Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"In the eyes of philosophers, the highest good is not the goodness of plants, animals, or the greatness of Him, but the goodness pursued by humans. Then, first of all, we must ask, what is a human being?" - "Logar" Book"

𝟞𝟡𝕤𝕙𝕦𝕩.𝕟𝕖𝕥】

"First of all, I was not there. Secondly, I am not a fortune teller or prophet - even if I were, look at Conrad's current mental state. If you hope to get a glimpse of Ran Dan's reality from the prophecy, I can only find Magnus is here to urge you to stay away from psychic prophecies."

Morse sat on a wooden chair painted white, leaned sideways toward the nursery, and poured the last few drops of water in the kettle near the roots of a dark blue plant. The plant quietly extended its winding vine-like leaves and tried to wrap them around Morse's hand, but was then skillfully patted off by the craftsman.

Perturabo - the one in the Palace of Terra - looked away from the vines that were more energetic than ordinary plants. After some simple reasoning, the Iron Lord could guess that the Palace of Terra On the path of the wind-sinking platform of the sky garden on the top floor, for a certain period of time, the figure of a certain pale primarch wearing a mask was probably lingering caring for the plants.

After watering the flowers, Morse placed the kettle on the brick ground next to the fence, picked up the quill on the low table again, and wrote some short comments on the parchment.

His parchment documents seemed to be inexhaustible, first they kept disappearing into the void, and then, new documents were taken out by craftsmen from the air filled with light floral fragrance. All of this was carried out in an orderly manner under his hands. Compared to the busy days of the Imperial Prime Minister, Morse's actions were even considered leisurely.

"I know what you mean, and that's why I invite you to find out what's going on at Randan," Perturabo said, sitting down across from Morse. He made the bench look like a single chair.

He could smell the insecticidal ingredients simulated by chemicals in the flower fragrance, as well as the chemical-derived ingredients in Terra's artificial water circulation system. This was one of the reasons why he didn't go to the palace gardens often. Mortals cannot smell these scents, and the Artisan can turn off his olfactory module. Mortarion's nose may indeed have produced some changes in Barbarus' environment, and only he must endure it.

"Have you tasted the benefit of asking for help in the Satrada Abyss?"

"Not entirely. Your ability is better than mine in some aspects, and my pride is not to the extent that I ignore the principle that the most capable people live in the best place." Perturabo replied, "From another perspective, you are too The only person I could contact and consult with.”

"Because there are not many people who have the authority to know that an entire expeditionary legion is missing?" Morse looked up from the parchment and showed a formal smile.

"And you're the most idle of them all."

"Oh, not exactly," the smile was more genuine this time, "In fact, I am cleaning up the mess for you big warlords, and you cannot ignore the efforts of the civilian staff on the rear. You must know that one of your brothers, Cobos... Corax has just packed the entire local governing body contracted with the Mechanicus into the prison and sewers, and packed the remaining imperial officials into small boats one by one and launched them into the depths of space."

He turned the parchment over and showed Perturabo the official portraits and resume information posted on it: "So I am checking the records of new officials one by one, and I must send some who have enough sense and humility, and are full of truth about the empire. A clerk who is truly passionate and will not be thrown into the universe by the Crow King again, goes to Chiaval and the Savior to perform his duties.”

"It sounds like the Interior Department is doing some remedial review work," Perturabo said.

"You can't investigate things before they happen. What if so many people are screened out that it affects the normal operation of the empire's political system?" Morse said sarcastically without hesitation.

This made Perturabo wonder what kind of pained expression the great Imperial Regent would show if Malcador had to face Morse and Conrad Curze at the same time one day.

The craftsman ignored Perturabo's expression and shrugged, "In addition, a little knowledge, just from a personal emotional point of view, Malcador likes Olympia and Ultramar very much. These are like two mysterious black boxes, no need to If you take the trouble to control their inner workings, you will regularly and steadily produce armies encased in iron sheets to participate in expeditions..."

"So you agreed to visit Randan, Morse," Perturabo concluded. "Thank you."

Morse's unfinished words were choked back in his throat. He stared at the Primarch, whom he had witnessed almost the entire growth process, wondering if he had made a mistake in any link, so that the always pragmatic and reliable leader of the Iron Warriors also learned to go against him.

He tried his best to avoid a smile that could be called a compliment, and said expressionlessly: "I won't ask you where you came to this conclusion. Give me a few minutes and wait for someone to come and pick up what's done here. Report. See you later, Perturabo."

Perturabo did not leave. On the contrary, he continued to sit on his bench, with his hands folded between his legs and his upper body leaning forward slightly, with a look of hesitation.

"Anything else?"

"This is a personal question," the Iron Lord lowered his voice slightly, "about one of my brothers."

He hesitated for another thousandth of a second: "I think it's best not to let others, especially him, know about the following conversation."

"Hmm?" Morse raised his eyebrows, took out a few golden runes from his sleeve and threw them around, and the runes quickly merged into the air. Whether using vision, hearing or other senses, it is impossible to accurately perceive the existence of the barrier, but a mysterious sense of shrouding makes the space where the two are located difficult to detect from the outside world.

"Tell me about it." He said with interest.

Perturabo was about to speak when he suddenly noticed that a female clerk of the human empire appeared in the shade of bushes and saplings. Just outside this divided and cut area, within the reach of mortal vision, her clear footsteps suddenly stopped, and a look of confusion appeared on her face, as if she didn't understand why she came to the Shenfeng Platform.

He retracted his gaze: "I want to confirm one more thing, Morse, you really didn't grow up in human society, right? You mentioned it before, I think you are serious?"

"Yes." The craftsman replied, "I don't think this is strange. Two of your brothers have similar origins. So what?"

Perturabo sighed, "So, I want to ask, how can I be sure what Lion El'Jonson is thinking about? Just now, Horus and he had a little discussion about the issue of command. Normally, I would think that someone who deliberately pointed out that Horus was taking the responsibility of commanding alone would be dissatisfied with Horus. But..."

Accurately and politely describing this matter is a serious challenge to the Iron Lord's vocabulary. He frowned and continued.

"As for the Emperor's eldest son, I'm not even sure if he really understands the underlying logic of Horus's speech - so I want to know, in the early stages of the return of the Children of the Forest to human society, how similar is his thinking pattern to that of socialized humans in the general sense?"

Morse raised the parchment scroll, shielded his face for a while, and then put it down.

"I can't answer this question," he paused, still unable to help laughing, "After all, I was still a mortal back then, and Lion El'Jonson was first a Primarch. I can only say that maybe he is smarter and simpler than he appears."

He continued: "Anyway, the only valid information we know now is that we can't mention Leman Russ in front of him, right? This at least shows that he has some self-esteem."

"Okay," Perturabo said thoughtfully, having to accept this distressing reality. He can only believe that the war tool created by the Emperor will not be unable to exert his strategic thinking and tactical planning capabilities because he does not understand people's hearts enough.

The Iron Lord stood up, his height surpassing the carefully arranged greenhouse and the snow-white walls maintained by specialized gardeners, and the world shrank at his feet.

On the top floor of the palace, looking around, the palace and the fortress complement each other, the spires and arches are lined up, the Heroes Square, the Backlight Tower, the Imperial Fortress, the Hero Tower... the magnificent world of gold and silver interwoven is in full view. Rogal Dorn and countless imperial craftsmen poured their efforts here to create this crown of light at the top of the world.

This is the sanctuary seen by the Emperor of Mankind, the ultimate dream in the hearts of trillions of pilgrims throughout the galaxy.

Perturabo closed his eyes and said, "See you later, Morse. I'll go to the Great Library first."

"Perhaps I should remind you that Magnus is actually in the cold hall." Morse said, "I'll leave soon."

He turned his wrist, retracted the runes he had arranged, raised his voice, and called the poor clerk who was previously disturbed by the spell and was lost on the spot: "Lillian Chase, I'm here."

——

The rotten dust rushed in the face at the moment the door opened, and as the air flow gradually subsided, it floated silently in the air, slowly and silently settled down, and the sealed environment here was once again covered with a dense veil of dust. The bright light of the day was blocked by the uncleaned glass windows, transformed into weak light, and dimly merged with the entire dilapidated hall.

Everything was solidified in a dry, gray and cold atmosphere. Even if the Primarch, who was the model of the human race, stepped into this place, it would be difficult to change the established environmental atmosphere.

Lorgar Aurelion ignored the environmental factors. He walked calmly into the infirmary, temporarily pausing his breath to prevent the presence of unpleasant gases and the horrible smell from being further perceived by the body.

Several dissection experiments conducted by the Luna Wolves a few months ago had proven that being around corpses would not cause sudden treason, and there was no abnormality among the Dark Angels who took the photos. Otherwise, even if they were not ordinary people, Horus would have repeatedly advised them to come in full armor.

Rows of long-corrupted corpses were covered with stiff white cloths soaked with exudate and lay on the beds. The golden-skinned Primarch looked straight ahead and went straight to find the problem that Perturabo pointed out in the strategy room of the Vengeful Spirit. Although the images of these dead were consistent with those of humans, they could not arouse any sympathy from the Truth Bearers, even for a moment.

In fact, it made Aurelion angry to continue thinking about the commonality between these things and humans. These aliens were blaspheming the image of mankind given by the sacred Emperor, tampering with the position and identity that every human should have since birth. He couldn't accept it happening.

He bent down and examined the arm exposed by the white cloth that Perturabo found unusual. He supported the founding of the Order of Muristan, and he knew how to diagnose and treat humans, and he also understood the structure of the human body. So he was baffled by what he found.

"I'm sorry, I noticed nothing unusual," Lorgar straightened up and told Perturabo and Morse politely.

His other two brothers were making strategic arrangements and did not come together. As for Perturabo and Morse, the former was his brother and the latter was the Lord's companion when he walked on earth, and he respected both of them.

"Perhaps we are too late," said Perturabo, observing the corpse. "The nervous system has caught up with the rest of the body, but we are only a few hours too late."

The Iron Lord turned to look at Morse. Ever since the black-robed craftsman stepped into this place, Lorgar found that Morse had been a little absent-minded. He felt that the other party should have discovered something.

"With all due respect, do you have some kind of miracle, Morse?" Lorgar asked, adding, "May I call you by your name?"

The craftsman nodded slowly, meeting his dark eyes. The golden light flowed down his sleeves like water and disappeared between the folds of the black robe.

He came to the body, squatted down, took out a transparent glass jar and a scalpel from the air, and began to cut tissue from the dead body.

"You may be disappointed, Primarch. I probably can't give an accurate answer." Morse said, "To be honest, when I heard you mention the nervous system, my initial plan was relatively simple, that is, to directly Read their memories from their lifetimes through their nerves and brains."

"Don't ask me how or when, but I have completed my attempts in this regard. Unfortunately, I did not read the corresponding memory. Or, I did not read any memory."

A piece of rotting flesh fell into the glass bottle, and he proceeded to cut into the corpse's bones.

"I thought this might be the reason why the damage of these organizations was too serious, so I gave up the most convenient method, changed my thinking, and decided to find their souls."

At this point, he stopped temporarily, sealed the lid of the glass jar, and threw the scalpel into the air. Metal blades melted in the air and dripped to the ground.

"Didn't it succeed either?" Luojia asked.

"It was successful this time," Morse stood up, reducing the height gap between him and the Primarch, "and it was quite easy - their consciousness remains on these bodies and has not left at all. None of them No."

"There is no memory in the soul?" Perturabo said. He did not understand this aspect of knowledge, but listening to Morse's tone and some similar incidents he had encountered over the years, he speculated that this was not normal.

Morse smiled. "Not only is there no memory, there is nothing there." He said, "There is no will, no emotion. It is simply innately opposed to the subspace."

"Is this Ran Dan's secret mechanism?" Perturabo immediately started thinking, "to prevent someone from prying into their secrets through dissection?"

"If so, I might look less surprised," the craftsman said, without immediately explaining.

He made the glass jar in his hand float and spin in the air.

"After that, I used the third method to find the past. Fortunately, I finally got something this time, otherwise I would be embarrassed. Come over here, primarchs. Relax your mind."