Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 423 The Son of the Emperor: Wandering Souls in Blood

"On this day of great victory and national celebration, I have the honor of being invited to complete the glorious record of a great battle that the Ninth Legion has recently won but has not yet been spread. Yes, an invitation - the Blood Angels invited me to Melchior, rather than summoning me with a transfer order. I am full of honor for this." - "Sanguinius: Wings in Blood"

[Time: -8.12.12]

Radoron examined Amit's scarlet armor, identifying the new cracks on his shoulder armor and the bolter with half of the barrel broken.

A few hours ago, the last battle with the Nephilim left traces on Nasir Amit's body, but the most obvious difference still appeared on his face - his pupils were brightly constricted, and his hot breath flowed with wild panting. The excitement brought by fighting under the bright red flag made the Fifth Company so satisfied.

"Glad to see you didn't drink blood privately." Radoron stepped forward and hugged Amit briefly.

That year, after they reunited with the Gene Father, Amit was punished for the crime of eating prisoners in the first round of internal position transfers in the Legion after the Battle of Galaspar.

The punishment itself was still secondary, but the rebuke of the Primarch was crucial. Although this could not change the bloodthirsty nature of this warrior, he at least learned to restrain himself in many cases.

The price was that his company had to keep a close eye on the company commander to prevent the entire company's blood wine quota from being consumed quickly without knowing it.

"The blood of the Nephilim is not worth drinking," Amit replied, looking across the blood-dried heathland. "In addition, the angels taught us that we must learn to restrain ourselves."

"But I still hope that the Eighth Legion can take the time to send us a batch of supplies recently." Radoron said, following Amit's gaze.

There, the Nephilim's alien prayer tower was being supervised by the Blood Angels, and the humans who were once ruled by the Nephilim had completed the demolition work. In more places, the dead bodies of the aliens were being processed uniformly, waiting to be burned later.

In that wasteland, their Primarch personally participated in the battle, his wings like lightning, his golden armor turned into thunder from the sky, and he pierced and swirled rapidly within the alien defense line.

Sanguinius's battle was enough to transform any follower into a warrior with high fighting spirit. Even the Luna Wolves, who were also present, were deeply inspired by Sanguinius and turned into giant scissors-like sharp weapons, crushing the Nephilim between the gathering pearly white waves.

Radon nodded, noticing that Amit began to walk in the direction he came from, and he immediately determined that the captain had something to say to him. The Blood Chief followed tacitly, and walked with Amit to a Nephilim temple.

"Remember Ossuran?" Amit said, his tone restrained.

"Oh, the former legion commander," Radoron nodded, "left us fifty years ago."

"The real Ossuran left earlier, and he relied on ghouls to eat his flesh in order to regain his memory."

"But when he died for the last time, you allowed him to really leave. In the Shadow Dusk War in the Holy Grail Expansion, I heard that the Fifth Company failed to bring back his flesh and blood." Radoron said.

The term "Holy Grail Expansion" aroused a hidden memory in him. This dangerous border area of ​​the Empire was nominally discovered and developed for the first time by the Eighth Legion, but Radoron served the Primarch with Azkalon and was fortunate to learn the reason why the expansion was discovered.

The information did not come from Konrad Curze's divination, nor was it a sign from any of his descendants.

No, it came from a prophetic dream of Sanguinius - the illusion of doom lurked at the edge of the world and expanded with the expansion of glory. Blood, flies, livestock plague, scars, aliens, darkness... In the direction of the Holy Grail expansion area, the black flames licked the edge of the Star Torch cruelly and toxicly.

The Night Demon Blood Lord silently recognized the dream that made Sanguinius worried, and as always, he took the initiative to play the role of the prophetic psychic who was self-willed enough.

In fact, the main factor that led to his choice was not his invisible friendship with Sanguinius, but mainly Konrad Curze's personal pride.

The shadow of the temple was projected on Radoron's head. The winding gray stone road was embedded with metal arches one after another, and the dim shadows surged coldly behind the arches.

The sour smell of alien blood spread in the sensitive nose of the Holy Blood Angel. He noticed that the blood and minced meat of the Nephilim were scattered in almost all corners of the trail. Even though the style of the Fifth Company has always been violent and cruel, it still gave Radoron a bad premonition.

"At that time, we brought back Osulan." Amit suddenly spoke, his hoarse voice slowly drifting around the columns of the archway. "He returned to us alive."

"I haven't heard about that."

"In official records, he died in a large-scale plasma bombardment. But in fact, the Primarch executed him personally." Amit said, his eyes rolling, staring straight at Radoron. "You should be able to feel that in the Battle of Shadow Dusk, something lurking deep in our blood... resurrection."

Radoron lowered his eyebrows and did not answer. And in the depths of the temple, a suppressed roar was short and horrifying, echoing in the depths of the shadow, and then barely suppressed, turning into painful gasps.

——

"The Battle of Melchior was initiated by the Blood Angels and concluded with the Luna Wolves. It aimed to eliminate the Nephilim aliens that disrupted the Empire's rule at the border. The name of this alien came from the myth of ancient Terra. Some imperial scholars claimed that the Nephilim were the giant offspring of the devil and the human woman in the ignorant myth. Their birth was due to the devil's pollution of humans in order to delay the coming of the Messiah."

[Time: -17.43.76]

The last war began with a long-range confrontation. The dense artillery fire of the human empire and the screaming of the alien weapons almost established a terrible barrier like an iron curtain in the air. The flames of the explosive bombs blew out thick smoke and golden-red flames, tearing charcoal-like cracks on the disgusting gray or blue skin of the Nephilim, and further destroying the dangerous armor fragments on the mutated twisted structures. The laser cannons and the explosive snake cannons of the Land Speeder ruthlessly poured out firepower and launched multiple rounds of shooting. The explosions caused by the pulses of the gravity guns shook the earth, and the oil mist and war roars rose together.

Soon, the Space Marines and the aliens engaged in close combat. The intersecting blades of light cut through the flying sand and dust. The resolute and cold anger burned in the battlefield, transmitted by the scarlet angels and the moon-white wolves, crushing the weak alien creatures. The ugly ellipsoid heads and the iron filings that accidentally fell off the armor of the Astartes warriors fell together.

The billowing smoke was constantly torn apart by the luster of the power knife and the claws like cutting cloth. The front line was constantly pushed forward, like a tide touching the shore, pressing up one after another, constantly and destructively devouring and biting the sand surface composed of aliens.

A hearty joy climbed onto the handsome face of Horus Lupercal.

"Look at our warriors!" The Primarch happily spread his hands, and the ring on his little finger reflected in the light, "No one can stop them."

"I am very happy," Sanguinius smiled, taking in the battle on the stone plain. He recognized his outstanding descendants, the scarlet storms that shuttled through the battle, the swords and fire that tore through the enemies of the Emperor, and his guards in gold, bronze and blood armor.

He silently recited their names one by one in his heart, and the touch of the scarlet ribbons and red jade tears hanging on his wings became stronger and stronger. He could recognize each of them, Azkalon, Talgath, Amit...

Of course, Sanguinius was also very familiar with some of the warriors of the Luna Wolves, such as Hastur Sejanus of the Fourth Company. In the smoke and dust, he could occasionally see his face - cursing these aliens in anger, while having a headache because of the opponent's psychic sound wave attack.

Behind the two Primarchs, the memoirist who was responsible for completing the narration of this battle was quietly turning his data pen, occasionally looking up at the two Primarchs who were talking happily, and then lowering his head thinking that he was not noticed. Joao, this is his name.

In principle, he was not responsible for the history of any particular legion, but rather for the narrative description of major battles; of course, this did not prevent Joao from always following the Blood Angels, wishing to save up a whole campaign book for them.

"Your warriors are very energetic," Horus said, "unstoppable. If they were my warriors, I would be very proud of them."

He leaned slightly against the fortress wall, in a more comfortable posture, looking sideways at the angel, and frankly admiring his brother: "You have shaped your legion, the most glorious of all legions."

"I am lucky enough," Sanguinius blinked, "They know their mission, and I follow closely behind."

Horus noticed from the corner of his eye that the memoirist behind the angel began to write furiously. He dared to say that the mortal must be recording the angel's words in real time. He couldn't help but smile briefly for this, and then cast his eyes on the battlefield.

The number of Astartes was not more than that of the aliens, but this torrent of red and white seemed to drown the aliens. They marched forward indomitable and worked together. Just watching this scene, no one would have thought that twenty-four hours ago, Sanguinius was still arguing with him about the specific attack strategy.

In the command center of the battle, the Primarchs debated, quarreled, and refused to give in. Horus tended to choose a more violent means to destroy all enemies standing in front of the Astartes and regard this action as a military display against the enemies of the Emperor. For this reason, the Vengeful Spirit brought a memoirist to better show the Emperor's power to the Empire.

And Sanguinius had to point out that there were still civilians in those alien fortresses that could be won over. He told Horus Lupercal that the world the Emperor dreamed of was not built on the ashes of destruction, but the real concerns in the Archangel's mind could not be easily expressed.

Since the battle deep into the Holy Grail Expanse decades ago, something buried deep in the blood of the Blood Angels seemed to be quietly reviving. He could feel the bloodthirsty dark will, stirring behind every violent destruction.

This made him even regret that he had led the Legion deep into the Expanse to assist Konrad in the battle; although this negative thought made him worried and ashamed.

Now, he is also trying to lead the Legion to avoid being trapped in the sea of ​​blood, and asked the Eighth Legion to send blood wine with a more relaxing and soothing memory factor inside - Curze was incredulous about this and asked Sanguinius under what circumstances the raw materials responsible for bleeding would feel relaxed and happy.

"You are very modest, Sanguinius." Horus smiled, "If you are more modest, I will say that you are showing off proudly."

"Am I showing off? Anyone can say that, Horus, but you are not suitable." Sanguinius blinked, looking down at Horus's hand.

Horus shrugged. On the battlefield below, a Luna Wolf slashed back a Nephilim who was approaching the Blood Angel. In return, the gun in the Blood Angel's hand shattered the abdomen of a giant Nephilim, and a thick mass of alien blood burst out in an instant, splattering in all directions and pouring on the Blood Angel's helmet, adding to the scarlet armor. A touch of shine.

That was Alotros, Sanguinius thought, one of Amit's warriors.

Horus judged the progress of the war situation, and his rich combat experience gave him a good answer. He smiled and said: "It's almost over. Do you plan to go down and take a look?"

"What about you?" The archangel fluttered his wings and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Is this an invitation or a challenge?"

"Good question," Sanguinius said. "Whose Stormbird are we flying in?"

"Oh, here is the throne. You can airdrop from high altitude, but I don't want to become a bunch of Horus yet!" Horus laughed. "Use my Stormbird."

"Then you'd better use the xenos as your landing pad. I'm sure you can, my brother," Sanguinius said, drawing the red-bladed sword he hung at his waist.

In a few minutes, this sword will use the sticky silver blood of Nephilim as flowing paint, and throw out bright loops that cut through the smoke, dust, and oil mist, like bright teardrops, and like the thousands of lights around the archangel. The new one leads the legion to advance step by step towards the depths of glory forever.

——

"After the war, the two legions arranged the fate of the prisoners of war and the surviving civilians respectively. The prisoners of war were mainly composed of humans who had been possessed by the Nephilim spirit, and Horus Luperkar showed great disgust towards them , this may be related to a certain past experience of the Shepherd God, but no one knows the specific circumstances.

Sanguinius, on the other hand, advocated allowing humans who still yearned for Nephilim to personally dismantle Nephilim's alien prayer towers and personally carry the bodies of these creatures.

The Great Angel stated that this experience came from the Order of Muristan among the Word Bearers. This order has found a balance between leniency and extremeness in its treatment of pagans, and allowing the pagans to witness the ugly death of the creatures they worship as gods and dominate their spirits will be extremely effective in breaking down the confinement in their minds. Eventually, Sanguinius' plan was adopted. "

[Time: -5.59.21]

João strode behind the Wolf God, accompanying the Lord of the Luna Wolves after the war, supervising the cleanup work on the battlefield, and talking to the talkative Horus Luperkar.

Once, when he had the first chance to be alone with Horus, Joao was so nervous that he couldn't utter a word. Although he loves describing battlefields, this does not mean that he has enough courage to apply it in interpersonal interactions.

Fortunately, Horus Luperkar's kindness and charm quickly made João fall in love with him. "Someone told me that we, the warriors of the empire, serve you mortals," Horus said with a smile, " Of course, don’t think that I will agree with him, but this is indeed a line of thinking, Joao-no, don’t put this sentence in my name, I will never accept it.”

João immediately deleted the real-time recording from his data pad. "Yes...yes, my lord." He said somewhat staggeringly. This made the Wolf Shepherd laugh.

They walked together on the edge of the desolate plain. Horus looked at the destroyed or surviving temples of Nephilim, as well as the ruined fortresses and various urban divisions, and spoke casually.

"Jaghatai will sweep away our remaining Nephilim," said the Wolf Shepherd, generously sharing the upcoming military arrangements with the Memoirs who were very enthusiastic about it. "The battle on our side is completely over. Finally, I can provide you with a communication channel and ask White Scar if he would like to take you with him."

"I thank you very much, my lord!"

"Then write me better in the biography, Reminiscence Master. I won't mind adding more glory to my body." The Wolf Shepherd said. "Unlike Conrad - did you know that he actually told Sanguinius the location of the Nephilim but refused to reveal it in front of others?"

"I...am I that...someone else?"

"Ah you are."

"I understand!" Ruoao shuddered, "I will never reveal...I know...this matter."

The Wolf Shepherd laughed softly, and this laughter vibrated in the chest of the Memoir. A warm current gradually emerged from the mortal's heart, making his stiff limbs more comfortable and flexible.

"Sanguinius and Konrad Curze maintain a secret friendship. If I had not been on good terms with both of them, I would have been kept a few secrets." Horus was not angry at all. He shook his head deliberately, "These guys! It's really too much, Perturabo and Rogal Dorn, Perturabo and Magnus, Perturabo and Alpharius, Perturabo and Angron... …”

"Lord Perturabo sounds as welcome as you," the Memoir said.

"Haha! Beautiful flattery, I accept it," Horus said briskly, regretting that Sanguinius was not by his side.

Sanguinius had just decided to take a walk around and observe the situation on the battlefield separately from him. And Horus also ran into Amit, the Blood Angel who was eagerly looking for his Primarch.

He pressed the ring on his finger with his thumb, and put the story back from his mouth. Maybe when he earns more merits, he can tell his story with more pride.

As the Great Crusade progresses to this day, the glory accumulated by the Dark Angels, Iron Warriors and Iron Hands is comparable to that of the Luna Wolves, or even surpasses it.

Although he doesn't care about competition as much as Ferrus Manus, Horus still feels that he should contribute more to the Emperor's dream.

"Why do you like to follow the Blood Angels, Memoirist?" He asked casually.

"Because... I..." Joao stuttered again, "I am a Baal..."

He lowered his head in self-abandonment, "I didn't pass the Blood Angels' Qualification Test, my lord."

"So you took a different approach! I like your answer, Joao!" Horus said with a smile. "I thought Sanguinius's charm surpassed mine again."

"And when I was... my friend joined the Blood Angels..." Joao finished hesitatingly.

"You want to meet him again? Easy, tell me his name, and I'll ask Sanguinius for you. It's very convenient, Sanguinius remembers the name of every child in his fleet." Horus answered very straightforwardly. No matter what, he was always happy to see good things happen.

"I actually met him, my lord, thank you for your kindness... I really like to record wars." Joao smiled. "I love my job."

"That's not bad, speaking of wars, I actually have one coming up here. There are more than ten star systems that have lost contact in Ullanor, and then the Moon Wolves will go to take a look."

At this point, Horus suddenly remembered that he had not asked the angels if they were willing to go to Ullanor with him to fight and share more glory with him.

He didn't know where Sanguinius was now, so he could only regretfully give up the idea.

"What else is missing from your material, Memoirist? I'll take you to see it." Horus invited. "Record the Emperor's achievements well, Joao."

"Hmm... Nephilim Temple?" The Memoirist said uncertainly, reporting the first unfamiliar building within his field of vision.

——

"After the Battle of Melchior, the Blood Angels received the Emperor's orders to bid farewell to the Luna Wolves and go to the Perseus War Zone.

It is said that when the Primarch Horus Lupercal said goodbye, he made an agreement with Sanguinius that when they met again in the future, they would finish the chess game they had started before the war. Sanguinius smiled and revealed that the reason why the game of regicide had not been completed was because Horus had already lost and refused to continue to play the game."

[Time: -02.23.06]

"Calm down, Alotros," Radolon said in vain, kneeling on one knee in front of Alotros, hoping that the battle brother in front of him could still hear him.

Although Amit was Alotros's captain, he was quite self-aware and handed the task of comforting to Radolon, and set off to the combat command center to seek the help of the angels.

Alotros knelt on the ground, breathing hard, sweat all over his forehead, unable to utter a single word. He was once a well-known but still excellent warrior, but now he was holding a small bottle of blood wine tightly, his consciousness was on the verge of losing.

Radoron didn't know what he saw. It seemed different from the madness in the blood that once trapped the ghouls, but some more cruel and ominous dark omen, which re-emerged from the depths of their once stable genes.

He had handed the remaining blood wine to Alotros, which barely eased the pain of the battle brother and stopped him from drinking the black blood on the ground.

But now, his panting was getting worse, which made Radoron extremely uneasy.

"Father is coming, stay awake, you can do it." He whispered to comfort him, even though he didn't know what Sanguinius could do for Alotros, except to give him eternal peace.

Soon, he heard two steady footsteps, echoing in the corridor behind him leading to this place. One of them was undoubtedly the Primarch, which gave Radoron some encouragement.

"Father..." He stood up in a state of confusion, the second half of the syllable was cut off, and he turned into another greeting: "Lord Horus!"

The wolf god lowered his head, stopped looking around, and looked forward. He was a little surprised: "So there are people here, warriors. Um... What's wrong with him, Radoron? Do you need help?"

Radoron hesitated, "No, sir," he said, feeling his tongue so stiff, "We can handle it."

Horus raised his eyebrows and stepped over the black blood pool formed by the silver blood of the Nephilim and the blood of humans. Radoron knew very well that the vision of the Primarch allowed him to see the state of Alotros in the dark. The closer he got, the more he could see the abnormality of Alotros.

"Lord," Radoron said in vain, blocking in front of Alotros. He heard the sound of water behind him, and Alotros had put his hand into the blood on the ground, and then a gentle sip exploded in Radoron's ears like thunder.

Lord Sanguinius, he thought, please come soon...

"What's wrong with him?" Horus asked again, sounding even more confused. The Memoirist followed him. "Is it your little problem of thirst for blood?"

"Yes, his captain has gone to find a solution. We can solve this," Radolon replied, and then added in his mind: but there is more.

But Horus came too close, and Radolon knew it was too late.

"He's not in the right state," Horus whispered, "Who is he?"

"Alotros!" The Memory's surprised voice sounded softly, echoing in the limited space of the room, "Are you okay?"

"Oh, your friend?" Horus said, "Well, if you want. Can you let him go and see, Radoron? This Memory is also a Baal."

After the Memory spoke, the sound made by Alotros stopped, as if he had been effectively comforted.

Perhaps an old friend can really bring some help to Alotros's precarious sanity. Radoron thought.

"Okay, Memory," Radoron said, stepping aside slightly and taking the opportunity to observe Alotros's condition. He saw that the battle brother had returned to calm, which made him a little relieved, but the uneasiness did not fade away. "But don't get too close."

"I understand," Joao walked quickly and stopped beside Radoron holding the data board, keeping a proper distance. "Are you... okay, Alot?" He asked hesitantly.

Alotros slowly stood up, and Radoron noticed that there was a kind of dim tranquility in the brother's eyes, as if his life no longer belonged to him, but fell into a more empty dark distance. In any case, at least he acted very quiet.

Joao took a step back uneasily and cautiously. He knew that the Blood Angels would have some minor flaws, and everyone knew it. But in the more than a hundred years of expeditions, after Sanguinius reshaped them, they never caused any vicious incidents, and those minor flaws became the intimate topic of conversation that people talked about with relish.

"... Oh." Alotros uttered a syllable softly.

Joao was not sure whether the other party was calling him. He raised his head and looked at his friend's face that was difficult to see in the dark, and realized that the other party had not lowered his position for a long time.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Alot?"

Horus suddenly shouted: "No!"

At the same time as this call rang out, Alotros suddenly attacked, and the speed was much faster than Radoron expected. His fist pierced the mortal's chest in an instant. Joao was lifted up, and his whole body was close to the lips and teeth of the Blood Angel. Fresh blood gushed out and poured on the blank face of the Space Marine.

"What is going on--" Horus was surprised and angry, regretting that he was too far away just now. Before Alotros began to bite, he had bound the Blood Angel's arms and fixed him to the ground with a few movements. This was not his offspring, and he could not easily execute him.

Radoron silently sorted out the bodies of mortals, his face full of regret. This was his decision-making mistake, and the price was a life.

"What are you doing, Blood Angel?" Horus growled, "Damn it!"

"We..." Radoron said with difficulty, "Wait for Lord Sanguinius to come... I can't decide all this, sir."

Horus snorted, knocked Alotros unconscious, and his eyes stayed on the fallen Memoirist.

Silence spread in the darkness, and there was the smell of blood, hot and strong, quietly gurgling.

——

[Time: -72.23.42]

"Remembrance Envoy?" Alotros said, his figure was so tall that Joao had to look up at his old friend.

He looked up: "Hi... Alot. Yes, I am now a Remembrance Envoy... for the Emperor."

Fortunately, his old friend quickly lowered himself and squatted in front of him.

The face that had become particularly handsome after the transformation, but the old outline could still be vaguely seen, raised a smile that was familiar to Joao: "Sounds great, Joao. Being able to record these stories and travel around the galaxy... Your Majesty, if I were not an Astartes, this would be the best job I could think of."

"Is that so!" Joao laughed, "I like this job too. You know I like writing these stories, recording wars, and recording history. If I were to join the Astartes Legion now, I might be reluctant to be a memoirist."

Alotros laughed out loud: "Who told you to break your leg during the test month! You fell down the stairs on the ground!"

"Hey! Stop it," Joao reached out and punched Alotros in the chest, surprised that he could perform the actions of decades ago so skillfully. "Go on, be careful about your image in the history books, Alot."

"It's really terrible," Alotros shrugged, "Okay, Melchior's general attack will start soon. See you in... well, about sixty or seventy hours."

"Then you'd better fight more fiercely and provide me with more material for description." Joao said, "Goodbye, Alotros, fight... Come on? I see your captain is starting to stare at us."

"Why do you sound more warlike than me," Alotros stood up, "See you later, Joao. You are with the Wolf God, right? Then I will ask my father to find you, it will be more convenient."

"It sounds like Lord Sanguinius is as tolerant as the legend," Joao said.

"Of course," Alotros lowered his voice, "The Blood Angels are the best legion - please write this sentence in your book."

——

"Unfortunately, I was not lucky enough to watch the Battle of Melchior. I could only compile this precious war information from the manuscript of the former memoirist Joao Davila and try my best to restore the scenes of the battle at that time. And the details, as well as the infinite glory that the two great legions brought to the human world, and the selfless rescue of countless mortals trapped in darkness - this is the meaning of the Great Crusade.”

[Time: 00.00.00]

"Horus Luperkar will keep secrets," Sanguinius said, his fingers twitching slightly, as if the Scion's throat was still in his hand, resting on it for the last moment before it was snapped. "He can be trusted, Radolon."

"Yes, sir." Ladoron bowed slightly, his expression dark.

Sanguinius sighed, propped himself on the table, sat down slowly, and looked at the profile of his guard.

"My lord?" Radolon asked uncertainly.

"Oh, it's nothing..." Sanguinius looked away. "nothing……"

He buried his cheeks between his hands, and those disastrous fragments appeared in front of his eyes again.

"Let Melos go and take a look at Alotros's gene seeds." He said, listening to Radolon's footsteps fading away.

Blood, flies, plagues, aliens, darkness... visions of doom and disaster flowed through like a tide, all of which he had shared with Conrad Coates. Ever since he first saw them, they had returned again and again, haunting him.

But there is another disaster that the Archangel has never told anyone.

eldest son. He muttered the word silently and let out a sigh.