Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"I..." Konrad Kurtz retracted into his shadow, and his eyes, which usually looked horrifying due to the darkness, were now wide enough to show clear and pitiful confusion.

As Sanguinius watched, Curze's gaffe lasted only a breath. Xuehou's lip muscles twitched, forcing out a smile that he could do his best.

"I should get used to it," he gritted his teeth nervously. "Things will change infinitely under the movement of the heavenly wheel. The lines swept by the same brush will be different in the center of the canvas... Perturabo What did you do again? Throw a psychic master from the sky to Mortarion and make him obsessed with witchcraft?"

"I didn't see it." Sanguinius stood up regretfully, his hands hanging naturally by his side. A snow-white wing covered with beads and gold and silver rings stretched out on one side, and he patted or scratched it with the long feathers on the wing tips. Tickling Conrad Coates' shoulders. "That was just a moment, Conrad."

Curze tried to avoid the feathers by leaning back, unfortunately forgetting that he was leaning against the bone chair.

He moved the hand with the lightning claw away from the angel to avoid harming the precious sight and valuable assets behind the angel that were important to the future of the empire.

"I should have gotten used to it," Cozz repeated again, his tone still full of disbelief, "No, no, Magnus has a very conservative attitude towards the use of psychic powers, and his favorite thing to do is to worry too much. I was advised to be careful with the prophecies... Yes, Magnus might be accepted. And what about Mortarion? He went to take a bath, I mean he got clean?"

"I don't know," the angel said, smiling. "Judging from the omen at that moment, our fourteenth brother was still using a mathematical compass, and there were smoke particles floating in the room."

"Magnus didn't tell Mortarion to be cautious in using psychic arts? He also gave me the same advice!" Curze took a deep breath and cleared away all distracting thoughts from his heart. Look at the angel's wings with your eyes.

"What about you?" Conrad's voice returned to his low, soft tone, with a hint of smartness. He even used the Baal'akano language he had just learned recently, "Since when have you gradually been able to witness this world?" The sight? This really makes me curious, Archangel.”

"Just recently, Coze. Maybe since you arrived," the angel suppressed his smile and looked solemn, "On that day, the descendant I saw was still our father."

"However, from a certain day, the omens I saw in my eyes changed slightly. I saw you threatening me with blood and wine, Conrad."

Conrad Coze shrugged his shoulders wrapped in a dark cloak, "Your heart is not as great and bright as your appearance, little angel."

"Don't be like this. In that fragment, I answered the question about blood seriously." The angel retracted his wings and returned to the seat again. "That's not a good choice."

"Am I getting annoyed?"

"No, you didn't."

Curze waited for the last part of Sanguinius's words, until he realized that his own lack of anger was the reason why Sanguinius thought he should have made a different choice.

He buried his face in his hands and said grimly: "At least you don't always follow the prophecy, Sanguinius."

"You spent several months proving to me that the prophecy is not absolute, or even unique." The angel said, smiling again.

In fact, Sanguinius nervously challenged the principles he had lived by for so many years in response to this new reality. This attempt to go against the prophecy was almost terrifying to him, and every moment he worried that reality would collapse, even if it was just an extremely trivial thing.

Then, reality remained firmly in place, and a more unique and easy-to-get-together Conrad Coates still sat before him, as clean as a odor. Underneath his pale complexion, he was using cruel cold reason as the foundation of his soul, rather than desperate self-destructive madness. He judges, not be judged; he hears confessions, not makes them.

The angel silently accepted the success of the experiment, and his heart relaxed happily.

"Okay," Curze said, looking through his memory again, lest he also miss some brief, present-life foreshadowing.

Konrad Coates's life has always been deeply entangled with reality and omen, in an inseparable spiral like the vines on the tree, and he was not always in the mood to analyze every scene in the triptych.

Like how he skinned a woman who was about to commit suicide in Nostramo to prevent her from committing suicide. He had little interest in delving into the details.

After all, the skinner who had not received systematic training was twitching uneasily while using the boning knife to cut the tendon skin, and the damage caused to the outer skin was simply unbearable to look at.

Even the Mandela agents he now has are more proficient at skinning than Nostramo's Conrad Coates - although objectively speaking, those who have always had a special shade of tradition of sewing their own leather jackets for themselves Creature, indeed, is proficient in leather craftsmanship.

In the end, Kurtz angrily chose to find something to stare at, such as the angel wings that lit up like chandeliers in his dark hall, to express his deep sadness.

"Only your omen is changing," he said, pressing his fingers on the three holes in the skull. "I am one step behind you again, Archangel."

"You cannot call me Archangel and Cherub again," Sanguinius said, "or I will call you Midnight Angel."

"You won't," Coates said, even though he wasn't exactly confident in that assertion.

He crossed one leg over the other and pulled his black leather cloak back up to cover his body.

"In this case, our sorting process needs some adjustments..." He touched his chin and said, "Try to discuss the two possibilities separately. If you see signs that it is difficult to decide where they belong for a while, classify them into the old world. in the story.”

"Is this missing some of what's going to happen in our future?"

"Omission is the best, which means that no one will be troubled by that omen." Coz said, with a cold tone naturally showing in his tone, "Huh... The more you know about the future, the harder it is to catch the destiny. the truth."

"Is there any other story you wish to tell me, my light blood relative?"

"There is another passage, but it is not a prophecy." The angel said, flexing his wings. "It was told to me by people in my tribe this morning. An inspired person is operating in the market, providing private divination for the people of Baal. He The predictions are accurate and often all that is needed is a glass of water or a piece of bread.”

He paused and said with interest: "Do you think that could be our father, Conrad?"

"That sounds like him." Kurtz asserted. "If you're curious, go check it out first. It's time for me to cleanse myself."

For a moment, Sanguinius suspected that Conrad Curze insisted on living in his own ship, not even to hide from the people, but to squander the water and bathe every day.

The angel glanced at the sky outside the colorful window: "It's already late today. At night, those who are inspired often disappear into the invisible. I will come to find you tomorrow."

"Go." Coze stood up and walked towards the shadow behind the bone stone pedestal, "I won't send it away."

Sanguinius smiled and turned away.

At the door of the hall, he suddenly remembered the phrase of unknown language that Coz often used, and tried to imitate the mouth shape of the son of the Muse who was guarding the door and wore an iron grille mask.

The mask of the Son of the Muses immediately turned toward him, an odor of confusion emanating from beneath its expressionless iron face.

"Okay," he said softly, "I want to know what this means. Can you tell me?"

The iron mask turned back to face the front, refusing to pay attention to the great angel.

"Alas." Sanguinius sighed, walked out of the corridor, spread his wings on the deck, and felt the direction of the wind.

Then, he jumped off the deck lightly, spread his wings and glided, and soon turned into a bright white spot and disappeared into the dusk.