Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"Perturabo, listen to me," Conrad Coze tapped his fingers on the table, maintaining communication with the mechanical Perturabo, "even though the future is unpredictable and the facts are unpredictable... Even though the future may have changed, no one can guarantee that the following events will still happen in our world, and I still want to tell you this.

"I believe you know part of the truth about the Warp," he continued, "and in my prophecy, we are all the Fallen of the High. Don't ask, it's a fact. The same goes for Fulgrim. Unlike us. But he chose a master to indulge in pleasure and desire.”

Bliss.

Perturabo immediately completed his judgment. He did not interrupt Conrad Coates.

"Stay alert, my brother. Over."

A mechanical beep sounded, and the communication came to an end. Conrad Coates sat back in his seat, suddenly tired from the prophecy.

The Ancient Spirit Empire has already used countless bloody examples to prove that whether it is compliance or disobedience, as long as the hidden destiny is discovered, prophecies will often turn into disasters. The best prophecy is the prophecy of non-existence.

But he couldn't remain silent.

Conrad Coates sincerely wishes he had not personally tested this unfortunate rule once again.

He stepped out of the cabin door of the transport plane that had arrived at the tarmac of the Talfus Mountain Tower and walked down the metal steps.

At this time, the ongoing mortal events in Olympia were progressing smoothly, and the overall equestrian competition was coming to an end. The grand theater built by Perturabo had hung the curtains and set up the stage, and was ready for the final curtain call. On the lush green earth, all living things are thriving.

But the Eighth Primarch was in no mood to watch any cheering sporting event. He looked to the sky, where the low-Earth orbit ring was, and knew he had done all he could.

The discomfort caused by the occasional vision gradually subsided from his chest, and Curze coughed lightly and exhaled his last breath.

He prepared to call the signal tower and contact his flagship instead, asking Hexakeris to come to see him.

The dataslate suddenly lit up before he could touch it. He frowned, his expression worsened, and he approved the communication application.

"Father," came the urgent voice of the Astartes warrior, "The Sons of the Muses wish to speak with you. They say that Nefertari, the Scourge Sun-Eater, is cursed."

Curze made his decision in an instant. "You, contact the flagship and order Hexakeris to set off immediately to meet me at the Son of Muse temporary camp."

——

"What do you think?" Perturabo said to Morse deep in the unfinished webway.

During the construction of the Webway, the rune system built under the leadership of Magnus worked well; the Thutmons rune shielded the psychic effects from the outside as much as possible. Similarly, the internal psychic effects associated with the subspace It can react but cannot touch the outside world. Spells are almost the only way to successfully pass through the barrier.

"You heard me, Emperor," Morse said. "Tell me, do you want to continue to shine with your golden light and sit idly by while we ordinary people are worried and unable to move forward?"

"Perturabo, Angron, Magnus, depart," the Emperor said calmly, his words filled with precisely crafted majesty. "You stay, Eternal One."

Although several Primarchs were surprised, they still resigned obediently. A faintly glowing symbol appeared at the Emperor's feet, including himself and Morse.

"What are you going to do?" Morse was confused.

The Emperor said nothing. His great spiritual energy became as thick as a mist, squeezing the limited space uneasily, like a huge net, tightening uncontrollably.

"I need to try something important." The Lord of Humanity said, his shining golden eyes looking in an extremely distant direction as always, as if they could penetrate time. "This requires your help. If the attempt fails, this matter will never be mentioned again."

"What about success?" Morse asked, of course.

"Then we will gain more obstacles," the Emperor said, and the golden mist gathered and dispersed.

The endless spider web-like walls separate the interior of the Webway from the vast ocean, and the projection of the real universe hangs upside down on the other side of the horizon.

Morse recognized one of the planets at first sight - they had successfully excavated to the outside of the planet, and only needed a door that connected the two realms to directly connect to it.

Olympia, the joy and joy that overflowed on this planet stirred up bright and colorful waves in the subspace. At this moment, this wave was stained by a strange color. The blasphemous stain was like the flaws on the surface of jade, which was annoying. Disgusted.

But before being disgusted, the first thing Morse experienced was a considerable degree of surprise and confusion.

His protection over Olympia had eroded over nearly forty years. At this time, it is indeed not impossible that this planet will once again fall into the covetous prying eyes of some beings.

But that shouldn't be it.

"Conrad Curze's prophecy was wrong." The Emperor said slowly, watching the scene outside the webway intently, as if waiting for something.

"St. George slays the dragon," Morse said suddenly. "The play I wrote for you."

"Okay." The emperor nodded slightly, "I understand."

——

Akul Duna did not bring a suitable fire-breathing weapon, which is enough to show that Fulgrim did not want to destroy his chief potion before being truly angered by the evidence of what Fabius Bile had done. All achievements of the teacher.

But Fabius Bayer proved to have failed the Primarch's expectations and trust.

"We are all from Terra," Fabius Bair advised sadly. "We have all experienced that dark period. When the Third Legion was infected with the blight, didn't you feel sad, Akul? Duna? You should understand my decision, I must save our lives from the pain."

Suddenly, his voice was drowned out by the roar of water.

Akulduna has never been an unattainable person, but at this moment, he refused to listen to any word that came out of Fabius Bayer's mouth.

The blade of the master swordsman slashed through every storage tank in use, and then the bolter smashed the flesh and blood tissue or twisted creation that dripped from the tank.

The nutrient-rich fluids mingled with each other, forming a shallow, swamp-like puddle, exuding a disgusting oily vapor and rippling stickyly on the outside of the Emperor's Children's intricately carved and decorated purple and gold boots.

Half of Fabius's own face was reflected on the glass surface of the broken vessel. Despair, distortion, a decay that did not fit the face of an Astartes.

This fool who knows swordsmanship should really be grateful that his interest is not in cultivating viruses, Fabius thought angrily, but even this anger seemed powerless in front of the reality he faced.

"Stop, Captain," said the pharmacist, making his final struggle. Fulgrim suddenly broke in while he was conducting experiments, and he had no tools at hand that could be used to resist.

"You don't understand dispensing. Let me get on with your work. You don't understand what might happen when these things are mixed together."

Akulduna didn't even want to pay attention for a moment. He picked up a can on the wooden stand, threw it to the ground and smashed it.

A series of explosive reactions took place between the contents flowing out of it and the materials on the ground, and then both turned into inactive charred black mud.

Well, he was wrong. Fabius' despair piled up like mud, and the hope in his heart gradually disappeared.

Akulduna is not good at dealing with biological sciences, but this warrior is just the kind of person who likes to face difficulties. He said that only in areas where there is no talent can individuals achieve perfection that is different from the perfection that comes with innateness.

Maybe Akul Duna doesn't know much about biotechnology, but it is enough for a destruction.

It's enough.

He has lost enough.

The flowing mucus touched Fabius's knees, sending a chill that penetrated deep into his skin. He felt dazed and numb, his consciousness was being squeezed by the increasingly intense despair, and reality was leaving him.

Even though he still retains the precious knowledge in his mind, no laboratory door will be open to him again. More than just lab doors.

His life was denied.

The illness that haunted the entire legion many years ago and first appeared in him seemed to have returned to Fabius Bayer's body.

The peeling feeling of life deep inside his body climbed up along the nerves connected to his servo arm and entered his spinal cord and brain, resulting in a hallucinatory buzz that echoed in his ears, like buzzing flies.

In the midst of mental confusion, these insects that should not exist seem to have taken on physical form. The incandescent lamps in the laboratory turned into dim dusk, and the torn and severed curtains seemed to have long since decayed, leaving a layer of dark light floating around.

The viscosity of the nutrient solution is still rising, approaching the texture of pus.

Fabius turned his head slowly and indifferently, a feeling of pulling pushing him to complete this action.

Akulduna, in his vision, the sword master's body was still fresh and beautiful. He had never been bound and troubled by disease, or was chased by death. He devotes his passion to every aspect of the world, full of hope and sincerity.

Like a grim contrast, the blight left no trace on Akulduna, but took root latently in Fabius Bayer, where it became a concept of constant decay, as the soul Gangrene, collapsing in silence.

Fabius Bayer is a genius. On the genetic road, his perfection paved the way for him.

But before Fulgrim returned to the Legion and brought his perfect manifesto into the Third Legion, before he was summoned by the Gene Father, he had already begun to explore the ultimate mysteries of living things. This certainly does not stem from a search for perfection.

This stems from the fear of a particularly ruthless pole in the cycle of life and death that accompanies the blight.

What he seeks is immortality.

…You seek immortality, Fabius. Your pain will end, the apothecary who makes the soup...

Peaceful and warm, in the vague whispers, Fabius's will was gently supported. He was so immersed in it that he could hardly think.

...We are waiting for you and looking forward to you. Listen, we have collected for you the music that you like very much in your spare time of scientific research. We made strings out of the best rotten gut.

Waiting for me?

…Grandpa sees you, our new friend. We have been watching you for a long time, your attendants who don’t want to be seen by others, the samples you sealed, the bacteria you cultivated, we have always been among them, waiting for a birth...

I see.

…Hello so sad, new friend. How sad is your despair, who hurt your heart? Allow us to cheer you up, okay?

No.

...Oh, good friend, it doesn’t matter, grandpa still loves you. Your genetic father, he despises you, but your grandfather will not abandon you, just like the endless cycle of life and death.

No.

…Dear friends, there is no more death in our gardens. After that initial break, you will be immortal. Do you want it? We can give it to you...

immortal?

Fabius's floating will wavered for a ten thousandth of a second in an extremely tiny moment, and at this eternal moment, the runes protecting his genes lost their effectiveness and withered under the active abandonment of his promise. The disease broke out quickly, eating him up from the inside.

Immediately afterwards, another force came in, filling his hollowed-out shell and supporting his weak skin.

"Akulduna," Fabius said, listening to his voice had become a torture for the person he was speaking to. It was an overly dry, overly dull noise that filled the air like falling ash.

"I made a mistake," the pharmacist muttered.

Akulduna turned around and pressed his sword against the slime on the ground.

"Oh, it's too late," the swordsman said, "I can't tell you it's okay on behalf of anyone else."

Fabius felt the swordsman's sharp observation eyes falling on his face, and he seemed to be wary of Fabius's changes.

He did not remain angry, the emotion had left him.

Fabius Bayer smiled. "Let me finish your work, Akulduna."

"I won't trouble you, Fabius." The swordsman refused him, "You'd better stay where you are and wait for Lord Fulgrim's judgment. However, your face..."

Suddenly, the swordsman lowered his head, and the sword tip instantly rotated in a circle, cutting off something. He stared at his feet, a look of horror in his beautiful eyes.

The remains of the servitor were lying motionless against his boots. The brown-black liquid dripping from the broken neck slid down drop by drop and dissolved into the viscous liquid beneath him.

One of its arms was cut off easily from the wrist by a sharp sword, just as easily as cutting through a ball of rotten cotton. And its palm, even after breaking, still grasped Akulduna's ankle tightly and refused to let go.

Behind the swordsman, dozens of life-saving capsules were shattered at the same time.

Akulduna had no intention of opening these ancient, decayed, moldy, sealed samples covered with coagulated dirty blood and unknown bacteria without protection, but at this time they were all broken by unknown forces.

The filthy filth poured out, and pale skin fragments and curled creatures were like withered tree bark, splashing out chaotically, inevitably pouring on Akulduna's back.

The swordsman tried in vain to block some of the thick juice with two thin swords. His usually sharp sword moves were unable to deal with the uncut rotten water at this time.

"This is...my first...research on blight." Fabius said slowly, like an aging tape recorder, mechanically playing back the words he had said.

His eyes suddenly widened, and vitality briefly returned to his face, which was lit with anger. Fabius Bayer made his last effort, shouting painfully with a hoarse voice that was completely different from his usual calmness: "No! Get out! I don't need..."

His own voice suddenly paused. Fabius's rickety body bent over, spitting out a mouthful of brown-black blood, mixed with tangled internal organ fragments. The degree of decay was exactly the same as the blood in the body of his long-tested servant.

Then the pharmacist resumed his tolerant smile. The skin on his face gradually withered and shrank, crumbling and falling like dust from scale wings.

Akulduna couldn't help but cough. He suppressed the sticky feeling in his throat and tightened his mouth when he heard that every breath he took brought up a thin and sharp roar from his lungs.

The rotten things on the ground turned into deep swamps, and insects swam in and out of the mire. The door to the laboratory was still open, but it would obviously lead to the depths of another mire where the stench was surging.

He held his breath and looked at the walking corpse standing up from the ground with a shaky head. He gripped the long sword and cut it into two pieces with smooth sword skills. Sorry, Lycaon. he thinks.

The walking corpse fell, and Akulduna looked around, only to see festering scenes everywhere, and the leaves were whirling like endless moths.

There was no escape in all directions, Fabius Bayer had disappeared.