...]
[You open your eyes slowly.]
[You have not perished in the frigid night.]
[A heavy, intact cave bear pelt covers your body.]
[Two meters away, a roaring fire melts the snow, radiating life-saving warmth.]
[A skinned and gutted Fenrisian elk roasts over the flames, the sizzling fat crackling in the heat.]
[Your parched throat prompts you to swallow involuntarily.]
[Just as you rise to investigate, a gravelly voice speaks from behind the fire:]
["You're no Fenrisian... No one here would eat a Fenrisian wolf, even on the verge of starvation..."]
[Peering through the flickering flames, you spot a massive figure wearing a wolf's skull as a helmet.]
[His black power armor, etched with intricate gold patterns, gleams in the firelight.]
[He sits casually on a tree stump, a power staff resembling outstretched eagle wings planted in the snow before him.]
["The Emperor's coin, a loyal messenger, an outsider named Zaire... I thank you for sparing me the trouble of saving you," you say, saluting the Astartes warrior in the manner of the Astra Militarum.]
[The Astartes warrior responds with a deep, unsettling laugh.]
["Space Wolves, Wolf Priest Ulrik... Welcome to Asaheim, outsider," he says, his commanding voice cutting through the crackling flames and filling your ears.]
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