Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Conrad Coze tossed a black glass cube in his hand boredly, causing the Hrud fur sealed inside the dark crystal to flip up and down. The Hrud people are in a special situation. If they don't borrow some extraordinary skills, their bodies will evaporate quickly and cannot be preserved.

Conrad always regretted that he could not collect a few pieces of the Hrud's soft pelts to hang in his private collection and wardrobe.

Suddenly, he grasped the crystal tightly and slammed the cube onto the long steel table in the Iron-Blooded command room, making an attention-grabbing crunching sound.

"You have been sitting on this chair for nine days, Perturabo," Conrad Curze said rudely. "This is not a good sign. I suggest you get up and walk around, such as going to your iron." Make a 13th turn in the original garden."

Perturabo glanced at him and ignored it. The numbers constantly scrolling on the dozens of data boards connected to his brain through neural lines showed that he was thinking at high speed.

"Conrad is right, the dust is settled," Sanguinius said softly, rarely supporting the Blood Lord's words head-on. His eyes stayed on Perturabo's furrowed eyebrows, "Almost all battlefields have been settled. There is no doubt that we have won, my brother."

"There is also a fleet battle." Rogal Dorn reminded, appearing in the middle of the holographic projection with his golden skull. "Some Hrud began to escape under the influence of poison gas. We have to intercept them in space."

"Come on, Rogal Dorn," Conrad hissed, and the crystal made a harsh shattering sound on the table, "You haven't finished the few planets left for you yet, come here Accompanying Perturabo to the battle meeting."

"And you, Sanguinius, have you been eating well lately?" He glanced at the archangel.

"The taste of the food is unsatisfactory, and once again contains ingredients that are not conducive to the metabolism of Space Marines." Sanguinius said tactfully, "It is not as good as the wine you gave us."

Roger Dorn turned to Conrad and looked at him deeply: "First of all, I arrived at the Satrada Abyss area two hours ago; secondly, I have the right to participate in discussions about the war. Finally, Saint Gilles’ words are too arbitrary and need to be supplemented appropriately.”

Sanguinius flapped his wings, ignoring the seemingly stiff atmosphere. Compared with his brief foreboding, he even felt that the Lord of the Seventh Legion was much easier to talk to.

"Don't make any noise," Mortarion said dullly, the man sitting furthest away from Conrad.

Mortarion couldn't understand the subtle relationship between the people in the room, and when he heard Sanguinius's hint about food, his temples throbbed slightly and hurt. This made Mortarion miss Horus Luperkar.

Perturabo simply raised a hand to signal the Primarchs to be silent. Several people immediately understood what the Lord of Iron meant and sat upright.

"I admit that this long war has been won for most of us - we Primarchs, our Astartes, and our Auxiliaries, most of this collection. At the end. Hrud retreated steadily, his last lair was dug and destroyed, and he fled like a bereaved rat. The remaining work is also something that our warriors who have fought many battles can do. "

"As for why I still left a planet and didn't do anything with it," Perturabo pondered for a moment and continued, "I don't want to hide it. I left it because of my Eleventh Battalion. Commander Barabas Dantioch, and member of his reconnaissance team Zoran Anderson are still missing."

"What's their current situation?" Roger Dorn asked.

"The rescue team did not go deep into Hrud's lair, nor did they meet the missing people. And the communication signal has never been restored." The Lord of Iron breathed steadily, his eyes as majestic as usual, just like a piece of stone that has never been disturbed by external events. of steel.

"I think..." Sanguinius began thoughtfully, not sure whether he should say the next words himself.

"It would be a huge pity if this battalion commander died here." Coze said softly, staring at the black crystal in his palm. "The history of change may not flow in the direction you and I expect."

Perturabo raised his head: "The last time I considered whether to destroy a world where people were still alive and dead was in Prospero. At that time, the alien that Magnus and I encountered was called the Devouring Bee. "

"Did you press the button?" Coates asked. Decades have passed since that day, enough time to build a new glorious country from the ruins.

"I don't," said Perturabo, overlapping his hands and placing them flat on the table. "Prospero's jurisdiction is not under my jurisdiction, and Magnus is the Primarch. I have no control over his abilities. , after all, I have trust.”

"But this time is different from last time, dear Perturabo," Curze looked up from staring at the crystal and said coldly.

"Do you really think that two Astartes can escape from the lair of an entire planet where the Hrud is powerful? Even if he is the eleventh battalion commander you are optimistic about, it will not help. How about collecting your flagship first? Within, is there still blood containing genetic memory of the two..."

"That's enough," Perturabo said sternly, but stopped short of speaking.

He shook his head slightly: "I understand what you mean, Conrad. The carrier aircraft and poison gas bombers are already on standby in the orbital ship. After all personnel have completed combat preparations, there will be no more delays..."

Suddenly, a burst of bright white light burst out from the holographic star map. A flicker so small in the universe, an undetectable sigh, a flash of light, originating from the core of the planet that the Primarchs are paying attention to.

"Retreat!" Perturabo immediately issued an order to the fleet surrounding the planet and preparing to carry out the extermination mission, without wasting a second.

After a few seconds, the icon in the star map changed from a red dot to a cold gray background with crossed black lines.

Under Perturabo's thoughts, the star map quickly focused on the actual scene, but they still could not catch up with the rolling lava and the spreading of gray clouds in the sky, the cracking of the titanium alloy shell and the inner layer of tempered polymer, and the cracked Planet core. Hrud's spaceships kept flying rapidly from the surface of the planet, and were ruthlessly captured by the planet, swallowed into the depths of destruction, and no one could escape.

The broken time keeps cutting things, and then spits them out temporarily in a chaotic way. Sometimes it is a desolate stone plain, sometimes it is a war-torn fortress, sometimes it is a cold and silent steel circle. Each scene is fleeting. After a short time, it will disappear. Wrapped back into the abyss of time.

Soon, the planet twinkled one last time, then curled inward. After the temperature indicator burned for a moment at several thousand degrees, it suddenly dropped back to a low of minus two hundred degrees, with only the surrounding radiation supporting the heat. Silence spreads along with the cold.

Everything rewinds and shrinks like a tide in the broken lava and thick smoke, and then in the turbulent flow of time, it collapses to a point of darkness that almost no longer exists, with dust scattered in the space, and ghosts in recollection.

Perturabo stood up from his seat, stared at the broken planet, took a deep breath, paused for a few seconds, and then exhaled slowly.

He opened the sound array sequence and gave orders to the war blacksmiths.

"Prepare for the victory celebration. In addition, compile the list of the dead and prepare for the funeral."