Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

The paper rolls were stacked layer by layer on the wicker chair, and the dust on them was carried away by the wind that came out of thin air during the process of taking them out. Wicker chairs swayed in the long, narrow room whose door had been closed for many years.

The owner of the wicker chair is walking through the tall endless bookshelves, strolling leisurely in the book collection area that is like a carefully cultivated garden maze, taking down the scrolls he is interested in from the symmetrical iron shelves, and letting them float magically behind his back.

The footsteps of the other person were much lighter and younger. He hurriedly ran through the treasure house of knowledge, immersed in the pile of old papers like children of the same age who are addicted to games.

The scroll of paper in his arms was much more logical than the content randomly selected by adults. The ancient knowledge was categorized and used systematically. From these dark wet dreams that no one mentioned in the past, he interpreted something far beyond Olympia is as sublime a technology as anyone could imagine.

and more puzzles.

The brisk footsteps stopped at a corner, and the rapid breathing gradually sank into calmness, like the ripples of the water returning to a bright mirror that can reflect the sun and the moon.

Then, Perturabo slowly and steadily revealed his face from behind the bookshelf. The way he held the scroll looked like a rudimentary philosopher.

The boy waved to Morse: "I discovered a new language."

"You can't decipher it yourself?" Morse answered standing there, not very interested in these ancient technologies. "I taught you some principles of language and semiotics."

The development of science and technology cannot stop the regression of civilization. Apart from accompanying Perturabo, he came to the library that the Lokos royal family had built for generations. In fact, he just wanted to find a few novels to read, no matter how bad they were, epics would be fine.

"Of course I can decipher it myself," said Perturabo, "but I don't understand why they allowed this knowledge to be lost."

"Because the day has passed like the past." Morse smiled, "Well, the answer is, I don't know."

He turned around and leaned against the iron bookshelf, raising his head to look out at the night sky through the small skylight on the roof. Those bright stars shine with eternal light, making the night as bright as transparency.

Perturabo looked with him at the very distant things, and saw a particularly large circle in the vast sky. The circle reflects the light of the star, seizes part of the sun's life, and stores it in its own body. When night comes, it becomes the continuation of the sun's life.

"I have read some documents, and some documents say that the sun and stars we see are the same thing. The sun is also a morning star, but the moon is not," Perturabo said.

Morse nodded calmly, "Yeah. What do you think?"

"I think this is more practical than the gods pulling the sun around in their cars every day.

"Has it been verified?"

"Not yet." Perturabo shook his head, "I am deriving the formula."

"Deduced it by yourself?" Morse recalled. "Go to the artist's perspective calculation tool book and look for it. Maybe you can find some wisdom of the predecessors more quickly."

Perturabo looked at him, tilting his head. "Knowledge about art is not in this library." There was a little resentment in his tone.

"This is the consequence of telling the tyrant that you want to read science and technology books." Morse commented.

"I'm going to get passes to other libraries tomorrow." Perturabo said unhappily, "You have to help me carry the books on both sides."

"Your dreams are enchanting."

Perturabo shook his head, adapting well to Morse's rejection. "Then you always dangle in front of my eyes, but the library pass was exchanged between me and the tyrant. How can you borrow my permission without paying anything?"

"You learn quickly."

"The equivalent exchange you taught." Perturabo said proudly, lifting the document in his arms and hugging it tighter. "Or you can directly teach me some of the content I want. The organization of Lokos Library is as bad as rotten fish, and all kinds of information are messed up and mixed together."

"Good children must learn to be self-reliant." Morse said, "Just like me, breaking into the Lokos Library illegally on my own does not count as borrowing your ID."

"Where did you get all these fallacies?"

"Innate."

"Where could someone like you come from!"

"Not this Olympia anyway."

"How many Olympians are there in the world?"

"There must have been one before."

"What now?"

"Now it's up in the sky." Morse almost laughed. This kid was so much more interesting than the dry epics in the local library.

"Ah? What kind of mystery is this?"

"Do you want to see it?"

Perturabo looked up at the skylight, "Where?"

Morse's laughter echoed throughout the empty library. The paper flew out of his hand and floated into the wicker chair where he temporarily placed his belongings.

He stepped forward and shuttled through the corridor of the library, found the iron steps that rotated upwards, and trotted upward briskly with his hands on the railings, his black robe undulating behind him like wings.

"Wait, I haven't finished reading the books on the first floor! What's wrong with you?" Perturabo shouted anxiously. He looked around and temporarily piled the scrolls in his hands on the side of the bookshelf where he could not trip. , followed Morse all the way and started running.

Mors had no intention of waiting for Perturabo; he knew the boy could catch up.

Following the spiral staircase, he passed through the second floor and then to the third floor. He then placed the ladder under the skylight, pushed open the window and stood on the roof. When he finished all this, Perturabo was struggling to find a balance among the excessively smooth tiles and glared at him angrily: "What are you doing?"

Morse smiled at him and walked forward quickly. "Under our feet is the knowledge that this planet has preserved for thousands of years." He whispered, causing the murmuring voice to drift back along the airflow. "But so what."

The tiles receded beneath his feet and he came to the edge of the library. This magnificent building is located in the center of the entire Lokos, but over a long period of time it has turned into a non-existent behemoth. Everyone puts it in sight but cannot see it.

"The puzzles of Olympia only sleep in three places, one is in the library, the second is on the moon, and the third is on the other side of the galaxy." Morse said in the silent night, "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I I’ve told you too many things.”

"What's the matter!" Perturabo shouted from behind, "You are obsessed with your stories and riddles every day!"

"You can solve the first puzzle yourself, and I can remind you of the second puzzle. The rumors of Olympia have long made it clear: the last time their shadow fell on this world, slaughter and enslavement fell on tens of thousands of people. I saw people die , and saw lightning, voices, and thunderings coming out of the mouth of the false prophet.”

Morse chants about the coming disaster like a song, which is better described as a kind of sigh than ruthless.

"The moon of Olympia has another name. When things on the ground are over, I will tell you it - or you will guess it correctly in advance. Do you want to guess now?"

"At least give me a hint!"

"You definitely know the word, kid. Everyone in Olympia knows it. A color, a noun."

Morse stopped at the edge of the building. After estimating the distance, he jumped forward, crossed a small distance, and climbed to a nearby spire. Without using any psychic energy, his fingers were accurately and effectively embedded in the gaps between the masonry, moving upward with extremely high efficiency.

He heard Perturabo murmuring some unpleasant words that were not rude, and the smile never left his face.

The moonlight came from the cracks in the dark clouds and shone on the building above him.

He jumped to the top floor and sat on the floor, leaning against the clock in the building.

After a while, Perturabo came up here panting, and it was his last sanity not to fight. He was about to pull Morse up from the ground, and Morse invited him to sit down.

"The third puzzle is in the ancient night." Morse raised his head and looked out from the bell tower. "You ask me where I come from, child. I can't explain it to you. If you want to say that I come from the stars, It would be too poetic and ethereal to see one of them, not to mention that we can’t see the planet buried in the old night.”

Then he raised his hand and tapped it gently in the air, "It's roughly in that direction. That's where I came from."

Perturabo raised his eyebrows in confusion, and the exertion of climbing made him sit down with his back against the clock.

"There's not just one planet in this world, Olympia, right?" the boy asked.

"Is that enough to be a question?" Morse said. "I thought you remembered that you were not born in Olympia."

"But I don't know where I come from." Perturabo said. When mentioning this topic, he no longer mentioned those empty words such as greater mission and more magnificent territory, leaving behind There is only a pure wandering and confused heart.

The stars looked at him indifferently, and Perturabo thought of the swirling eyes of the stars. Although he no longer saw it, he could almost hear the sharp wails and sounds of death again.

Morse put his arm around his shoulders, and he suddenly stopped having the bloody and painful dream.

“Don’t think about where you came from until your past catches up with you,” Morse said.

Perturabo wonders if Morse's past will lead to him, then realizes that he doesn't actually know Morse's real name.

This sudden feeling of frustration broke his words before they were spoken.

"Then you..." He considered what to say, comparing the possible impact of each question.

He had too many things to ask, ranging from the book collection issue that he mentioned earlier, which now seemed ridiculous and cute, to whether Morse knew something about his origins. He jumped from question to question in a hurry, but the words he asked were not in any part of his thinking chain.

He asked: "What is the planet on which you were born?"

"I don't know," Morse said. "I was gone a long time."

"It used to be very similar to here," he said, his eyes falling on the view of Olympia. "There were hillsides and forests. The sky shone in the middle of the hills, and the moonlight snaked in the valleys. Beyond the hills, there were lakes, There is also the sea. There are lights on the other side of the bay, and in the dark, there are strings of orange lights at the end of the coast. The city-state is there, and the people live in the city-state."

"what about now?"

Morse gave a low chuckle.

"There is the Holy City, which shines like a very precious stone, like jasper, like crystal. It has a high wall with twelve gates, and at the gates are twelve angels. The wall has twelve foundations, and at the foundations are The names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb. The length and breadth and height of the city were one hundred and forty-four cubits."

He raised his head, contrary to his usual indifference. Although he was reciting sacred words, there was a cold hostility on his body.

"The wall is made of jasper," he continued, "and the foundations of the wall are decorated with precious stones. The first foundation is jasper. The second foundation is sapphire. The third foundation is green agate. The fourth foundation is emerald. The fifth foundation is onyx. The sixth foundation is ruby. Seven is yellow jade, nine is jade, twelve is amethyst, and the streets in the city are pure gold. of glass.”

Perturabo's eyebrows knitted deeper, and the shadow cast on his face became particularly intense.

"Is there really such a city?" he asked. "But how should the people there live? Where should their cables be installed and where their water channels should be connected? Will the jasper walls not collapse? How can the glass streets bear the load? Can the stress of the structure be handled by gemstones?" How to lay such flashy bricks and tiles? How does their transportation work, how is the community space distributed, where is the sewage discharged, where does the clean water come from, where are the roads placed, how are goods circulated, and how do fires and floods occur? Can we prevent wind and snow..."

The more he talked, the more he could not stop, until he caught a glimpse of Morse's strange expression of suppressed laughter in surprise, which made him instantly struck down with shame.

"You are kidding me again, Morse." Perturabo said, feeling a little hot on his face, "There is no such city in the world, why are you talking nonsense to me."

"Someone is going to lie to the people of this world, saying that there is such a city that will come after the end and death." Morse lightly flicked the boy's face with the back of his index finger, and he was slapped away angrily. “Saying that when the tabernacle of God falls among men, all things will be made new.”

"Who said that?"

"Probably a revealed scripture."

"Did your god raise an army of builders to build the city?" said Perturabo.

"What about me! I look like a believer!" Morse scolded with a smile, stretched out his hand, and the night wind wrapped around his fingertips.

He thought about it quietly for a while, and suddenly said thoughtfully, "It's going to be daybreak."

Perturabo calculated the time in his mind, and according to Olympia's rhythm of time and the movement of the stars, he quickly came to the conclusion: "There are still thirty-eight minutes."

Morse relaxed his posture and pressed the stopwatch in his heart according to the beat of his pulse. "You still have time to enjoy the night breeze, kid."

Some birds in the forest are about to wake up. They burst out from the sleeping city-state and vast mountains and forests in front of them, spinning in the gradually brightening gray-black sky, their feathers flashing with colorful lights like dream shadows.

He was extremely bored and knocked the clock behind him with his knuckles. A small sound of metal and stone swirled around and went to the world under the bell tower. After just one knock, he stopped.