Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"Why don't you just kill him?" Konrad Curze said impatiently in Eldar language, his nails tapping on the countertop, making a crisp sound.

He paused, hooked a tissue from the table with his fingernails, pressed it against the wooden table, rubbed it into pieces with one hand, and used it to calm his ups and downs.

"No, Hexakeris," Curze slowed down, "We can't let an innocent pharmacist suddenly die in the grand celebration held by Perturabo... My brother invited me It is not for me to cut someone's throat and drain the blood of my brother's son...and describe him more, Rigoletto."

Hexakeris, the old blood actor who wore the red robe of the Mechanicus as a disguise and was called the jester of the royal court by the blood princes, developed a quiet feeling because his master was willing to listen to his words more. happy.

Part of him clearly understood that this was a mental illusion brought about by the blood potion; the other part of him happily accepted it because serving the Bloody Marquis was his only lasting honor.

At the same time, he also hoped that Conrad Coates could draw some joy from his dedication.

"Like the other Sons of the Emperor, Fabius Bayer has the same white hair and purple eyes. As an apothecary, he claims to be interested in the art of genes and flesh in the genetic code."

The old Haemonculus said that the voice followed the wireless sound transmission array and arrived at the communication tower built by the Lokos Palace based on the Great Library.

"But he broke into my laboratory and claimed that he came here by accident. After inference, my lord, he must have learned that there are some alternative types of things in your battle barge through some sensory methods attached to his homemade prosthetics. Life." He hinted cryptically.

"I still need a maze in the night," Cozz said to himself, shaking his head slightly, "More disruptors, and hazy veils that confuse others, they should exist... Fabius Bayer looks How are you feeling? Gaunt or healthy? Are your genes in good shape or on the verge of collapse?

"The physical condition of this Space Marine is stable, my lord. His body still bears the damage caused by the genetic defect and secondary damage caused by attempts to repair it; but under current observation, he is not seriously injured. disease."

Curze put his index finger to his forehead.

Fabius Bayer, in predictions, his name is equivalent to disaster; but as Magnus, who now warns others to use psychic powers every day, said, one cannot predict a living person based on outdated experience. individual variable future.

...So, why not take his life directly and avoid future troubles?

Because he needs to keep his own laws. Curze thought. He needs to maintain his fear of justice.

"You know how to observe and examine a person, Fool, you are old enough and experienced enough. I allow him to come, but you have to look for his omissions for me and search for any available evidence, but remember not to fabricate perjury. . If he asks about your identity, tell him that you are a researcher from my home planet who has undergone complex transformation."

"Yes, my lord, but I have some personal opinions."

"explain."

"I was lucky enough to meet a scholar of your race who is also immersed in genetic technology."

"However, even though I am not a human being, I can still imagine that people who can share the same goals and interests with us Bloodlings on the path of flesh and blood must be an alien among the aliens among humans."

"I agree with your advice."

Curze cut off the communication, passed the genetic verification set by Perturabo, and walked out of the soundproof communication room.

He smiled briskly at Fulgrim, who was waiting at the door, and gestured grandly toward the room with his hand outstretched as a symbol of invitation. His smile remained until Fulgrim closed the door.

Interestingly, perhaps related to the similarity of the genetic template used by the Emperor when creating the Primarch, this door should be designated as a door that only the Lord of Olympia can use, and other Primarchs can also pass genetic verification.

Curze wasn't sure if Perturabo knew this, but he would tell the Iron Lord about it later.

Fulgrim's voice was blocked by the door made of thick ceramic steel. As Curze waited, he imagined what kind of interesting reaction he would get if he gave his brother an adamantine door.

A more genuine smile gradually appeared on his face, and it deepened when Fulgrim floated out of the room like a purple cloud and appeared in front of him with a smile on his face.

"One of my descendants," Fulgrim said straight to the point, "wants to know if he can conduct academic research on genetic technology with his pharmacist named Hexakeris." Fabius Bayer thought The search for genes is endless, and he hopes to learn from similar research on the road to perfection. I think that’s great, don’t you?”

"Do you think it's good?" Cozz stared at Phoenix's face, his smile solidified.

"Of course, my brother." Fulgrim blinked and took Konrad Curze with him in the communication tower and through the twisting metal corridor. “Is it an evil thing to pursue a better version of yourself, to regenerate from existing flaws?”

"That's not necessarily true, Fulgrim." Curze whispered, keeping his voice within a certain range. "On that thousand-year night when the Eldar Empire was destroyed, they all insisted on the destruction of their empire. , should not be blamed on their endless pursuit of various things.”

"Conrad!" Fulgrim was slightly unhappy with Curze's analogy.

This may be the psychological preparation needed to have a brother who grew up among the Eldar, he thought.

"I don't understand your upbringing, my brother." Phoenix took the initiative to soften his tone, also using this to soothe his own emotions, "But you don't understand mine either, right?"

Curze's dark eyes looked directly at Fulgrim. "Yes." He said hoarsely.

"My home planet Chemos was once a pale and gray planet. We were short of resources and relied heavily on industry and trade," Fulgrim said, tapping his soft boots rhythmically on the metal ground. an accompaniment to his words. "Even as the rulers try to maintain their current achievements, the situation in Chemos continues to deteriorate."

Curze nodded silently.

"I did not grow up in an artist's courtyard, Konrad. I grew up in Carax Fortress, working in factories." Fulgrim pushed back a strand of white hair from his ear, "In the factory, if you want to be seen, you have to be better and better than others. Like all Chemos, you can never be satisfied with the status quo, otherwise you will only move backwards."

"I have endless energy, Conrad, and I can always give more; similarly, I have keen observation and have discovered too many production details that can be improved and refined."

"I keep moving forward, constantly filling and improving various vacancies, and the people around me witness my efforts and also spontaneously participate in more work. From an assembly line to the entire factory, this collective nature The pursuit of excellence seems to have become popular in just a few months.”

"We all want to do better, and the result is that we do bring better output." Fulgrim sighed, which contained memories of the past. "The productivity we brought finally filled the needs of Carax Fortress, and at the same time, a spirit was established. That is to do better, because there is always room for us to do better."

He shook his head, his white hair flowing across his face.

"Before we pursue, work hard, and practice like this, how many people in Chemos are willing to look at a better possibility?"

"That's it. The rise of Carax Fortress and the hope it brought have allowed the entire Chemos to realize its development potential, and I naturally became the master of the planet. We have the right to become better. , also has such potential. If no one is willing to pursue perfection, we will only fall behind the times in this cold universe."

"You...never said those words," Coates said.

"Of course I didn't, Konrad," Fulgrim looked back and smiled, the light reflecting luster on his facial lines, "We haven't discussed our respective ideas yet, although when you fought Vulkan, Introducing your path to justice.”

"I mean, you never said these words." Kurtz repeated, shaking his head violently, as if throwing some illusions away from his eyes. "Never has your perfection been spelled out like this."

"Perfection," Fulgrim repeated the slightly longer word, "exists above the factory's production quota. On the fixed, existing quota, there is always room for higher levels waiting for us to reach. The pursuit of excellence, To thrive, it’s all part of the journey to perfection. You have to look beyond what you have now.”

He suddenly laughed.

"Forgive me for using a factory as an analogy! I usually still like to use artistic theory as an analogy. It seems to be easier for my soldiers and other high-level officials in the empire to understand. But in fact, they are all the same. What is the difference? Except for many Mortals always don’t want to believe that a Primarch like me has the first job of making the best screws on the planet!”

They said goodbye to Nador, the war blacksmith who was on duty at the door of the communication tower, returned to the natural sunshine of Olympia, and headed towards the foot of Mount Telefus together.

If Perturabo's team hung out long enough, maybe they could arrive earlier.

"I used to be an apprentice." Coze said, pulling back the dark hood to protect the sun, looking for those relatively harmonious words for sunny weather suitable for Olympia. "Working for researchers. They... are also constantly exploring the depths, going deep into unknown research areas, and becoming addicted to them."

"They caused misfortune, didn't they?" Fulgrim easily deduced the hidden meaning of Konrad Curze's words. "There is no doubt that they have set the wrong direction for their pursuit. The Emperor's Children need to become better people, rather than pursue becoming extremely bad people, we all understand this..."

He clapped his hands and belatedly guessed the reason for Coz's extra vigilance: "Are you worried that studying genes will cause problems?"

"Actually," Kurtz touched his upper and lower teeth, letting a crisp sound echo in his skull. "I've created a problem."

Fulgrim was slightly surprised, and a trace of worry flashed across his face: "How could it be?"

"I'll fix it," Curze said, silent, vaguely regretting that he had given away too much information.

"It'll be good if it can be solved," despite saying this, Fulgrim still frowned, and the light from the roof of Lokos' house deepened the shadow on the arch of his eyebrows. "Before I returned, my legion also encountered genetic problems. Although an unknown person stopped the progression of the blight at that time, the shadow has already shrouded the head of the third legion."

"I think...this is why some of my warriors pay special attention to genetic research. They were once only a thin line away from death." Fulgrim sighed.

"Empathy interferes with your judgment, brother." Coze said, carelessly picking at his cloth red robe with his nails, letting it wrap around his body as much as possible, "I will reserve my judgment. , but I will also try to remove my prejudices. Of course, I will allow him to come.”

"Thank you!" Fulgrim immediately expressed his sincere thanks and patted the shoulder of Konrad Curze, whose face was half hidden by the hood.

At the entrance of Lokos Palace, the back half of a vehicle waiting for them appeared in the field of vision blocked by the columns. It looked like a two-wheeled steel chariot, on which two Primarchs could stand side by side.

Curze accepted Fulgrim's touch. No matter what, the cleanliness of the purple phoenix was second to none among the people Curze had ever seen.

By the way, objectively speaking, the one who ranks at the top of the cleanliness level in Coze's mind is actually Perturabo's mentor craftsman; because his existence is completely illusory, it doesn't matter whether he is dirty or not.

"Fulgrim..." Curze rolled his eyes, glanced at Fulgrim's figure, closed his eyes, and looked away. "Morse's plays, I think, have some memorizing value."

"I'm so glad to hear you praise me like this, Konrad Curze." Morse appeared from near the vehicle, still wearing the same black robe and black strips wrapped around his arms. His hair seemed to have just been rough-dried and looked particularly disheveled, and his expression was rarely relaxed and content.

"You're welcome, Artisan." Coze retracted his smile. "Why are you here?"

"Of course I'm here to be your coachman for free, Primarchs." Morse imitated the crisp sound that would come from the mouth of a horseman. "Guess where this thing comes from?"

The two Primarchs stepped forward and were surprised when they saw the vehicle in its entirety.

In front of a two-wheeled steel chariot, two two-wheeled motorcycles were fixed with iron ropes and rubber ropes as the power source of the chariot. The engine of this combination has been started, and it is humming slightly with steel at this moment.

It is not difficult to imagine how fast this thing would be if it were running on the playing field, far exceeding the speed of flesh and blood.

"Ferrus would like this design," Fulgrim said, running his hand over the Iron Chariot's motorcycle head. "But who built it? It doesn't exactly fit Perturabo's aesthetic."

"One of the illegal vehicles confiscated in this riding competition," Morse said, patting the guardrail of the steel chariot, getting on the driver's seat, and holding the two reins, "The planet insists that this is not illegal. Natural transformation, but a naturally born mechanical creature, cannot discriminate against the culture of the planet. "

"How was it confiscated?" Fulgrim asked.

"Our rule is four-legged animals," Morse motioned for the two Primarchs to board the chariot, "but it has six wheels, so why shouldn't it be confiscated?"