Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

What should I say to him if I meet him again?

Morse never thought about this question even once.

Rather than meeting him again, he hoped that this absurd assumption would never fall into reality; but if this unfortunate extreme really came one day...

Then come.

He turned around naturally in this cold space of pure gold, his left hand holding the gold, stone, bones, hair and dagger he brought from Paradise.

These objects, which had not yet returned to shape and twist in their passage through the Veil, confirmed that he was still in the Warp.

The sound of the vast ocean tide and all kinds of indescribable discordant sounds have gone away, leaving the eternal silence behind.

He raised his left hand and shook it across from him, leisurely and even a little too relaxed.

This quickly made him feel like he was pretending to a beam of artificial sunlight, so he put down his left hand, his smile faded, and he simply said hello to the bright halo opposite: + How is your earth doing lately? Already? +

+ is at war. +Answered by the man in Halo.

The shining light blurred his expression in the most holy form, and Morse could not see his eyes, nor could he recognize any possible emotion in his tone.

The man just stood there, cherishing his words like gold, and then there was a long and terrible silence.

The sounds outside became a little louder and invaded the pure gold space again. Waves of low laughter and choked sobs came from thousands of different souls, like waves beating against the towering barriers.

It was like a trigger that made both of them take action.

The part of the entire space that was constructed by the opponent's power became more solid and solid. Likewise, more mantras supported the bottom layer of the space.

Morse stopped looking at each other. He sat down, arranged the gadgets one after another, and slowly trimmed them with one hand. At the same time, he spoke as plainly as possible: + Did you start the war again? +

+Yes. +

+Victory? +

+Yes. +

Gold and stone were reshaped into arrowheads, bones were whittled into arrow shafts, and hair temporarily served as arrow feathers, although the mystical significance was far greater than the practical significance.

Morse carved more symbols on this small arrow, which would be a useful prop.

Then he began to handle the dagger.

Putting aside those irrelevant factors, Slaanesh's aesthetic ability is indeed at the top of the endless creatures in the galaxy. Just a short blade that is more than a palm long has reached the pinnacle in aesthetics, even breaking the upper limit of beauty that mortals can imagine.

This is not only the comprehensive perfection of the structure and proportion, the whole and the details, but the aura of the chaotic ocean adds the extension of Slaanesh's own power.

Morse did not destroy this precious attribute, but only carved a few appropriate curses on the side of the dagger to enhance his temporary control over the dagger.

This busy work of silence seems to have built a concrete system in the golden light of silence, softening the cold meaning of silence itself and even bringing about a false harmony.

Morse felt for a moment that this moment would last forever, and he spurned his own imagination.

Soon after, a voice came from the golden light: + I heard you calling me. +

+Obviously you heard it. + Morse said.

+You need help. +

+ It's not me who needs help, it's Perturabo - have you seen him? +

+Yes. +

+What do you think? +

+……+

silence.

Half an hour ago Morse had been wondering if the man had changed over the years, but now he knew that at least the guy was as easily irritated as ever.

He stabbed the prepared dagger on the ground.

The flow of mantras is used to transform and generate another tangible object with a unique structure.

+Is that your masterpiece? A genetically engineered super son? Since when have you wanted offspring? +

+...No. +

+You cannot answer three questions with one answer. +

He finally heard a human voice that, apart from the simplest affirmation and denial, made the other person look less like a stupid machine: + I created him. He is not my son. +

+What is he? +Morse disapproved, +Another makeshift tool? +

+...No. +

Morse decided to keep his mouth shut.

His non-existent heart was about to beat angrily at this annoying and unanswerable conversation.

After all, he didn't want answers.

There is already a crossbow in his hand, and some beautiful decorations have been added to the design to match the artistic symbol of the arrow itself.

Morse placed the arrow into the empty slot and pressed it tightly. If he has two hands, he is more likely to draw a bow and shoot an arrow; but a crossbow will work just as well.

The man shrouded in golden light approached him and stood beside him without saying anything.

The runes dispersed, revealing a hole in the pure gold space; behind the hole, deep and colorful colors reappeared.

Morse raised the crossbow, pulled the trigger, and the arrow flew out like a stream of light.

In the distance, in the dense and lush garden soil, a group of rotting creatures gathered in a circle and danced hand in hand, were pierced by sharp arrows, and they did not even have time to let out a crying wailing.

The incantation that sent the arrow to the garden was completely eliminated in the process of crossing the abyss. The power of the Lord of Bliss lost its restraint and automatically spread in a strange form in the depths of decay. The purple mist melted into a deep green.

Morse withdrew his gaze, not only to avoid being noticed, but also not to see more unbearable phenomena.

+The casualties of war will bring plague. + He said, pulling out the dagger on the ground with one hand, standing up on the ground, + I made some preparations in advance. +

The golden man silently made room for him.

The power of the curse was further withdrawn and reformed into a long lock with a hook-like top, which penetrated into the vast sea.

After a moment, the long lock hooked a heavy object hidden nearby behind the golden light, and Morse smiled gradually.

+ Come and give me a hand. +

No more words were needed, the golden light burst out with more intense light, the long lock ignited fire at the right time, and a miserable scream came from the end of the chain.

Morse immediately retracted the long lock and pulled back a blue bird that was struggling to escape by its wings. In the midst of lightning and flint, the dagger pierced the dark blue wings and tore the ever-changing flesh and blood.

The next moment, the phantom of the blue bird escaped from the hook, spilling a stream of purple-blue flowing liquid; the liquid climbed up the dagger, and before it met Morse, the dagger that should be discarded after use was discarded by him. Abandoned and drifted into the subspace.

Morse shook his head. The actual damage was not so easy to cause. He had already reached the limit of his current ability.

In any case, after finally completing a series of counterattacks, he felt that he was in a much better mood.

He turned sideways and briefly looked face to face with the radiant man.

Morse looked at the dazzling silencer for a short while and found that he could not speak. His throat seemed to be blocked by a hurtful stone.

He insisted on not allowing himself to look away, and soon he no longer allowed himself to remain silent.

The torture of being continuously stared at by the golden light gradually became greater than the momentary pain of opening the mouth.

Morse smiled, although he didn't think the other party could see any expression on his empty face.

He didn't know whether to feel sad about it. He didn't even have a heart to beat for it.

+Goodbye, Nyos. + He said, while suspecting that he would see the true form of Neos soon. This suspicion forcibly prevented him from feeling reluctant about this brief meeting.

+Goodbye, Remus. +

He got an answer.

The space constructed by the spell gradually loses touch with the opponent's power, like a boat floating up outside the subspace.

Passing through the layers of light and shadow space, he touched the scent of reality.

He looked around.

Burnt dust, broken beams, dead servants, and the deformed corpses of the tyrant's family.

There are no longer gauze curtains and fragrant ointments, the illusory flowers and vines have all returned to the earth and gravel, all the twisted darkness has receded from Olympia, and the abnormal night has returned its place to the bright day.

Sunlight penetrated the ruins and illuminated a small sailboat made of gold and silver and inlaid with blood jade.

Morse recognized it as a miniature model of the boat he had boarded on his previous voyage to the Sixth Circle of Slaanesh.

This ship of fools carries him, a bloodless and tearless nothingness, to meet again and part ways, to leave and return again.

Morse picked up six broken filthy crystals, collected the aura remnants and twisted souls lingering on the corpses present, and put them all into the small sailboat.

The golden fire ignited, and the rotten smell gathered on the small sailboat was completely purified and burned. The next thing that was burned was the boat itself.

A remaining soul showed a gentle phantom. He seemed to want to say something, but he seemed to be just shedding tears.

Morse nodded quietly.

The phantom nodded to him and thanked him, and then disappeared forever along with everything in the boat.

After finishing the purification, Morse heard someone pushing away the dissuading soldiers, stepping heavily on the ground, and striding towards here.

When the twisted and melted door was easily opened and torn apart by a pair of huge hands, Morse realized a serious problem.

He hasn't rebuilt his body yet.