Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"Oh, Minotaur, how did you become what you are now? You were supposed to be a character as smooth as the moon, but what I saw was a demon like a dead soul! The sharp claws on your left hand are shining purple. Is the electric blade the 'contract' I gave you? Is the cold, gleaming long claw on your right hand the 'veritas' you seek?"

"Eh? What do you mean, my friend Hercules? You think that I fell into the darkness, wasted my life, gnawed on the flesh and blood of living creatures, and contaminating these sharp weapons was equivalent to harm. Has it ruined your reputation and ruined your glory?"

Hercules, played by Perturabo, grasped the bright heavy hammer tightly, allowing the iron product, which was temporarily made to look like a hammer and covered with luminous paint, to suddenly break under the radiance of the midday sun. Turn off the dark fog lingering on the stage.

Opposite him, the body of the monster played by Conrad Coates was half-bowed. The two wings on his back were tightly close to each other and folded up vigilantly. Two giant monsters made of silver-white material like Hades bone, with blue electric light appearing from time to time. The claws were connected to the ends of the arm armor, taking the place of the pale hands.

When the light came on, the bat-winged man immediately blocked his face with his left hand and stepped back, becoming a living ghost who was afraid of the skylight.

The warrior stepped forward, step by step, his voice full of doubts: "I don't want to hear what you said, because I am using a completely frank spirit to express my painful doubts to you, but you can't even I can't get a true response. I have to prove that you are already a bat that cannot be tamed, a monster imprisoned by the labyrinth. Am I going to let you trample on your destiny and let you control so many things? Innocent lives?"

The ghost chuckled, and with his laughter, black mist surged onto the stage again.

"I like these sharp claws very much. I want to keep them forever, so I keep them with me at all times. Whenever a person is lost in this maze, he will speak to our contract and the truth, just like the thoughts in the blood. The poison is gurgling in the veins of your body, and you feel the same way, as if the fire of sulfur is burning in the soles of your feet, forcing you to sink into this abyss all the time! Look, you also talk about innocence! life, my old friend!"

"I have seen the crimes you committed with my own eyes, so what's the use of talking about your past hobbies? It's not that you know nothing about it, and it's not that I haven't understood it, I just mentioned your past justice. , can it satisfy your undoubted and real blood debt? All kinds of appalling sins have been gathered on your single body, and the throne also weeps for you!"

"If you want to fight with me, I can only offer my martial arts. You can use your holy hammer of the mantra given by the righteous, but I can only use my claws, knives, ropes, poisonous blood and psychedelic magic." Water, let the dark revenge rise up from my dark cave, and take my life now to bring justice to me in the past. "

An empty lament came from the black mist, and it was hard to tell who came from it.

The next moment, the sword glowed in the mist. The silver blade and the glowing outline of the warhammer collided with the swords and the roars of the beasts. They clashed in the increasingly dense darkness. Only the warriors around him could see the sword. , there is still a bright shadow like eternal sunlight.

"My Lord did not show his complete power..."

Under the stage, several people who also had a seat in the front row of the theater, but whose seats were in the deep shadows without exception, and who were wearing black cloaks and with skulls and bloody bat wings embroidered on their chests, were paying close attention. While enjoying the performance on the stage, they chatted about their own topics privately in Gothic with a unique tone.

Their volume is undoubtedly enough to escape the ears of any mortal, especially in a theater that accommodates more than 10,000 people. Even if people are just breathing ordinary breaths at a regular volume, all kinds of trivial noises are enough to cover up the sounds hidden in the shadows. dialogue in.

It is worth mentioning that even though this play is not as grand as the opening ceremony and cannot be missed, given that Perturabo, the Lord of Olympia, personally played one of the two main roles, the theater at this time was even more packed, and the high-altitude The use of thousands of floating Lokos Palace official and private unofficial drones is further proof that this feast is being broadcast simultaneously in countless corners of the entire planet.

It is not difficult to imagine that during the space voyage in the next few months, today's video tape will be transmitted to the locations of hundreds of planets along with the routes of merchant ships, and will be further spread in the next countless years.

But the words that are difficult for mortals to hear clearly are another matter for the Astartes whose seats are allocated near corners and whose senses are particularly sensitive. Objectively speaking, this is the reason why Curze's auxiliary army still cautiously uses Gothic instead of Eldar to communicate - on planet 154-4, there are indeed a small number of Astartes who know that Kang Rader Curze is associated with the Eldar, but this information is still not suitable for large-scale dissemination.

Therefore, Iskandar Khayon, the warrior of the Thousand Dust Sun, who is in the same place with the Iron Warriors as a communication staff, is very sure that there is a group of... mortal assistants under Konrad Curze who seem to be too tall. The army is using words to express unconditional praise for his direct superiors, as well as doubts about the organizer of this sports meeting and the leader of the legion to which he currently belongs temporarily, Perturabo.

Khayon himself had no intention of interrupting the discussions of these mortals; he viewed them as an object of appreciation and a way to see the different primarchs from another perspective, and gradually became accustomed to their unique accents.

He watched the battle between the Primarchs. Even though they restrained their strength and speed to face the public and left room for each other, their fighting awareness and skills were still worth appreciating.

Khayon held the short-handled axe he carried with him. This weapon came from Fenris. It was brought by his comrade from that unique unit after he completed his exchange career with the Fenris Wolf. Wilder, in Fenris terms, is destiny, a word with the characteristics of rune priests.

He asked his Iron Warrior partner to pour molten iron into the axe handle and infuse his etheric aura into the molten iron to achieve better control over the weapon.

Next, the event prepared by Olympia for the visitors is a wrestling competition.

Mortals will undoubtedly be excited to see the friendly matches between warriors from various planets, and will be curious and even yearning for warriors of different styles born in the civilization environment of different planets, but this is not enough for the Astartes who conquer the stars, far from enough.

The Iron Lord, who was always thoughtful, of course took this into consideration. The various legions have been informed that they will have the opportunity to compete in combat skills in a battlefield called "Narni Court" located in the core area of ​​the Iron Wyrm, which has been personally verified by the Lord of the Seventh Legion. Considering that there are only a few Thousand Dust Suns in Olympia, and he doesn't think there are any of his companions who are more adept at close combat, Khayon realized the moment he got the news that he might have to fight for the honor of the Father of Genes: after all, he still has an axe for close combat, which seems to mean something? "You are a little too loud, mortal friends." Telemanon said, his voice was as beautiful as ever, and after lowering his voice at this time, his words became a kind of low string music, secretly matching the accompaniment of the local orchestra performing for the two Primarchs on the stage. In addition, his eyes still had a bright blue light as usual, transforming into an unquestionable beauty in the light and shadow of the open air. Of course, Telemanon Lyras was an Emperor's child.

Iskandar Khayon hoped that if the Astartes really fought each other, he would face an opponent of no higher level than Telemanon's twin swords. He didn't think he could survive more than a few rounds against Sigismund or Akurduna.

"Does it make you feel noisy, respected Lord Astartes?" said a female warrior, who was so stingy with honorifics that her soft tone was actually sharp, similar to the crisp sound of the swords clashing when her master fought Perturabo on the stage. "We will keep it appropriately quiet."

She tilted her head slightly, and her skin under the black hood was dark and translucent, like a clear black crystal stone, and the veins showed an extra deep purple at the edge of her cheeks, and then went deep into the shadow of the hood along the bones.

A sense of alienation gathered in this thin face, and Khayon could not forget it. He realized that her lips were a unique blue-gray color.

"Who are you?" Khayon asked, and when he saw Telemanon glance at him, his face suddenly burned with heat. The scholar ignored it and continued to look at the warrior's eyes with an upward arc. "I see some bulges on your back. Are they the combat wings developed by the Eighth Legion for mortals?" The wings under the black cloak trembled, and Khayon's desire to explore arose in his heart. This may be a common problem for scholars-he really wants to know how the Eighth Legion equipped the mortal army with some unique additional limbs connected by nerves. "Yes." The female warrior said uneasily and vigilantly, and seemed to regret taking the words of the Space Marine. "May I know your name?" The warrior's expression suddenly turned cold. Khayon didn't understand why he got such a response. First of all, few mortals would respond to Astartes in this way. He had heard that the warriors of the Shadow Moon Wolf were once described by mortals in private as "strong smell", but when he was face to face, this was the first time he encountered such a response. Secondly, she is not a guard, right? They are the kind of warriors who can't say their names. "Nefertari," the female warrior said, "Lord Astartes, I think we are talking a little too loudly, I regret that."

"I understand, let's keep quiet." Telemanon smiled and glanced at Khayon. Khayon glared back.

——

The smell of disinfectant spread in the laboratory, covering the smell of blood and metal.

No experiments were going on at this time, so the lights in the room were kept at a normal brightness. Scissors, bone saws, syringes, and some surgical instruments that Fabius Bile was not familiar with before, he also gained more knowledge during this time.

He put away the tools on the table, "You did not go to the surface of Olympia, Hexakeris."

"You did not go there either, Emperor's Child." The old Haemonchir said, Fabius could feel the researcher's passion for flesh and blood and his tireless desire for genetic exploration. Under this premise, Hexakeris's vigilance seemed particularly difficult to explain.

He and Hexaceres were supposed to be on the same path - and if the latter insisted on the principle of repelling like, how could he choose a master to whom he would be loyal? This bothered Fabius. It was not because of the other party's attitude, but because of the obstacles that this attitude brought to their collaborative exploration.

During this time, they were supposed to have developed enough trust in each other that Fabius could show the other a tube of questionable genes in order to delve deeper into where the Emperor's Children Blight came from.

Yes, the Legion's blight had been suppressed even after Fulgrim's return, and even before the Primarch's return, but it was never truly resolved in the warriors born of Terra.

Fabius knew very well that the disease was simply sealed within their genetic spiral by a unique, psychic-like power. It saved many Third Legion soldiers, but some lost their lives.

It is just latent, and this latent may last until eternity when the world ends, or it may end tomorrow. There is a corruption that lurks within the glorious Emperor's Children's skin, within the black carapace, within the sternum plates.

This is far from perfect. Fabius Bair did not believe that Fulgrim did not want to completely eliminate this hidden danger. The Apothecary believed that this was why his research always received the Primarch's approval.

Fabius did not forget the look Lycaon gave him when he told his friend that he was in danger of developing a disease. There is an astonishing disdain there.

Fabius was not stung and simply moved Lycaon to the operating table in exchange for a mixture of restorative enzymes and protein distillation.

This was the elixir he had asked for from his comrades in order to extend his life. Because his road is longer. In the words of the original body, it is closer to perfection.

"I at least participated in the opening ceremony where my Primarch was present," Fabius said.

"Not every 'mortal' is qualified to gaze upon the glory of our Lord," Hexakeris said, "I am already far from a mortal."

The old Haemonculus summoned a 'mortal' attendant wearing a black robe and an iron helmet, and asked him to fetch the viscera extract they would need for their next work.

Fabius knew very well that this attendant would tell everything that happened in the laboratory today to the Night Ghost Blood Marquis who was wary of him.

In any case, he has never conducted experiments beyond the baseline, and this surveillance will have no negative consequences.

"Bring Solution No. 3," Fabius ordered to his own attendants.

The machine makes the purple lenses of the eyes reflect light. Its armor was very worn, its lightning patterns frayed. Its face and neck are covered in sutures. This obscures its true appearance.

The squire saluted and struck the left side of the heart with his right fist.

"Thank you, Lycaon," Fabius added politely.