Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"This is a dead world," John Grammaticus muttered, trying to relieve his own tension.

He felt that the man with the truth would not be satisfied with the answer he got. Just like the moment he landed, he also felt that it was not very likely that this desolate place could attract the nightmare sun that was closely related to the death of mankind.

More likely, this was a trap for Zephyr Ruby: perhaps so for Lorgar.

But John had to admit that he recognized this place the moment he poked his head out of the subspace channel.

This was once an industrial world, or so John thought. Even though it was deserted, the strong smell of chemicals still lingered around him, continuing to corrode all the scrapped iron and light signs that had long been abandoned, as well as a large number of artificial and faded fake grass that looked like albinism.

In the garbage dump in the distance lay a pile of broken wings of civilian drones, modified prosthetic arms, and wheelchairs that fell in the mud, with all the axles broken. Of course, there are dead bodies here. Thank God, their skeletons have long since rotted away and their smell is gone.

The sky above was gloomy and gray, divided into countless small pieces by the still-floating remains of the orbiting space ring. The star had shrunk to an inconspicuous blue dot, and it was lifeless in every sense of the word. It's like... some kind of post-end world, the entire world is stuck at the last second before restarting, so it continues lifelessly like this, feeding a group of rodents by the way.

"Where is this?" Lorgar Aurelion asked gently, with an emotion that John could not recognize.

"I-" He swallowed the words "I don't know." It was not a good decision to test the Primarch with lies, especially when the Primarch could always laugh and throw you on the stake.

"Sivers," he said, "I didn't think we'd be back here either. It was dead the last time I was here, nearly two hundred years ago."

Lorgar Aurelion walked on the upper level of the rubbish heap with a lightness that did not match his size, completely ignoring the burning smell that penetrated his nostrils. The world, crippled by a train wreck, was reflected in his violet eyes, and hell - John saw a genuine sadness in his noble and solemn face.

"O dead people..." Lorgar Aurelion murmured in a low voice, and there was an ancient flavor that is rare in this era. "If they live for another few hundred years, they can receive His glory. But among the stars, at the far edge of the empire, they died in an era of ignorance and darkness. They were not lucky enough to bathe in His truth, and they no longer have a place to go to eternal life..."

He lowered his head, the corners of his white robe brushing against the scraps on the ground. The man with the truth ignored this material contamination, his eyes wandered on the ground, sometimes leaning down, gently pushing aside the collapsed steel frame, staring at the skinny skeleton that died in an awkward posture, and then sighed softly and moved him lips, offering belated prayers for the dead.

John didn't know what to say, considering that on their way here, the Word Bearers had stayed a few extra days, burning a primitive world with its own polytheistic beliefs to the ground.

"Is there water?" Luo Jia suddenly asked.

John felt around in his pocket to show that he had searched hard.

The head of the cult who held the True Worder turned around and gave a few instructions in Colchis, and then said to Lorgar: "Send it right away, Aurelion."

John was also reminded of the fact that all Word Bearers called their Primarch by name. This even made John a little eager to give it a try.

"Sivers..." Aurelion repeated the name here, "Why did you come here, John?"

This involved some things that John couldn't say directly, mainly because he didn't think it would be wise to reveal his mentor.

"I thought there was something noteworthy here, my lord, I..."

Lorgar interrupted. "Who among the Illuminati was here or is still here?" he asked gently.

"Hey, my lord, I didn't say—"

"Our goals are the same, John," Lorgar comforted him in a persuasive manner, with a kind of sincerity in his eyes. "We are all tracking down the Nightmare Sun. Why do you think I want to hurt your light?" Will it?"

"It's Elijos," John said, giving up the struggle. He is not a good and loyal subordinate. "Elhoth the Faceless One, here he is watching now."

Luojia nodded: "Has he always belonged to the Illuminati?"

"This is a question about my blind spot, sir," John shrugged, "but I don't think so. I actually...well, I have known him for a long time. He is an excellent architect. In the years when he was born, Here, the Illuminati has not yet been established. Later..."

Later, in the old night, a group of psykers sailed to Prospero, and were bitten by the Devouring Bees. They all huddled in Tizca until Elihos left - coincidentally in the great Magnu A few years before Si fell from the sky. That was the message he was shared with.

As for how Aerojos Paridius joined the Illuminati later, John tended to think that it was the kind of psychic communication that sent him over. "Let's meet together at Easter. We haven't seen each other for many years." "Friends" is a retro old school reunion, but the organizer of the reunion is too ambitious.

After all, if a person lives too long, he will either plan to become a big player and become powerful in the world, or he will die in obscurity in the corner.

"Later, he came to Seaforth to work on his own business. It seems he didn't have time to clean up the garbage here." John finished his words tiredly.

Lorgar listened quietly and narrowed his eyes: "Will you introduce me to him, John?"

"If you want, Aurelion." John still chose the moment he thought was most appropriate, called Lorgar by his name, and was wary of Aurelion's reaction. "Good," the Primarch nodded at him.

A few minutes later, an aircraft rumbled down in front of them, and the wind pressure almost blew John away. Lorgar Aurelion walked towards the craft and stopped at the edge.

John watched in shock as the Truth Word Bearer asked the two Word Bearers to wash his hands with water from their water bags, and then recited an entire prayer in compassion, gesticulating with various characters, and uttering words out of thin air with his bare hands. He wrote a prayer and concluded his consecration with a cross.

Then, the aircraft flew up on the spot, spraying holy water in the clouds like pesticide, watering the ground where Sievers died.

"This -" John hesitated, "No, this... is this?"

Lorgar smiled, and John had never seen such a real smile on his expressive face.

"Isn't this too old-fashioned? Yes, I know, but Perturabo said that the development of technology is also his will. We must follow his footsteps and understand his true heart, rather than being regarded as his by the former priests. restricted by the dogma of behavioral annotations.”

"Oh, I see," John said, wondering what Perturabo had meant.

——

This is not a good sign. To be precise, it sucks.

Something had happened to Perturabo, even if Morse didn't know what it was yet. After all, he was the one who helped the Perturabos deliver the message - but suddenly, the source of the signal was cut off. It was not the kind of weakening that was in a sleeping state and covered with a layer of lantern paper, but a weaker and darker abnormal state, which set off alarm bells in Morse's heart.

Now he didn't just want to know how to get to Perturabo while preserving the set of blades in his hand, or, since the throne is above, at least contact him personally first.

+I know he's not available, so I came to you, Malcador. +

He stared at the twisted blades. Maybe he should break them with curses now. The curtain in the area where the Cliff was located was stable, and these blades had not experienced the nourishment of blood for perhaps thousands of years. Their source of power has long been exhausted. Unless the power of subspace suddenly bursts out, then a meaningless hole will be exploded in the depths of the universe, and the power of chaos will briefly poke out, like a flame exploding with tongues of fire. Then, here Nothing at all--

stop. He didn't want to become the driving force behind the invasion of the real universe by evil forces because of an inexplicable adventure. He closed his eyes hard.

+I can't contact the Iron Warriors fleet either, Morse,+Malcador replied,+It's too far, and if you can't do it, how can I complete this mission? But...what could happen? +

Morse was in no mood to stop and introduce the one hundred and eighty bad endings in the prophecy. The moment the old enemy Blade appeared, he knew that he had to be more vigilant, no matter what form the shadow that was about to touch this world took. But the task of escorting his old enemy Blade made him very busy.

Unlike psykers, he cannot split his soul in two and travel to different locations, which would destroy his inner structure and destroy what is left of him. Yes, long-distance communication can be easily achieved, but his power cannot really make a difference across hundreds of thousands of light-years...

+The last mission they accepted was the counter-insurgency work in the Devon system, you may want to know,+Makado said seriously.

+It's best that you didn't assign this task to him - no, forget it. +Morse pressed his eyebrows, +Prime Minister, are you sure you can bring a set of chaos weapons across the subspace? Why don't you come over... +

Suddenly, he stopped talking, raised his head suddenly, and stared in a specific direction. The light from that dim soul fire lit up again, distant and vague, as weak as through a layer of sanded glass, but that was unmistakable.

As for the glass that formed the barrier effect, he would never forget the power characteristics. Even though time had passed and the smell in it was completely different, he still remembered the crystal-like texture.

This startled him greatly, for he had no idea that there were many more Immortals still active in this world, beyond the sight of the Emperor, on the outskirts of the Imperium, at the edge of the Galaxy, but it gave him a purpose, and All he needs to provide is a psychic projection, the kind that can make calls.

Would that be someone to talk to? Elokhos's hatred of Chaos dates back to earlier than the Emperor. Maybe it was a helper rather than a hindrance, but what kind of thing would make him do it?

He was motionless for so long that Morse suspected that these old guys had died one by one in the storm of the old night. How many of them were still active?

+No, is there anything else I can do? +The imperial prime minister asked.

+Get ready for the Shadow Prison, I will bring the Nemesis Blade over later. Don't let anyone have access to them, not even Alpharius. These knives are powerful enough to harm a Primarch. +

+And... help me find Magnus, I don't have time to search for him everywhere. +

+Good. +The chancellor said that when a person who has always been focused on talking nonsense suddenly shows up in front of you like a snake that has been kicked, it often means that things are serious.

And Morse has closed his eyes, chasing the faint light, looking for a way to reconnect with Perturabo's will in the warp.

His will traveled in the vast ocean until the turbid smell became stronger, and the colorful stars showed colors from the thick clouds, twisting together chaotically, forming a seemingly multi-headed snake shadow, and the snake's fangs were still dripping with venom, which was a drop of rusty silver black light. If this is the latest research that Erohos Paridius is conducting, then he really should hide his damn ass.

He constructed a shadow, the chaotic voices squeaked around him like crawling beetles, and he quickly passed through the shadow of the giant snake, leaving a golden rune afterimage. There was almost no fresh breath of sentient life on this planet, except for those lower creatures that survived.

No... The Word Bearers are here? Why? He didn't have time to think about it. Because Perturabo was very close to him, the light gradually became clear, the shadow of a titan-like steel giant, burning quietly and weakly, with a black shadow that seemed to be bleeding. But that was Perturabo.

Somehow, something calmed Morse, even if he was still ready to hold the silversmith responsible, or, he thought this possibility was not high, to express his gratitude to Erohos. His shadow passed over the wet and broken earth, gently sliding towards the light... passed over a water purifier, went up from the window, entered the house... together with the distant blue light of the stars, looking for the right path...

Then, he saw Perturabo's soul, existing in the real universe, leaning on a chair weakly and semi-materialized because of being separated from the body, returning to a vague shadow, obviously not awake. The light net composed of the three keys of the silversmith protected his existence, and Erohos himself was missing, making Morse wonder if the guy who suddenly appeared was stimulated by something and just ran away again.

And the tarot cards, three tarot cards were lying on the ground, like some kind of prophecy waiting to be revealed, which needed a person in the physical universe to uncover.

For a moment, Morse suddenly felt the departure of a huge force, and the whole world became bright in an instant, and the hissing and creeping sound covered the sky and the sun, like a thunder eagle sliding over his head at a close distance. Then the world dimmed again, the stars still emitting cold, silent little lights.

But the hydra had just left, its belly wriggling in the sky, its tail slithering quietly into the currents of the Warp, its growing tentacles and whip-like tendrils quivering elastically, chasing the silversmith away and disappearing together.

He sat down beside Perturabo, waiting for Magnus to answer Malcador's call and find him.

He had to choose between bringing the soul of a Primarch all the way back to Davin, and ensuring that the Nemesis Blade reached Terra. But Magnus was enough to do the first of those things - or, at least, to keep the Crimson King here to watch over his beloved brother.

Then he heard the footsteps of marchers. They came from the real universe, clear and purposeful.

"I think it's here," John Grammaticus said outside the door, "but I can't guarantee that Elihos is really here. Maybe he's out for a walk, Aurelion."