Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 482 Lord of Mankind

Son of a bitch Word Bearer.

Ctesias heard a voice say.

Was it one of the thousand elites of the Fifteenth Legion who usually pretended to be polite cursing in his heart, or the resentment of a mortal captain, helmsman, calculator or operator? He had no time to distinguish, and had no intention of exploring further unless necessary.

Ctesias let the rune swirl in his hand and dip into the vast waves. His rune extended in the ocean of souls, looking for names and patterns hidden in the waves, capturing the sensibility and thoughts of those spiritual beings. The rainbow light of emerald and forged metal danced on his staff, reflecting a manic and dangerous aura.

He decided to treat that sentence as Batusa Narek, the renegade Word Bearer who broke off his past, and the man who had just gone down to the hangar to drive out a gunboat to help resist the Word Bearers' spying and hunting them.

When Narek appeared at the round table of the Thousand Dust Sun, he was almost escorted there, and at that time, a thousand warriors knew about Prospero's burning. They paid Narek a silent tribute, and at the same time, some of the attendants who learned the news began to cry.

Ctesias pushed the staff, and the aura brought by his power gradually expanded, blending into the entire outer psychic shield protecting the Ten Thousand Lights, and continued to expand outward, like a needle piercing a bloated balloon without bursting it.

Then, the needle tip burst out with dangerous spiritual fire, which contained the murderous intent that was naturally born in the toxic environment of the Vast Ocean. A series of invisible fires focused into a beam of blazing light, and before the traces left in the real universe were noticed by the Word Bearers fleet, it swept away the names of the red-armored warriors in the void space, which meant that their existence was torn apart and plundered.

Red-armored warriors - blood-red armor, the color of dried blood. Ctesias added to himself that his own red armor was brighter, shrouded in a hazy mist or halo of the Warp's radiance. When these misty threads appeared when he cast a spell, others would know that it was not time to touch him again.

It would take some time for the effects of his attack to be felt, as he had damaged parts of the steel structure that were not aimed at the real universe. But the ship still broke quickly enough: it plunged headlong into another speeder nearby, and a large number of sparks burst out during the collision. The remains of some of the dead began to float out of the ship's rift, and from a distance they were no more than a few tiny dust particles.

+The beacon became brighter, +the voices of his brothers told him, reminding him of Ahriman's actions. Ctesias took a breath and replied: +Go to the captain, not me. +

The Queen of Glory class ship shook, and the outer layer of the void shield array screamed miserably under the extreme saturation of anti-strike, and a burst of bright red blood flashed before Ctesias' eyes.

+The law of faith! +Echoes echoed in the Thousand Dust Suns, and the surrounding psychic environment also underwent obvious changes.

Ctesias's affinity with the warp was fading quickly, and the power he gained by using the name trick was being taken away again, turning into a cold and terrifying roaring force like fire.

Lorgar Aurelion, and his sorcery.

Sorcery. Ctesias repeated that his armor warned him of excessive use of psychic energy - this should not be, this is undoubtedly caused by the sorcery of the Word Bearers.

According to Narek, they called it "Emperor Magic" internally, but the Thousand Dust Suns saw at a glance that there was no doubt that it was a sorcery that violated the Holy Code of Nikaia.

...Except that Lorgar sincerely believed that it was a magic bestowed by the Emperor, and now the thing on the throne probably really did grant magic.

The Word Bearers sullied their existence in formlessness and ignorance, giving their names and faith to another nameless power; Magnus the Red had mentioned countless times at the Council of Nicaea that no higher formless gods should be worshipped, but Aurelion either ignored a word or sneered.

Thinking of this, Ctesias found himself despising a Primarch, even if he was just an Astartes.

But this did not prevent them from defeating Aurelion who came to hunt them down personally.

+How far is it to the beacon? How far is it to Ahriman's Webway Gate? +

+Come now. +A thought was sent into their psychic network, instantly occupying the core position of the network. They involuntarily handed over their part of the leadership to Azak Ahriman.

The Chief Librarian said nothing after giving his sole command, and the psychic fire of the Thousand Dust Sun began to spiral in the same direction, burning a mass of invisible will and barren raw power, until the scorching hot flames gradually swirled against a dark vortex that was becoming visible.

Ctesias' skin began to sting, and he braced his hands on the platform beside him, his staff clasped on the side of the platform to support his dizzy body. Sweat fell into his eyes. The attacks of the Word Bearers were still increasing, and perhaps half the fleet was chasing them, hunting their cousins ​​with a terrible mood of ecstasy.

+Hurry up. +He said a word of power.

The dark vortex and the scorching flame began to intersect, and the two twisted forces collided to produce ripples that interfered with each other, like the scorching sun reflected on the black water, the waves sparkled and surged, and new images began to flash. For some reason, Ctesias seemed to be able to see the fleeting shadows of the Prospero people from the power guided by Ahriman, those light and bright colors... He paused, as if he understood something.

Different forces were still canceling each other out, and the psychic energy of the Thousand Dust Suns gradually gained the upper hand, and the red fire rushed forward, breaking through the barrier of darkness.

The flow of light.

A flashing invisible path...

Suddenly, a new weak force summoned their existence, and space lost its meaning under the flow of light. They seemed to have suddenly fallen into the body of a phosphorescent long beast, and continued to fall into the depths of light like a stone, until the wake of the Ten Thousand Feet of Light was pulled into a wheat spike, nailing from the front to the back of reality...

They fell and fell, until a miraculous tremor suddenly caught them.

Right in front of Ktesias, two afterimages intertwined, two contradictory and unified things overlapped. On one side was the shadow of the throne, and the faint light of the electric candles reflected a dull and huge, cold large-scale machine with pipelines as half of the supporting body, which supported some incomprehensible things, attached to the living corpse-like existence, but much darker than that.

The image on the other side was superimposed on the throne's shadow, and gradually intensified, fiercely occupying Ctesias's perception. It was far beyond the constraints of the throne room's physical existence, and even beyond time and space itself, above the world, and born from the ancient vicissitudes of time that had not yet begun...

Ripples. The air was suddenly filled with another transparent and even fresh smell, even with the unique earthy smell of the evening breeze sweeping across the grass after the rain. Some faint sounds rustled in their ears, which were the whirring of primitive small animals rushing out of the bushes...

A river with humans living on the riverside, the wheat fields rolling in a burst of crop fragrance, the voices of people in the village chasing from the houses one by one, and some whistles were as long as the evening wind...The wooden boat passed by the river, and the silver fish twitched and bounced in the backpack...

On the shore sat a boy playing in the water, with a dark complexion, half-long and messy black hair, a shell necklace, and simple and rough clothes. He held a sphere-like object in his hand, sitting there in silence, the water flowing past his legs, the light of the setting sun flashing in the water.

Ctesias looked down at himself. He was still wearing the armor, and blood from excessive use of psychic energy flowed from the gaps in the armor. Apart from this, he was alone.

"Who are you?" A powerful thought appeared, and its appearance caused the tension of time. This thought broke directly into Ctesias's mind, and he fell to his knees, and countless overly bright spots exploded in his mind.

Then, time relaxed, and Ctesias struggled to stand up, and finally he just knelt on one knee.

At some point, the boy was standing beside him. He held a skull in his hand and stared at him mercilessly. Water dripped down from his wet hem.

"Who are you?" The boy asked again, and this sentence hammered Ctesias' heart, but it was no longer as painful as the first time.

"I am a warrior of the Emperor," Ctesias answered, the staff slipping from his hand, and he barely caught it, "I am following the command of Brother Azak Ahriman, because our father is dead."

Why did he say the last half of the sentence in that tone, Ctesias thought, a hateful rusty taste rising in his throat, why? Because he already knew who this was...

He exhaled, and looked into the boy's dark eyes with a slight tremor, and the moment became long and silent.

"Who are you?" Ctesias asked.

The boy's eyes became distant, and he looked down at the skull he was holding, looking very confused.

"My father just died too," the boy said, stroking the skull with rough fingers, then holding it up and pressing it against the side of his cheek, as if trying to listen to any sound the skull could make. He tilted his head: "My uncle attacked him, I don't understand why he did that."

Ctesias shook his head: "Wealth, or power."

"Was it worth him killing my father?" The boy asked thoughtfully.

"I can't answer," Ctesias tried to find a suitable title for a while, but his attempt failed. "But you can't stay here forever, there are many things waiting for you outside."

"I know." The boy said with his head raised, but it gave Ctesias an illusion of condescension. He held the skull in his arms again and stood up straight.

"Do you remember who you are?"

"I don't remember," the boy's hand touched his own heart, feeling the beating from there, "but a thousand people persuaded me to go out at the same time, telling me that I am a leader... What am I the leader of?"

"Human." Ctesias answered in a trembling voice, and when he gave the answer, an amazing panic burned in his body. Can't worship any higher invisible gods... But what is he doing?

The boy touched his cheek with the hand that just felt the heartbeat, exploring the outline of his face, and soon Ctesias knew that he was feeling the shape of his skull.

"But you are not human," the boy withdrew his hand in confusion, "None of you are."

This sentence somehow made Ctesias's consciousness slightly painful, and the silent irony rose unwillingly from the edge of his consciousness. "Maybe." He said, "We don't ask for your guidance, but humans are waiting for you. This is a wish."

"So says the sorcerer whose name is -," the boy mused, and out of his mouth came an astonishingly unique name, a series of prayers or arcane ancient syllables, a name different from "Azhak Ahriman," but An unambiguous name that refers to an object, a... true name like chains and bonds, flames and tides.

The boy didn't know what unexpected thing he had done. He looked at Ctesias' surprise and blinked.

"But how do I get out of here?" the boy continued. "I only have this village. I only know this place."

This stumped Ctesias. His knowledge combined countless possibly related methods, but none of them were completely applicable - none of the knowledge told him how to carry a... What is this? A fragment of the Lord of Mankind or a reborn creature? How to lead an invisible god who has lost his memory to get out of the end of time?

The boy noticed his distress, and a smile gradually formed on his face. A normal, childish smile. He thought, and gave his forehead a soothing tap, like the touch of a feather.

"Take this," said the boy, taking off the shell he had used to decorate his father's skull and handing it to Ctesias. "I will hear your voices as I can hear the flow of the river. . Very nice and very sad.”

He said with a smile, and Ctesias suddenly realized that the river was the long river of dead souls. His expression tightened on his own face, and Prospero's wind passed through his soul again.

"But I only have one shell," the boy continued, "and there are a thousand of you. Which of you likes shells best?"

He paused, "Who can afford the torture of listening to my voice?"

——

"He saw a lot of things, I think. When we found out that he decided to create a group of inhuman things, we were all surprised... I was surprised that he would change, and Erda was very skeptical that he knew what he was doing. The consequences...Who did he see behind the door? We don't have the answer, and he doesn't know either..."

Orr Persson still recounted the episode that he thought he had forgotten long ago. John Grammaticus had a knack for persuasion. Every syllable made him feel bitter, like every word he wrote grew into a monument of sin after falling to the ground, engraved with ominous omens.

"At that time, I thought of the letter that Remus once sent me - sent on his behalf. That letter once wrote about his doubts about the subspace, as well as his sighs about his past innocence, and what we share. Time spent. I held the letter, and I didn’t understand even more why he chose to believe the whisper in the door again. He clearly knew the danger there... and I also thought, is Remus still alive? ?I never saw him again..."