Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"Except for the financial assistance to the planets where the top ten players come from, the first player to complete our four thousand-mile race will have the right to enter the palace of Lokos with his team and meet the Lord of Olympia in person, my dear Lord Perturabo, and Governor of Olympia, Lord Callifon..."

Nervous anticipation and restlessness filled the air, and were punctuated by the whispers, deep breaths and even direct cheers of many players and team members. Under the snow-capped mountains of Taylorfus and anchored at low altitude, the vastness of the Cheorwon Fortress But brewing in the shade.

Contestants from more than 300 planets affiliated to Olympia, under the generous conditions proposed by the host, each breathed heavier with the surging heartbeat.

Even though the host on the stage did not explicitly state how much the final top prize was worth, meeting the absolute master of the star cluster was already a reward that countless people could not even imagine in their entire lives.

Not to mention, when the two masters are mentioned throughout the star cluster, they are often given the nickname of the Lord of Generosity and Abundance. The Primarch and his co-queen have worked tirelessly to bring unquestionable prosperity and development to the entire region.

"You have received your respective number plates and identification tags, contestants! Keep it safe during this race, because the locator and data box it contains will serve as proof of your results and provide you with a clear record of your performance during the race. In the process, he violated the rules of friendship and provided evidence..."

From low-Earth orbit, if one looked directly down through the porthole, the tall riders and their respective beasts would be reduced to a small black spot on the side of the snow-white mountains, obscured by clouds.

Therefore, the Primarchs who were interested in this opening ceremony gathered in the tactical command room that Perturabo temporarily commandeered as a broadcast room, watching the scene captured by the camera servant on the projection screen.

Specifically, the only exception that was not interested enough was Konrad Coates, who was sitting with his seemingly endless notebook spread out on his crossed legs and writing with a quill. Write and draw.

"How did they come to Olympia?" Fulgrim put one hand on the side of the steel table, leaning half sideways, and tapped the corner of the projection with his finger. "The home planet of this team does not seem to have the ability to navigate interstellar space." Ability?"

He observed these participating teams again and again, and it was obvious that the technological capabilities of their respective home planets were undoubtedly very different.

As for the team he is currently pointing to, it is very likely that the scientific level is still before the birth of mature industry - the materials and sewing methods of the clothes they wear are still at the level of hunting by hand and using needles and animal sinews to sew. degree.

"Califon has sent ships and expedition teams to every planet within our jurisdiction that has confirmed affiliations to confirm whether there is a willingness to participate in the event."

Perturabo sat on his chair and said that this iron chair has not been used much since it was built, and it is still in a relatively new state.

"We don't want a planet to miss the opportunity to participate in art and sports events because of its economic, technological and political backwardness. Although other evaluation indicators between different planets will inevitably be related to the level of sports training, we We still have the expectation that we will not miss those players who are born in backward places but have enough potential.”

"This may change their entire lives, and even the future of the entire planet." Fulgrim said with a smile, "It's like the dream that the Chemos people had about fifty years ago. When they wake up, the entire Chemos will become as well-built and lush as the ancient land in the classics.”

"Robert Guilliman gave relevant experience in the governance of many worlds in Ultramar." Perturabo said, "If a planet joins the Empire and life becomes even worse than before, this is always... …”

"Not perfect?"

"Unprincipled." Roger Dorn said suddenly. When his light-colored eyes moved, combined with the light and shadow on the screen, it was like an electric current was flowing along his blood vessels.

"Unreasonable, not fair enough..." From behind, Conrad Coates' voice seemed to drift from a place that didn't exist, proving that he was paying attention to what was happening here at the same time.

"You are a merciful man, Perturabo," said Vulkan.

His comment made Perturabo pause for a moment and shake his head slightly. It was more of a sigh than an objection: "I don't often get such comments, my brother, especially when it comes from you. ”

"Take it, Perturabo." Ferrus Manus said, his silver eyes staring at the transmission tower on the televos snow mountain in the background of the projection that stretched directly into the sky.

After they arrived at the foot of the snow-capped mountains, they first quickly reached the middle of the mountain via a transport aircraft, then entered the tower and let the lifting platform take them straight into the Cheorwon; Conrad Coze once proposed to recreate Perturabo's youth Unfortunately, no one paid any attention to his attempt to climb a snow-capped mountain with bare hands.

"Last minute preparation time, contestants! Take care of your animal friends. Are the horseshoes ready?"

"That host is a descendant of a mortal soldier who served under my command when I was young." Perturabo introduced. "According to what he said, the stories his grandfather told made him yearn for my existence, but his family did not want him to enter the army, so he found another way to get close to me, such as taking a civilian job. Far enough."

"What is he? Prime Minister? Councilor? Throne, I'm sorry, I just realized that I don't understand the political structure of Olympia." Fulgrim shrugged helplessly.

“You don’t need to understand the political structure. Because he is the most talented and socially well-regarded freelance writer the Lokos Times has had in recent years.”

"This is really unexpected!" Phoenix laughed. "Okay, okay, look at his age, he really doesn't look like someone who talks loudly with his bald forehead in the Senate!"

"They set off," Ferrus said.

Perturabo nodded, tapping the fingers of both hands folded on the table slightly, assessing the status of each participant, and obtained satisfactory results.

In his brain, the data flow transmitted from the ID boxes carried by these players also entered the state of analysis at the same time. If no accident occurred, no one would know that the Lord of Olympia himself was personally watching their every move.

With the snow-capped mountains as the background, many contestants from different regions, different cultures and different planets, riding their own unique animals, surged forward like falling snowflakes at the moment the iron-colored streamers were cut.

Suddenly, colorful dots spread rapidly on the gray and black stone beach wasteland of Olympia, like flower petals, glitter or ribbons sprinkled on the ground, injecting an unusual and unique feeling into this prosperous planet. Vibrant vitality brought about by the collision of cultures and the passion of competition.

After the last player began to move away from the camera's shooting range, Perturabo removed a cable and let it fall naturally behind him again, cutting off the transmission of the picture.

A door hidden within the smooth steel wall opened silently, and a giant with half steel and half bionic skin walked out. His chest slightly emitted an orange light symbolizing the source of power, and there was bright light accompanying his breathing rhythm. , flashed briefly like lightning on the surface of his steel veins.

"I think you all know me." Mechanical Perturabo said. The synthesized voice obtained through technical simulation sounded slightly younger than the complete Perturabo, even after sharing the stored memories and After the will, the two Perturabo's mental ages are exactly the same.

"You...changed the color of the light?" Fulgrim said hesitantly, not knowing which Perturabo to look at.

Mechanical Perturabo nodded, and the mechanical pipelines on his neck stretched and then shortened: "To drive a mechanical body, you don't need a high-level energy source. If anyone is interested in the Cheorwon, come with me. We will guide you to areas you can visit.”

"What areas are included?" Ferus asked.

"Including the Iron Warriors Art Gallery." The two Perturabo looked at Fulgrim at the same time and said, "The creations of my legion members in their spare time will be sent to Memorials on each planet are preserved; those with unique value will be temporarily stored in the battleship collection room until it is the battleship's turn to return to Olympia and then enter the Cheorwon's art gallery."

"You've introduced it to me in this way, why don't you go and take a look?" Fulgrim clapped his hands and stood up straight, the wrinkles of his purple robe falling straight down his outstretched white arms.

"There is something that will also interest you, Ferrus," Perturabo said.

"What is it?" Ferus asked.

Mechanical Perturabo pointed at himself.

Ferus smiled. His smile looked like cracks between two pieces of steel caused by temperature changes. Compared with Fulgrim's smile, it was not beautiful, but it was still an extremely real smile.

"Okay," said the Primarch of the Iron Hands.

"Rogal Dorn, you will find that my battleship is nothing like your Phalanx." Perturabo continued, "And I have something specifically for you. It is based on a unique, It is similar to psychic energy but different from its local extraordinary spiritual power. It is the latest experimental product. "

"I understand." Dorn knew exactly what power Perturabo was referring to.

"Vulkan, you may be interested in many contents. I am not sure whether you want to visit the residential area prepared for mortals on the fortress."

"Of course," the Fire Dragon Lord said. "Thank you, Perturabo."

"What about me?" Horus asked. "Are there any projects prepared for me?"

Everyone immediately looked at the data pad that suddenly lit up.

"You missed the start of the Iron Riding Tournament," Vulcan laughed, low and broad.

"Father has orders," Horus didn't care. Missing a match between mortals was not a regret for him; what he cared about was this gathering between the Primarchs, "But father Haven't arrived at Olympia yet? Where's Angron?"

"The Emperor is still on a crusade," Dorn said. "Angron was called away by Karn."

Horus raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Okay," he said.

"Magnus is gone too," Fulgrim said, still a little unaccustomed to the sudden loss of the little red figure.

"Magnus? Was he also called away by someone?" Horus re-observed the layout of the command room to confirm that Magnus was really not there, and that it was not that he was too small and was taken away by him in a hurry. Missed the past.

Coz's nails scraped against the iron handrail, which caused a harsh noise. "Because he was so small that no one noticed when he disappeared," he said with a low smile, "so he ran away. What a sad story. I Dear brothers."

"He decided to come in a bigger body," Perturabo said, "for convenience. Have you finished drawing the design?"

"Come on, come on," Curze shrank back in his chair. "There is one person who keeps vetoing my designs, Petula..."

"You can't imagine how many wonderful ideas your brother has that can only exist in conceptual designs, Lord of Iron." Morse took the notebook from Curze's hand and circled it in gold ink. One of the sketches read, "We don't live in a higher dimension, Conrad, unless you want to fix a psychic spell here! Not even Perturabo can draw what you're asking for. Architectural design drawings!”

"Are you there too?" Fulgrim said in surprise.

"Yes, I hid my presence because I was having a disagreement with Konrad Curze over how to build his future flagship into the Minotaur Labyrinth of Daedalus."

Morse spoke rapidly, each word hanging on the end of the previous one.

"He is using forward-looking geometric art to create a fantasy palace that will pose a severe challenge to any intruder or anyone who wants to escape. And I objectively explained that he cannot treat the real universe as an immaterial universe. The passages are equally designed.”

"I have reality references," Conrad Coates countered.

"Your reality reference doesn't exist in the real universe, does it?"

"Conrad," Perturabo breathed out softly, "let me hear your design."

"Okay." Coz agreed immediately, narrowing his eyes slightly, forming an imperceptible upward arc. He stood up and held out his notebook. "I can introduce it to you, and I will express my gratitude to you in advance for that."

"There is one Primarch," said Morse, "who has no desire to discuss it with me. He is just waiting for this moment to attract you to work for him."

"If necessary, I can provide... some advanced arena design drawings that have been carefully designed by some factions for thousands of years, as well as construction experience on how to maintain a healthy and ornamental arena." Coz was unmoved. "Unlike humans, a consul can also be born in the arena."

"Alas, Angron is not here, so you started to introduce their gladiatorial arena." Fulgrim shook his head.

"I'm not telling a joke, Fulgrim." Curze said softly, "Positive and negative, perfect and incomplete, a set of contradictory words will inevitably appear on both sides of the coin for people to choose from."

"Perhaps," Fulgrim smiled, "will you come with us to visit?"

"No, goodbye." Coze waved his hand and watched the Primarchs leave.

Perturabo sat down opposite Coze, opened the notebook, and held a corner of the paper with his fingers.

"This is……"

"A sketch drawn at random." Cozz supported his chin and swirled the quill between his fingers. "About a certain possibility, how I used the genetic similarity of the Primarch to open Robert's mind. ·The lock that Guilliman set for me in his unforgettable empire."

"Your communication tower, and many other places, use locks based on the same principle... I am not implying that I will pick your door, but perhaps I should give a little warning, my brother."

"Thank you." Perturabo said, thinking for a moment, "I will start replacing them one by one."

"Okay," Curze smiled, "Now, we can discuss my maze."