We are Legion!

Chapter 4: Descendants of Wolves The rocky wasteland greeted Legion with a dry wind and the scent of earth. Beneath the ground hid creatures that dug tunnels in search of treasure. Diamond Dogs. Legion halted on a hill, his armor gleaming in the dim light. Below, mine entrances yawned—crude, primitive, devoid of any aesthetic sense. But that wasn’t what interested him. He closed his eyes and extended his telepathic sense. And then he felt it. Not the emptiness of the timberwolves. Not the alien magic of ponies. But something… familiar. Ancient. Distorted by time and degeneration, yet undeniably present. — Wolf blood, — whispered the Scholar, and for the first time, his voice held a note of astonishment. — Diluted. Mixed with something else. But it’s there. — Our distant descendants? — asked the Creator. — Or those who interbred with other races, — the Philosopher speculated. — The degradation is obvious. They’ve lost most of their heritage. But the instincts… the instincts remain. Legion opened his eyes. The red glow behind his visor intensified. Below, near a mine entrance, figures emerged. Short, stocky creatures with gray skin, sharp claws, and greedy eyes. They dragged stones, bickering in a rough, guttural tongue. Diamond Dogs. One of them—larger than the rest, with a chain around his neck and a golden collar—lifted his head. His nostrils flared, catching the scent. — Hey! — he barked in broken pony-speak. — Who are you? This is our territory! Get lost before I call the rest! Legion didn’t answer immediately. He descended the hill, his movements fluid, predatory. Each step echoed with the faint clink of armor. The Diamond Dogs froze. Their instincts, buried deep beneath layers of greed and lethargy, suddenly awoke. They sensed something… kinship in this being. Something that made their fur stand on end not from fear, but from ancient respect. — I’m asking… — the leader began, but his voice trembled. Legion stopped before him. He towered over the Diamond Dogs by nearly two heads, his blue-alloy armor seeming forged from the night itself. — You’ve forgotten who you are, — Legion spoke, and his voice rolled like distant thunder. The Diamond Dogs exchanged glances. — What? What are you… — You were born wolves, — Legion continued, ignoring him. — But became diggers. You carry the legacy of warriors in your blood, yet you claw at the dirt for stones. You are a shadow of what you could have been. The leader bared his teeth: — We’re Diamond Dogs! We’ve always been this way! — They don’t remember, — said the Philosopher with sorrow. — They’ve degenerated, — the Scholar stated. — Generations of crossbreeding. Loss of culture. Primitive existence. — Then let’s wipe them out, — the Warlord suggested. — The weak deserve death. — No, — Legion thought. — They aren’t weak. They’re… lost. He took a step forward. The Diamond Dogs flinched, but Legion didn’t strike. Instead, he removed the gauntlet from his right paw. Beneath the armor lay not flesh in the conventional sense, but something between living tissue and solidified energy. Yet on the back of his paw, where ordinary creatures would have skin or fur, a mark was visible. An ancient symbol. A wolf standing on its hind legs, head raised to the sky. The heraldry of the fallen empire. — Look, — Legion said quietly, yet every Diamond Dog heard him. — This is the mark of those who ruled the north before your great-grandfathers learned to dig. The mark of warriors who fought gods. The mark… of your blood. The leader stared at the symbol. Something stirred in his mind. Images that had never belonged to him. Howling at the moon. Battle. Brothers at his side. The pack. — I… I don’t understand… — he mumbled. — Genetic memory, — the Scholar explained. — It runs deep, but it’s there. It only takes one spark. Legion nodded, though no one saw it. — Choose… — his voice grew softer, yet somehow more commanding. — To lie as stone, or to shine like the stars? The Diamond Dogs stood frozen. — You can keep digging, fight over trinkets, live and die in the dark of mines. Be what you’ve become—pathetic copies of yourselves. He paused, letting the words sink into their minds. — Or you can remember. Remember who your ancestors were. Remember that wolf blood flows in your veins. Warrior’s blood. Blood of those who bowed to no one. The leader slowly sank onto his hind legs. His eyes widened. The images grew clearer. He saw… no, felt… vast halls carved into rock. Warriors in armor. Brothers fighting shoulder to shoulder. — Is this… is this me? — he whispered. — It’s you, — Legion confirmed. — All of you. Your ancestors weren’t diggers. They were guardians. Warriors. Those who protected ancient knowledge in underground fortresses. But when the Ice Grave came, you hid. You forgot. You degenerated. He didn’t accuse. He merely stated facts. — But blood remembers. Blood always remembers. One by one, the Diamond Dogs lowered themselves to the ground. Their greedy eyes, usually fixed only on treasure, were now locked onto Legion. Something ancient was awakening in them. Something that had slept for millennia. — They’re ready, — the Warlord said with approval. — Not all, — the Scholar corrected. — Some are too deep in degradation. But most… most remember. Legion raised his paw. His gauntlet, bearing two wolf skulls on the knuckles, clenched into a fist. — Take up your crosses, and follow me! His voice thundered across the wasteland, and within it merged the voices of thousands from a lost civilization. — Not as slaves. Not as servants. As brothers. As the last heirs of a fallen world. I carry within me the souls of those who fell. And you… you carry in your blood those who survived. Together, we can reclaim what was lost. The Diamond Dog leader slowly rose. His body trembled, but not from fear. From awakening. — I… Rico. I’m the leader of this… — he hesitated, — …this pack. — A pack, not a mine, — Legion corrected mentally. Rico nodded, though he didn’t hear the thought: — A pack. We’ll follow you. But… — his eyes narrowed, — …why? What do you want from us? Legion turned to him. Behind the visor, two red fires burned—eyes that had witnessed the end of a world. — I go to those who rule this world. To the Princesses of Canterlot. They felt my awakening. They fear me, but they do not strike. That commands respect. He paused. — But I do not know this world. I do not know their customs, their strengths, their weaknesses. I need guides. Those who live in this world, yet do not fully belong to it. Those who stand between worlds. Rico slowly nodded: — Diamond Dogs… we’re not loved on the surface. They fear us. See us as thieves, monsters. — You are what circumstances made you, — Legion said. — But you can become what you were born to be. He turned to the rest of the Diamond Dogs: — Who will come with me? Who is ready to stop being a shadow and become yourself? Silence. Then one of the dogs, young, with a scar across his muzzle, stepped forward: — I’m tired of digging for others’ treasure. I want… — he faltered, searching for words, — …I want something more. A second. A third. A fourth. Out of thirty Diamond Dogs, twenty-three stepped forward. Seven remained where they stood, their eyes filled with fear and confusion. They were too deeply mired in their degeneration. — They aren’t ready, — said the Philosopher. — Perhaps, one day, — the Scholar replied. Legion nodded to those who stayed: — You may leave. Return to your mines. Forget this day. Live as you have. I do not judge you. Fear is natural. Then he turned to those who had stepped forward: — And you… you have chosen a hard path. The path of memory. The path of honor. A path that may lead to death. But also… to rebirth. He raised his paw to the sky: — Our name is Legion! For we are many, yet united as one. And from this day forth… you are part of that "we". Rico, former mine boss, now… pack leader, dropped to one knee: — We will follow you, Last Emperor. — Last Emperor? — the Creator echoed. — They’ve given me a title, — Legion replied. — So be it. He looked at his new followers. Degenerated. Forgotten. But awakened. — Rise. From now on, we bow to no one but honor and memory. The Diamond Dogs stood. In their eyes burned a fire their ancestors hadn’t seen in millennia. The fire of wolf blood. — And now, — Legion said, turning toward distant Canterlot, — let us go. The Princesses await. And we have many questions… and answers. He strode forward, and twenty-three Diamond Dogs followed. For the first time in three hundred thousand years, Legion was not alone. He had a pack. Chapter 5: Birth of Haifisch The camp was set up by evening. Not a chaotic wagon train like the Diamond Dogs used to arrange, but an orderly military camp—precise lines, sentries on high ground, campfires positioned to illuminate the perimeter rather than blind those inside. Legion stood on a rocky ledge, looking down at the entrances to the abandoned mines. Rico approached from the side, carrying primitive tools in his paws—pickaxes, shovels, crowbars. — We could expand the old tunnels, — he said uncertainly. — Make more chambers for... — No, — Legion interrupted. He turned to Rico, his helmet with its conical visor reflecting the setting sun. — We will not hide underground. We will build something visible from afar. Something that will remind this world: the wolves have returned. — A citadel, — the Scholar stated with approval. — A fortress, — added the Warlord. — A work of art, — whispered the Creator. — A monument, — finished the Philosopher. — Haifisch, — Legion said aloud. Rico frowned: — What? — That will be the name of the citadel. Haifisch. — Legion raised his paw, pointing to the cliffs around the mines. — In the language of my ancestors, it means "shark". A predator that knows no fear. That stops for nothing. That smells blood in the water from miles away. — Sharks do not exist in this world, — the Scholar noted. — They will now, — Legion replied mentally. — At least, their symbol will. He stepped down from the ledge and gathered the Diamond Dogs around him. Twenty-three warriors looked at him with anticipation. The fire of awakening still burned in their eyes, but now it was joined by a question: what next? — You have dug all your lives, — Legion began. — You’ve tunneled in search of treasures that were never yours. You served greed. But today... today you will begin to serve something greater. He paused, sweeping his gaze over them. — We will build a citadel. Not a mine. Not a shelter. A fortress that will become a symbol of our rebirth. It will be called Haifisch. And everyone who sees it will understand: thieves do not live here. Warriors do. One of the dogs, the young one with a scar on his muzzle, raised a paw: — But... we have no stones. No materials. Only old tools and... — You have something greater, — Legion cut in. — You have knowledge. You know these cliffs better than anyone. You know where the rock is strong, where it is weak, where to carve a foundation and where to reinforce. He pointed a claw at the cliff behind them: — We will not build from imported stone. We will carve the citadel directly from the rock. As our ancestors did. Haifisch will become an extension of the mountain, not a foreign body upon it. — Brilliant, — the Scholar acknowledged. — Utilizing the natural defense of the cliffs. Minimizing weak points. Creating a structure that can withstand a siege. Rico slowly nodded: — It’s... possible. But it will take time. Months. Maybe years. — We have time, — Legion answered simply. — I have too much of it. And you... you now have a purpose. That’s better than aimless existence, isn’t it? The dogs exchanged glances. Understanding flickered in their eyes. They truly wanted this. Wanted to build not another mine, but something grand. Something to be proud of. — Good, — Legion said, seeing their resolve. — Then listen to the plans. He began to describe what he saw in his mind. Blueprints stored in the memory of the thousands of souls he carried. — The foundation will be carved into the rock to a depth of twenty meters. Three levels underground—storerooms, arsenals, training halls. Then—five levels above ground. Towers at the corners. Central tower—the tallest, with my quarters and the council hall. — A council hall? — the Philosopher echoed. — Yes, — Legion replied mentally. — Where the four Hypostases can speak to me without interference. Where I can consult with you. — The walls will be at least three meters thick, — he continued aloud. — Arrow slits for archers. Magical channels for defense. Water from underground springs. Private gardens on the upper levels. He stopped, seeing the dogs trying to grasp the scale. — It’s... a massive undertaking, — Rico mumbled. — Yes, — Legion agreed. — But you are not alone. You have me. And I remember the technologies your ancestors forgot. He removed his gauntlet and pressed his bare paw to the rock. His claws, enhanced by the ancient magic of his armor, flared with blue light. — Watch. Legion dragged his claws across the stone. And the stone... yielded. It didn’t crumble or crack. It was cut with surgical precision, like butter under a knife. Clean lines, perfect angles. — How...? — someone among the dogs breathed. — Technologies of my era, — Legion answered. — We didn’t break stone. We negotiated with it. Every rock has its structure. Its weak points. You just need to know where to press. — Geomancy, — the Scholar explained. — The art of shaping earth through understanding its nature. — You will learn, — Legion told the dogs. — Not just to dig. To understand. To feel the stone. And then you will be able to create not mines... but works of art. Rico stepped closer, his eyes blazing: — Teach us. — I will, — Legion promised. — But it will take time. And discipline. You must forget everything you knew about working with stone. Start from scratch. He looked them over: — Who is ready? All twenty-three dogs stepped forward. — Then we begin tomorrow. At dawn. --- The Night Before Construction The camp fell silent. The dogs slept, their minds filled with images of the future citadel. But Legion did not sleep. He stood on the same ledge, watching the stars. — Are you sure about this? — the Philosopher asked. — Building a citadel means declaring your presence. It’s not a temporary camp. It’s a permanent settlement. You’re anchoring yourself to this place. — I know, — Legion replied mentally. — Why Haifisch? — the Creator asked. — Why a shark? Legion was silent for a moment. — A shark is the perfection of evolution. It has existed for hundreds of millions of years. Not because it’s the strongest. But because it’s ideal. No superfluous parts. No sentimentality. Only purpose. Only forward motion. He raised his head to the sky. — That is what the Legion must be. That is what our people must be. Not survivors. But those who perfect themselves. — What if they fail? — the Scholar asked. — The Diamond Dogs have degenerated. Their bodies are weaker than ours. Their minds... limited. — They will succeed, — Legion said firmly. — Because they now have something they lacked before. Hope. Purpose. Faith. — Faith in what? — the Warlord asked. — In the fact that they can be more than just diggers. In the fact that wolf blood still runs through them. In the fact that... He hesitated. — ...that they can become worthy heirs. — And us? — the Philosopher asked quietly. — Are we... worthy? The question hung in the air. The four Hypostases fell silent, each reflecting on their role in this new chapter. Legion did not answer. He could not. Because he did not know himself. He was the last of a fallen world. The bearer of thousands of souls. A warrior who had slept for three hundred thousand years. But was he worthy of leading these awakened dogs to greatness? Time would tell. --- Dawn The first rays of sunlight touched the cliffs. Legion was already standing at the foundation of the future citadel. One by one, the dogs woke. Rico approached first: — We’re ready. Legion nodded: — Then let’s begin. He raised his paw to the sky: — Today we lay the first stone of Haifisch. Not just a stone. A symbol. A promise. A vow that the wolves have returned. That we will not die. That our memory... will live on. He drove his claws into the earth: — For those who fell. For those who survived. For those yet to be born. For the Legion! Twenty-three Diamond Dog voices echoed: — FOR THE LEGION! And the stone beneath their paws began to yield. Not to break. Not to crumble. To transform. Haifisch was born. And with it, a new chapter in the history of this world began. Chapter 6: Symphony of Stone and Steel A week. Just seven days. For ordinary construction of a fortress on this scale, it would take years. Decades. But Legion was no ordinary builder, and the Diamond Dogs under his command had ceased to be ordinary workers. This was not construction. It was a ritual. --- Day One: The Foundation Legion stood in the center of the excavation pit. His eyes glowed with a steady red light, illuminating the mine's darkness. Around him, dogs bustled, but not chaotically—in perfect rhythm. — The pace is too high, — the Scholar warned. — Their bodies won't withstand such a load. — They will, — Legion replied mentally. — I'm adjusting their metabolism. Temporarily. They don't feel fatigue. They only feel purpose. He raised his paws. A blue glow spread from his armor, touching the stones. Geomancy of the ancient empire did not build—it persuaded matter to take the desired shape. — Cut! — he commanded. The dogs struck with pickaxes. But the stone didn't crumble. It parted under the blows like water under a knife, forming perfectly even blocks. — They are happy, — the Philosopher noted. — Look at their eyes. No fear of the work. Only the zeal of creators. Legion saw it. Rico, leading one of the groups, moved with a grace unavailable to him a week ago. He wasn't digging. He was sculpting. --- Day Three: The Walls The citadel grew before their eyes. Towers sharp as fangs rose from the rock. The bluish alloy, which Legion forged from magical energy and earthly ores, coated the stone with a thin armor. — The aesthetics are violated, — the Creator criticized. — The northern tower is too massive. It breaks the proportions of the golden ratio. — This is not a palace, — the Warlord countered. — This is a fortress. Mass is protection. — This is art, — Legion said aloud, making the dogs freeze. — The art of survival. Beauty in function. Beauty in strength. He approached the wall, running a claw along a fresh seam. The alloy hardened, becoming stronger than steel. — You're not just laying stones. You're pouring your will into them. Each block is a vow. Each seam is a bond between brothers. The dogs nodded. They felt it. The wall vibrated under their paws, responding to their touch. Haifisch was not just a building. It was alive. --- Day Five: Interior Chambers The Council Hall was carved deep into the rock. Legion personally crafted the throne—not from gold, not from velvet, but from black obsidian, reinforced with magic. — Here we will be able to speak, — the Scholar said. — Without interference. Without the noise of the outside world. — Here we will be able to plan war, — the Warlord added. — Here we will be able to reflect, — the Philosopher finished. Legion sat on the throne while the dogs installed the final mechanisms. Ventilation, water supply, magical defense channels. Everything worked perfectly. — You're giving them too much energy, — the Philosopher noted. — Your metabolism is draining. You must eat. — Later, — Legion brushed it off. — First, completion. He felt hunger. Deep, gnawing hunger that demanded meat and energy. But will was stronger than the body. --- Day Seven: Completion The dawn of the seventh day found them on the upper platform of the central tower. Haifisch towered over the land, grim and majestic. Its walls were dark gray with a bluish tint. The towers resembled shark fins cutting through water. Above the central tower flew a banner—Red, bearing an image of Legion himself with bared fangs in shadow. Legion stood before a formation of twenty-three dogs. They looked different. Their clothes had become uniforms—elements of armor forged from the same alloy. In their eyes burned not greed, but pride. Rico stepped forward and dropped to one knee: — The citadel is ready, Emperor. Legion slowly swept his gaze over his creation. — We did it, — the Scholar said with a note of respect. — This is only the beginning, — the Warlord reminded. — You exceeded expectations, — Legion spoke. — A week. What would take others years. You've proven that wolf blood is stronger than time. He stepped to the edge of the tower and looked down. In the distance, Ponyville was visible. Small, cozy, defenseless. — But now they will notice us. --- Ponyville. Golden Oak Library Twilight Sparkle flinched, dropping a book. — What happened? — Spike asked, rushing to her. — Magic... — Twilight whispered, her eyes wide. — A massive energy surge. Somewhere nearby. In the Everfree Forest. She ran to the window and looked toward the forest. Where there had once been only trees and old mines, a shadow now loomed. A giant fortress that hadn't existed yesterday. — This is impossible... — she breathed. — You can't build something like this in a week. This... this is ancient magic. A knock came at the door. It was Applejack. — Twilight! Did you see? — the farmer looked worried. — The whole town is talking about some castle that grew overnight. Pinkie Pie already wants to throw a housewarming party, but I think... it's not safe. Twilight turned to her: — This isn't just a castle, Applejack. It's a fortress. And it wasn't built by ponies. — Then who? — I don't know. But I feel... — Twilight placed a hoof to her chest. — I feel something ancient there. Like from the Princesses' artifacts. But... colder. --- Haifisch. Council Hall Legion sat on the throne. The four voices were debating. — They've already noticed, — the Scholar said. — Magic seismographs recorded the surge. They'll come here soon. — Let them come, — the Warlord replied. — We'll test their strength. — We must be careful, — the Philosopher warned. — There are only twenty-four of us. If they bring an army... — We have an advantage, — the Creator said. — Fear. The unknown. This fortress already inspires dread. Legion raised a paw, silencing the debate. — We will not hide. We will not strike first. We will wait. He stood and approached the window, looking at Ponyville. — I was the conductor of this choir. Now begins the next symphony. A symphony of diplomacy... or war. Rico approached him: — What do we do if they come? Legion turned. His helmet with its conical visor gleamed in the torchlight. — If they come in peace—we will meet them as hosts. If they come with war... He slowly clenched his claws into a fist. The blue alloy of his armor creaked. — ...then they will learn why our people survived where others perished. They will learn what Legion is. He turned to the dogs: — Prepare the Council Hall. Deploy observation posts. And let it be known: no one enters Haifisch uninvited. — Yes, sir! — the dogs answered in unison. Legion looked again at Ponyville. Somewhere there were the Princesses. Somewhere there was the Magic of Friendship. — I wonder, — the Scholar thought. — Will they be able to understand us? — We'll see, — Legion replied aloud. The wind struck the citadel walls, and Haifisch emitted a low, vibrating sound, like a great shark sensing prey. The game had begun.