Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"You are the only one standing now, Perturabo."

Morse's hand rested on the armrest of his special wheelchair, and psychic energy was injected into the wheel axle through the operating system through the joystick, automatically controlling the direction of the wheelchair.

There is a laser cannon barrel above his right shoulder, and in terms of purpose, this barrel is just an accessory to the searchlight attached to the top.

Perturabo walked slowly forward, following Dorn who was pushing and pulling the joystick with two fingers. This long dark passage extends downward from the hiding place of the King's Palace in the Desia City of Nuceria. The silver armors stored on both sides occasionally flash a dazzling silver light under the illumination of Morse's searchlight.

"Normal people would not accelerate the forward speed of a wheelchair to thirty miles per hour with someone who really needs to recover from their injuries, provided they are healthy, able to run and fly."

"I'm not a human being." Morse gave his usual reply, which elicited a strange laugh, like the sound of an amused stone.

Donn shook his fingers. This was the maximum movement he could make except speaking. No matter what, the voice of the rock wrapped in gauze remained calm: "Two years ago, I had an affair with him because of this. There was a quarrel at Perturabo.”

"Is that something worth laughing about?" Perturabo looked at the high-ranking rider Silver Armor next to him displeasedly. Even though the tunnel was completely dark, the Primarch could still clearly see all the details on these creations. . He critically examines these relics of ancient technology.

"No," said Dawn, "I don't know why I laughed just now."

"I believe that Rogal Dorn has a smile trigger mechanism that is different from most people. For example, I believe that this wheelchair can win a smile from our Lord of the Seventh Legion, but he immediately started asking whether the heated barrel will be used. Caused damage to the patient’s shoulder skin.”

Morse reached out and patted the laser cannon barrel, which was still slightly hot. A few minutes ago, this barrel had just used laser to cut through the camouflaged wall of the King's Palace, allowing the two primarchs and Morse to enter Nuceria, a secret passage filled with thick dust that had not been used for countless years. .

"That's what he is," said Perturabo.

"Well, let me tell you something really funny. You two will never guess what the Emperor said when I told him he'd better come and see his two mummified offspring."

"What is a mummy?"

"Is this a new question, or is it an answer to my question?" Morse shook his head and leaned back into the black cushions in his wheelchair. "The origins of this culture can be traced back to dozens of thousands of years ago. On Old Terra, where humans have not yet left their home planet, people wrap the bodies of dead bodies with cloth as a form of funeral ritual.”

"They believed that the soul would not die after death, so they used embalming materials to collect the body and filled it with spices to show respect for the deceased." Perturabo said, "There is this article in the funeral customs archives of the Great Library of Terra ”

Rogal Dorn rolled his eyes and looked at his arms and legs wrapped in gauze, and then continued to look straight ahead, observing whether there were any ups and downs in front of this long secret passage that were not conducive to wheelchair access: "Oh. So the Emperor said What?"

"They won't die."

"The Emperor is right," Dorn commented. "We will not die."

Perturabo's frowned eyebrows relaxed again because of Dorn's words. He was silent for a second and said, "But he still came to Nuceria."

"Yes," Morse stretched out his hand and tapped the silver armor next to him with his knuckles. The rustling sound of some insects escaping quickly spread and quickly disappeared into the soil. "An enigmatic ruler, huh?"

"You can understand him." Donn said with certainty, noticing the black cloth wrapped around Morse's hand, and fell into new thinking, "You wrapped strips of cloth all over your body, are you imitating a mummy?"

"This is proof that he cut corners," Perturabo said. "You don't want to know what's under those strips."

"Yes, I do understand him." Morse shrugged, retracting his hand and hiding it in the folds of the fabric of his black robe. "So I asked him to come as a human being. And he skillfully grasped the most eye-catching moment, gradually revealing his brilliance among the ordinary people, affecting the atmosphere and bringing it to an extreme, allowing the true magnificent golden light to infuse His sacred body is marked with a golden crown as his unique supreme identity in the world... Whether it makes him look like a god of light who was born from a mortal, or a born holy king who fell into the ordinary dust from ancient times, he at least proved that He can stand on the human side."

Perturabo put his hand on the center of the backrest of Rogal Dorn's wheelchair. When the Emperor showed his true form, he understood the significance of the human king appearing in this form: "Angron was He has decided to pursue his ideals and devote himself to the cause of the Great Crusade. But after this, he will also love our father himself."

"Is this a ploy?" Donne asked. "From your narrative perspective, I can come to this conclusion."

"You can forget it." Morse chuckled, and the wheelchair crushed the bones of some small rodents. "The Emperor has thousands of faces, and those are undoubtedly a part of him. However, he often cannot think of the human beings. The Lord is not always His most powerful identity.”

"A politics based on recognition?" Perturabo said.

"Stop making everything so academic. It makes you sound like Magnus."

"How am I similar to him?" Perturabo snorted softly, "Speaking of Magnus, has he completed the task assigned to him by the Emperor?"

"Verification of the retention validity of emotions relying on fluctuating energy fields? You might as well ask him himself. This is not difficult."

Perturabo glanced down at Dorne. The original body in the wheelchair seemed to feel something, and asked calmly: "Do you need me to leave for evasion?"

"Is there any need for a person trapped in a wheelchair to avoid it?" Morse's fingers rolled rhythmically on the armrest, pressing down and popping up quickly from his index finger to his little finger, as if he was playing some invisible instrument. Or perhaps he was tapping on some invisible tablet. "If Rogal Dorn cannot be trusted, no Primarch can be trusted."

"And me?"

"You are already trusted, what else is there to assume?" Morse said, knowing that Perturabo was just asking questions casually out of habit, and he gave an answer briskly, "Actually, the Emperor and Macca Duo even believes that Terra needs another original body to appear in time when necessary, and to take charge of some palace-related repair work. Currently, there are only a few people who have returned, and Rogal Dorn is more suitable than others. ——”

"Think about it, with Horus Luperkar's ability and character, he is not suitable to occupy a corner, even if that corner is the center of the human empire; Magnus has destroyed a palace kitchen, and Leman Luperkar Si is definitely capable of transforming the Royal Palace of Terra into a large-scale Fenris-themed castle park in one winter day.”

"Where's Angron?" Dorn asked, simply expressing his suspicion.

"It seems that I should start with Magnus's subject. The result of his experiment was to suggest that another primarch with telepathic talents should return to participate in the work, so Angron already has half a foot on the Emperor's grand plan. Now it's up to our Emperor to persuade him to return to Terra and trick him into Magnus' experimental test as soon as possible."

"Do I also need to return to Terra?" Rogal Dorn heard some hints from Morse's words. "And do I have the right to be informed of my mission now?"

"Ask the Emperor," Morse said, continuing to tap his fingers lightly on the armrest, then pausing and drawing his fingers inward.

"No, neither you nor Angron need to be in a hurry to return to Terra." He said, driving the wheelchair forward and down the slope that sloped downward. "Malcador has given me some amazing updates, and we may be lucky enough to witness some amazing things in the future."

"Must you hide the truth behind artificial fog, Morse?"

"Why don't we first guess what this dusty secret passage extending from the Desia King's Palace to the interior of the mountain is." The craftsman said, "Where does it lead to? Is anyone interested in guessing?"

"No." Perturabo didn't hesitate at all.

"Abandoned arsenal?" Dorn asked. The displays on the walls on both sides of this secret passage, which can be called an exhibition hall of ancient human science and technology, left a deep impression on him.

"My psychic thread told me otherwise." Morse turned over his palm, palm facing up. After several bends, a golden and blue thread was retracted from the end of the tunnel. "Just keep walking."

The dark tunnel snakes from the mountains to the farthest place. The road rises and falls several times in silence. The only sounds accompanying the three people are the rolling sound of the wheelchair pressing through the dust, the footsteps of Perturabo, and the sound of the original sound. There was a slight caressing sound as the robe on the body caressed the stone walls on both sides.

Soon after, a beam of light was reflected in the tunnel. It was extremely small at first, and after being refracted by the dust many times, it entered the sight of the original bodies. After the last turn, the sunlight passed through the gaps between the bricks and stones on the sealed wall. The light was like open ribs, opening up the darkness inside the wall.

Morse knocked on the handrail, and a laser shot out after a brief charge, cutting and shattering the thin brick wall. The light from the other side of the mountain suddenly illuminated everything. The vast sandy scene, which was not much different from the other side of the mountain, now seemed to have a completely new attitude as if it were a world away, along with the clear blue sky and the traces of high-altitude flowing clouds. , fell into the sight of the three people.

"This is a tunnel," Morse said, "a secret passage that no one knows about, no one disturbs, and ignores the outside world, passing directly through the mountains."

——

They stopped under the mountains, on top of Nuceria's military base. Ice, snow and wild grass meet here. Upward, the icy wind blew broken bones in the frozen soil. Down below, transport trucks and workers were constantly moving back and forth.

After the arena incident a few days ago, Angron ordered all other arenas across Nuceria to be wiped out from the ground, leaving only the last arena in the city of Desia as a core place of education and warning.

For this final arena, Angron ordered the World Eaters to fill up a number of prisons for beasts on the edge of the Red Sand Arena in Desia, replace the sand with clean soil, seal off the auditorium, and install surveillance equipment outside the walls. The purity of the purpose of the facility is maintained by the direct inscription of the site's history in the masonry, as well as by several core legal principles discussed at the First Council of Nuceria.

Among other things, he visited Perturabo and earnestly begged his brother to reconsider the idea of ​​a new Nucerian memorial—his brother, the first moment he bowed his head, rose from behind the iron table and pulled took his hand.

"Peturabo designed this memorial hall for me. The indoor venue is a historical introduction, and the outdoor venue is directly connected to this mountainous cemetery."

Angron said, hearing the Emperor's breathing in the gaps between words,

“The theme of the memorial is the sufferings, the hardships overcome, the unremitting will and the sacrifices made by all those who fought for freedom in Nuceria. From the recent one-year war to the several events I have witnessed since I came here. All the resistance of ten years, and the great souls who have shed their blood for thousands of years, their ideals will be engraved here and will be remembered forever.”

The golden laurel leaf crown that held down the emperor's black hair blended with the sunlight beside him, showing a cold brilliance in the cold autumn wind of Nuceria.

When he stood up from his seat in the conference hall, with the laurel crown floating on his bare forehead and the golden armor covering his civilian clothes, he broke away from the image of a calm and idealistic mortal who had talked before, and stepped into another more... In the lofty and higher divine image.

However, Angron noticed that the self-proclaimed emperor never left the seats belonging to the people. Wearing golden armor, he stood still and waited.

So Angron stepped off the podium, crossed the ocean of people, surrounded by countless citizens of Nuceria, and held the emperor's hand through the golden gauntlet.

"You did not emphasize your own merits," the Emperor said, his tone steady and long.

"I wait for my citizens to judge me." Angron said, still a little sad when he mentioned the people of Nuceria. He was afraid that they would fall back into the worse side of human nature.

The Emperor nodded slightly. "What did Rogal Dorn see in the Warp?"

Angron was slightly surprised by this question: "A huge demon wrapped in blood mist, with wings on its back, and powerful force. Perturabo said that the best way to deal with questions is to ignore them."

"The Fourth Primarch relayed Morse's words," the Emperor asserted.

Angron nodded. "Then you came here."

The Emperor withdrew his sight from a distance and turned to Angron, with the shadow of golden flame dancing in his dark eyes. His figure was propped up by the light, like a giant who could touch the heaven and the earth.

But Angron could see within the image of the emperor, the middle-aged man chatting among the crowd. His skin was rough and his face was tired. However, a cluster of ideal fire was burning in his body. It was this fire that created the radiant glow that reflected through his body the image of the Lord of Mankind. The fire will never be extinguished until the darkness is burned away.

Something hot and hard surged into Angron's heart.

"Do you know what your next responsibilities will be?"

"We will travel to Ultramar," Angron said, "and then return to Terra via Olympia. We will gaze at the galaxy and ignite the flames of war until oppression is gone and the dream of unity is realized."

The Emperor's eyes softened.

“You’re going to take on more than you think.”

"Then come on."

Angron said.