Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

The appearance of this Raider airship is no different from other Eldar airships, and even the interior furnishings are similar enough. Warriors, servants, and a few freaks hid in their respective places, wisely turning a blind eye to their fellow archons and strange visitors.

The light penetrated into the spacious cabin from the portholes, and was filtered by the colored glass into a confusing flash of bruised purple-red and uncomfortable blue-green. In the dark background where the light does not shine, iron chains hang down from the ceiling, part of which is binding emaciated corpses, like poisonous dried meat.

The seat that Victor chose for himself was wrapped in a hemispherical shield. It was not his real throne but a looted makeshift, so it looked like any throne that an old noble would use. , the golden light is bright, and the luxurious and complicated lines create a deliberately extravagant elegance.

Morse waited for Victor to select a few suitable ones from the jungle of iron chains, and hung the still trembling torso of Haemonculus Gabbiad and his soft skin as pale as snow flakes in sequence.

"Do it yourself, huh?" Morse asked. "No need for help?"

The Eldar pulled off an iron rope and inserted the sharp barb through the gap between Gabbiad's collarbone and first rib. "I do not yet have the authority to keep my hands clean, respected craftsman."

"You can just call me by my name, Victor." Morse stood boredly in the middle of the cabin, arms folded across his chest, tapping his left arm with his right index finger. "I'm not going to strangle you to death for calling me by my first name...at least Konrad Coates doesn't want to kill you, right?"

"He doesn't want to kill me yet." Victor took two steps back and inspected his work without appreciation, exposing his profile and dark eyes to the craftsman's view. "Morse."

Morse looked at the Eldar and smiled silently. There are ambitious people everywhere in Gomo, and Victor is a particularly typical one among them.

If he now evaluates Victor as a natural overlord, then it is probably based on a fleeting glimpse of the future, which means he is optimistic in advance. In fact, what he saw was more of a little lord who concealed his restless heart and drew energy from his gloomy appearance.

"A few hours ago, the 'Avatar of Vaal' as you call it received a perfunctory gift: a box of Dreamstones that were supposedly modified to protect the wandering soul from the prying eyes of the Warp. Of course, the gift itself is irrelevant. , it doesn’t matter even if the Eldar who gave the gift is hung on the wall by you..." Morse told Victor, "The only person worthy of attention in this matter is Conrad Curze. What's something important that he can't tell his brother?"

"If this is a test of loyalty, I don't want to be outed in Conrad's eyes, please forgive me." Victor replied politely.

"Okay, you passed." Morse said regretfully, noticing a fleet flying low through the sky outside the window. Even without the use of psychic amplification, he could clearly see the bow and the center of the scarlet sail. icon.

"Church of the Sun." Victor also saw those eye-catching ships. "To Konrad Curze's above-ground tower."

Morse said: "This simply gave our dear Val incarnation a sign to guide the way, 'Look, follow us and you will find Curze'... Yes, Curze said nothing to us, this is not It means that the brothers who share the same blood with him cannot weave the clues into the outline of the answer on their own."

He stopped, "A common blood? Oh, Perturabo doesn't have a drop of living blood in his body now."

He couldn't stop laughing, and for a long time it was the only noticeable sound in the cabin.

Victor was lost in his thoughts, reassessing Morse's presence.

In his previous experience, he classified Morse into the troupe faction of the Pied Eldar under the Laughing God, and regarded Conrad Curze and the mysteriously appearing Perturabo as forces of the same level - yes , Curze refuses to tell him Perturabo's name and pierces his hand with a knife, but this is merely a harsh statement against his probing behavior.

Both of them knew that Perturabo had spoken his name at the door of the church on the first day he stepped onto the bright stage of Gomor.

And when a person tells the news in an unguarded corner of the Dark City, the news will quickly spread from mouth to mouth to the ears of everyone who needs to know.

Outside the window, a thunderous cracking sound came, shaking the eyes and ears of the Gemo people. The Sun Church's fleet opened fire.

Morse looked at the turbulent clouds, and Victor could not see any unnecessary emotion in his eyes.

Not to mention Curze, who is particularly emotional, even the machine named Perturabo can vividly simulate many rich emotions that can be detected by sensitive Eldar in his movements.

But the craftsman who plays her horny self sees the world as if he doesn't really belong to it.

Minutes passed, and Victor still didn't hear Conrad Coates' voice coming over the radio. He knew in his heart that his ally had fallen into the fantasy of a dramatic script again. At this time, he was probably arranging a recovery plot in his dark mind like a prelude to the climax of the play.

Coates almost unconsciously pursues artistic features that can highlight the legendary and sublime in realistic scenes, as if this can prove that he is the protagonist of a drama, the hero of the story, rather than a sentimental banshee.

A round of surface-to-air ammunition rose up, instantly tearing apart the fluttering sail, and the scattered sparks instantly ignited a blazing fire.

Morse pinched his chin with his right hand: "Let Perturabo handle all this. Where should we go next?"

"Above," Victor said, "the spider-silk horn-shaped tower that maintains the angle of the dimensional rift where the Black Sun is located."

"It sounds very good. Perturabo would be interested in this technology." Morse turned back, "Besides his military talent, he is indeed a craftsman who is obsessed with craftsmanship."

Victor nodded, and suddenly the topic changed: "There are many intricate roads in the Webway, and my cabal has mastered some of them. One of the gates leads to Cordolis, which was once known as Val's workshop."

"Before the Fall, Cordoris had been destroyed by the war between the Eldar for the Craftworld, but the suspicion of the great treasure hidden there remained unshakable, as the legend of Vaal the Craftsman was well known."

"Is this your gift, Asdúbal Victor?" Morse asked.

"I don't know what exists on Cordolis." Victor gave his opinion frankly, "I just provided a door."

——

As soon as Perturabo entered the building, he knew this was not a place where Conrad Curze would normally come to live.

The half-collapsed towers had escaped the mud of the outside streets and were separated by ornate partitions of obsidian, gold, and snow-white marble. All the furnishings are decorated with ornate carvings, and slender columns support the empty crystal hall. Extensive laser cuts and traces of bloody battles destroy the original extravagant style and give the tower a new damaged beauty.

He kept walking, and his mechanical feet briskly stepped on the broken crystals and glass residues on the ground, crushing these blood-stained building materials.

Perturabo followed the spiral steps against the wall, until the steps going up under his feet completely collapsed into rubble, just like the ironic tombstones specially left for the dead female warriors.

He looked up and saw Conrad Curze looking down from the top of the tower. In the small space that had not been blown up, he could only huddle his huge blood-stained body in the corner of the floor, hiding in the shadow of the rubble.

"There you are," muttered Conrad Curze. "You found this place."

Perturabo shouted bluntly to the top of the tower: "Get down! I don't understand why you want to-"

"Hide it from you? Deceive you? Play with power, mix truth and falsehood, borrow your name, use your reputation to gain my despicable interests, climb up the ranks among the aliens, and achieve a higher status?"

"No," Perturabo swallowed a word that was as choking as brimstone, "my brother! Why don't you come out of this tower and wait for the light spear to explode on top of your head?"

"Why?" Curze repeated. "I can come out. I can leave this tower at any time."

"Then let me get this straight! Why don't you get help!"

Curze's body remained still, then he jumped down and landed silently among the rubble at the bottom of the tower, like a piece of thin paper falling to the ground.

Perturabo estimated the distance, and also jumped down from the spiral steps. The weight of his fall caused a large number of stones to be further broken, and excessive dust spread.

Kurtz coughed, and his pale face took on a waxy feature under the light, while his black eyes with oversized pupils looked like some kind of blind gaze, looking forward through the messy hair.

"I can..." he whispered, "fix this."

"And you kept your brother ignorant of this during the whole process?" Perturabo glared at Curze, hoping that his expression was still vivid enough for Curze to see clearly: "I never thought that you were actually a Such an arrogant person, Coz. Forgive my choice of words.”

"Let's talk somewhere else..."

"No, Conrad, don't try to prevaricate me. We realize that the problem exists, so we can't let it continue... Damn it, this is Dorne's line." Perturabo said because he casually said Dorne used The sentences add to the depression. "You borrowed my name but didn't say a word about your plan. I thought you regarded me as a relative?"

Yes, he did not expect Konrad Curze to have a favorable impression of the Empire easily. After all, he had even been using a rather rebellious title to describe the Emperor.

But the Bloody Marquis' behavior of saying nothing on the surface and arranging a series of big plans behind his back really aroused some unfriendly associations in Perturabo.

"I'd rather face a Rogal Dorn," he ended angrily.

Curze's eyes widened. "Who are you talking about?"

"Rogal Dorn, is there a question?" Perturabo said, "The seventh Primarch is also your brother. Didn't you see him in the prophecies?"

"No, no... I've seen it before," Cozz's expression gradually became trance-like. When he first met Perturabo, the phantom of the Far Sea Battle began to surge in the depths of his memory again, "You would rather face Rogge... Dorn?”

"Yes! He can at least speak clearly!"

"But he's so stubborn!" The corners of Coz's mouth twitched with disgust, and his hands clenched into fists almost uncontrollably. "You took my warning as absurd lies! And you...how could you be related to him?"

"Why not?" Perturabo gave up controlling his temper. He didn't want to hear more questions about Rogal Dorn. It was like hearing people questioning himself. "He is an outstanding person." General, an outstanding emperor, the most important thing is that he never deceived me! "

Curze looked as desperate as if he had just eaten a whole Mandela alive. The cold and noble demeanor of the Blood Marquis on the day they first met was finally gone. In the ruins, his consciousness returned to a more stubborn, unpolished state.

"Okay, Perturabo!" he said loudly, "it seems that I misjudged you and the world I am facing now! Everything I have faced, then I will reveal more plans to you. , confess my conspiracy and evil deeds to you. Is this what you want, the Emperor's spokesperson?"

"What's going on with you?" Perturabo also raised his voice and pointed to his head. "Now, theoretically, I am the one who cannot confirm whether the brain is functioning normally due to the mechanical structure. I come here in the name of my brother. Did rescuing you from an attack ruin your plan, or did I inadvertently insult your precious dignity?"

"My heart is full of gratitude for what you have done, noble brother. But what will change? Why should I use friendship as a threat to force a Primarch to intervene in the filthy and boring power struggle of the Eldar? It makes you hate me even more!"

"Why should I hate you?" Perturabo was really surprised. "Are you planning to use Gomor to attack Terra?"

"Absolutely impossible! It's just that the person in front of you has many failures and cannot be ignored. He often makes mistakes and speaks dishonestly. He cannot win the hearts of others and be as prominent as others. My existence is worthless, and all the hard work is often in vain. Tired of endless self-struggle, tired of never-satisfied self-will; always harboring such deep self-loathing is even more abhorrent!”

"Who are you describing?" Perturabo felt his mechanical components screaming in the place where his brain should be. "You? A man with nothing but success in the alien city of sin? No... you In describing the prophetic self?”

He frowned suspiciously, and more speculations arose in his mind: "You see that we hate you."

Conrad Coates' expression returned to peace. "I'm not sure," he said quietly.

Perturabo laughed in exasperation. He began to feel that this was some kind of damn personality test, devised by the guy in front of him who had ten times more complex twists and turns in his mind than Robert Guilliman and a hundred times more than Rogal Dorn. Specifically designed to detect his maximum tolerance.

"And, thank you for your assistance, Perturabo." Konrad Curze continued.

"Okay, Konrad Curze." Perturabo gritted his teeth viciously, "I never work for free, so I want to ask for two rewards."

Conrad raised his eyebrows and hissed, "Please speak."

"First, share information. And teach me how to ask for help and ask for help, otherwise I will no longer tolerate your behavior of borrowing my name privately."

"Okay." Xue Hou said softly, "Second?"

Perturabo approached Conrad Curze and offered an invitation to shake hands.

When Conrad reached out, he suddenly grabbed the opponent's arm. The mechanical arm clung to Kurtz's body, quickly turned around, pulled him up towards his shoulder, and using his shoulder as a fulcrum, he immediately bent over and swung him.

Curze hit the ground on his back and groaned.

"You didn't predict this, did you?" said Perturabo, patting his hand.

"No..." Kurtz replied as he lay in the rubble. "So, are you happy with this?"

"What are you satisfied with? A successful over-the-shoulder throw, or your brother?"

He thought for a moment and squatted down next to Coze. "Not satisfied, Conrad."

"I can't change it." Cozz's black eyes flashed with a dark luster.

"This will not be my request," Perturabo said, "You might as well make a list of plans for me first, otherwise I can't guarantee what kind of method I will use to unintentionally fuck you. The big plan was ruined."

Coze smiled, a relatively sincere expression that always seemed distorted by him. "Thank you, my brother," he said again.

Some irrelevant comments:

Silversoul, who only came up with infinite loops in chronology m33, has already appeared in The End and Death 2; the flower bean dance of m33 also appears in the novel text before the emperor goes to the toilet; combined with the overall year shift of the bean sprouts chronology, It makes one wonder whether the author of the black picture thinks that the weak relatives have already figured this thing out at this time...