Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

When she first started singing, the world singer Shanadol's wordless songs were impeccable in technique, but the emotion that could trigger psychic waves was far from enough. Her singing is full of confusion, and she naturally cannot put her heart into it.

Therefore, after weighing the pros and cons, Konrad Curze let the samurai at the door avoid the idle Hexakeris, and then put Xanador indoors.

The moment she beheld the misfortune of her dark kin, a sympathetic pain arose in her heart, even though as a wild Eldar she had a deep disdain for these damned fallen cousins.

The World Singer hummed softly, as if he had never felt the aura of evil and decay lingering here. He approached the crystal frozen layer of Nefertari, the natural disaster, and reached out to touch the black crystal.

The pure spiritual energy field occupies more space. Unlike the common offensive or chilling spiritual energy characteristics, there is only pure sadness and compassion in the songs of the Daughters of Isha. It is difficult to imagine an Eldar. To be able to sing such a song.

This made Konrad Coates feel a rare sense of relaxation. Since there were no seats in the room, he leaned against the wall, moved his center of gravity backwards, and listened calmly to the melodious song sung by this pure heart.

Miraculously, the World Singer did gradually suppress the deterioration of Nefertari's condition under the influence of the Corruptor's aura. But containment alone is obviously not enough.

"You feel sad for her," Conrad Coates said slowly. "Why? Think about it without answering."

Because she was hurt. Shanadore thought to herself, staring at Scourge's wounds through the black crystal. But it's more than that.

Gradually, her eyes moved towards Nefertari's face. It was a face she knew well, and not because she had met Nefertari. She had seen this face in the fields cultivated by the wild Eldar exiles, in the prayer place outside the World Temple, while playing in the streams, and when picking wild fruits from the trees.

This face is of the same blood. This is also the descendant created by the goddess Isha.

Suddenly, a tear slipped from Shanadol's face and dripped on the surface of the black glass.

At this moment, her singing no longer just belonged to her. There was a more distant and sentimental singing coming from her throat. Her spirit rose higher, shedding tears with someone who seemed to be far away in the high blue sky. of great spiritual communion.

She awakened her, and their hearts resonated in a world beyond.

In the dripping tears, the corruption is washed away by the true source of life and fades away bit by bit. The plague was driven away and turned into nothing.

Conrad Coates listened thoughtfully to the second song reverberating in the air, and suddenly realized something. He looked across the room to a distant pole.

The whereabouts of Isa, the Eldar goddess of life, are unknown, but her surviving song seems to have brought more than just the healing to the world, Nefertari, the messenger of natural disasters.

He lowered his eyes and said nothing. Soon after, he threw a scalpel he took out of the tool bag and shattered Nefertari's black crystal. Shanadol caught her and laid her down on her soft arms. Bend.

"She is there," Shanador whispered in a sleepy tone. "She is in the garden. She is crying. She is crying day and night."

"Okay, I understand." Xuehou said, "Also, you can sing to the queen. Remember to find a nice hat to cover your ears."

——

Fulgrim is always fighting. Morse felt that this was not what the Emperor expected.

The human master of the Milky Way did not expect that the will of the proud purple-robed phoenix would not only remain unwavering, but would even become more determined and indestructible. It was like a sourceless fire that had found fuel to burn and continued to radiate light.

After all, although the emperor's expression changed slightly, it did show a touch of relief.

"When will you be well?" Morse spoke to the Emperor.

He sat on the ground, channeling the Emperor's psychic power, integrating part of it into the barrier he built, to support a piece of supreme mist that was enough to temporarily offset the vicious gaze of the hungry lady from time to time - this is what he started from A mission received from the Emperor.

In addition, he carefully wrapped the surface of Olympia with another set of barriers to prevent the corruptive power from seeping into the ground. Unless something unlucky catches the plague inside the barrier, nothing will happen to Olympia.

Different from his free will when teasing Magnus, facing an ancient god who was not unaware but had consciously laid out a premeditated plan, Morse decided to hand over the rescue process to the truly powerful.

The confrontation between the Emperor and the Lord of Decay has already consumed enough energy. If it attracts the attention of the second enemy, Fulgrim may not be able to escape intact.

"He is approaching," the Emperor said. "Prepare to open the gates."

"I suggest you do it, Emperor. I guess you don't want to fail at the last moment because I terminate the mission early?"

The emperor nodded slightly: "Okay."

He stretched out his hand, and the rough fingertips showed a pressing state, as if pressing against the light-colored milky white network wall in the distance.

At first, nothing much changed. Then, with a loud rumbling sound that sounded directly within the soul, the smooth mirror-like space barrier began to slowly separate, gradually separating to both sides in the semi-reality gap, until the gap was wide enough.

In the middle of the tunnel cracks on both sides, a layer of light golden mist swirled and surged, forming an invisible door and blocking the direct connection between the interior of the webway and the real universe.

Webway Gate.

Soon, the rolling speed of the fog accelerated, and a sharp and huge shadow appeared in it, about to enter the door.

"This better work," Morse said.

——

Akulduna followed the flickering light and staggered forward in the rotting jungle.

He felt that his skin must have pits and pits as if he was suffering from a disease, and his dirty hair was being picked away by the rotten dead branches above his head in the stagnant world.

He has felt better for a long time since the light spot appeared. At least now he even has the ability to think randomly here.

Something hit him on the back, and the touch reminded him that his back armor had been completely corroded, leaving only the sticky skin. He turned around suddenly, threw the unknown object to the ground, and then groaned. , jumped forward, thrust his sword into the stomachs of several monsters that were close to him, and nailed those things to death in the mire.

Then, before this group of nasty things gathered again, Akulduna seized the time and continued to chase the golden light spot ahead.

Suddenly there was a chaotic sound in the distance, which seemed to be the sound of birds breaking through the trees, rustling. Akulduna looked out of the corner of his eye and saw burning flying leaves and sparks rolling toward the dusk sky together, flashing extremely bright light.

Fire is not a living thing, but it behaves as if it is the closest thing to life and the most energetic thing Akulduna has seen so far. The fire rushed towards the sky on its own initiative, like an immortal giant bird, licking, scratching and biting, releasing all its wildness, tearing off the pieces of dusk and throwing them on the gray-black ground covered with embers.

After this strange phenomenon occurred, Akulduna felt a little lighter again. His thoughts became clearer, closer to his original state.

The pain that was once shielded by paralysis returned to his wounds one by one. Compared with the low-consciousness state when he was seriously ill, he still liked the moments when he could clearly control his own state, even if what he regained was endless. Pain and fatigue.

Akulduna bent down and lowered his body to avoid a pool of slime flying above his head. Then, he rushed forward, raised his sword and swept and stirred the trees in front of him. After a soft and sticky leaking sound and a snapping sound like the branches breaking, a pool of pus and blood belonging to an unknown evil creature emerged from Seeping through the trees.

Akulduna shook his head, bypassed the pile of things, and left from the outside.

The light spot continued to swim at the intersection of the dense forest, leading Akul Duna to the depths of the jungle, or perhaps it was not the real depths of the corrupt jungle, but its edge.

The individual growths of green decay are diminishing, replaced by the undertones of the Emperor's Children ship itself.

The silvery iron, the gorgeous sculptures and paintings that are the crystallization of the wisdom and creativity of countless artists, the soft embroidered gold carpet on the ground... A layer of the rotten mold covering the real world has been peeled off, and the reality-based , the skeleton-like outline is re-outlined.

Akulduna began to recognize the rooms he passed and where he was. It seems that since he entered the dense forest from Fabius Bayer's laboratory, he passed through a large number of hard hull structures in an unnatural way and stepped directly into the other side of the several-kilometer-long ship.

At the same time, he also judged where the light point was going to lead him. It was the control room that controlled the direction of the ship, the steering wheel that determined which direction the Emperor's Children would move.

After advancing some distance, Akulduna was not sure whether it was the influence of adrenaline or his personal will that was pushing his body forward. The pain in his legs was beyond limit, almost like a permanent mark, permanently curled into his bones and burning his nerves.

Both of his swords were rusted in different ways. Timur's horse's head was broken and missing, while Athena's sword blade was stuck in the bones of an evil creature from before. As for the armor, few pieces seemed to be still attached to his neural interface.

Behind him, the fire like wings of fire shined on the back of his head in a way that was beyond the comprehension of reality, gently pushing him, supporting him, and helping him to continue moving forward.

At last Akulduna saw the door, covered in thick vines, crusted with mud, and filthy and smelly, exuding the same unpleasant odor as Akulduna himself. The golden light stopped at the door for a moment, waiting for him to arrive, and then suddenly got into the door.

The swordsman master ignored the small yellow and white insects crawling around. He patted the blade of his sword to show comfort, and then forced a sword into the place where the door should theoretically exist, using some clever force.

Dust fell, stones, tree roots and other things fell down, and then, with a snapping sound, his sword broke into two pieces, and some broken iron slag penetrated into his skin.

Akulduna followed the sword and found a small crack in the iron door that was pried open. He stuck his fingers in hard and tried to open the door little by little. This was too difficult for the Astartes. Even Akulduna in full condition could not open the hatch of the bridge cab with bare hands after the machinery stopped operating.

His phalanges warned him painfully, parts of the bone being pulled out of position and parts breaking.

After a while, a distant song came and went leisurely, bringing about a wonderful turn of events. Within a few seconds, the power in Akulduna's body suddenly became full. He seized the opportunity, pulled open the hatch, and then threw himself to the ground. Due to the imbalance of inertia and fatigue, he fell into the mud. His knees and elbows hit the ground. In the process, he was unfortunately cut by the sword. There was a cut on the leg.

Akulduna rolled over, gasped, then staggered back to his feet. The light spot was resting on the console used for steering, emitting a cold light.

He wiped the remaining sword at hand and gently comforted it, as if he were facing their prosthetic body with a steely hand.

Then, he used this weapon that had killed countless enemies to diligently begin to remove the thick mud, blood, pus and other caked-on things on the console.

"It's time to tell me what you're going to do," he whispered, startled by his ugly voice, and continued to use his sword to cut away and peel away the filth covering the console. "Where do you want me to take the boat?"

The light spot floated upwards, guiding Akulduna's sight outside the wide curved cabin window. His eyes lit up at what he saw.

Outside the rotting garden, wherever you look, the pure black universe has been replaced by a door of mist that suddenly appears and swims with golden electric light. It shone softly, seemed to have a limited height, and seemed to be extending to the infinite distance around it. It seemed to contain endless mysteries and mysteries, welcoming the ship's depth.

Akulduna threw the spent sword aside, found the correct handles and buttons, and operated them in order. Soon, the ships parked on the spot began to move towards the door.

——

Fulgrim heard thunder.

Golden thunder and lightning exploded in his ears, and the lightning and the flames on the flaming sword ignited each other, creating a huge power. It was like a primer that helped him find the direction to unleash his true power. He didn't know where this seemingly endless energy came from, but it was a part of him that never went out.

The high heat from the hilt reached his palms, and sweat flowed down his chest and back, evaporating before he hit the ground. Instead, what really fell was the flame. The golden flame fell on the surface of the ashes, and brilliant flowers of fire immediately exploded.

Dirt, cleansing, evil, bright, shame, honor, fear, confidence, arrogance, humility, sin, righteous deeds, shortcomings, perfection... these are no longer important.

The only thing that matters is fire, and only fire. The only beautiful thing is burning. From the time humans light the first bonfire at night to the extinguishing of the last torch in the endless future, the only thing beautiful enough has always been burning.

Fulgrim had never seen anything more dazzling. It was his wings, his ankles, his ribs and cheeks, the source of his life.

He saw himself in the flames, with his bright red robe, golden sword, and translucent body. Then he saw Chemos, the bright factory windows in the middle of the night, the long dry rivers, the drained plains, the skinny faces, his imperfect planet. The world he first entered, the shortcomings of everything he once had.

The flames continued to burn, and he saw more, birds in the fire, fish in the clear water, beasts covered in fur; the armor of the enemy who fell under the sword, the brief moment when he led the purple-gold army to swing the sword forward, announcing a The moment of a solemn oath, the roaring flames in the furnace when he first met Ferus on Terra, everything he once had was good.

Finally, there is the Emperor, covered in golden armor, with the head and wings of an aquila spread out on his shoulders, and the blue fire in his claws. That ancient face was so noble and resolute, and its shining golden eyes held endless promises and unattainable faith for the future.

The Emperor stared at him and held out a hand to him.

Fulgrim smiled back, and the fire cloak ignited by the ashes of the undead changed form and attached to the flaming sword. Devote yourself to the fire and go to the dead for eternity.

"For the Emperor's Children," Phoenix said, slicing the flaming sword into one of his own hearts.

The fire on the sword became stronger and stronger, and began to expand destructively in the blink of an eye, using Fulgrim himself as the carrier, burning to the ground. This time the burning was more intense than any previous one. The crackling sound of pure flames is like the world turning into broken glass, as if it is burning the whole world, burning to the end of space and the end of time.

Under the huge fire and the flames of the storm that burned the sky, the screams and wails of the demons were buried and ignored. Together with the dead branches, gravel, plants, and mud that could not make a sound, they were the least worth mentioning in the raging fire scene. A part of them died in the flames of the Third Legion with their decaying lives.

Some things began to flee, crawling darkly in the soft mud deep in the ground, rustling and running hastily.

They were moving very fast, desperately trying to stay away from the blazing phoenix standing proudly in the ashes, but they found that they were suddenly blocked by a white barrier sweeping from all dimensions. The edge of the garden that once belonged to the garden was blocked by this barrier. The white wall was cut off, the rotten soil disappeared, and turned into a steep edge cut directly by the white light, extending into the void. The red gold runes are mixed with powerful golden spiritual energy, attached to the milky white tunnel wall, firmly resisting external prying eyes.

The ship has entered the channel built to Olympia.

Here, a corner of the garden is cut out from the subspace and is directly sealed in a fixed space, completely isolated from the colorful and vast ocean.

In the center of the garden, the Rot sighed in its black house.

Using Magnus's Thutmons rune as the basis for cutting off internal and external psychic energy, combined with the powerful cold psychic energy used by the Emperor to maintain the balance of internal and external pressure, combined with Morse's spell system, through the real space The physical location change will isolate a corner of the garden attached to the ship located inside the Webway, and imprison the chaotic energy within the Webway.

Then came the burning.

The fire of the Phoenix from the inside out, and the solar flames of the Emperor of Mankind from the outside in, ignited from the flaming sword ignited by the blood of the Phoenix, and also glowed from the Emperor's long sword pointed at the ship from a distance A torrent of artillery fire rushed towards the contaminated cremation place.

In the place where reality and surreality contrast, double flames sweep into a purifying storm that shatters the earth, causing dazzling white light to burst out from every gap in the ship. In an instant, it converges into straight beams of light, shining in multiple directions at the same time. .

The enemies of the raging fire had nowhere to escape. They quickly disappeared and retreated, fading away from Zijin's ship, returning reality to the ship that had been thoroughly purified by fire.

Akulduna knew that he had fulfilled his duty and fell down in the cab, looking at the pure fire in the distance, quietly lost in thought. After the battle, other soldiers fell unconscious on the ground, waiting for extensive rescue and healing. Generally speaking, most of the thousands of original crew members in the ship did not survive the corruption of Chaos, and the survivors knelt beside their comrades washed by the flames, shedding tears.

After the burning, the Emperor slowly lowered his sword.

Morse put away the barrier, erased several runes on the ground, and disabled the magic circle. The remaining Primarchs returned to where the Emperor was and followed him.

The flame goes out. They set out on the Webway. The Emperor strode forward, unwavering. The space-time within the Webway has special properties beyond human knowledge, and soon they arrive on the deck of the ship.

Fulgrim knelt in the ashes, naked, his purple robe was burned into blackened ashes, half of his silver-white hair was burned off, and his left face and left hand were completely turned into ashes. He closed his eyes and held the hilt of the deformed flaming sword tightly with his right hand. The long sword penetrated his slightly undulating chest, still emitting a low-temperature burning red light.

The Emperor raised his hand, then lowered it. Mors knew that he was going to bathe Fulgrim in golden light, but then discovered that the phoenix in the ashes did not need additional purification.

His soul is clean and new.

Magnus hurried forward, leaned down, stretched out his hands, and carefully observed whether Fulgrim needed help. He frowned uneasily and looked at the Emperor, not knowing how to deal with Fulgrim's heart-piercing sword.

Perturabo looked at Fulgrim's left hand. If Fulgrim needed it, he could make him a prosthetic limb.

Angron is the most peaceful person. He heard the tranquility in Fulgrim's heart, and a smile appeared on his face.

The Emperor stepped forward, bowed his head, and placed one hand on Fulgrim's head.

+Do you believe in what you are about to do? + He asked with his spiritual power, because Phoenix could not speak at this time.

+Father, I believe it. +

The Emperor's hand grasped the hilt of the sword in Fulgrim's hand, and Fulgrim's fingers finally slipped away from his grip until they turned white.

+According to your faith, you can make it perfect for yourself. +

He drew his sword. No blood. No wounds. Only her white skin remained unscathed.

Among the ashes, Phoenix's heart resumed beating in his chest.