Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 270: Angels and Night Ghosts

Sanguinius walked alone into the depths of the desert.

Yellow sand rolled over his boots and white robe, and the gravel swept over every feather on his pure wings. He shook his wings to shake off the fine sand buried between his feathers, but the new sand soon returned, making his wings heavy.

He raised his head, and the sunlight made his smooth face look like alabaster. He closed his eyes under the scorching sun, letting the hot spots of light remaining on his retinas flicker between the dark vision.

it's time. Sanguinius thought. He will hold up the most glorious of those visions.

When he descended into the hot sand, carrying the small decoration on his back, he had already briefly picked up part of the illusion that was about to come true at this moment.

Three weeks later, he learned to walk, run, and fly, and as he unarmedly defeated the tribe's supper ingredients from the fire scorpion's lair, he thought about how the creator of his gifted abilities would view his life.

A year later, he walked under the most intense sunlight, soaring in the sky with his brilliant wings, overlooking the sand plains and cairns below from the perspective of the sun, and watching the mutants who would be driven away by him in the future. tribe, he wondered if he would also witness the scenery on this earth when he came.

When He comes.

He opened his eyes to meet the tiny black dot on the incandescent horizon.

Sanguinius stretched out his hand, feeling the direction of the wind today.

Then the angel fluttered his wings.

Riding on the strong wind on the hot sand, these wings helped him soar up and across the sky; like a rustling meteor, the angel flew away in the sky and quickly approached the gradually enlarging black spot.

It will be golden. Sanguinius thought, vaguely feeling that the receding sand beneath his feet was merging with the sand that overlapped repeatedly in the shattered illusions of every day and night.

As for that spaceship, he had never seen it before, but he had seen it thousands of times. Its armor would shine brightly under the scorching sun, and it would possess an extraordinary beauty that contained absolute aggression.

Its unparalleled appearance breaks into the realm of Bawei, symbolizing an uneasy decision.

The yellow sand caressed his wings, causing a stinging pain that shouldn't have existed.

He closed his eyes again, and his thoughts turned to his wings for a moment, feeling that the roots of the feathers were trembling uneasily. His blood grew cold under the scorching sun.

Quickly, Sanguinius gave himself a smile. He looked straight ahead again and rode away into the wind.

The landing craft expanded in his eyes, and Sanguinius froze slightly as he took in its color.

In the dusty sky, a storm bird as dark blue as night outlines a deep outline that can only be achieved after night falls. When the sun shines on the aircraft, even the golden shadow is swallowed up equally. Turned into a dark noon.

A false reality touched Sanguinius' mind...

No, he pursed his lips, and a new feeling sprouted in the heart of the angel.

Real reality has hit me, he thought dazedly.

The Stormbird hatch opened, and eight Astartes warriors lined up, waiting for the Gene Father to appear.

Then there was him.

The surface of the dark blue armor shimmers with a layer of ghostly green, and the bright blue highlights depict every edge and spike of the armor, running through the breastplate, waist armor, and hard leg armor like thunderbolts of lightning. His right shoulder is decorated with a relief of a skeletal blood bat, while the left is decorated with a piercing black blade.

He wears a pair of huge and brand-new lightning claws on his hands, with the same dark blue fluorescent light swimming and flashing on them, which can almost cut off the air.

The bright red cloth behind him was divided into two groups, one group was raised from his shoulders as a cloak, and the other group was sewn under the tool and weapons boxes on his waist, serving as a double layer of padding, fluttering in the wind in the yellow sand. If you look closely, you can see that the original material of this group of dyed fabrics seems unusual.

Sanguinius did not continue to stare at the numerous seams of stitching exposed on the inside of the visitor's cloak, but instead moved his gaze to the visitor's face.

He saw the extremely pale face framed by smooth black hair, the oversized pure black eyes embedded in the face, and some kind of paradoxical cold smile. It was as if this face alone was enough to bring the entire midnight into Baal's scorching sun.

"Welcome to Baal, traveler," Sanguinius said in the native Anokan tongue.

Somehow, he thought that the person opposite, the person who also appeared in his hallucinations many times, but who was always slightly different from his real appearance at this moment, might be able to understand what he said.

But he really is...

"Sanguinius," the man spoke, stating his name directly, but pronouncing it in a manner that was strictly High Gothic. He stepped out of Stormbird's shadow, his striking cloak billowing behind him.

Sanguinius's heart was beating powerfully, and his wings were backward and slightly retracted. "I am," he said.

But it was the name given to him by his people. It was a soul gift offered to him by a tribe that worshiped blood. It is also a name that should not be known to outsiders.

Derived from pure blood. Sanguinius.

The man learned his pronunciation. "I am," he said in identical Anokan, then added his own name: "Conrad Curze."

So it is indeed him. A brother, Sanguinius thought, not a father.

But is it really him?

Konrad Curze walked towards him, with only a little unavoidable metallic smell of armor on his clean body that was washed every day. He surrounded him, stretched out his hand with the lightning claw, but only extended an index finger, and let the tip of the claw stop near his wings.

Their eyes met.

"Yes," Sanguinius said softly, his wings trembling, then opening.

The tips of Conrad Curze's claws gently followed the path of his feathers, combing them as if he were carefully wiping the surface of a work of art.

"I have seen them," Coze said, still using the Gothic language commonly used in the empire, but with a slightly flexible and smooth accent. "In the palace, they were penetrated by dark spikes, and blood flowed out. , falling on the white feathers..."

Sanguinius' wings snapped back, blood beating against his eardrums.

"Why..." he whispered, and a kind of hallucinatory sadness suddenly passed through his mind.

Curze withdrew his claws, and Sanguinius turned to him. Two pairs of eyes that penetrated the fog and looked into the future met at this moment, in a time section that should not have existed.

"Prophecy creates prisoners of the future." Coates said, "The only path brought by prophecy is built in the fear of the past... This is what the place where I grew up called prophecy."

He couldn't help but laugh. The laughter was sometimes strong, sometimes weak, until it came to an abrupt end.

"Why don't you laugh?" Cozz said suddenly.

"That's not funny," the angel replied tactfully.

Curze studied him, then he looked away.

"That's the difference between you and me, Sanguinius," he said softly, a sting that was not malicious in his words, "and you were always the better of us."

"No, that's not it. Don't laugh like that," he continued.

The angel put away his warm and flawless divine smile. That smile that made the people of Baal worship him.

"So, how?" asked the angel.

"Your legion is not ready, and neither are you. Unfortunately, my legion is not ready either... The old gene seeds, and the gene seeds that my current blood can provide, have almost become two unrelated things. of genetic origin.”

He paused, "They are dying. I need time to readjust the fitness of my genes."

"It seems I'm not supposed to understand these terms, Conrad."

"Then, you can choose to find someone to introduce you to him within the next three years." Coz looked at him and said. "According to the destiny, the ardent Horus Luperkar, Lord of the Luna Wolves, will welcome you with all his heart, great angel."

"Am I supposed to assume that you tolerate my presence?" Sanguinius asked, his tone becoming a bit sharp and full of hidden power.

Curze looked at him, then held out his right hand.

Sanguinius took hold of his lightning claw.

"Then peel its skin and drink its blood together," Cozzi said. "Of course, I mean..."

Sanguinius smiled.

"Destiny," he replied.

What is not surprising is that the descriptions of angels meeting the emperor in Index and "Echoes of Eternity" cannot be said to be exactly the same, or they can only be said to be completely unrelated.