Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

The forging of Perturabo continues.

He melted two pieces of iron into a golden-white body, then wrapped it with two pieces of soft steel, connected them in series with a long spiral iron rod, and placed it on the anvil. His work is unhurried and full of rhythm and skill. Rather than saying it is a physical labor, it is better to say that the action of swinging the hammer itself is part of the art.

The hard iron became soft and malleable under the heat and hammer. From its original shape, it became integrated, unified, and gradually elongated. The tyrant Damex saw a rectangular outline, about ten inches long, with the end becoming Sharp, thick and stable bottom.

A knife, he said to himself, joy rising in his heart from satisfaction. He saw the prototype of a sharp blade, which was forged and presented to everyone.

Morse watched Perturabo's every movement attentively, and Damex thought that the craftsman was probably observing the boy's specific expression in some inhuman way. Morse read Perturabo.

Perturabo's movements were more precise and faster than any boy of the same age that Damex knew, and even surpassed most of the craftsmen in the kingdom; the remaining craftsmen were better than him only because of their age and age. The natural advantage brought by physical strength.

When the previous hammer fell, Perturabo had already thought about the strength, center of gravity and landing point of the next hammer. His hammer was as precise as a factory machine, without any sluggishness or ambiguity in it.

The bright red edge of the blade emerges from the incandescence, and the temperature cooling is unified with the rhythm of the blade's shaping. Perturabo put the iron into the furnace a second time, raising the heat again, allowing more high temperatures to change the structure of the iron.

Then he looked around, confident and bold.

"Give me a stick," he said.

The courtiers, craftsmen and priests present all looked at each other, but no one was so prepared.

Damex immediately raised his voice and said with great strength: "Patrocles, give him your weapon!"

The soldier named Patrocles was all excited. He looked at the giant wooden stick in his hand that was used to hammer people's heads, and handed it to the messenger who was running over. The messenger then handed it to the priest, and the priest handed it to the priest. Run to get to Perturabo. Perturabo lowered his head, disappointment evident on his brow.

Morse shook his head, and a gust of wind blew towards the stage. The shape of the wooden stick was trimmed and perfected, making it smooth and easy to exert force. Perturabo looked up at him and immediately took over the tool.

"A hammer can easily damage the shape of the blade." Morse muttered.

The steel under Perturabo's hands is tamer than anyone expected. Those indestructible irons are meekly transforming into the new form that Perturabo needs. They are silent, hot, and honest, making the best of every blow. reaction, and Perturabo did not hide his love for steel.

The boy's heart beat as the steel yielded. For the first time, he openly revealed the joy on his face. The firelight burning in his eyes did not represent anger, but simple satisfaction and enjoyment.

Damex couldn't see clearly, but even such a distant observation was enough for him to understand Perturabo's mood.

He squeezed the handle of the golden scepter with satisfaction and began to imagine how his army would be completely transformed in the future because of the addition of two extraordinary blacksmiths.

Throughout the planet Olympia, the war between the Twelve Tyrants and other small countries has never ended.

They only occasionally called truces to spend a precious period of peace and preparation for war, and then continued to fight for land and power. Tyrants must do this, otherwise the land will be ravaged and the subjects plundered.

He still remembered the record of Ax snatching Lokos women as wives a hundred years ago. In fact, this is the origin of the nursery rhyme that everyone in China knows. Any child can sing a couple of lines from the song of the Shepherdess who strayed into the battlefield.

A blacksmith who serves in the war can always add some chances of victory to his Lokos.

As for the Olympia Games, which allowed the whole world to choose to work together to maintain a short-term peace, and those who started war would be surrounded and attacked, it is as old as a legend.

"Your child will forge the most perfect weapon." Damex said to Morse. Even though Morse never admitted his relationship with Perturabo, the king felt that it was not wrong to call him this.

Mors on the side looked unpredictable, watching Perturabo's work. After hearing Damex's question, he smiled and continued his unfinished story: "You have to be careful, my son. If your wings are heavy, they are soaked in sea water; if your wings are light, then they are soaked in sea water. It's what the sun burns away. But don't be afraid, my son, if you are carried away by the tide, I will find you."

Damex was savoring Morse's riddles and had been communicating with the priests of the cult for a long time. He already knew that he could not ignore any puzzle presented to him.

Then, he frowned, and it wasn't because of the too old noun "sea water" in his words.

Damex confirms that Morse gave him a warning.

So he reflected: What did he say wrong?

On the round platform, the blade was tempered for the fifth time, and then for the sixth time. Beating and cooling, the golden-red fire attached to the knife burns on the water and alternates with the thin white mist. Perturabo wore invisible gloves, and the flames seemed to ignite from his hands and leap into the air.

Damex was fascinated by it, as was everyone in the audience. Whether it was the craftsmen present or the courtiers who had no interest in forging and only came to witness on the king's order, they unknowingly devoted their full energy to observing.

For the last time, the blade entered the icy water for the last time. The boy walks with the flames. If the god of fire in Olympian mythology came to the world, this might be what he would look like.

Then, he raised the completed dagger, and the cold light on the blade shone brightly. It was clear that it had not been sharpened yet, and it was already sharp and pressing.

The bright light shone across Perturabo's body, and the boy wiped away the black burnt layer on the sharp blade with his fingers. The blade surface was smooth and flat, reflecting the faces of everyone present.

The priest immediately knelt down in reverence, forgetting the tyrant Damex whom he was supposed to kneel to. "Son of God!" His excitement made him burst into tears. "Your skills are perfect!"

Damex also happily stood on the side of the wooden fence, opening his arms, and as the king of a country, he showed his welcome without reservation.

"Perturabo, Lokos will be honored by your forges, and your craft will regenerate the entire realm."

Damex was careful, using words that were both exaggerated and cautious. He remembered that when he said the word "arms," ​​Morse was not encouraging.

Perturabo's calmness was quite astonishing. He was neither delighted by the king's praise nor offended by the priest's words. He just raised his head and looked towards the second floor, his gaze pointing in a very clear direction.

Then, he threw the entire work into the flames, and in everyone's astonishment, he mercilessly caused the just-finished blade to melt in the high temperature of the fire.

"Your praise is premature," Perturabo declared bluntly.

Damex heard a breath, and looked to his side, and from the smile Morse finally showed, he was sure it was a chuckle.