Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

The divination hall was filled with a light bile-yellow mist and exuded a slightly pungent smell, but for the original body and captain of Barbarus, this familiar environment would not make people choke - This light mist is the air of the home star that Mortarion brought from Barbarus into the void of the universe.

With Mortarion's tacit approval, the air of the Death Guard homeworld has been carefully regulated; today's partial preservation of the past atmospheric environment is to take care of the locals' lungs as they adapt to the poisonous air, providing a long and gentle period. buffer.

Typhon watched his primarch pace among the divination crystals.

After a precisely designed arrangement, these crystals seemed to be able to calculate the present and even part of the future that Mortarion wanted to infer through the combination of light and dark at specific angles.

However, during their journey filled with anxiety and disbelief, the crystal seemed to have lost its effectiveness. No matter how much Mortarion muttered and repeatedly deduced the algorithm he defined, he could not see clearly why Magnus died. .

Or, he saw part of it, but he could neither get a full glimpse of that period of history, nor was it enough to convince Mortarion of his resistance.

After all, Typhon could sense that psychic shadows were wandering around Mortarion, and the fluorescent light brought by the surreal substance shimmered faintly with the shaking of the scythe in his hand. This means that his Primarch is still exposed to the mysterious sorcerous energy of the Warp in his own unique way, and is utilizing it - in a way that perhaps even Mortarion himself is not fully aware of. Way.

Just like Ahriman said - Typhon thought of the chief think tank he met in the Sun of Thousand Dusts. His lord was like a blind man walking on the edge of a cliff, using a carefully designed crutch to carefully ensure the path under his feet.

But he had become too accustomed to a crutch, and he was already walking too well. Perhaps rashly forcibly erasing the shadows in front of his eyes would shatter his stubbornness into frightening confusion and wrong steps.

When Azak Ahriman whispered to him, his light blue eyes always had his unique melancholy. Typhon couldn't help but wonder whether the gifted black raven had also disappeared into the dust of history along with Prospero.

"Sir, I haven't heard what the Imperial Guard said to you outside the throne room. Besides, you have been deeply troubled by it after leaving Terra." Typhon hesitated for a moment, but asked directly, knowing full well that Motta Lean abhorred any form of politeness or flattery, and their friendship stood up to questions that might have been offensive to other Legions.

Half of Mortarion's haggard face fell into darkness, leaving only his bright yellow eyes exposed to the dim dusk light in the room. At this time, these eyes were filled with deeper unhappiness and even some kind of anger.

The first half of his words sounded quite calm. As he spoke, the primarch sat down on his knees in the soft tapestry blanket in the center of the crystal circle, holding the scythe flat in front of him at a specific angle.

"Those golden-armored guards first announced Perturabo's betrayal and the Emperor's intention to re-proclaim Horus Luperkar as Warmaster..."

Mortarion said thoughtfully, the crystal flickering around him. "As soon as Horus returns from the Istvan system, the Terran Council will officially start this process... At this point, are they still clinging to formality?"

"Besides, Aurelion. Am I willing to obey his orders?" Mortarion sneered sarcastically. At this point, he paused abruptly, and then continued dullly: "Finally, Magnus really ...No more.”

"I understand, my lord." Typhon shook his head, judging Mortarion's attitude.

Mortarion threw him a complicated answer, and he wasn't sure how he could express his hatred for the Word Bearers and his disbelief at Perturabo's betrayal at the same time. Of course, the most important thing is, should he be depressed about the departure of the Crimson Primarch? Which emotion best suited the resentful Primarch before him?

No. he thought. For Mortarion, it was the unspoken words that contained the most unacceptable hurt.

"The Emperor's silence is unfortunate for us," he advised, his memory faintly flashing back to the Emperor who came to Barbarus to become a hermit more than a hundred years ago, and his voice sounded more sincere, "But we must always It’s time to make your own decisions. In fact, sir, that’s what we’ve always done.”

"Of course." Mortarion frowned, stretched out his hand to touch the long handle of the scythe wrapped in cloth, and immediately grasped it tightly, veins bulging on the back of his hand. The sharp and heavy scythe was raised in an instant, and the tip of the hook suddenly pierced one of the many crystals.

A handful of black mist that even Typhon could see spurted out from the pure crystal, and Typhon was surprised. From his perspective, this meant that in their environment, a witchcraft energy that they had never noticed had become dense enough to condense into droplets, faintly passing through the protection of the Geller force field, emerging from the void. Witchcraft sea and air dissolve into reality.

Mortarion stood up and stared gloomily at the broken crystal. The black mist dissipated quickly, and the pleasant light yellow mist no longer contained the dangerous burning smell and the terrible omen of destruction. But this unexpected discovery undoubtedly took root in the heart of the original body and cast a wide range of dark clouds.

"We are very close to Istvaan." Typhon reminded in surprise. "Is this fog related to what's happening on Istvan III?"

Mortarion took a slow breath and exhaled it through clenched teeth. The intensity of his emotions seemed to surprise even himself. His gaze swept over: "My calculations do not provide an answer to this. Are we almost there? Very good, I have to go see Horus."

"Where's the Word Bearer?" Typhon asked.

"No one cares about that villain." Mortarion objected unhappily, his eyes flashing with thought.

Who has the ability to trigger a mysterious witchcraft near Istvan III?

Not the Death Guard themselves, they are pure in the warp; not the Luna Wolves, the Iron Warriors or the Imperial Fists, they have an established think tank system, but it is not enough to obscure the accuracy of his numerology.

Alpha Legion? It was doubtful that the fungi that lived in the shadows and damps were elusive and elusive... but he had never smelled the stench of sorcery in their primarch, or whoever might have been the primarch.

Of course, he thought darkly, of course, it can only be the Word Bearers. That group of people - but those people who hold most of the Empire's truth regulations in high esteem, could they be contaminated with subspace witchcraft? If this is the case, then Lorgar Aurelion finally learned to openly trample on the creed and show his obedience. Then, he may have lost his last precious virtue.

"So, after we met Lord Horus, we went straight to Isstvaan III to participate in the war, regardless of one of the suggestions the Emperor gave you?" Typhon asked.

Mortarion remained silent.

"Please allow me to speak frankly, my lord, regardless of your attitude towards the Word Bearers, without ever meeting them, we will have many questions that cannot be answered." Typhon placed his fist near his heart and crossed Mota Leon objected silently, "Then, sir, I request to meet Lorgar Aurelion on your behalf. As your comrade and your first company commander."

Mortarion was tempted to reject Typhon's offer, but his First Captain was right, and the Death Guard were not a Legion that chose to circumvent the odds.

Some of his brothers may be flexible and choose the path that is most comfortable for them, but the Death Guard simply crush everything in their path with thick armor and unforgiving tracks. Especially, at such a fateful moment, when he must find the source of that destructive black psychic energy, he cannot easily let go of the opportunity that is closest to him.

"I will not go with you to meet Lorgar Aurelion, who hates Magnus and me as much as I hate him. But I will not let you go alone. Let the Battle Captain accompany you."

Some of his legions had other combat missions to deal with, and not every company commander had arrived in the Istvan system.

"You will bring me Aurelion's attitude and news, and look for traces of witchcraft and evil energy. You must come back here, come back to me, and hand over to me your harvest, more or less."

Seventh Company Captain Nathaniel Gallo? One of the few Terran warriors in the legion, Typhon's thin and calm face appeared in his mind.

"Yes, sir." Typhon smiled and knocked on his chest again.

Mortarion squinted and looked at the reflection of his eyes as bright as lights in the crystals. A bad intuition seeped into his fingers along his cold scythe.

"No," the Lord of Death changed his mind, "I will not leave Aurelion alone with my Death Guard. You will go with me to see Horus. Accordingly, I will go with you to the Trilogy. . Just in time to see the new ship given to him by the Adeptus Mechanicus... Oh, those blind Martians."

——

Togaton pushed open the partially opened metal door and held his helmet in his hand. There were several short bloodstains on his face, and a strong smell of copper and iron lingered in the hot air after the battle, instantly filling the limited indoor space. The other warriors crowded here couldn't help but make some distance for Togaton, and then everyone quickly got back to work and returned to their tasks.

"I heard that the Death Guard is coming, Loken?" Togaton threw his helmet on the table, put his hands on the edge of the table, and looked at the meditator display embedded in the center of the movable metal table. The icy cold green light flickered on half of his companion's body.

"I hope they brought the antidote as a courtesy to the other Cousin Legions as well," Togaton said.

"How come I didn't know they would release toxins on us?" Loken did not look up from the information in front of him because of the witticism. After all, he had fought with the soldiers of the Death Guard and even established a friendship with their seventh company captain. . And he is not as accustomed to making all kinds of little jokes as Togaton.

"Come and see this."

He stepped aside and Togaton glanced at the screen. "Oh, Kahn."

The Legion Commander of the World Eaters has appeared on the front line, and the number of serious injury reports coming from there is increasing sharply. The requisitioned health train will soon carry a third of the pharmacy department and a large number of engineers to complete the work they need.

The total number of enemy Astartes in that direction is expected to exceed ten thousand, and the auxiliary army will not be less than one million. More than three hundred aircraft are hovering above the castle, and the enemy's supplies there cannot be observed from the ground. I am afraid there are A large number of garrison troops are organized in the shadows from the middle nest to the lower nest.

One Titan was even torn apart by a team of World Eaters, like a giant elephant mauled to death by a pack of mad dogs - with the help of Iron Warriors cannons, of course.

"They are even planning to attack from outside," Loken said. "Kahn is trying to find a breakthrough in our line."

"There is no way. The World Eaters are good at attacking, and Kahn is the commander of the legion," Torgaddon laughed. "Ah, as the commander of the legion, of course, he is the epitome of the fighting style of the entire legion. The Death Guard just came..." His smile disappeared. "The clash between them will bring maximum bloodshed."

"This will be even more so when the Primarch personally joins the battlefield." Loken said softly, although no Primarch has yet appeared directly on the front line.

"Where is the Emperor's Child?" Torgaddon asked. "Where is Tarvitz?"

"We will see him again when we recapture the first base station we lost." Loken said, noticing a new signal, and he opened the message in the center of the screen.

The news came from the flagship of the Word Bearers, saying that the Death Guard Primarch Mortarion had a pleasant meeting with them. They shared the current combat situation on Isstvan III, carefully studied the evil deeds of the Iron Warriors, introduced each other's draft strategic plans, and swore to each other absolute loyalty to the Emperor, etc.

"It sounds like there is nothing agreed upon," Torgaddon pointed out sharply.

"There are still many new military orders." Loken refuted his friend, "The Death Guard will follow the Giamet Wasteland to penetrate the gap between the City of Song and the City of Fugue, destroy the strata to cut off the communication between the two sides; participate in smashing the Emperor's Children's defense line west of the Palace of the Singers; Captain Typhon and Mortarion himself will go straight to the Palace of the Singers where Perturabo is located from the front avenue; the whole army will move, and there will be no reserve troops on standby."

"This means that we will have to strengthen the key attack next." Torgaddon thought attentively, analyzing some of the main generals' tendencies from these regulations. "Emperor, will they really sit peacefully at the same long table in the conference hall one day?"

"Oh, I can't be sure, because these orders came from the Spirit of Vengeance." Loken added, answering Torgaddon's doubts.

Loken believed that the Primarch Mortarion had met with their father Horus Lupercal. What would they talk about? Loken couldn't be sure...

He could imagine part of it: imagine how the gloomy and taciturn Mortarion would be easily softened in front of the respected Horus, just like their father every time he met Mortarion.

Will the Lord of Death be happy about Horus's awakening? That must be maintained at a delicate level, a level that only their father's sensitive and energetic heart can touch.

But this harmony will be fleeting, and an indelible pain will lie between them, as well as the doubts that follow...because it was the Moon Wolf who was ordered to destroy Prospero. And Horus and Magnus are almost the only two Primarchs who really touched Mortarion's heart...

Death has brutally cut scars that will never heal everywhere, within the legion and between the legions.

"Sir," his deputy called him, "you should see this."

Loken stopped thinking too much and quickly regained his spirits after a brief loss. "Come." He said seriously.

The adjutant adjusted the access key in the data pad for him, and part of the images from the other side of the battle immediately appeared in the room, further occupying the already insufficient space.

Torgaddon stared at the floating images in the projection. "I almost suspect that they are the Fifteenth Legion."

"Because of those halos?"

"Because the color of their armor has turned red, Gaviel. But the color is far less beautiful than what we witnessed in Prospero," Torgaddon said, "Although from the perspective of clear enemy and friend, I should praise the Word Bearers. How did they do it? Just rely on-"

He paused for a few seconds, listening to the singing in unison from the communication, and then continued in disbelief, "Just rely on praising the Emperor? Relying on their faith and rage?"

Miracle. Or curse. Loken thought in his heart.

Forgive him for only being able to think of these words that violate the objective rationality of the Imperial Truth-because this is what he is currently witnessing, in the bloody battle with the Emperor's Children, several Word Bearers who are obviously trapped in death because of being alone are embracing the supernatural phenomenon.

The Word Bearers had apparently transcended the limits of Imperial technology in some controlled form, and put on an invisible, brilliant shield that could burn the enemy and protect themselves.

As they chanted the Imperial Truth Code loudly and gestured with the Skyhawk emblem on their chests, explosives rained down on them, and then fell one after another, piling into the corpses under their boots. Sharp swords and roaring weapons hit the outer layer of their armor, either sliding along the curved surface or breaking into cracks everywhere.

Even if the enemy's power sword barely broke through the glittering armor and fatally cut into the Word Bearer's abdomen, Loken still witnessed with his own eyes that the warrior was exempted from at least falling into a state of suspended animation, and smashed the Emperor's Children's purple-gold shoulder straps with a burning hammer, causing his enemy to fall down with half of his body destroyed and burning... Of course, the strength and speed of the Word Bearers also exceeded the limits they should have.

Around the battlefield, blood continued to sublimate and disappear in a thin golden halo, as if the entire area was shrouded in some kind of truly descending holy light.

Although, this large-scale miracle soon ended...

The blood stopped rising, the dazzling light gradually faded, the high prayers of the Word Bearers turned back to low murmurs, and they returned to flesh and blood that could be killed, and the Emperor's Children, who had just nimbly moved away to temporarily avoid the sharp edge, quickly surrounded them and killed half of the Word Bearers team.

Despite this, in a short miraculous time, the three Word Bearers still made more than ten Emperor's Children fall in front of them - this is an astonishing ratio, especially for the Emperor's Children Legion, which performed well in close combat.

"Is the Golden Throne... really protecting the Word Bearers?" Torgadon was deeply in a mental shock. A terrible fact appeared before his eyes, that is, the Word Bearers really received a visible blessing - in the past Great Crusade, no entire legion had ever really received a sacred blessing.

"I must admit, this was not what I expected, Mortarion. Perhaps this is why Aurelion dared to send his scion to advance the battle line so aggressively." Horus Lupercal said, reaching up from the bottom, letting his fingers brush across the projection virtual image installed in the command bridge of the Vengeful Spirit, as if he was holding up a corner of the battlefield below.

"I said that in my impression, the warriors of the Word Bearers are not as strong as the Death Guard." Horus added.

"Do you believe them?" Mortarion said, and then closed his mouth tightly.

Even though the projection in front of him had fallen into a faintly translucent darkness with the fall of the Word Bearers warrior, he still stared at the extremely terrifying scene for him, his fingers sketching some calculation symbols between the folds of the gray-yellow robe. After a few seconds, he grabbed the robe, tightened his fingers, and then loosened them.

He found nothing. His mind did not get any answers about the miracles of the Word Bearers, everything seemed to be behind a hazy mist...

But, Mortarion thought doubtfully, he did find that the manifestation of miracles was exactly the same as the psychic sorcery that the Emperor had once demonstrated to him.

Did he misunderstand Lorgar Aurelion? Just like he had gained nothing but Aurelion's unchanging hypocrisy on the Triumvirate?

Or was this also a trick to cover up their hidden rebellion?

But his unhappiness quickly overwhelmed his rare tolerance for Aurelion. Aurelion's thoughts and attitudes had never changed, and when he brought up the topic they had argued about before, that obsessive stubbornness was still deeply engraved in Aurelion's bones, just like the golden words on his face were engraved on his body.

What a disgusting bigotry, Mortarion said in his heart with contempt. The Word Bearers had destroyed the Imperial Truth's contempt for sorcery and the Emperor's promise to him - to firmly control the future of warp sorcery after everything was over. He polluted the pure essence of death and war.

He turned his head and waited for Horus's answer. If there was anyone he could trust in the Isstvan system - it was Horus Lupercal, the blood brother he had trusted at first. On the turbulent world, Horus was a rare and unchanging person. His eyes were as bright as before, and his abundant strength always supported his huge body, as if the serious injury in the past had not affected him at all.

More than ten minutes ago, Mortarion had informed the person concerned that the Emperor had instructed Horus to re-grant the position of Warmaster. Horus nodded happily and took over the responsibility that belonged to him happily.

The Wolf God told him that power must be in the hands of those who can control the situation. This is an extremely arrogant truth and the right choice that must be implemented. Mistakes had been made, and perhaps he was still making them. But the situation had to be pushed forward, no matter what fuel they had.

Mortarion listened in silence.

Horus withdrew his hand from the holo-projection, threw off his cloak, turned and strode back to his seat. Behind him, the banners of the Luna Wolves and the Imperial Aquila still hung from the command bridge of the Vengeful Spirit, the gold threads of the embroidery standing out in the dim light behind.

Mortarion walked towards Horus under his encouraging gaze, climbed the steps and stood beside Horus.

The light was darker here, and he was further away from the Luna Wolves and the Death Guard he had brought with him. He saw the sea green armor blending with the unadorned dull white armor of his own scions, some of them knew each other, and the low voices of words lingered around him like the flutter of mosquito wings.

As the distance widened, he suddenly gained a strange perspective, as if he was standing at a higher place - much higher than the steps. He was accompanied by Horus Lupercal. After leaving the crowd, the voice of the Wolf God seemed to become more hoarse and soft, farther away from the others and closer to Mortarion.

Horus said calmly: "Motarion, your arrival is the key to opening the situation. You can see how anxious the situation on our battlefield is, and if we continue to fight like this... you can see that the World Eaters have launched a counterattack."

"You lack sufficient attacking power, and of course it is not enough to overcome the tactical defense of the Iron Warriors, so you have been blocked for so long." Mortarion said with a little satisfaction, "A war challenge that is just right for the Death Guard."

"I will give you the power of decision-making on the assault mission. You came to this battlefield from the outside world and looked at it from a new perspective. Of course, your vision must be clearer than ours now." The Wolf God's voice contained a convincing power.

Mortarion couldn't help but begin to imagine how his troops would be deployed at the forefront of the battle line, gathering all weapons, all heavy infantry, tanks, aircraft and artillery, exerting all their strength to exert heavy pressure, for the Iron Warriors... yes, for The Iron Warriors brought a silence. Bring destruction and death.

…Why Iron Warriors? Mortarion lowered his eyes briefly, the sadness and confusion in his heart simmering like clouds, and was momentarily overshadowed by the anger of being betrayed.

Horus seemed unaware of his turbulent mood, or perhaps he was thoughtful enough not to reveal it.

He changed the topic, "I'm actually a little surprised, Mortarion, you asked me about many current situations, the Emperor's, Isstvan III's, Perturabo and Rogal Dorn's, and The Emperor's Children and the World Eaters. We have these rules of attack... I thank you for coming, did I forget to say that now-"

"You have not forgotten." Mortarion emphasized out of some unique persistence.

Horus was startled, then shook his head slightly naturally, and smiled: "Okay, then there is no forgetting. But you know what I want to ask you, Mortarion. If you want to hear my point of view, then tell me Well. Otherwise, if you really don’t want to know, I won’t interfere with you. You have always had your own ideas and persistence.”

"Of course I'm not unwilling," Mortarion said. "There's nothing I can't hear."

"The heirs of Magnus took away my crescent moon and the lives of tens of thousands of my heirs. All their proud spiritual energy was poured into this civil war. No one will ever know that Magnus What exactly Nuss did that caused the Emperor's extreme wrath and unequivocal judgment - no, I'm afraid no one will know except Perturabo."

"Has Perturabo revealed anything to you, Horus?"

"He has only repeatedly revealed a truth, my brother," said Horus. "War destroys everything. Once we brought destruction to the thousands of forces in the galaxy who refused to surrender, and now this storm of destruction still rages The earth spreads, swallowing every wisp of air it comes close to, and we are the only ones left facing the storm."

——

"I feel like I'm witnessing a spectacle, cousin," Eidolon said, his tone brisk.

"If you don't have enough drive to express your opinions without being asked, then don't distract us by opening your mouth." Lann said, sitting on the stone bench at the edge of the long hall, wiping it with a soft cloth Holding his pair of battle axes.

His commander, Sigismund, had just gone out to the West City to inspect the actual war situation, which may have included some personal fighting. Lan had to stay here and temporarily take his commander's place.

"You have such a bad temper, Imperial Fists," Lucius said with a smile, the scars on his face puckered like a faded blanket from over-washing.

"Like Rann said, we can express our views more directly, brothers." Vespasian said, and his relief made Rann breathe a sigh of relief.

Surrounded by a group of purple and gold Emperor's Children, Fafnir Lane only felt that the pressure on himself was increasing for no reason. Among them, the one who impressed him the most was Vespasian, another of their senior generals. He admired the lord commander's attitude in talking to others.

"You want to say that the Word Bearers and the Death Guard fought side by side." Lann said, raising the battle ax and wiping the handle with some scratches.

His rough fingers touched a deep crack on it. Not long ago, he almost lost one of his fingers, and the battle left scars on his weapon.

"Isn't it amazing, cousin?" Eidolon said with regret, his eyes fixed on Lan, "The Death Guard who are most opposed to supernatural powers, and the Word Bearers who are smashing flaming stones at our city gates. . Why? The Emperor's blessing is not witchcraft? Just like Mortarion's fortune-telling is not witchcraft?"

He laughed. Lan took a deep breath and stared at the knife marks on the weapon.

"It makes them a more worthy opponent," Lucius said. "More powerful, and their respect and fall more meaningful."

The glorious honor in battle is indeed an irresistible temptation for the Astartes, Lann thought, but if a swordsman like Lucius is also pursuing it persistently, then all this will mean to Lann, It seems... no longer pure.

"What is more meaningful is to find out what they used in exchange for blessings. This does not comply with the laws of subspace operation." Lann said, "It all depends on the favor of the false emperor? Then the false emperor might as well just lower the sky fire," he Added accent, Imitating the grandiose tone of the Word Bearers, "Compare our father's traitorous Primarchs with no honor, and the Astartes under his command who know no right from wrong in the sewers, but "can still return astray to serve the cause" All turned into ashes.”

"I'm afraid it's because 'you can still get lost'?" Lucius tapped the hilt of the sword with his fingers, suddenly drew out his sword, and drew a bright light in the air. He pointed the tip of the sword towards the meditator, The intent was to point to the location of the battle where they last heard this broadcast.

Vespasian held Lucius's shoulders: "You will damage our machinery, Lucius."

He immediately turned to Lan and asked, "Is this the inference of your think tank?"

The Imperial Fists do have their own think tank, but Rogal Dorn is not keen on the tricks and tricks of the warp. Therefore, the think tank of the Seventh Legion does not have much reputation among all the legions, except that they do have a think tank library department.

"Well... I don't think so." Lann stopped what he was doing, "It's the Thousand Sons."

"Of course, of course." Eidolon said, "I wish Amon good luck. How does he plan to find it? Go to the front line to meet every decision made by Horus in the sky?"

"Do you think I know about their warp-sensitive people?" Lann said, "But we should indeed meet the decision of Horus Lupercal. Maybe it's Mortarion. The center of gravity of the entire front has shifted, and the outer fortifications are being invalidated. If you don't want to lose the honor of fighting in a forced retreat, then formulate a strategy to maintain the trenches..."

He deliberately added the title: "Respected commanders."

"Your respect comes too late, but it doesn't matter." Eidolon nodded, and then said to Lucius: "And you, I think you must have some opinions on the failure of these teams in the battle, Lucius."

Lucius immediately understood, and the long sword that had just been hung back on his waist was pulled out again. He swore that he was about to lead a small conflict that would win...

Lan blinked and returned to silence. Following Rogal Dorn's orders, he did not speak rashly. It was not Amon who made the judgment, but other Thousand Sons warriors who came from afar and left in a hurry.

Azak Ahriman, and his Prodigal Son Secret Ring.