Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"...So you let him step in, directly face another filthy realm of evil and depravity, and let him collapse?"

Perturabo's back straightened with intense disapproval, and beneath the surface anger was his deep concern for the two of them.

"You know me. You've always known my character."

Morse said lightly.

"If I were to do something, the only way I would do it would be to do it aggressively. Think of how I guided you, Perturabo - I've never denied what a terrible instructor I was."

"I thought you had mellowed out over the years."

"That's because you and I have gotten to know each other well, my dear Primarch."

"But Magnus is still very young." Perturabo turned stiffly, his tone much softer.

"Mental?"

"Yes." Perturabo was not humble. In Morse's eyes, any pretense of humility was just a variant of arrogance. "He's mentally younger than me."

"This is the only time to change him, Perturabo. If I want to change an arrogant person whose mind has been determined, then what he should bear is not just a simple day trip to the garden today."

Morse said jokingly: "If an arrogant person is allowed to grow alone to the end, even if one day everything he has mastered is rejected, or if he himself makes an irreparable mistake, he will not be willing to admit his guilt."

Perturabo's silence represented too long a thought. For a Primarch known particularly for his calculating abilities, his musings can only be interpreted as indecision.

He knew that Morse was right, as always, and had a point that made sense to him.

Not long ago, in the Tizca Great Library, Magnus eagerly shared the hundreds of collections with him with childlike pride, which was enough to scare him secretly.

Let’s not mention for the moment the ancient books of secrets that record countless unspeakable secrets, those suspended instruments filled with unknown energy, the surreal pseudo-mechanical creations that operate automatically, and Magnus’s enthusiastic introduction of “allowing people without talent to perceive.” "To the vast ocean" psychic sextants are all signs of danger.

If he had not nearly fallen into the Blood God's trap, if Olympia had not suffered for the sins of the Dark Gods, he might have been willing to discuss his novel research with Magnus, and be tolerant of all those who Magnus believed could improve mankind. Progressive little psychic creations.

But there are no what-ifs in the world.

Even if Morse didn't pull this trick, he would have communicated the situation privately with Morse afterwards.

The boy stood up from the ground, sand sliding off the surface of his robe. Complex sorrow left wrinkles on his brows, like the ups and downs of mountains formed by the extrusion of the earth's crust.

Morse stood up in unison and walked to his side.

Perturabo looked at Magnus, who was sleeping on the ground with a painful look on his face, and said, "Is this enough to change his character?"

"Not nearly enough," Morse admitted.

Perturabo mused.

"You're right," he said, "I'll help you."

"It will take some time for my legion to get here. The specific time depends on what kind of enemies we will encounter on the rest of the way. In the meantime, is there anything you think I can do for my brother?"

"Follow your judgment." Morse said solemnly, "After all, there are three arrogant people living under this roof now. It's best for us to all have our own ideas."

It had been many years since Perturabo had stood against him like this, Morse thought.

Today, the steely Primeval regained his rebellion.

To defend his brother.

This is good. Morse thought to himself. He really likes this sincerity.

"Also, after this cruise on the vast ocean, the subspace around Prospero will enter a brief calm season in the past two days. I decided to take this opportunity to return to your ship and have a look, and be prepared, such as putting my Take out the body and let the solar wind blow."

Morse changed the subject and was satisfied to find that Perturabo stiffened.

"You will be surprised by our achievements." Perturabo said as confidently as possible, while running through the recent Iron Warriors battle status and construction reports a dozen times in his mind, "When are you going?"

"When our red-skinned giant wakes up, I will take you back to the city before leaving. I believe it is impossible for him to use his psychic powers to fly you home now."

Perturabo detects a hidden message in Morse's logic.

"You can't be in two places at the same time?" he asked.

"Unless I cut a piece off my body and keep it." Morse smiled, "I am different from you guys who have physical entities. My own structure is loose enough, so I have to keep it intact."

Before Perturabo could ask any more questions, he saw Magnus's hand shaking.

He kept his mouth shut to avoid revealing too much about Morse's form of existence.

The red giant had only been with him for less than a day, and his unbridled research proved that he could not be trusted.

"Let's guess what his first words will be," Morse whispered.

"Leave him alone for a while?" Perturabo guessed.

"That's you who likes to find a corner to sulk." Morse said, "I guess you want to take a bath."

Magnus' eyelids struggled and trembled several times before finally opening them. The color of his eyes was fixed in the contrast between black and gold.

He shook himself to prop up his weak and huge body. After all, neither of them were tall enough to support him.

The heavy confusion and depression cast a layer of misty gray on the surface of his red skin. He took a deep breath, and two tears flowed out of his unfocused, empty eyes and slid down his cheeks.

He shook his head, reached out and took off the golden and blue crown inlaid with gems that assist psychic casting, then pulled off the bracelet and threw it to the ground. After a few crisp sounds, the gorgeous gems collapsed from the gold jewelry and became dimmed.

Magnus wiped his eyes hard, shook off the tears, and then pulled the scattered mane-like red hair as far as possible to the sides of his face, revealing a sad face.

His eyes focused on Morse, and he gradually remembered the title Perturabo mentioned when chatting with him.

Since his psychic level surpassed Prospero's thousands of years of accumulation, he hadn't called someone this for a long time.

"Master, I want to learn your spell." Magnus said.

"Why?"

"Because I will never touch the subspace again."

"Why?" Morse asked.

Memories and panic flashed across Magnus' face. "There are disgusting liars out there, I... don't even mention touching them, I won't even think about them!"

"That's it?" Morse grinned sarcastically, patted Perturabo's shoulder next to him, and felt a sigh in the boy's chest.

Magnus blinked and looked at him hopefully.

"Morse, I just figured it out. Your spell is clean, isn't it?"

Despite his utter fear and loathing of psychic powers, Morse saw no introspection in the young giant's eyes.

He is now against psychic powers only because he has suffered greatly.

Giving him a spell that was lower than the threshold of psychic power, Morse dared to say that within a year, Prospero would be played until he exploded into pieces flying around in the universe.

"So much for the free teaching, Magnus. I've shown you enough."

"Whenever you can tell me why the Emperor advises you to be careful about using psychic powers, I will teach you the curse."

Morse said dryly.

"Now? I'm going back to Perturabo to see his legions."

The next moment, Morse's essence broke away from the body again. In Magnus's shocked eyes, the originally mortal-sized shell immediately became flat.

Apart from the pile of bodies, a cloth bag suddenly appeared on the spot, allowing Perturabo to carry him away.

"Let's go." Perturabo had a complicated expression. "Just now this guy said he would send us back to Tizca. He always does this."

"He just...left?" Magnus asked confused.

"Move, my brother." Perturabo turned around, "Don't let a man with legs less than one meter long walk ahead and wait for you."

Recommend "40k: Star of Colchis" by the lovely Adhera, which will be available tomorrow...*