Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"Mortarion accepted our first help. This is a good start. It ends my dangerous imagination that the Emperor's psychic projection intends to stay here to accompany Mortarion for fourteen years. As long as the gene If the Primarch is willing, the conquest of a planet will not take long, even if his own Legions are not yet there."

"Maybe a year is enough? Besides, the Emperor is eager to help."

"After that night's battle, some villagers worried that Mortarion's presence might have drawn vengeance from the sorcerous overlord."

"Mortarion drearily tried to prove his good intentions, but Karas Typhon, a new born psyker whom Mortarion had met, told the villagers that they could either follow Mortarion in rebellion or die. Death at the hands of the Overlord. The latter's threats were effective."

"In any case, Mortarion is building a safe haven belonging to the Barbarus people - this is not an adjective, the name he gave to the mountain camp is safe haven. In this month, Mortarion has been working hard Diligently collected various transport vehicles, vehicles and airdrop aircraft, and of course people, people are the basis of everything.”

"This week, Mortarion prepared to launch his first campaign for Overlord. Peasants transformed, warriors and sappers gathered at the gates of Camp Haven. Mortarion named his army, the Death Guard, a name he chose. "

"I can't imagine the possibility of his failure. After all, under Karas's suggestion, he selected an overlord with acceptable paper strength, but a particularly serious internal shortfall in actual combat power, to give him a path to war. A great start.”

"Let's talk about your fortress. The Betagamon system is the throat of the Solar Star Territory, and the strength of the Titan Army needs to be fully utilized. It seems that your behavior of building bunkers all over the place has made your father vivid memory."

"After the unification of the galaxy, some of the planets hastily recovered during the Great Crusade are likely to carry out some antagonism against the center of the Empire, and your work will be remembered by them."

"Remember to reimburse the Emperor for the resources, materials and time costs you consumed in the construction of the solar system. Perturabo, don't be polite to the Emperor. Presumably the master of the galaxy will donate generously. According to the function point analysis, after the project is completed, it will be approved Calculation of function points and unit prices, as well as percentage bonuses on cost and performance results bonuses, to pay the IV Corps.”

Morse suddenly sat up from the recliner and felt something.

It was originally an abandoned stone hut of Barbarus. With just a little bit of psychic energy, the hut was cleaned up and made habitable, and the poisonous gas was dispelled.

At this time, outside the clean area he and the Emperor had cleared, the thin chemical mist was stirred by a large object.

+Emperor, come back. +

Morse called, yawning and symbolically putting on his own gas mask.

The torpedo boat "The Cliff" sent to him by Perturabo did have a sufficient reserve of gas masks, all of which were uniformly black in color, with a light yellow Roman numeral IV on the left cheekbone as the legion mark.

A few seconds later, the Emperor's psychic projection appeared outside the stone house. The Lord of Mankind was carrying two small creatures that had been pierced by arrows. The blood of the prey had not yet drained. Judging from the pattern of the wounds, the Emperor should have thrown the arrow as a javelin with his bare hands.

+He's coming. +The emperor said.

Morse tossed him a knife, and the Emperor casually grasped the blade and went around to the back of the house to skin his prey.

Shortly after the Emperor's return, a single mechanical vehicle crossed some low hills and approached their location.

About a tenth of a mile away, the tracks of the vehicle stopped moving, and a tall and thin figure left the vehicle and walked towards them on foot through the yellow-green mist.

Mortarion walked outside the stone house and stopped outside the fence made of pebbles and hedges. He brought no one, not even his close comrade and half-wit Karas Typhon. All he had with him was a new sickle, which was both a farming tool and a weapon.

"You're finally here." Morse's voice sounded behind him. "Wait a moment Emperor, he is busy."

It was difficult for Mortarion to grasp his emotions at this time. It seemed that there was some kind of unfamiliar joy in it, but it was more of the long-lasting depression and pressure in his heart.

He nodded gently and asked the black-robed wizard to come to him, remove the door latch, and then invite him into the stone house.

"Sit," Morse said, returning to his recliner and pointing to a giant log lying next to him. Mortarion unhooked the scythe from his back, set it aside, and sat down.

"I'm here to thank you for your help."

Mortarion looked at the dark wizard in front of him because he was wearing a gas mask, and spoke the lines he had been preparing for a long time in the transport car along the way.

"Thank you for your contribution to the fight and liberation of the Barbarus people."

Without the guidance that Morse and the Emperor sometimes echoed in Mortarion's mind, even if he was the Primarch, he would never have been able to assemble the vast and sparsely populated half of Barbarus in just one month. All human military forces within a continent that can participate in the battle are used to fight against the sorcery overlord.

From investigation intelligence to construction methods, the two extraterrestrial visitors did not hesitate to provide any effective assistance other than actual hands-on work. Although these help remained in the traceless spoken language, the amount of information and value contained in the language itself , which Mortarion simply cannot estimate.

Even if the way this support was provided was a worrying sorcery.

Whenever Mortarion was praised by his subordinates and marveled at his foresight and extensive knowledge, Mortarion felt mixed emotions and felt deeply guilty.

If Mors had not told him not to make the existence of the two public, Mortarion would have already confessed the existence of the aliens to the children of Barbarus.

"You actually thanked me," Mors raised his eyebrows, "I thought you hated me."

Mortarion looked at him unhappily.

Mors shrugged and said casually: "You know, the only way the Emperor wants to thank you is for you to agree to join his legion and become one of his generals to conquer the stars."

The black-robed wizard began to write and draw on a piece of letter paper that seemed to appear out of thin air.

"And the only way I want to thank you is for you to defeat the sorcery overlord as soon as possible so that I can run to the next planet and see the names of the Emperor's other children and whether they are willing to be the Emperor's wonderful little tools."

Motarion was stunned for a moment, remembering that Morse did mention that the Emperor had lost a lot of offspring. He was not thinking about it at the time, and now thinking back, he suddenly realized that the number Morse mentioned at that moment was-twenty.

The couple with the most children in the Barbarus family he has seen so far only raised eleven children...

Is the Emperor of the Galaxy also so outstanding in raising offspring?

Motarion was briefly absent-minded until Morse pushed a stone water cup to him. He lowered his head, and the cup of water without any dirt, clear and transparent, made Mortarion feel very unfamiliar. It is difficult for the Barbarus decontamination water purifier to purify water to this extent.

He picked up the water cup and moistened his throat with clean water.

"I want to know..." Mortarion put down the cup, "Do you want to join my army?"

"Oh, you mean, let the great emperor who commands the entire galaxy, the most unrivaled warlord in all of humanity, join your small group of only four digits in Barbarus? What's more, he is a wizard? Oh, although Karas Typhon is also a wizard."

Morse said, his laughter was blunted by a layer of gas mask, and the offensive power was weakened.

Mortarion realized that his question was inappropriate and was about to reveal the matter. A man wearing a gray robe and a golden leaf crown walked out from the back of the stone house.

Although the emperor was not wearing armor, his cold and majestic expression immediately proved his identity. Facing the gray robe of the Lord of Humanity, Mortarion felt that the pressure he had to bear was heavier than facing the warrior king in golden armor.

The pale primarch clenched his hands at his sides. "Emperor." He called reluctantly.

After the grey-robed king approached, the Primarch noticed that he was holding two fresh beasts with some blood in one hand, and two gray-white animal skins in the other hand.

"Dinner." The Emperor glanced at Mortarion and said to Morse.

Morse snapped his fingers, and a blue flame suddenly burst out from the stove next to the stone house. The water purifier with a water outlet hanging on the top of the iron pot flowed out clear liquid, preparing the water needed for cooking soup.

The Emperor walked over, put the beast meat into the pot, making sure that all the meat pieces were soaked in water, and then returned to the center of the yard, staring at the position where Mortarion sat.

Mortarion's muscles were tense, and the long wood he sat on seemed to become more torturous than the torture device of the sorcery overlord Nakre. Obviously, he sat in the emperor's position.

The Emperor didn't say much, he lifted his grey robe, sat on the ground, put his hands on his knees, and there was no drop of beast blood between his fingers.

"How is the war going?" the Emperor asked.

"I'm going to launch the first battle," Mortarion replied. The question and answer about the war exacerbated the constant gloom on his face. "Typhon will take the lead in launching a surprise attack on the secondary overlord of the Vesley Mountains. Three days later, the main force will climb to the top of the same mountain, destroy the sorcery overlord on top, and feed his blood to the worms and millipedes he raises."

The Emperor nodded slightly, without making any comments on Mortarion's decision, as if the whole reason he asked the question was just out of curiosity, not the commander's inquiry to his subordinates.

"If you need help with the construction of the safe haven area," the Emperor continued, the water in the pot on the open-air stove had boiled, making a gurgling sound of bubbles floating up, "you can ask Mors. The offspring he raised is the leading master of defense."

Mortarion looked at Mors in confusion: "You have children too?"

"No," Mors stood up, his movements seemed a little hasty. "That's my apprentice." He strode to the iron pot, observed the state of the beast meat, and then used his psychic power to lift the blanched meat out of the pot. After changing a basin of clean water, Morse put the meat back into the iron pot, and took out two bottles from his sleeves that shouldn't have been placed at all, and poured a bottle of strong liquor and some sauce into the pot. Morse clapped his hands and returned to his seat, his expression unreadable under the gas mask. "But if you need advice and want to build a strong fortress that can defend against the Overlord's artillery, I can indeed ask him for you. Perturabo will be willing to provide a little help to other people who are committed to saving humanity after work." "No need," Mortarion said. "I can handle it."

Although he was unwilling to admit it, Nakre's cruel teachings to him included the construction of fortresses and the defense of fortresses. Before he could escape that mountain, he had to guard his dark castle for Nacre.

He stood up and fixed the scythe on his back again, his yellow eyes lingering on the two extraterrestrial visitors, preparing to say goodbye.

"Won't you stay for some soup?" Morse asked, shaking his hand wrapped in black cloth. "Of course, ordinary broth is not a dangerous soup containing viruses."

"My people are waiting for me in the safe haven." Mortarion refused with a dull expression.

For tomorrow's first battle, they will do the last mobilization work tonight before the war begins.

They had a discussion about how strong the drink should be.

Some warriors believe that they should drink as little strong alcohol as possible in order to remain calm and rational throughout the next battle; others insist that they should drink strong alcohol before a battle to encourage the hesitant new combatants. Spirit, with a fierce and high-spirited attitude, destroys every fortress of the Overlord and thrusts the knife into the chest and belly of the sorcery puppet.

Mortarion had another suggestion: drink the rainwater that fell in the mist.

Yes, Barbarus's falling rain contains poison, and this toxicity is particularly strong in dense fog areas. Unless absolutely necessary, almost no one would be stupid enough to open their mouth to the dim sky of falling rain - the burning pain is enough to remove the poison from the sky. Throats burned into people's lungs, causing them to fall to their knees in heart-wrenching pain.

It is enough to test people's will, challenge the warrior's tenacity, and verify the fighter's physical fitness.

If you can't even withstand the poisonous rain of a cup of Barbarus, how can you defeat the witchcraft overlord who claims to control death?

The Emperor studied Mortarion, the way he studied his face as if the Emperor knew him better than Mortarion himself.

"Go ahead," said the Emperor.

Mortarion turned away, stirring up dust on the ground heavily with every step.

Morse watched him return to the transport truck, took off his gas mask, and went to see how the soup in the pot was cooking.

Previously, Morse searched the entire stone house but could not find a pot lid that matched the pot. Perhaps this will be the only place they need Mortarion's help: find an iron pot lid.

Of course, when Mortarion reappeared, he didn't have the pot lid in his hand.

His second appearance was seven days later.

The human reaper still comes alone, with a scythe strapped to his back. But this time, he was holding a sorcery overlord with his limbs cut off and in a coma.

Without a word, Mortarion walked across the open fence, dropped his prey hard at the Emperor's feet, and raised his chin.

The prey rolled around and landed right at the feet of the Emperor sitting in the middle of the long log.

The Emperor raised his head and looked at Mortarion. There seemed to be a smile on his dark face, but it didn't seem to be there.

"And this was the beginning," Morse said of the scene. "An interesting place to start."

After discovering sarcastic statements such as "Your words are as gorgeous as the deep water gardens on the top floor of the Palace of Terra" in Perturabo's last reply to him, Morse directly drew the Emperor and the Emperor on the letter paper. A sketch of Mortarion's meeting: The Emperor himself crushes the sorcerous overlord's head with his boot, while Mortarion holds his scythe in satisfaction.

"After that day, Mortarion would throw more defeated men to the Emperor from time to time. Sometimes it was a relatively complete enemy, and sometimes it was a skull, an arm, or even half a piece of clothing - This is usually because there are only so many parts left of the Sorcery Overlord after the battle."

"Mortarion expanded his safe haven, transforming it from a former bandit den into a new home for the people of Barbarus. He worked with other clans to build his own arsenal and wrested it from the sorcerous overlords. Heavy swords, acid guns, multiple missiles, heavy armor and halberds, as well as food, water and medicines for human warriors. "He built a special granary."

"I don't need to continue to provide him with more information. This is like a snowball rolling, getting bigger and more unstoppable. Of course, sometimes I will still send him some information at the cost of hearing him come. Showing off unknowingly at the door, like a child.”

"From the hands of some nomadic tribes, Mortarion obtained the technology to make armor capable of resisting Barbarus' poisonous gas, including a helmet equipped with multi-layer filters and air bags for oxygen supply. Overlord's mines and food bases Looted, tools and weapons seized, and more and more men began to join the ranks of the Death Guard, Mortarion proved to be unlike any other rebel before."

"Winter is approaching in Barbarus recently. The climate in this ghost place is usually harsh enough, but I didn't expect it to be even worse in winter, whether it's the extremely low temperature or the increasingly thick haze. I'd rather spend the winter in Fenris ”

Morse stopped writing temporarily and reached out to turn the three skewers of barbecue on the iron rack. It was a creature that looked like a rabbit, but its teeth were particularly sharp and could even be used as teeth embedded in weapons.

"Are you writing to that Defense Master again?" Mortarion asked, sitting across the fire pit opposite Mors.

The longwood was now cut in two, half to the Emperor and half to the Emperor's son.

"Yes - and don't ask how the letter was sent, it was witchcraft." Morse said, turning the pen in his hand. "You've been here quite frequently recently. How do you explain to your subordinates that you're going out alone?"

"Visit the hermit in the mountains," Mortarion answered. "They provided unsung eyes and assistance during the unification of the southern part of the planet."

Morse put down the pen and paper, pinched his chin, and looked at the unnatural expression on the Primarch's face. The dancing firelight added some warmth to the pale and thin face.

He leaned back: "Ever since you mentioned that your pre-war drink was damn poisonous rain, the Emperor has been drinking and having fun. When he comes, please help me persuade him and tell him that I have no taste for spicy poisonous wine. A little bit of interest.”

"I have no authority to advise the Emperor."

"No, it will be soon..." Morse said, "Let him tell you himself."

When the barbecue began to drip with grease, the gray-robed emperor walked out of the stone house and sat on his long piece of wood.

"You are an excellent general," the Emperor said.

No matter how many times he heard these words, Mortarion still felt an indescribable tingling at the Emperor's tone.

He didn't answer, his eyes focused on the grilled meat, where the latitude and longitude of the defense weakness of the next sorcerous overlord's fortress was written.

"I wish to join your army," the Emperor's next words made Mortarion turn his head suddenly, "as the Hermit Fath."

"But..." Mortarion was in confusion.

It was a long and valid testament that the Emperor and Morse had done so much for him, and that he didn't know how to repay it.

"Don't be stunned, are you going to say 'but you are a wizard'?" Mors reminded, stuffing a skewer of barbecue into Mortarion's hand, and the original body subconsciously caught it, "It's going to be burnt. "