Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 262 154-4

+...Is he still there? +

In the communication constructed by psychic energy, Coze's low voice could not cover up the grinding sound of his clenched teeth.

Konrad Curze was doing two things at once, sitting temporarily in the Anvilarium reception hall of the Iron Fist, chatting with Fulgrim about the aesthetic features of the empire's hive city, and about following Vulkan in the expedition. The camouflage battle scars painted on the faces of the mortal soldiers of Faria Company are mixed in various colors.

As for Rogal Dorn, he had his own Phalanx - Fulgrim certainly brought the Emperor's Pride with him, but... all in all, he looked familiar with Ferrus Manus's ship. of.

+Is he still confronting Vulkan? +

+Victor knows what it means to assess the situation, Curze,+Morse replied, watching how the Pied Eldar helmsman controlled the ship to navigate the webway,+To be precise, he knew it after Vulkan threw a stone at his head. It's time for him to escape. +

+ Which planet is occupied by Eldar exiles? +

+The time they lived together with humans was so long that they were able to spread sword cats all over the world. The buffoon on my side is calling them the Grass-eating Monkey Society, and Perturabo is jousting with that buffoon... oh, it's over. +

In the psychic channel, Kurtz fell into silence for a period of time.

+What do you want to do? + Morse asked.

+...Send my accompanying auxiliary troops to the vicinity of Ibsen through the webway and stand by. No attacks allowed. Do not show offensive intent. +

——

During Shanadore's not too long career as a world singer, she had listened to songs of death and rebirth many times.

A handful of snow fell from the branches, revealing a few green shoots. Snowflakes fell into the clear, sparkling pond under the waterfall, and the bones of a black-scaled fish were melting into the mud.

Life rotates under the gaze of the soul of the world, and the exiled relics also wake up with the daily light.

Farming, weaving, letting the light dye the wheat fields yellow, feeding the mammoths, and... humans who also live on this planet, if they like this name so much, take care of the pterosaurs that fall into the tribe, bandage them Injured wing membrane.

But the war broke out on the land.

Shanador touched the violent soul of the world and sang sadly in a low voice, weeping for the rage and pain coming from the soul of the world. The war has touched this desolate and peaceful land, the flow of life has been shortened, and deaths have increased abnormally. She was in unbearable panic and in great pain.

The desert has been destroyed. The trees were burned, the riders of the same race wailed under the fire of Burning Heaven, and the invaders, the war was also bringing pain to the invaders.

Ah, why do they want to inject the boiling fire in their blood into the world of Ibsen?

In every moment when water drops fall from the stalactites engraved with runes, thousands of lives are dying.

Shanadore kept singing in vain, squeezing out the remaining harmony and hope in her heart. The pure singing voice enveloped the spiritual energy, communicated with all things she was familiar with, and injected into the withered forest around her. The half-burned forest trees quickly withered, and the new tree buds absorbed the nutrients of the fallen trees and quickly regenerated into a lush jungle within a few minutes.

She hoped that this would be able to stop the intruders a little, but her efforts were always in vain.

From the ice fields to the wilderness, defense nodes were gradually breached one by one. The intruders, armed with flamethrowers and wearing dark green heavy armor, were already so close.

Soon, the heavy blow of the giant hammer sounded not far away. They were approaching the World Temple, and it was impossible to resist.

For a moment, she wanted so much to jump into the deep pool, return to the gurgling river of souls deep in the World Temple, and escape from this land filled with mourning. Isha!

Shanador took a deep breath, drew out a long sword engraved with runes, and then picked up her witch staff. If she dies, the spirit of the world mourns her.

Before she left, she looked back at the door in the temple. She had only seen the Webway Door open once in the decades since she had been the World Singer.

Just a few days ago, a strange blood relative who claimed to be a Dark Eldar suddenly broke into the house. The stench of the killing of Khaine's descendants lingering on his body made her hair stand on end.

However, he did not bring blood, but only asked whether it was possible for this place to join the Midnight Court in an eternal city.

After her refusal, the Bloodkin left the World Temple and later joined the fight against the invaders. She didn't know what their current situation was.

If they do come here. she thinks. Then, she can only join the fight.

——

The air is filled with blood mist, and blazing flames are burning everywhere in the green jungle, as well as the ashes left after the flames burn out.

Highly mobile Eldar warriors riding pterosaurs rushed towards them from the side of the battlefield, while Eldar Knight mecha equipped with holographic force field shields, pulse lasers and psychic spears occupied the midfield of the battlefield, closely Behind him are the protected obelisks and snow-white boulders.

After the Eldar wizards are dispersed among the various fire units on the battlefield, they add additional psychic effects to the main high-intensity combat units in the front, giving them lightning-like reflex speed, phantom-like agility to bully the enemy, and stronger fire effects.

The energy beams intertwined in the hot air, bypassing the bunker with long-range deflections. The firepower of this group of Eldar destroyed the troop transport vehicles in the front row. The Space Marines used this to leave the armored vehicles and avoid the vines and tree roots that suddenly sprang up from the ground. Or just crush them.

The double-linked dragon's breath spits fire and roars, burning the ferocious and savage scales of the Eldar lizard-like creatures, causing their blackened wounds to spurt out dripping blood. These warriors and commanders who have been tempered in the furnace of war are... Infuse the entire battle with the will of Prometheus.

After this round of attacks, if they can knock down the knights in the front row who are attracting firepower, they can open up the situation at this node that is extraordinarily well-guarded for some reason and create a greater attack advantage.

High in the sky, the Storm Eagle fighter jets circled in the wind, thunder and lightning that penetrated the sky and the earth. The witchcraft of the Eldar here triggered a natural attack, and the thick electric light chased the tail smoke of the fighter jet cluster.

In the Salamander Legion, the Pyroclastic Team plays the role of destroyer. If it were not to exterminate the aliens, Vulkan, the Primarch of the Salamanders, would not easily mobilize this team.

Now, these warriors wearing exquisite armor made of obsidian crystals from the Nocturne volcano are in the Storm Eagle fighter plane, arranging the salamander leathers they wear, standing at the door of the Storm Eagle, waiting. The fighter plane approached the Eldar node in the dense forest.

According to the probe's report, on Planet 154-4, the Eldar have mainly established three tightly protected nodes, located in the desert, ice field and jungle.

After a series of judgments and trade-offs, the Legion gave priority to the desert as the first point of attack, followed by the jungle. The battle in the jungle is not yet over, but the Space Marines are steadily destroying the Eldar defenses bit by bit.

When the good news came to Vulkan, he knew that he should be happy about it.

The giant lowered his head, sat on the ground in the temporary tent, and looked at the photo that was taken.

In the photo, an indigenous woman is crying in pain against the dark green scales of the Flame Guard. The woman's child also nestled at the warrior's feet, eyes filled with tears. Under the signal from Vulkan's eyes, the Primarch Guards acquiesced to the native woman's sobs and turned to gently comfort her.

Imperial scholars believe that these natives are weeping with joy at their deliverance from the Eldar. Vulgan vaguely knew that things might not be like this in the world.

Later, Vulkan stopped the mortal soldiers from secretly filming. He did not want anyone to mistake the Emperor's warriors for the Saviors of the World. No, they are just warriors.

"How many Eldar nodes have you won, brother?" a voice sounded.

The holographic image of Ferrus Manus quickly took shape, and his figure soon became clearly visible. A steel-armored giant with black hair like shale and silver eyes like ice, holding a helmet in his hand, sat on the command chair.

"One, I think. Soon there will be two." Vulcan said gently. "If you are here, this victory may become easier to win."

"I'm on my way." Ferus's words were as brief as ever, "I will arrive at your location within twenty hours."

"Are you here?" Vulkan was a little surprised, "Didn't you and Fulgrim go to the planet Nostramo?"

Ferus looked calm. "That's exactly why I'm coming here." He said, adjusting the position of the camera so that the images of the other two people present were partially reflected in Vulcan's eyes.

Fulgrim, the dazzling purple-robed phoenix, leaned behind Ferus' seat, tapped his fingers and nodded slightly to Vulkan.

"Hello, Fulgrim." Vulkan said, his attention quickly drawn away by the person next to Fulgrim. The soft black hair formed a surprising gap with the extremely pale face, and the oversized black eyes created a shadowy coldness.

His thin lips were pursed tightly, and the scrutiny he cast was almost offensive. Even so, this did not cover up the unique extraordinary magnanimity of the original body in him.

"I am Konrad Curze." said the strange primarch, and the Gothic accent with a lot of consonants had an indescribable elegance and agility.

Somehow, this rare agility made Vulkan feel familiar, but he didn't like it.

"...Nice to meet you." Coz said.

"It's nice to see you again, too. Curze wants to witness a battle of Imperial forces." Fulgrim said. "And you still have half of the battle left in 154-4, Vulkan."

Although Konrad Coates didn't look too happy, it was a great start. Vulcan thought.

"Nice to meet you, my brother." He said, his dark face smiled, and his rich voice contained enough warmth. "In case you want to know, we are at war with the Eldar. Do you know about them?"

"I know a little bit about it," Cozz said, taking the projector Ferus handed him and sitting down next to him. "Can you give me a brief introduction? Why do they appear on this human planet?"

"We don't know," Vulkan said, "but Ibsen has rare mineral resources. We will include it within the borders of the Empire. To do this, the influence exerted by the Eldar on this place must be stripped away."

"Ibson?"

"154-4, Expedition Fleet No. 154, the fourth conquered planet." Vulcan said silently, "The name of this world was Ibsen."

"In your eyes, what's the difference between them?" Coates asked.

"Huh?" Vulkan felt a little unhappy about this question, and he soon discovered that it was his own problem. The Fire Dragon Lord exhaled and felt a scorching heat rolling over the tip of his nose.

"We number the planet with numbers, but indigenous cultures gave the planet another name," he said. "That's where the difference lies, I think."

Cozz licked his lips. His lips seemed to have been bitten frequently, and there were some small scars that had not healed.

"You care about the natives of 154-4, my brother," he said. "Why?"

Vulcan sighed. "The glory of the Empire has not yet shone upon them, brother."

"Just that?" Curze asked, his expression showing that this was an unexpectedly serious question, but Vulkan was not sure how to answer. For some reason, this brother made him feel a little uneasy.

"Saving the people, this is what we should do." Vulcan replied.

"What if it's impossible for them to integrate into the empire? What if they are difficult to save for some reason?"

"Conrad?" Fulgrim's voice floated up, as if he wanted to stop Coze's series of questions.

Vulkan approached the projection. "There's always a way out," he said, feeling numb. "We were born of fire."

——

When the Iron Hands' team landed, on planet 154-4, the node established by the Eldar in the jungle had been captured by the Salamanders. Space Marines carried the bodies of the Eldar for centralized processing.

Few of the natives were harmed, but the Emperor's warriors did frighten them. They hid in the sparse trees and watched in horror as the soldiers built a new camp here. Most of these people are women and children.

When they found the Fire Dragon Lord, the dark-skinned, red-eyed giant was talking to a mortal.

Wearing a very inconspicuous piece of coarse cloth, the mortal squatted in a pile of corpses composed of dead scouts. He raised his head hard and explained to Vulkan, who was too tall even for a Primarch. Why did he stand out and not die on the spot?

"I hid it well, you have to believe me." The young man said. "That's how I survived."

"your name?"

"Fas. Believe me, there really is a fourth node on this planet..."

"My lord." A guard reminded Vulkan. "Your brothers are here."

Afterwards, several Flame Guards knelt down on one knee to pay tribute to the three Primarchs.

Vulkan turned around, revealing a battle-scarred face; the suffering left by the expedition condensed into deep compassion in his red eyes.

"My brothers." He opened his arms to several people.

"I don't dare to hug you, Vulkan." Fulgrim smiled, "My back still hurts."

Vulkan withdrew his hand and stroked the back of his head.

"Are you Conrad Coates?" he said kindly.

Coze twitched the corner of his mouth. "Hello, Vulkan."

"Looks like you don't have armor that fits you yet?"

"Maybe." Curze nodded, noticing the mortal behind Vulkan. The mortal met his gaze and waved energetically.

"Where will the next battle be?" Curze asked.

"I really recommend that you believe me," the mortal began to wave his two hands at the same time, "154-4 has a core node, why not destroy it?"

"Who is that?" Curze walked towards the mortal who was currently sitting in the pile of corpses, frowning slightly.

"A survivor." The mortal shrugged, "Don't care about me... but care about my information, Primarchs."