Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"We left Gormor with Konrad Curze," Perturabo said, somewhat absently. "And the Eldar. "

"In three days, Perturabo." Morse emphasized the passage of time, "You and Conrad Curze have not officially met for more than three natural days on Terra, and now you have begun to worry about a Will a healthy adult original body encounter unfriendly emergencies in the city he has lived in for twenty years? "

"He is not like the others, and Gomor is not like Invite." Perturabo made a squinting motion as a volley of explosive sparks erupted from the spiked spire below them. The burning gas burned out a gloomy green light, illuminating the black mist beneath Gemo.

Morse studied Perturabo for a moment, until the robot gave a strange expression. The craftsman shook his head and sloppily combed his messy black hair with his fingers.

Perturabo is considering his brother's safety as part of his responsibility.

It was difficult for Morse to confirm when the Iron Lord had such a change of mentality. It might be traced back to the day when he picked up Magnus in the ruins, or it might be with Roger Dorn. The troubled Phalanx was related, or perhaps he was still haunted by Angron's disaster on Nuceria.

A person's thinking base cannot be changed, but his personality will always fluctuate with changes in experience and environment. Everyone is part of the case. Including himself, Morse thought.

No matter what, Morse decided to accuse Curze when he saw that this huge robot was caring for a Primarch whom he had only known for a few days. This must be the terrible penetrating influence that the bloody Marquis's innate sensitive heart had on Perturabo.

Circles of green flames spread out in front of the colorful airship of the Pied Eldar Troupe, like a whirlpool leading to the bottom of the deep sea.

Vector's nightmare loyally pointed them to the correct door to the Webway. This time, the Eldar who contacted the nightmares was no longer the busy Avatar, but the clown in the troupe. After bidding farewell to the nightmares in a dramatic rendition of death, the Pied Clowns sang a lilting syncopated ditty with high spirits.

They penetrated deeper into the dimension of the maze, allowing the Green Flame Gate to close behind the ship.

Unlike the plain green-lit network tunnel that the Emperor was building on his own, this complete tunnel was more like a miracle between fantasy and reality. Rainbow-like ripples formed layers of waves on the intact tunnel walls, blocking the hidden disasters in the deep starry sky outside the Webway.

The branch portals and road signs made of wraith bones and unknown metals are still well preserved, and the main routes and capillary-like networks are mostly untouched, even if some of them have collapsed in the screams of Elysium and become the future. An eternal playground for birthing creatures.

"The wraithbones maintain the webway, otherwise the demons beyond the veil would have pierced the wide arteries of the Eldar's flow." The Avatar floated up with his iconic smiling face mask, flipping through a leather book in his hand . "Those claws of nothingness, the filthy fangs, crunching, biting our roads, which are the homes we inherit."

Morse immediately sensed that his psychic abilities had been challenged in some way, and that this unpleasant sensation came directly from the book in the hands of the troupe leader.

"Oh, don't you like this book?" The Pied Eldar exclaimed exaggeratedly as if they had just noticed Morse's unfriendly eyes, and then became sluggish under Perturabo's cold gaze, as if they were affected by it. Some kind of psychic damage.

"Tell me what you have to say," said Perturabo. His short Eldar sentences were actually more like a living person's speech than his longer ones, since he didn't have to think about the complexities of breaths, cohesions, and subtle intonations.

The Avatar closed the book in her hands regretfully. "I brought it from the Black Library with great difficulty," he teased at last, showing his growing seriousness by standing straighter.

"We are about to arrive at Cordoris, one of the tombs of the craftsman god Vaal." Avatar said calmly, "When she was born with hunger and thirst, no kin was spared in Cordoris. We may be Cordoris The first scavengers.”

"That's not a very kind name for the Pantheon," Morse said. "Eldar."

"Oh, then let's change it to one of Val's many moons." Avatar replied lightly.

The airship with a poker pattern sailed into the separation point and approached the gate of the Webway. The outside world is as dark as late at night, and noisy as a storm.

"What's here?" asked Perturabo.

At this time, the airship had just left the flame-blackened Webway Gate and jumped into the real universe from between the bronzed cross bones. Remaining steam is rising from the many pores in Cordolis's surface, casting a hazy afterglow of flames over the glistening black rubble.

"Hmm..." Avatar tilted his head and spread out the thick books in his hands. "Maybe you can watch it yourself? I think..."

He turned the pages deftly for a moment, letting the less-than-precious-looking paper flip through the Eldar's slender fingers. After a few seconds, he held down a piece of paper and handed the entire book to Perturabo.

Books with built-in psionic suppression effects will not affect Perturabo, who is now powered entirely by Star God fragments.

He recognized the handwriting on the book and unexpectedly discovered that the book was written in human language. However, he immediately discovered that the language of the book was the least surprising thing.

What Avatar showed him was a map with astonishing content. With Cordolis as the core, tens of thousands of independent portals of the web extended like a fine network, and were marked with the smallest handwriting. The connection points leading to each door are marked one by one.

He pinned the page with his fingers and flicked through the other pages of the book. Almost every page is an incredibly detailed diagram of the network's pathways, and the remaining pages are an index list of the network's partitions.

He suddenly felt that the entire galaxy suddenly reappeared in front of him with a new look without any warning. The world seemed to be close to each other, everything was tightly embracing each other, and the connection had never been severed. The Emperor's dream suddenly shed a ray of illusory light from the sky, which made his mechanical hands begin to tremble.

He closed the book suddenly and stroked the empty spine to calm the violent beating of his mechanical heart.

"Don't be so surprised, human," Avatar shrugged. "Many ancient roads have been blown through, and not so many are actually passable. However, Cordolis is indeed a node portal, within a few steps , it allows you to instantly appear in many corners of the galaxy...excluding the core of the human empire, which is a bit regretful, but this is also..."

"What is this?" Perturabo asked urgently, even interrupting the Avatar.

The smile on the Harlequin's mask seemed to widen.

"Map of Purgatory," the troupe leader spoke a word clearly in High Gothic, and then switched back to Eldar, "I heard that you are looking for a map of the Webway. I am not sure whether this can make your emperor The emperor is more satisfied with us, Imperial people.”

"Why?" Morse asked calmly, his surprise well concealed.

"For the Last Day," the Avatar said, bowing grandly, still speaking first High Gothic, then Eldar, "for Ranadandra."