Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

The door opened inward with a hissing sound of air, revealing a brand new cave. 【】The nearly seventy-meter-high vaulted ceiling separates the rock formations with multiple colors, demarcating an empty and dull passage. The murals on the walls seemed to be alive under the illumination of searchlights, like the water waves in the depths of a dry well swaying and flickering.

Alpharius paused beside a heavy chain protruding from the exposed rock.

"Omegon has been here." Through some kind of twin memory that may be deeper than the ordinary Primarch, Alpharius read out the other snake of Hydra from the seemingly identical chain. The first journey to this place.

"He did not lie about the most valuable part of his memory to this day, Alpharius. The coordinates of this place in the warp are lost in a unique undercurrent of pressure and instability that has spread Omegon across half the galaxy. The legendary search for Macragge becomes explicable."

Perturabo's body carrying the C'tan fragments.

He and Morse followed Alpharius together, experiencing how the Primarch, who was known for his spy skills, relied on the most ingenious path planning and the lightest agility to track the legacy of his twin brother Traces, find the planet in the Perditus system, avoid the local people's protection of the holy land, and sneak into the depths of the cave described by Omegon as "an engine that travels through subspace".

"Yes, we didn't," Alpharius said. "We know how important the means of traveling through the Warp will be to the Emperor. The value of truth here outweighs lies."

"It seems that there is still sanity in your incomprehensible spirit, Alpharius." Morse said, "I just thought of one thing, that is, just from a technical perspective, your camouflage skills are better than Omegon. The professional level is also slightly better. ”

"He grew up alone outside the glory of the Emperor. It is natural for him to be lacking." Alpharius replied in a low voice, looking up at the stone ball suspended in the air.

"But by various coincidences, Omegon touched the edge of a core area of ​​the Emperor's plan earlier than you did," Morse said. "I hope you will relay this sentence to Malcador as it is and let him judge. You will have the authority to do so, and not allow Omegon or you to explore and destroy the key. In the name of the Emperor, he will need you to do this."

Alpharius made no answer, but Perturabo knew that the mysterious primarch had remembered. As long as he still had a shred of respect and loyalty to the Emperor, he would not be too smart after Morse's warning.

Within their sight, the huge cave was quite empty, without too many lights, various machines and equipment, dials or cables, as if no one had ever disturbed the tranquility of this place.

A perfect sphere is resting in the sky, with marble-like black and gray tones, and slowly moving golden spots on the surface, like an independent small world in the sky.

Ten and two-thirds meters, Perturabo immediately visually determined its diameter, but its material was a mystery.

When he observed the sphere, he also experienced a strange sense of gaze. Perturabo was not sure what kind of external equipment the sphere relied on to conduct an external observation, but the feeling of alienation coming from the sphere became stronger.

"Omegon claims that this thing can talk." Perturabo said, standing still and not approaching rashly. "It's been described as being willing to communicate, being able to collaborate, but having other agendas. Also, that conversation happens in the spirit."

Morse looked at this strange thing that was also unfamiliar to him: "It needs an interface to speak to the outside world. A template and carrier to show it human thinking patterns. And we now have two options, one, from Grab a Perditus who regards this place as a holy place from outside to ask about possible communication methods. Second, apply the cryptography that humans have developed for tens of thousands of years to this sphere that has a history of hundreds or even tens of millions of years. Come on. Three, I’ll go take a look.”

"Let the Adeptus Mechanicus come?" Alpharius asked.

"Too slow," said Perturabo, stepping toward the sphere. He felt that strange energy seemed to be emerging from the fragments of the Star God sealed in this body by the Emperor. This was a rare phenomenon that had not been seen in several days.

However, penetrating through the ripples of emotion, what the fragments and round spheres convey to each other is not a resonance, but a low impulse that is almost hostile.

He stood under the huge and cold sphere, identifying whether there was any tendency of movement in the sphere, and whether the patterns on it could be interpreted. Unfortunately, the answer Perturabo received was no.

Its working principle or internal structure is a mystery, and all the golden spots on the surface of this gray-black sphere are only slowly moving, converging or separating in an irregular manner like electricity.

+Can I have a conversation? +Morse uses his psychic powers. His consciousness came into contact with the inside of the sphere, where he could indeed find a more active substance.

+……+

The sphere responded to him with veritable eagerness.

A kind of primitive communication that is higher than language unfolds in a form that abandons artificial words and negates the internal thinking logic of the species. Morse received the gaze of two Primarchs. After a few seconds, Morse raised his hand and constructed a blue shadow made of psychic energy.

The sphere also responded. The unknown substance made the friction and tremor of a rolling stone when it moved, and a burnt smell emitted from the air. Two synapses extended from the two poles of the sphere, forming several circular knots several centimeters long. The net is connected with the phantom of psychic energy.

The blue energy was reshaped in the connection with the machine, forming a boy lying on the ground, no more than eight Earth years old, with unblinking eyes, resembling a silent corpse emitting blue light.

A tube extends from the psychic projection's back and under its skull, connecting it to the sphere.

A few seconds later, it stood up abruptly, its movements stiff, and its eyeballs radiated light; the golden spots on the surface of the sphere moved at high speed, and the patterns changed, as if it was struggling to control a strange puppet.

"You are here." The psychic puppet said expressionlessly, and the way he shook his hand was so mechanical that it took Perturabo a moment to realize that this was a greeting.

The Lord of Iron confirmed that neither Morse nor Alpharius had any desire to talk, and knew that he was the one among the three who had received the task of communicating with a strange individual. He suddenly discovered that the frequency of conversations with aliens seemed to be slightly higher recently.

"You were waiting for us," said Perturabo. "You knew we were coming?"

"One of you once spoke to me," the psionic doll replied, its voice echoing in both physical and spiritual thoughts. "I'm sure you'll keep coming."

"How did he find you?"

"A journey. An accident. I am a servant of the Deadly Sea. I am everywhere."

"What are you?" Perturabo took a step forward, but the unfamiliar aura of the psychic doll made him reluctant to get closer.

"I'm Tuchucha. I believe I can be your friend, try to be patient with me, people," the puppet said.

"I'm not asking for your name. I don't care what you are called, Tuchucha." Perturabo said calmly, recalling the last conversation with the C'tan shard.

"I am everything, I am anything. I am a ship. You know my power, I feel your thoughts, your voice touches mine. But it's too big, bigger than the rest of you Bigger. There are two voices in you."

Perturabo did not answer immediately. He raised his head from the psychic puppet and stared at the gray-black sphere itself.

He considered the object's significance, enumerating its role in the Empire and its hidden threats. He knew that the Emperor would not let go of any treasures involving the secrets of the Warp, otherwise Alpharius would not be sent to Macragge to discuss the Warp Engine with Mors.

"You can transfer people to another location in an instant. This is an uncontrollable and dangerous phenomenon, Tuchucha." Perturabo spoke, skillfully controlling the mental squeezing effect of the Star God fragments on him. "You can only be used, or even saved from destruction, if we can be sure that you are useful enough to the empire and are not harmful."

"I can't prove my innocence, people," Tuchucha replied.

"Tell us your needs, the price you demand for serving the Imperium of Man."

"I don't need payment," Tuchucha said, its borrowed puppet voice beginning to grow harsh. "I just need a duty. And a return. Do you want me to show my power, people?"

Alpharius said nothing and took the initiative to step forward. There are only three of them in this cave, Perturabo, Mors, and him. Perturabo will not leave, and he does not want Mors to leave.

"To the frigate," Alpharius said.

The next moment, his mind and body suddenly experienced a shaking, feeling somewhere between the bumps of a ship and a subspace teleportation. The scene in front of him changed after a blur. Alpharius held up the wall that rushed toward him, and his vision returned to clarity.

This is the corridor of the frigate above the orbit.

Tuchucha's ball and the phantom of the psychic puppet were floating beside him, fluttering up and down amidst the sirens blaring from the ship.

His exclamation was something he habitually hid. "Go back," Alpharius said.

Tuchucha led him back to the cave. Alpharius nodded briefly to Perturabo, while Morse shook his head slightly.

Perturabo's expression remained unchanged. He maintained what he thought was the appropriate calmness and dignity, realizing that the Primarch could not resist the power of this machine, and Morse did not crack the operating mechanism of Tuchucha in this experiment.

"There is no gravity displacement, no energy return." Perturabo described the parts he could see, "Very powerful. I hope you can send Alpharius to the Iron-Blooded Ship in Ultramar. The Empire needs more Professional negotiators and researchers communicate with you, can you do it?”

"Do you need to go together?" Tuqiucha asked.

"I hope Alpharius returns first." Perturabo said, sending the current known information to his own location in the blink of an eye.

After Alpharius returns, Tuchucha cannot pose a threat to Perturabo and Morse - through a simple analysis, we can know that no one can trap Morse, and the worst result is nothing more than Lose a Star God Shard.

Tuchucha's psychic puppet stared intently at Perturabo. As time passed silently, Tuchucha's voice finally sounded again.

"Of course, Perturabo," said the puppet, "your request is reasonable."

Alpharius disappeared from the cave, and not long after, Perturabo learned from his main body, which was still in the Iron-Blooded, that Alpharius knocked on his office door.

Some of the pressure in his heart dissipated.

"Next, do I need to wait for more professional negotiators and researchers?" Tu Qiucha asked. "Aren't you the most expert of your race?"

"I have a question. You said you need a return. What do you mean?"

The puppet of Tuchucha stared at him, its empty and inorganic psychic puppet's lips twisted into an inhuman smile.

Then, a familiar force suddenly grabbed Perturabo's arm.

"Pull me, Perturabo, I need to deal with it..."

"Morse? What--"

+The power of the Star God...+

The surrounding environment suddenly changed rapidly between brilliant light and dark gloom, and the gravel and dust quickly expanded into a dense fog and the sound of wind howling in the soul.

Perturabo pulled the black robe on Morse's back, feeling that the fragment of the Star God suppressed in his chest was being pulled hard by a cold and hostile psychic force, and was re-sealed by Morse's golden spell.

At the same time, a temporary force field was opened, and the body that had become unsuitable for any subspace navigation as a fragment container was also under the protection of the craftsman.

Morse's clothes were blown by the ether wind and lost their body shape, almost turning into a fluttering black cloth. The golden chain stretched out from the craftsman's hand, trying to trap the Tuchucha engine that was leading this voyage, but it was ineffective - the ancient technology was operating in an unexplainable form, which brought unprecedented difficulties to Morse's actions.

"This thing wants to go to the Misty Star Region..." Morse's voice reached Perturabo's ears through a roar. He was trying his best to interfere with this strange and difficult-to-decipher teleportation, "It wants to find someone called Ouroboros..."

"Stop it..." Perturabo shouted.

In countless moments, Perturabo saw the iconic white mist of the webway flashing before his eyes, followed by a large number of twisted creatures and strange debris in the subspace.

The webway, the subspace and reality kept alternating, forming a twisted and uncertain field. Time and space were broken and lost their meaning in this uncompromising dispute, as if the rules of the universe were rewoven. Every position is infinite, and every moment is eternal.

+ Zakhurash! + Tuchucha's consciousness rumbled. It was surprising that it recognized the fragments preserved in Perturabo's body, but Perturabo had no time to think.

His back hit countless indescribable objects in the subspace, reality and ether alternately appeared, and the deafening sound of breaking replaced all other noises, accompanied by dazzling light and invisible shock waves. These objects seemed to be fragments of space, perhaps bubbles of time, or real objects; each collision would create violent energy fluctuations, which was not only a physical impact, but also carried an immaterial force beyond understanding, and the physical laws of the real world seemed powerless here.

A metal object that was originally floating in the real universe was carried a distance in the aftermath of their entanglement, and then derailed in a struggle and impact, deviating from their direction. Perturabo did not have time to judge what it was.

They continued to fall into the unknown abyss.

Well, this volume is finally over!

Reminder that tomorrow should probably be the time for the extra chapter.

Preview of the next volume:

"It's just the loss of tendons and skin, my friend, hold on a little longer, don't interrupt my meal."