Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

As it turns out, the Emperor wasn't the only one to receive an invitation to visit the famed Iron Warriors Memorial.

When the golden boots of the Lord of Mankind landed on the soft crimson carpet dyed with real animal fur outside the Grand Memorial Hall of Olympia, several Astartes gathered at the door were frightened by the Lord of the Galaxy. It brought tears to my eyes.

These outstanding warriors who have experienced hundreds of battles and have an average of twenty scars from the top of their heads to the soles of their feet, all they need to do is shove their original body in front of their eyes, and their brains will be completely empty when they first meet their genetic father. .

Not to mention the Emperor. If the minds of those who saw the Emperor for the first time were not filled with the Emperor's golden light for thirty seconds, it would probably be because the Emperor's psychic aura was too wide, causing them to He fainted within thirty seconds.

This was what Rogal Dorn saw when he followed the Emperor to the memorial hall. Following his custom, he ignored the disturbance caused by the Emperor and walked up to the Lord of Mankind to say hello.

The Emperor is good at using smaller costs to win the sincerity of others, and the divine aura is an example - this sentence was said by Alpharius, or Omega. Rogal Dorn did not dare to say which one he had encountered the last time he returned to Terra.

"Rogal Dorn," the Emperor called his name, also when he returned to Terra last time, with sadness in his eyes. He has always been like this, while conquering the galaxy, he also accepts the fact that all the misfortunes that once happened to the places where humans lived are still going on under his rule today.

But at this moment, Rogal Dorn couldn't feel those low emotions.

Perhaps it was the cool breeze in the mountains of Olympia that made the emperor feel soothed, just like Rogge knew that after being blown alone by the icy wind for three hours outside Invite, he no longer had the ability to indulge in mourning.

"Father," Dawn nodded, expressing his response in a succinct way.

"Is this your first time here?" the Emperor asked. He was just chatting, and the Lord of Humanity actually had the unique function of chatting.

"Perturabo invited me several years ago," Dorn answered honestly, "but it was not until recently that I really had the opportunity to visit here."

"I am so heartbroken, the golden fist of the empire," the voice didn't seem to come from a horizontal direction.

Soon, Konrad Curze slid down from a shadow on the other side of the street and landed quietly next to the Emperor. The cushion of his landing constituted a bow and salute to the Emperor. "'Several years ago', listen to what you said. It was only a month ago that I finally got the invitation from the Perturabo brothers. I had many more nights than you did. Alas..."

He straightened up, a bunch of small leather bags clapping against each other around his waist: "Hail, Emperor."

Roger Dorn didn't want to say anything more. Nor will he and everyone enjoy catching up on each other’s flaws in their words.

This time, it was Fulgrim who spoke for Rogal Dorn. The purple-robed phoenix wore a pair of elbow-length gloves with white background embroidered with purple and gold patterns. His newly permed fluffy curly hair projected a wide range on half of his snow-white cheeks. The exquisite shadow, hidden in the shadow, is half a finely crafted silver mask.

He only had with him his chief swordsman Akulduna, whose steps were stiff and whose face had not yet recovered from the serious injury. He also had other undamaged and glorious heirs, such as Kaisoron, Eidolon, Lucius and others. , but not a single one was seen.

"Father," Fulgrim first greeted the emperor, and then stabbed Conrad with a smile: "Conrad, you and Perturabo have only known each other for a month, and he invited you to come to his beloved home planet. There is no other example of this speed.”

Konrad's smile was filled with an annoying smugness that was not typical even for the Emperor's Children, who were often considered too proud.

After that, a company commander of the Eighth Legion appeared from the road according to the normal walking path and hurriedly followed his genetic father. Conrad Coze patted the shoulder of the warrior who had just painted his power armor with blue lightning patterns, invisibly stopping him from saluting.

At his waist, a bolter with a silver skull engraved on it had obviously been carefully maintained countless times and was fixed by a brown belt and buckle. This weapon, gifted personally by the original body, is the most eye-catching decoration on the warrior - considering that he only brought this weapon that can be called an ornament.

Before they could utter any more words to each other that did not in any way further the Great Crusade, an Iron Warrior finally arrived at their side to respectfully pay his respects to the higher-ups of the Empire.

"The door to the memorial hall has been opened." He was not a person who was good at carving diplomatic words into a flower through his clever tongue. This was almost written all over his angular face, "I am the 11th Battalion. "Barabas Dantioch, the battalion commander, please allow me to lead you to visit the Olympia Memorial Hall. Lord Perturabo is visiting the memorial hall with several other Primarchs who arrived early."

"Okay," the Emperor said.

"At your command, Emperor." Dantioch raised an arm toward the granite door carved in the native Olympian style. It looked like a move he had learned from the waiters who opened doors for him on previous diplomatic missions.

"Before that, can you wait a moment, battalion commander?" Fulgrim asked, spotting a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye, "Oh, Ferus is here."

Ferrus Manus walked up to Fulgrim and greeted the Emperor. He came alone, unaccompanied by his clan.

This is the inevitable consequence of inviting too many people at once. Someone will always arrive first or last.

The Lord of Humanity's eyes slowly passed over the several descendants standing in front of him, tracing their outlines with his eyes. "Let's go," he said.

"The Iron Warriors Memorial Hall, originally established in 809.M30 in Lokos, the capital of the planet Olympia, is the cultural and spiritual core of the Fourth Legion Iron Warriors used to collect important items worthy of commemoration. Over the decades, the first memorial hall has undergone many changes Renovation and expansion to meet growing storage and exhibition needs..."

This is actually the first time that Barabas Dantioch has truly entered the interior of the Olympia Memorial Hall. How this honor suddenly came to him, Dantioch himself did not know.

Walking under the tall sloping ceiling, sunlight passes through the carefully designed glass panels, using the best refraction angle to coat the collections in the cabinet with natural light.

This place has long been more than just a venue dedicated to placing statues. Here, the proof of the Iron Warriors' battles to this day is stored. Whether it is a glorious victory or a regrettable defeat, it is a model worthy of praise and learning, or it is remembered every time it is recalled. Pain that keeps you awake at night.

And the Emperor saw the proof. Dantioch suddenly realized this.

The Emperor watched as the Iron Warriors sacrificed for their dream of the Great Crusade.

Dantioch recited the manuscript he had obtained on the spot and breathed a sigh of relief that these real giants were willing to slow down a little and wait for him to catch up.

After adapting to this sudden explanation job, he gradually began to add some personal understanding. It is true that he has never been here, but many things here either feel really familiar to him, or he has learned about similar content in his past experience.

He introduced the first batch of early equipment that had been retired from technology development over the years, and talked about the little troubles these unoptimized designs had created during specific battles that indirectly led to soldiers being carved into the sculpture hall. What devastation the inevitable fatal accident wreaks.

He described the story of a model drive engine that ran out of control, and how the chain reaction caused by the exploding plasma was like a solar flare, destroying half of the cruiser's armor plating at once, leaving the section dangerously exposed to debris and debris. Among the floating objects in space.

Then, there is the inner tunnel network that penetrates the earth's crust. It was boldly designed by a member of the Masonic Club and completed with the cooperation of the nearby Mechanicus. It was arranged in a planetary belt where the surface environment is generally extremely harsh, providing local residents with access to traverse the mantle. A miraculous path that travels directly from one end of the planet to the other.

Among this series of design drawings, the one that is relatively complete and has the most beautiful handwriting was retained by Perturabo and placed in the Grand Memorial Hall.

The demigods were more approachable than Dantioch expected.

Dantioch noted that the Emperor and the Primarchs were indeed interested in the exhibits collected by Perturabo.

The Emperor's footsteps stopped at the right time, Curze and Fulgrim went back and forth between singing and tit-for-tat, and Ferrus selectively let some of the exhibits draw his attention away from the Primarch beside him... …Rogal Dorn is the only one who can even fill in the relevant backstory that Dantioch didn’t mention.

Their appreciation was not a pretense of courtesy, Dantioch was as glorious as ever.

Across the Imperium, anyone who has even the slightest knowledge of the Primarchs knows how unique these natural demigods are.

Dantioch thought in his heart that their thoughts were particularly quick. Thanks to their sharp brains and thinking abilities, although it was not apparent on the surface, their emotions were also highly enriched in humans.

They possess another alien mind, based on humans, but there is undoubtedly a subtle but sharp difference. Perhaps the Primarch was to the Astartes what the Astartes were to mortals.

But when they showed their curiosity about Dantioch's story, sharing their wonder and reflections like true brothers and families, and—well, mostly, when they told the Iron Warriors about it When respect and appreciation are shown, none of this matters anymore.

Even those who do not seek honor and recognition will not refuse to be commemorated for the practice of their ideals.

It is said that in the hall of Nuceria's Alpine Sanatorium, facing the main entrance, there hangs the first group photo of the twelfth primarch Angron embracing his fellow gladiators.

Passing through the cloister and passing some large-scale displays and murals, another door hidden in the texture of the wall for the sake of design beauty is automatically and respectfully opened for visitors after stopping in Dantioch and verifying their identity. .

“This is the Sculpture Hall, which was part of the original construction of the memorial,” Dantioch said, asking distinguished guests to go ahead.

After the door opened, Dantioch saw several giants at the other end of the hall.

His Primarch Perturabo himself was also here, leading his brothers who had arrived earlier to introduce the stories of the heroic statues.

Over the decades, there are by no means a handful of Iron Warriors who have made military exploits, and there are always a few who are outstanding enough to have their personal images placed in the Olympia Memorial Hall.

There is a sculpture of Dantioch himself, and it is located relatively close to the center of the sculpture hall of the Great Memorial. In the sculpture, he is posing as if he was debating: that was the day when he decided to establish the agora.

For this reason, Dantioch once asked the brother who was in charge of the rotation at the Grand Memorial Hall to take a photo of his sculpture for a private souvenir.

Of course, under the premise of the huge base of Iron Warriors overall warriors, the number of negative examples will inevitably increase slowly year by year.

For example, the one not far from the door. Under his command, the communication series signals were deciphered by the enemy. However, because he himself took the wrong reference material when sending the message and had an outdated secret code book spread out in his hand, their enemies naturally Didn't get the desired results.

No matter what, the soldier still gained the qualification to enter the Grand Memorial Hall by virtue of his legendary negligence.

In contrast, the leader of the grenadier execution team who was following the order at the time judged that there was definitely a problem with the order, so he went under pressure and asked the headquarters for confirmation a second time. He saved the life of a centurion.

Dantioch knew that his explanation duty for the day was over, so he saluted several giants. Fulgrim said goodbye to him with a smile, and asked him to take care of Akulduna who was struggling to walk.

In the blink of an eye, Konrad Curze was like sneaking into the shadows, floating briskly and quickly all the way to Perturabo. When Perturabo turned around, he showed a friendly smile and said to the Lord of Iron. The ability to maintain a stable facial expression poses certain challenges.

"Perturabo," Cozzi said at the end of his words, "the level of sculptures designed by your warriors is somewhat uneven."

One only has to look at what Coates's pale, slender fingers are pointing at to know that he is deliberately trying to create contradictions. Because the set of statues he pointed at were designed by Perturabo himself.

"Everyone is different." The Emperor may have felt that he should say something. No matter what, words with rich interpretations would sometimes bring positive effects, and sometimes they would just confuse people.

"If you don't know what to say, why bother speaking, Emperor?" Morse shrugged and whispered. He was indeed here, but his height made him less noticeable.

"I personally designed all the statues in this section." Perturabo simply confessed this point, even though he felt that among the large number of original bodies present, there should be no one who could not feel the subtle differences.

Theoretically, their senses and thinking abilities can help them perceive details a hundred times better than ordinary people, and draw conclusions from them.

"Which of these statues do you have a personal opinion about, Your Majesty the Marquis?" He emphasized Curze's title, which was completely self-proclaimed, thereby hinting at another race in the depths of the shadows that thinks it has no rivals in the galaxy. Artistic attainments.

Several Primarchs looked at him one after another. Rogal Dorn still faced him with that stubborn cold face, while Vulkan gave him a gentle nod.

How sad that the Fire Dragon Lord was the only brother who showed support for him.

Curze squinted his eyes and looked at one statue after another.

The exhibits in the Sculpture Hall seem to be a manifestation of the development of Perturabo's personal artistic concepts.

Among the more than 20 sculptures in this row, they show a progression from relative roughness to strict refinement and comprehensiveness, and then gradually begin to focus on highlighting key features, emphasizing the guidance and emphasis on the audience's sight. In this way, the overall characteristics of the sculpture and the inherent emotional qualities can be grasped as quickly as possible.

He could almost see the expression on Perturabo's face as he drew the designs in these statues. Before this, he always felt that Petura was the type of artist who restrained his emotional expression.

Curze stopped in front of the statue on the far side and pursed his lips with interest.

He first looked at the front half of the sculpture that broke through the wall and the lifelike, shocked and puzzled expression. Then he slowly walked around to the back of the statue, facing the lower half of the body that was stuck on the other side and struggling desperately. Showing a thoughtful look.

"This may be one of your most impressive works, my brother." Coze pinched his chin, "Who is this unfortunate little warrior?"

"The current commander of the second battalion, Eric Anderson." Perturabo said with an intriguing tone. "This is also the first work I carved for the legion. His story is on the base of the statue. My dear Brothers."

He paused and added: "I believe Anderson would be extremely proud to be deeply impressed by everyone."

Curze licked his lips, leaned forward exaggeratedly, glanced at the High Gothic on the base, and read it clearly surrounded by the Primarchs and the Emperor.

"Half on one side...half on the other side."