Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 461 A moment

"What are they doing!" When Dante Okohan was so angry, the images transmitted from the phased array display were in chaos. "Continue to contact, activate the fire control system to demonstrate, no, directly deploy anti-ship missiles - they doing what?"

"Some ships are out of control," Brown said, raising his arm and a tube connecting the back of his temple to the data pad. "It can be confirmed from the images that part of the Word Bearers fleet is approaching us. Want us to let them go?"

"No, I don't think so. Their ships responded automatically, but there was no further response. I believe—"

A mechanically synthesized sound sounded in the back of the conference room. Belosos, half-covered in a steel shell, was focused on analyzing the status of the Word Bearers fleet, while dark blue liquid gurgled in the pipes that maintained his activities.

"The captain and helmsman were not on duty," Tolamino concluded. "They were truly out of control."

"Record the abnormal data in detail as evidence to fire as a last resort." Dantioch said, "Continue to send broadcasts, prepare for the intrusion of electronic channels, and do avoidance work at the same time. We cannot let their ships collide directly. The Word Bearers Can’t contact the flagship? Is the Law of Faith’s communication room also slacking off?”

"There was an answer. Just now. But the situation is not optimistic." Tolamino said cautiously, looking up at the fellow war blacksmiths around him, as if they were already on the eve of the next siege.

"Tell me."

"They say their Primarch is in the process of being rescued," Tolamino said. "In their sept, Lorgar Aurelion is dying."

All the warsmiths immediately realized what was wrong.

Although it is unknown what Lorgar actually did, the Word Bearers are still nominally under the supervision of the Iron Warriors, and the unprovoked serious injury to the Primarch is definitely a serious and vicious incident.

The Iron Lord could of course ignore it or explain it away - but the countless loyal followers of the Word Bearers scattered throughout the Empire had already proven their stubbornness with their madness; not to mention the mystery of Horus's assassination. , in the eyes of the Word Bearers, it was almost a record of the Iron Warriors.

"Contact Balban first and tell Father about this, no matter how long it takes," Brown said, "actively communicate with the Word Bearers."

"Don't give in," Harco strode from outside, suppressed anger exuding on his face, "tell them that we know what they have done - no matter what madness Aurelion is going on! No one can touch anything except the Primarch. One primarch and one finger, and Lord Perturabo is not here at all. This is an internal matter within the Word Bearers themselves!"

Several people were surprised by Hako's disrespect for a Primarch, but this surprise was fleeting and turned into silent agreement in their hearts.

"You're right." Berossus murmured, "Of course, we are temporarily blocking the news."

"Contact Terra and ask Terra's Pharmacy Department whether they want to take over Lorgar Aurelion, and... whether the Imperial Fists are free to participate in the escort." Dantioch said, hoping that he had made the decision Right decision.

He suddenly remembered that the Netdao detachment, which they had been separated from for a long time, had recently been contacting the Cheelwon to discuss matters related to their official return to the team.

On the eve of the closing of the last node, the Iron Warriors will become whole again. All war blacksmiths have been looking forward to this for a long time, and this time span is close to two hundred years.

"No—wait a minute," Toramino said, confusion spreading across his face, "it's Aurelion. Aurelion took the communication himself..."

A newly seriously injured Primarch stood up and spoke to them in the blink of an eye. This sounded like a good thing, but it only deepened the uneasiness in the hearts of the warsmiths. Regardless, communications to Terra and the Imperial Fists will still be sent out on time.

Toramino introduced the sound array signal into the public player in the conference hall, and Aurelion's quiet and hoarse voice played slowly and coldly like a tape that had been roughly spliced.

"In our holy cause, we already have enough facts for the Word Bearers to identify the Iron Warriors' archenemy. We don't need more deception."

Lorgar Aurelion spoke frankly, his pain infusing his words into a quiet, terrifying power.

"I offer my sacrifice to the God I love, and my piety will not be tainted by speculation and conspiracy. I will not allow the Galaxy to think that I am forced by you, because my faith is destined to be unfettered. We will be the Opponents on both ends of the scale, Iron Warriors, have no personal grudges in the dark.”

Dantioch took a deep breath and uttered the following words in a deep voice, resolutely counteracting the unspeakable chill brought to him by Lorgar Aurelion, "The fire control system will remain on until all Word Bearers ships are cleared. Threat to the Iron Warriors, Primarch Aurelion."

"No need to worry, we will return to Terra. The Iron Warriors, even the Warmaster, will no longer have the chance to stop us. This is my personal decision, an absolute choice." Aurelion said softly, "We will meet us in Holy Terra. Pull up the sitting saint—"

His thoughts became distant in an instant. When he came back to his senses, his calm tone was filled with regret, "His power has filled my chest and filled my endless holes. I am no longer just Luo Luo." Jia Aurelion...but He is still waiting for the final awakening, who is hindering Him?"

——

The moment the crystal box broke, except for a crisp loud noise, nothing seemed to happen.

Morse immediately looked up to the sky, where the silent stratus clouds were still slowly fluttering in the quiet to still breeze.

The golden light of the runes shone in his eyes, and the strange waves in the sea of ​​souls immediately appeared before his eyes.

First, there is a multi-layered composite rainbow light, like a clear chip attached to the ocean current, swimming into the outside of this mechanical planet. Subsequently, the multi-colored scales gradually appeared, with dark red and light purple intertwining, gradually transitioning to artificial tourmaline or emerald-like blue, and the overall magnificence could be vaguely seen.

However, all of this is based on the broken black flesh and blood, so that the edges of each snake scale seem to be overflowing with poisonous blood.

"You leave first," Morse said. "Return to your ship and be ready for anything, Magnus. Your psychic energy cannot be expended on what may come next."

After an almost imperceptible brief daze, Magnus quickly evacuated from the void sound array channel. Even though he was still full of doubts, the pain caused by the extremely ominous sign just now vaguely remained in his panic chest. middle.

Perturabo could faintly feel the entrenchment of that power, and the surge that transcended mortal existence invaded the air around him, slightly distorting the entire world in sparkling ripples. He suppressed the terrible fear in his instincts, used a heart of steel to expel all unnecessary emotions that were unnecessary for reason, and looked directly at the signs he sensed.

"Number 11?" he asked loudly, "Is that you?"

The form of the giant snake dissipated in the swirl around the world, and in an instant it reformed into an uncertain image that stood at the far end of the street where they were standing, almost blending in with the gray and white color of the sky.

The last injury obviously had not recovered yet, but the lost snake still swam in front of his blood body, facing Perturabo face to face with a distance of about a hundred meters.

He seemed to be waiting for Perturabo to break the silence first and move forward, or perhaps he was just stalling in weariness, indifferent to anything that might further determine his future.

"You feel it too," said Perturabo. "The Tyrant. The Lord of Darkness. The Nightmare Sun."

No. 11 said nothing. In this critical, time-lapse moment, he didn't say a word. He just looked at Perturabo, seemingly observing the Iron Lord's heartbeat, breathing and body ups and downs, observing everything that a truly complete Primarch should have.

"You said you would prevent its birth, Eleven."

No. 11 still didn't speak. He didn't think this default question had any value in answering.

"So now you are here," said Perturabo, "and you are here before me."

Number 11 spoke.

——

In the sailing flagship, Magnus was immersed in the study of the library. Hundreds of newly filled draft papers swirled around him in an orderly manner, forming a storm of paper, wrapping the Crimson King in a world filled with uneasiness and confusion. Within the thick cocoon. He took off his monocle and rubbed his sore eyes.

The crisis they were about to face had been clear since Morse had let him go.

Within the entire territory of the Imperium of Man, excluding those who traveled with the Emperor, there is no doubt that the Crimson King Magnus is the person who has the deepest understanding of the Emperor's plans.

Then, the last piece of the puzzle that completes or verifies the Emperor's true plan can only be given by him.

He recalled Morse's words when he had interrupted him. "Your guess is correct," he said, "but not quite yet."

Both pieces of information made Magnus sit on pins and needles, and since the battle with Prospero's Devouring Bee, he had not had this kind of self-torture experience of refusing to face reality for too long.

Did Morse really know for sure what he guessed? He knew the answer, but wished he didn't know it.

Magnus threaded his fingers through his thick red hair and stared at twenty runes of similar color swirling and intertwining in front of his eyes, chasing each other, relying on clever gravitational arrangements to form a precarious celestial ball. The prototype of Tutmons' rune was connected and formed by the mutually reflecting golden light, which was stable in the change.

One of the runes is independent, wandering around without being bound or restricted by any single rune; there are two runes. Magnus has not found a suitable location for the time being, "backup option", a word jumped into the horse Gnus's heart.

He moved the three runes away, letting them float and focused on the seventeen remaining runes.

Among the seventeen runes, thirteen were arranged one by one on the trajectory required by the runes. He deliberately increased the energy contained in the central rune, setting it as the sole core of the formation and weakening it. After losing the self-control stability of the central rune, the entire rune array began to tremble violently and was on the verge of collapse. Broken threads scattered like mist on the simulated celestial sphere.

Magnus stared closely at these endangered runes, holding his breath, and gently brushed his fingers over the remaining twelve branch nodes, lighting them up one by one, balancing the connections between them, adjusting them until these The runes and the large rune in the center form an unmistakable sigil of bondage.

bondage. Just like this, if the central core big rune cannot restrain itself stably in the core of the celestial sphere, the effectiveness of these twelve runes will be reversed into shackles on the core place, or in other words, some kind of reins, some kind of chariot. yoke. The power poured into each rune is enough to destroy all the additional functions of the corresponding rune except carrying great power.

He blinked his eyes, and when all twelve runes lit up, the entire formation suddenly shone brightly. The light radiating outward was like a nightmare spike, piercing through multiple layers of paper sharply amid the groan of metal friction.

The rotation of the celestial sphere was still accelerating, and more fragments broke out from all directions, forming a swirling circulation, swirling around the runes, and the air became turbid in the chaotic light.

"But it's not complete yet." Morse's voice sounded in his ears again.

Magnus took a breath and lit up the next rune.

But the energy vortex generated by this rune was exactly the opposite of the previous vortex, and the vortex swirled rapidly and violently. Magnus' fingers trembled and twitched in the conflict of energy, as if the pain at this time was almost equivalent to the energy torrent he aroused in his internal organs.

He bit his lower lip hard and quickly completed the remaining three reverse runes: their energy comes from the outside world rather than the inside of the array. To be precise, this is a set of channels, a set of pipelines that dredge energy from the ocean of ether in the outside world, just like the huge heat dissipator pipelines built by the human empire deep in the hive city to absorb geothermal heat and supply energy upwards...

Magnus wiped the bloody wounds cut by these runes on his hands, and the scarlet blood dripped onto the ground. He panted, suppressed the loud breaths between his lips and teeth, suppressed them in a hissing sound that dared not disturb anything, and stared at the current Tuthmons simulated celestial sphere.

After this round of rune additions were completed, the entire celestial sphere seemed to have been promoted in some way, completely stabilized, and freely swallowed and spit out every strand of energy used for self-regulation, so exquisite that it seemed as if a higher being was concentrating on manual regulation.

But Magnus knew that there was no.

He knew Perturabo well, so he knew that if everything he created today was transformed into mechanical logic, the Iron Lord could also design and create the same strange machine, allowing it to operate automatically in a legendary and ingenious form that was far beyond the imagination of ordinary people.

But when it comes to psychic power, even the greatest architects in the physical universe are at a loss.

And Perturabo's talent, and even Magnus's own talent, are undoubtedly inherited from the same genius. He is not only the supreme master in the field of psychic power, but also the original craftsman who is unmatched in human creation.

And the ideas and structures simulated by this celestial sphere can only come from his hands.

The Emperor.

Magnus closed his eyes, and the intense pain gradually subsided, turning into a deeper smoldering fire, burning coldly inside him, burning the lamp oil that was everything in the chest of the Crimson King.