Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"I mistakenly thought you would torture him personally, Blood Marquis." Victor sat on the terrace above the execution pit, calmly adapting to the simplicity of Konrad Curze's interior decoration. For example, this gun has no essential function other than supporting the body. Besides, there are hard seats with no comfort at all.

He himself is still exploring the most suitable artistic style to maximize the dignity, majesty and terror of being a ruler.

"I don't need to feed on pain to preserve my soul." Coz bent over the spiked black iron fence and sorted out a small bag of his props. Hooks, razor blades, long needles, syringes, hand saws and tweezers, he uses these gadgets from time to time.

Beneath the terrace, his collection was hunting a wretched Eldar, more specifically a Haemonculus stripped of most of its additional biological modifications except those that allowed normal movement.

Konrad Curze carefully organized the collection of items he inherited or hunted, viewing the day-to-day hunting as a preview of the larger battles to come. With winged birds and their sharp and deadly claws, combined with the remains and monstrosities of ground combat, and the rapid troops and long-range firepower of other sentient beings fighting for him, he comprehensively and patiently lays out what is needed for war. Every aspect.

Konrad Coates did not object to the use of human beings, but in his words, when he selected human slaves, he had a unique set of private selection concepts that had no universal characteristics. The highest principle a dirty mind can give."

"You always have your reasons, Conrad. You are developing into a rare stubborn tyrant. After a certain amount of killing, you still do not execute your enemy, but toy with him for too long, which is the foundation of your rule. Planting hidden dangers," Victor mocked.

"No, no," Curze hissed softly, "The position of tyrant belongs to you, my slave."

Victor's expression did not change as he filtered out the unnecessary words in Conrad's sentence. "According to the agreement, half of the highest position will belong to you, my suffering... friend."

Curze's laughter grew harsh. "Does this satisfy you, Victor? Your desire for power is just like the earthly incarnation of your family's greatest enemy, always hungry and always greedy. No, I don't want to see you pierce my chest behind me. One day, because you will not be able to kill me, and I will have to become your enemy because of your treachery."

Victor smiled. "Then what reward above power do you seek from the eternal Gomor, Conrad?"

Conrad Coates' lips twitched regretfully, and deep in his throat he mumbled a light, two-beat tune. "What kind of wild wolves are they? There is heavy rain in the forest today. There is more than one immortal person. The lights are bright at night. I have the same blood as you. The little emperor lives in a corner. You kneel on the ground and beg your friends to let go. Overcome your enemies..."

Victor took off his helmet and placed it on the low table beside him, calmly trying his best to control the stability of his fingers.

Below the stands, screaming and crumbling lives are multiplying.

The blade flashed with bright white light again and again, which didn't make anything appear any purer. After Conrad put in more confrontational slaves, they began to dig out the hot and wet eyeballs from each other's eye sockets, roaring grotesquely and angrily, and the entrails of different species fell one after another into the dark, newly cleaned area of ​​the execution pit. on the ground.

Blood flows on the cold inorganic substance as proof of the endless vitality of life.

Isa, Victor thought suddenly. For countless millennia, Eldar society has always used Isha, the goddess of life, as the synonym for purity. But life ends with dry bones and is born with blood. The first living thing that a true child hurts and plunders in this world is their innocent and pure mother - the child will inevitably make the mother bleed.

"I met my relative, Victor." Cozz suddenly spoke, and the insipidity when he mentioned his relative almost made Victor think he heard the wrong word, "You also met him, at the dinner of the Church of the Sun, That giant machine."

"Val?" Victor recalled the appearance of the strange machine and another eccentric actor playing the Thirsty One.

A gang of doomsday propagandists under the Laughing God will of course arrange every aspect of their performance. He never underestimated the rationality of these pied elves because of their madness.

"Val, yes." Conrad Curze's mood suddenly improved, and a smile that was too sincere for a Haemonculus appeared on his pale, ghostly face. "That stupid machine. I once thought he would be such a formidable enemy, but no, his twisted, dark and sinking heart has become so bright."

"His name?" Victor asked, not restraining himself from testing Conrad Curze's level of protection for what he said was his loved one.

Curze twisted his fingers, pulled out a dagger, and threw it at Victor with his backhand.

The Dark Eldar's pupils shrank, breathing slowly and tremblingly. He removed his pale left hand from his heart, stared at Konrad Coze, and at the same time pulled the dagger that penetrated his left palm out of the flesh little by little.

Curze clapped his hands toward the execution pit. Nightmare and Mandrake emerged from the shadows and expertly brought the Haemonculi pets back into their cages one by one. The water valve opened, and the high-pressure water column began to wash away the entire pitch-black venue, taking away the blood and bone residue and sending it into the shimmering black water outside the tower. He has no servants.

He left the black iron railing and turned towards Victor.

"You need to pay your compensation, Konrad Curze." Vector showed Curze his injured palm, as if he had used Curze's moodiness as a bargaining chip to demand reward.

Coze shook his head, his black hair almost blending into the background of the execution ground behind him. Only a few gleams of light on the smooth hair distinguished him from the darkness.

"I will pay the price, Victor. I will. But not today, and not tomorrow." He whispered casually, "Now, let me see how I can heal your hand in five minutes."

——

Conrad Coates listened as he entered the room equipped with a sealed protective cover, and felt with satisfaction that the alloy in the wall and the position attached to it were functioning perfectly.

In addition, many of the seals and runes set up in the room were not disturbed, which proved that the power of the Supreme Heaven had not penetrated this prison - even he did not think that Hexakeris would be stupid enough to attack the future behind the curtain. Nativity asks for help.

"Hello, Konrad." Hexakeris's sanity was still there, in fact, he was even quite sane.

"Do you enjoy today's feast," Kurtz asked calmly, "Teacher?"

"It's not bad, but I'm still disappointed about it. You're wasting our time and energy in the great art of flesh and blood." Hexakeris's blurred face still had the ability to express dissatisfaction, "Those Scourge's back muscle strength still has a lot of potential, and even if you bring your arsenal of tools into the field, they won't be able to function in a fight of this intensity."

"Torture," Curze said, "is just a tool. The same goes for combat. The art of flesh and blood has no further meaning after satisfying the violent thirst in the heart."

The old Haemon's facial muscles trembled, and he was quite annoyed at his student's unconventional laziness: "You inherited my tower, but you ruined it like this!"

"You underestimate my ability too low, Hexakeris." Curze said hypocritically, his superficial stylized sadness quickly turning back into cold indifference. "You are the ones who let time pass by you in vain."

"What do you want?" Hexakeris changed to a more straightforward question, determined to end Curze's questioning of him.

In the depths of his withered and dark soul, his admiration for Konrad Curze reached its peak at the moment when the new Haemonculus locked him in a deep prison; however, later on, this extremely talented student continued to Wasting the talents that fate had bestowed upon him on boring mundane games of power. As a result, the Haemonculi gradually began to criticize his actions.

In Gomo, low-level people who can reverse their status and hunt down their superiors will not be belittled - of course, those whose interests are directly provoked will come up with another set of excuses, let's not mention this for now.

Stubbornly surviving the screams of bliss, the Gomos are born to fall deeper and deeper into the abyss of disorder, but they are born with the desire to climb to the pinnacle of tyranny, which makes all dignity and ambition here. The highest moral character, talent and violence are the only evaluation systems.

The people of Gemo who can climb to the top step by step in a disadvantageous situation will naturally show their glory and be more respected. This means undoubted ambition, desire and ability.

"I want something...that's not worth mentioning." Coz's dark eyes were immersed in the luster of thinking, and his words were not fast. "I'd like to know something about the maze dimension."

This is not something Conrad Coates would normally care about. Hexakeris knew that the Bloody Marquis and his companions had recently been quite enthusiastic about participating in the battle for the throne of Gomorr. He should not have a whim at this time and have the leisure to pay attention to the webway outside Gomorr.

The old Haemonculus asked kindly: "Don't you know anything about the Webway, Konrad? Our labyrinth contains countless sub-realms and satellite kingdoms, some of which contain artifacts that date back to the time before she was born. Some of the relics lead to the world where some weak relatives live. Are you looking for a specific target?"

"The map," Curze said. "I want to understand the Webway itself."

"That scream destroyed so many treasures, including roads that matched the map."

"I only need the existing map, Hexakeris. The more comprehensive it is, the more it meets the requirements." Coze's low and soft voice became irritated. He tore his lips with his teeth and licked his own sweet blood. .

The old hemorress twisted a bit.

"Before a disaster strikes, there is a group of people who especially like to send out prophecies about the doomsday. Those lunatic doomsday sects never-endingly promote their predictions of final destruction, which is really annoying... but they are incompatible with the gods they believe in. Together, we escaped the howls of hunger and thirst, hiding deep in our shelter without a trace.”

"Continue." Curze wiped away the blood flowing to his chin with his thumb.

"No one can find them, those pied pipers," said Hexakeris, "but they undoubtedly have the most complete map in their collection. Can I give you any more advice? ? I can’t think of it.”

"No one can find those Pied Eldar?" Coze repeated without comment. "As a reward, the next gladiatorial arrangement will be more artistic, and I will provide you with more...combat tools."

He pulled out a short knife that was resting on a wooden stand.

"I don't want to fix you, Hexakeris. It's the old way, you die and I resurrect, it's easier this way. What do you think?"

Before the old Haemonculus could answer, Curze took action.

——

Morse turned the pages of the book in his hands as quickly as possible, directly using his spiritual energy to read the content written on each page of each book. In front of him and Perturabo, there was another There is an entire church library to look through.

"Port romances, legends of the prosperity of the Krallach family, a collection of midnight stories, a hundred refutations of doomsday prophecies... I'm starting to think this little church is just filling it with all the stall readers they can buy from the fairs and streets Their damn Eldar library... Don't rush me, Perturabo, what do you think I am, an all-knowing super agent?"

"No, Morse." The robot's two steel fingers picked up a book that was too small for his palm, "Here is a book of Eldar mythological narratives."

"Wow, finally," Morse put down the pile of useless miscellaneous books he had on hand. "There is only one epic poem. This church you chose is really pious."

"They are calling me the Avatar of Vaal," said Perturabo. "This is the advantage that practical piety gives us."

"Oh, even if your brother Konrad Curze ran directly to the base camp of the shrine of Kane, he would not be respected as the incarnation of Kane by the nightmare." Morse replied, "You turned yourself into a robot. It's really a shame. Excellent choice, Iron Lord inside and out. ”

"Who wants to be the incarnation of Vaal!" Perturabo was a little annoyed. "I'm not an alien!"

"I think it's good. This just corresponds to the title of one of your brothers, the Big Golden Guy." Morse took the narrative poetry collection from Perturabo and joked casually while flipping through it, "I hope there will be more in the past twenty years." En and Angron are already involved in the construction of the webway, I don't think Malcador and the Emperor will let this matter go... What about Vaal's whereabouts after he deceived the God of War and Cairn, and was crucified by an angry Cairn? There is no follow-up on the forging platform?”

"Who knows." Perturabo shrugged his iron shoulders. The smooth and rust-free feeling made him a little proud of his craftsmanship.

He stood up and went to get new books, when something suddenly occurred to him.

"The Webway did not protect the Eldar," Perturabo said.

“No external protective shield will prevent flowers rooted in toxic soil from withering.”

"No, I mean..." Perturabo hesitated.

"You mean, based on the experience of the Eldar, we know that even if humans control the Webway, they may not be able to survive forever."

As Morse turned over a page of narrative poetry, he had rarely been so intuitively aware of how torturous it was to include excessive embellishments, metaphors, and metaphors in the narrative.

He continued: "But first, we must find a way to reconnect humanity as a whole...The rest will be left to the Emperor and the endless time after his crusade to consider."

Happy New Year