Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Compared with the large wilderness composed of large areas of dark gravel and fused gears on the surface, there is a very obvious corruption phenomenon inside the Vaal Temple, and the penetration of this subspace power is directly placed on inorganic metal in a rare form. .

Perturabo pulled out two-thirds of the charging core of the mobile machine with his bare hands, which caused the mechanical lizard's high-speed cutting chain saw to gradually stop amid a burst of sparks caused by friction. He immediately followed up with a hand cannon protruding from his palm, shattering most of the unknown metal limbs and torso of this dangerous creation with green rays.

In this way, the mechanical creation twitched and stopped its endless regeneration. A track fell off from its weird appearance and fell to the ground of the slender tunnel, smashing up many broken small parts.

"Have you finished reading?" Perturabo said to the two inhuman creatures of similar height behind him without looking back. He kicked away the remains of the mechanical beast that was pressing on his feet, and cleared the pile of choking beasts. Scrap metal kicked into the garbage pile that blocked half of the tunnel.

These are all the mechanical remains that he destroyed in just ten minutes. At this moment, mechanical creatures are still growing out of the shadows of the rotating maze corridor, attacking the three intruders tirelessly.

Perhaps three ordinary people would be hunted to death by an endless stream of twisted machines in the narrow corridor of the ruins of the Vaal Temple, but the three people present could obviously easily destroy these annoying threats - or, at least, escape from them. For the leader of the clan troupe.

Then, the question becomes, how to find a space among these annoying artifacts that can self-destruct at any time, and read and analyze the long narrative poems inscribed on the walls of the maze.

"Our huge machine is urging, Troupe Leader." Morse knocked on the wall, waking up Avatar, the Eldar Troupe Leader who was immersed in touching the mural "Feeling the Heart of the World." "I believe in the narrative style here. , is exactly what you Laughing God lovers like, a work that is pretentious, ambiguous, flamboyant, and weakens the real meaning.”

"Respected Honor Unicorn," the troupe leader muttered. The bone-white mask was covered with shadows. The dream stone shone on its neck with a milky white halo. If you look closely, you can see that this layer of white light is composed of a variety of colored lights. , "Only you are not suitable to accuse us like this."

On the walls of the tunnel, which is as complex as a maze, the original metallic mural carvings are twisted into deformed shadows full of strong subspace atmosphere. The surfaces of the bodies of the Eldar gods have extremely delicate and even annoying additional decorations.

Additional spiral patterns continue to grow in the blank parts of the mural, and together with the lightning surging on the gears and engines, the original beauty is destroyed by excessive craftsmanship.

At the same time, the shadow was curled up on the edge of the light, ready to move, carrying the sizzling sound of electricity and the hallucination of the forging hammer hitting the anvil, stirring up invisible smoke and echoes in the corridor.

"Okay, I'll go help Perturabo fight the mechanical dog for a while." Morse shrugged, patted the golden shoulder of the Laughing God believer, and turned to leave.

A few seconds later, the shadow of Perturabo's huge body enveloped the slender pied Eldar, and a loud explosion broke out in the passage, and the impact of the airflow blew away the bright yellow belt behind the troupe leader.

A deep sigh came from behind the troupe director's smiling mask: "The stories told on this wall, let us ignore the invalid details and distorted shadows, and look directly at the sad overture that is truly playing in the world. …”

"Var's series of stories, huh?" asked Perturabo.

"Wow," the troupe leader raised his head and looked at the Iron Giant's chin, "Dear friend, your understanding of our culture has really improved as if you were gifted..."

Perturabo fired a hand cannon at the troupe leader's leg. The laser scorched a cluster of clothing fibers and fused the gold and silver anklets.

The troupe leader jumped up and stomped his feet exaggeratedly: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please listen to my most sincere gratitude." These murals faithfully retell the origin of our myth from the perspective of the craftsman god Val, from the time we descended into the mortal world. Beginning with Val's reforging of his final blade, Anaris of the Dawn... we talk as we go, friends supreme."

He tapped a few times on the middle of a crack in the metal wall, and the wall quickly cracked. In a moment, a dark hole was opened, exposing a large, deep open space behind the wall.

"We'll take a shortcut," Avatar said.

The three of them got into the space behind the wall and came to a dark but huge hollow. Without the decoration of Eldar craftsmanship, many yellowed bones are exposed in the deep soil here, and the sound of dripping water can be heard in the corners.

Fortunately, after leaving the tunnel in the ruins of the Vaal Temple, the corrosive influence in the cavity was clearly weakened by one layer.

Now only a few mechanical nano-organisms will be aggregated and born from the soil, waving their cumbersome, sparkling black iron claws, rushing towards the three of them, and then being used by any one of them with any method. way blasted back into the shadows.

"Did these things inspire you?" Morse asked, tapping Perturabo's mechanical palm, "A resuscitation robot that operates automatically?"

"I will not use such an alternative or even heretical technology." Perturabo said slowly, reluctantly moving his glowing green eyes away from the shattered mechanical creation, and couldn't help but wonder in his heart, in the past twenty years, Completely to what extent he has developed the Iron Legion.

The complicated thoughts passed by in a flash, and the Iron Lord forced himself to focus on reality.

Suddenly, an obvious tremor quickly passed through the soil under their feet. The continuous vibrations led to the distant edge of the cave, and then silence returned. Gradually, a hot wind blew slowly from the other end of the cave.

"The furnace has been revived..." Avatara's high-pitched voice pretended to be a clear female voice, followed by a low and angry male voice, "When will the sharp blade be forged!"

Before Morse snapped his fingers wrapped in golden runes at him, Avatar quickly added a much more normal explanation: "The forge in the temple has not stopped operating. And according to the records on the murals..."

He paused briefly, and the voice behind the mask became ethereal: "When Val forged his thousandth sword, Cordolis was one of the furnaces."

"Anaris of Dawn, Vaal used the last sword to trick Kain, and then he forged a new one." Morse said, "I think based on your mythology, it seems to be in Kain's bloody hand. Among them?”

"Oh, hahaha," Avatar laughed happily, "Kain! Kain of a thousand and a thousand fragments! The God of War who perished in the strife and desire for destruction! To the Lord of Blades who will sacrifice in Youdu Worship the rebuilt shrine!”

Perturabo walked silently in front. In addition to optical development, the eyes he equipped himself also had many different functions to capture raw imaging data. The pitch-black cave was as clear as day before his eyes, and every broken piece of steel and free phosphorus fire was as clear as half a foot in front of him.

"Is that there?" He pointed in another direction. The outer wall of the maze showed different colors there, and the signals of subspace energy and real universe energy both suddenly rose to an extreme value at the corresponding location.

"Exactly, the venerable son of the empire. We have found the core." Avatar no longer teased Perturabo with the incarnation of Vaal. He did not want his chest and abdomen to be shot with a green laser that could stretch. A hole that only one hand can enter.

"But...oh," he breathed.

The energy signal changed the rhythm of its ups and downs the moment Perturabo noticed its changes. Different resonances were born in many blocks at the same time, condensing into a number of terrifying energy tentacles, connecting fragile metals in multiple directions. and awakens, and imparts to them a transcendent and fallen activity.

The illusion of the warp rapidly intensified, coalescing into a luminous phantom visible to the naked eye.

The huge factory called the Temple seemed to have regained the vitality of the long night in an instant, and the operation of machinery and gears reached perfect coordination with each other.

The wandering souls of the ancient Eldar empire once walked through the tunnels. The red robes of the Bonesingers stroked the still intact metal walls, and they were busy building their salvation ark under Isa's peaceful gaze.

Phantoms appear alternately, and in the vast ocean energy exuding a fishy smell, the originally normal images gradually blend into wrong flaws.

The figures of the Eldar are intertwined together, marching together in a distorted image. The light of the chain sword suddenly lights up from time to time, and the dim light beams projected by the shurikens and sorcery staffs continue to divide the scene, splitting the bones. The white spiritual bones are rendered into a deep and decadent rich purple.

The amulet on the troupe leader's chest glowed red with warning, almost cracking.

He hurriedly took out another handful of dream stones that had also been specially modified from the inner pocket of his coat. Like a souvenir seller, he hung assorted gadgets all over his arms and neck, so that he could maintain his milky white color. light.

"It's aware of us." Morse said in a brisk tone, observing these flickering scenes intently. This is a precious learning opportunity, about how the Ancient Spirits built their arks, and what mysteries are contained in their technology.

"The High One has corrupted an abandoned temple." Perturabo pondered this anomaly. "An abandoned Vaal Moon."

He didn't think that Chaos would focus on corrupting a dead planet that no one had set foot on. What's more, the surface of the planet that ordinary people could touch, the concentration of subspace energy was not even enough to really harm a soul who had long been destined to die. clan.

There is some unknown connection involving unfathomable secrets, hidden deep in the temple of Vaal.

The God of Artisans is far less well-known than the other gods in the Eldar mythology. Behind the description of his disappearance, there is gradually revealed a hint that is far sadder than the death of the Eldar.

"Corruption?" the Avatar repeated the word like a chant, "Corruption? Corruption? Oh, Val..."

Amid the growing energy, the holes inside the Vaal Temple began to tremble, wrong frequencies struck the ruins of the dilapidated sanctuary, and levers and gears began to converge.

When the three of them really got close to the core of the temple, the behemoth temporarily constructed by mechanical components and subspace energy finally took shape. Its huge limbs and a large number of modified tentacles closely guarded the core of the temple behind it.

This highly sophisticated instrument should have shown extraordinary beauty created by whimsy and genius creativity, but all positive descriptions have become difficult to use due to the chaotic energy derived from emotions and twisted circuits. The melted steel merged with each other in the most unreasonable form, forming a steel monster filled with chainsaws, sharp blades and electromagnetic lightning.

"Who's going?" Perturabo asked, looking at the troupe leader who had never drawn his Harlequin Blade all the way.

Avatar consciously drew out the long sword inlaid with silver sapphires from his waist, and made a fancy circle on the fingertips of the melt pistol in his left hand.

The Eldar were like a stray light, dancing silently as they entered the battlefield at extremely high speeds.

Its thin long sword is used to cut unprotected pipelines on the surface of the machinery, destroying the injection of subspace energy, causing bursts of dazzling fluorescent light to quickly light up on the huge and heavy machinery.

His pistol was used to fuse the sharp blades and sawtooths that were approaching him, and his little protective floral suit barely protected the troupe leader from being electrocuted inside and out by the flashing arc.

Although every blade was fatal to the fragile Pied Eldar, during his battle, only the bright yellow laces of his coat were actually touched by solid steel.

As the troupe leader Avatar's battle gets better and better, his dissociation, retreat, acceleration and charge become more and more agile. The huge steel monster was dismantled and destroyed bit by bit under the seemingly useless movement of the Eldar.

The last attack came from Morse. The psychic cannonballs, which were not common for him, gathered in his palms wrapped in black cloth, and then swung them out roughly, hitting the steel monster in the middle and being stripped to its core torso by the Avatar. .

"It's faster this way, right?" the man in black said.

Avatar bowed deeply to him. Beside him, the steel behemoth that had been penetrated finally collapsed. When it was destroyed, it triggered an explosion with a diameter of three meters. The impact hit Avatar who was still bowing. Slaps away, disappearing briefly into the shadows.

Morse's power blasted through not only the steel behemoth, but also the inner wall of the core of the temple itself. The steel and twisted circuits exploded into a metallic flower that sunk inwards. And within the core, filled with neural currents and acidic steam, a morbid phantom is standing on the edge of a territorial factory, gazing at the country where he exists in the abstract realm.

The various fragments of the craft world being forged on Cordolis have here turned into another more eternal and depraved logical creation, with countless tiny details and crazy innovative creations flashing on the surface, and the pipelines are flashing in the infinite evil. Extended in concepts and theories, it shows an absolute pursuit of technology while abandoning morality and truth.

Roiling steam, strange sparks and ghosts lingering in the electronic circuits, along with countless other strange and subtle evil spirits, surround the sickly vision.

Sometimes, the illusion shows the strong and tall back of a craftsman forging a long sword, with pointed ears identifying his identity; sometimes, the illusion suddenly turns into a head-born man with two horns, holding a scepter, and five spikes spread out from his back. A deformed monster in the shape of two wings.

Endless logical symbols and technical fragments flashed on his machine-like body. It is not difficult to imagine how a mortal would turn into the food of chaos amid wailing and screaming at the first moment of his existence.

"Life falls into decay, blood scatters in thousands of places, and the former creator is once again given the most profound omen and curse..."

"What is this!" Perturabo interrupted Avatar's words, staring closely at the phantom that was undoubtedly some kind of subspace creature...or even a demigod.

The moment Perturabo asked the question, the illusion suddenly disappeared, leaving only a place of abandoned and decaying steel, and the Eldar forge that was still operating dully.

In addition, there is something suspended in the air. It seemed to be the steel residue left behind after a sharp sword was corroded, with a purple-blue luster lingering on it, and the phantom of blood dripping continuously, melting into the ground that seemed to be solidified with a layer of waste oil and soot.

Anaris at Dawn. Or rather, fragments of it.

That was the origin of the illusion, or a small window that allowed people to look into the depths of chaos. As the relic most closely related to Vaal in mysticism, it turned into a fragment that revealed Vaal's fate.

"The moon of Vaal will give birth to dragons." Avatar suddenly said, patting the dust on his clothes from the shadows, and returned to the two of them. "The prophecy has long been woven into the established silk rope."

His bone-white mask turned to Perturabo, his smile seemed to be both sad and strange under the moving light and shadow.

"Gamo revealed the mystery to you on the first day. The moon of Vaal buried the afterglow of the dawn, sin gnawed at the remains, the forge of souls blazed, and the great evil was born."

At the end of the troupe leader's words, overlapping calls sounded in the temple, and two different names were hissed out one after another by the influence of countless wandering subspaces, sometimes separated and sometimes overlapping.

"Val..." said the first voice.

"Vastor..." Thousands of voices swirled together.

Note: The content of this chapter is inference and nonsense, just like Szalak = Bealak, it is a guess.