Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Morse leaned against the window, and through the slanted glass window of the treatment room in the third inner sector of the Cheorwon, he could see the silhouette of half of Olympia. Green and harmonious, surrounded by steel strips like pearl necklaces, floating in the quiet universe.

He was not sure whether the temporary protective layer he had added to Olympia's surface had played its due role, or whether the particularly dirty and corrupt one among the Dark Gods had not projected its power into this lush, quasi-garden. In the ordinary beautiful world, Olympia was not destroyed in this sudden crisis.

This made the Iron Lord really relieved.

The craftsman turned around and looked at Fulgrim, who was leaning on the headboard of the hospital bed, and Perturabo, who had pulled up a chair and sat beside him.

On a bed next to them, Second Captain A'kulduna of the Emperor's Children lay in the middle of the bed - everything in this room was designed to the dimensions required by the Primarch, so A'ku was still in a comatose state. Erduna was indeed lying in the middle of the bed, with his head, feet and sides of his body all a good distance away from the edge of the bed.

The left half of Fulgrim's face was wrapped in gauze, and his left hand was currently placed under the snow-white quilt, but it was not difficult to see that it was missing from the wrist down.

However, his energy was unexpectedly good. At this time, he saw his brother smiling and chatting with him about the strange experiences he had before waking up, as well as some of his current thoughts. The tone was not dull, but he was indeed very emotional.

Mors had no intention of eavesdropping on the brothers' heartfelt exchanges. His mind had already wandered thousands of miles away, and he kept thinking of Fulgrim's half-intact face.

If there was any obvious change in the Purple Phoenix, it would be his eyes.

Once, since its birth, it was a pair of purple clear crystals, containing boundless brilliance inside. But now, that radiant tone has become restrained, no longer flashing dazzling light all the time, but in the center of the pupils, there is a little golden red fire.

"Morse?" Perturabo suddenly called him in the middle of the conversation.

"What's the matter?" He came back to his senses and turned half his face from the window. If the furniture in this original-size room wasn't too bulky, he would have definitely found a chair to sit on.

"Has the Emperor issued an order allowing Fulgrim to learn more about what we are currently doing?"

Morse laughed. "Your respected and almighty golden father did not give permission for words, but if he wanted to hide it from Fulgrim, you would not have the opportunity to discuss it here now. Just watch and say, I believe the Emperor Wouldn’t mind.”

Frankly speaking, when it comes to handling confidential matters, I wonder if the existence of acquaintances affects his judgment, but he still trusts the Lord of Iron more.

"Okay," Perturabo nodded, "My brother, I hope you can keep what I say next..."

"Wait a minute," Morse interrupted temporarily, "doesn't anyone think Akulduna's breathing is noisy?"

He immediately erected a barrier, causing the golden runes to float in the air, showing different sides at different angles, unified as a component of a complex isolation rune.

The sound transmission between the Primarchs and the still unconscious swordsman was completely cut off.

"How can the breathing of warriors be considered noise?" Fulgrim said in a playful little tone of condemnation, "I am proud of their existence."

"You are very good at discovering the advantages of others, Fulgrim, while Mors tends to focus on the shortcomings of others." Perturabo said with a sullen face.

"Oh, Ferus also said the first half of the sentence." Phoenix blinked, "I'm not sure how to tell him about this yet. I also want to ask him to get me a steel hand."

"There is also an Iron Eye," Morse said. "I think the next time you meet a new Primarch, you can ask him to guess who is the Primarch of the Iron Hands."

——

Sitting in the front row of the Golden Theater, Iskandar Kayan returned to the seat where he sat when he last watched the play, and suddenly felt a little empty around him.

After Telemanon Lylas fell three times while walking a long distance of ten meters, he was carried by the Iron Warriors' Apothecary and thrown back to the bed, so he missed the Emperor's appearance.

And on his side, among the teams of the Sons of the Muses, Nefertari was nowhere to be seen, and she didn't know where she was at this time.

Before the play started, he could only look at the Primarch Magnus in the front row, who was chatting happily with other brothers, to relieve the boredom of sitting there.

He should learn from Azak Ahriman, the chief of the Black Crow School, and master the state of mind that allows him to go deep into his heart at any time, hold his breath and meditate peacefully amidst the noise and disturbance around him.

Kayon was the first audience to arrive at the theater, and after that, Astartes and local residents continued to take their seats. Gradually, the etheric aura lingering around him seemed to touch some particularly pure and clear soul power, spreading in the air.

He turned his head to look and found that it was a son of the Muse that he had never seen before. A green leaf crown came from the back of his head to cover his ears, and his hair was tied into a high bundle and was as red as spring. Even the clothes are not as dark as the night like other members of the Eighth Legion, but are wearing pure white robes with the local characteristics of Olympia.

She is not like a mortal warrior, but like a dancer or singer about to take the stage.

Kayon swore that he just looked her over, but her extraordinary keen perception had already responded to this, "Excuse me, is there anything wrong with my clothes?"

She asked curiously, pulling her crown down to cover her ears more tightly.

"Oh, no." Kayon replied, "I haven't seen you."

"No one but our Master has seen all the Children of the Muses, I suppose," she said, her voice clear and beautiful.

"I've seen more than others, and I know a few of them, such as Nefertari. Well, do you know her?" Kayon asked casually.

"Are you her friend?" This aroused the curiosity of the son of the Muse.

"No, I have no way to contact her."

"Hmm..." She thought for a while, "If you can contact our 21st Team, you can find her. May fate favor you, human warrior. I'm going to go backstage to prepare. Goodbye, Iskandar ·Kayon.”

——

Under the desolate twilight, the swamp spreads out to the softened edge of the stage. The phantom of the wasteland spreads outward along the swamp until it fills the entire venue.

Inside the theater, the sky is like a huge lead plate, creating a depressing atmosphere; the wind is cold and humid, with the rotten smell unique to the swamp.

Between the two rows of auditoriums, a muddy road stretched like a passage to the abyss of despair, leading directly to the stage that had turned into a swamp—the forbidden land occupied by the evil dragon. In order to take care of the audience's feelings, the grass like knives only grows extremely lush, as if it wants to devour all the lives that pass by.

Deep inside the stage, the entrance to the backstage has become a looming nest built of darkness and fear. The ground around the lair was corroded by the dragon's venom, revealing a strange disease-like dark brown color, and puffs of smoke occasionally emitted, just like the gate of a hell garden.

In the set, many city residents played by Iron Warriors put on simple cloth robes and held torches. The firelight swayed in the wind. From time to time, the cries of children were dubbed in advance, intertwined with the comfort of parents, forming a A sad whisper.

"Alas, there is no cure for the pain in my heart! The sons of this country will fall under the dragon's mouth. How sad! My people, our hopes disappear like the morning dew."

The narrator, played by Califon, was responsible for dubbing behind the scenes. In front of the stage, since the original bodies were all male, Morse simply changed the princess chosen as a sacrifice in the story to a prince, and then used his psychic powers to create a Horu The image of S. Lupekar makes him walk from the back of the theater along the road to the center of the stage.

As for dubbing, this task was handed over to Horus himself, who had been waiting for it for a long time on the other side of the galaxy.

"My lord, my subjects, even though I have traveled to death's door, I have no regrets. If I die here today, I can exchange for peace in the universe under the blue sky, then I will dedicate my heart to My soul and destiny are presented together, let the blood flow from my body!"

The sincere voice of Horus Luperkar was spoken by his phantom through some small spell.

He successfully touched the minds of the audience, and they all worriedly speculated whether the prince would be the deceased in this drama - after all, in every drama that Morse had made up before, a leading actor had to die.

Just at this moment, the sound of horse hooves came from outside.

The golden light suddenly appeared, and a magnificent and far-reaching pressure descended from the sky, like the rain in a drought or the sun in the long night, bringing endless dawn-like omens. This majestic power filled the entire theater in an instant, like a boundless sea of ​​light, causing the surrounding shadows to instantly recede, turning all kinds of light and dark colors infinitely into the brilliant golden light, and the cold dawn melted into the air. It drips on the surface and penetrates deep into the skin and soul, calming the restless and making the thirsty cry.

A figure appeared from behind the theater, leading a golden, real horse. He held a golden flame sword engraved with runes in his right hand, and an immortal bird with fire feathers perched on his left shoulder. He walked out of the bright light. . His long hair is as black as late night, hanging down his shoulders, and he wears a golden crown like a sun wheel. The white light on the back of his head is bright, like the rising sun, marking the visitor's extraordinary identity and mission, or symbolizing that he is the eternal sun itself.

That armor has gone beyond the simplest symbol of protection. It is forged from a shining gold-like metal. The craftsmanship has already surpassed the limits of ordinary people. It is like it itself is the holy word of battle and protection, shining with enough light to blind. The blinding light of all evil. His arrival cleansed the souls of all those who witnessed this moment, and many even shed tears and knelt down even if no one asked.

No need to ask. This is undoubtedly the main character of this play, Saint George, the legendary dragon-slaying hero.

St. George led his horse and walked silently through the crowd of spectators. The firebird on his shoulder sang loudly and clearly, and without the need for St. George himself to speak, the emperor's voice penetrated directly through the defenses of space and soul, spreading throughout everyone's hearts.

+Where is the desolate sound? Who is lamenting here? I walk on the road of light, willing to thwart evil and sin, and help those in need and danger. +

"Alas, warrior, ahead is the dragon soul that devours the world. Our prince, the selfless wolf god, is about to sacrifice to this monster." Kalifon continued.

+Stop this sorrow and collect your tears. I swear to use my own strength to cut off the head of this evil dragon and give you eternal peace. +

The Firebird carries orders from the Emperor.

+If your hearts turn towards the light, this dragon will definitely kill you with one sword. +

After the rehearsal, the Iron Warriors all spoke together: "Saint George, we are willing to follow you, believe in the light, and abandon the darkness forever!"

The Emperor released his steed, causing his mount to disappear into the air. He stepped onto the stage with Horus Luperkar behind him, and the sky became even more cloudy, as if the world was holding its breath in anticipation of the upcoming showdown.

Deep in the deep stage, in that terrifying lair, darkness is constantly surging like a whirlpool at the bottom of the vast deep sea.

As the Emperor's light waded into the swamp and approached the lair, an extremely huge evil dragon finally emerged from the darkness. Under the shroud and cover of the black mist, four heads were still visible on its neck. , bite each other, and at the same time spy on the saint of light, with evil light shining in his ugly eyes, and he can seize the life and wisdom of all living beings just by breathing.

St. George stood small in front of this giant. The flaming sword in his hand burned even more fiercely, and the golden armor shone brightly in the gray sky.

The dragon heads each show terrifying power, and the power of each head is enough to easily destroy the world. One of them spits out blazing flames, exaggerating the furious fighting spirit; the second spits out smoldering will-o'-the-wisps, with a sharp and ferocious smile; the third exhales deadly poisonous gas, corroding all things; the fourth is especially twisted and weird, dripping sticky fragrant poisonous blood.

Under the cover of the black mist, the audience did not react too much to the transformed enemy, but they were still horrified and looked at Saint George, hoping to get the blessing of light from him.

When the battle broke out, the four evil dragons attacked at the same time, and their evil power gathered into a storm that devoured everything. Fire and ice intertwined, and poisonous gas and darkness spread.

St. George drew his sword and stepped forward. The golden armor shone with the light of dawn. Each swing of the blade cut away a piece of the chronic disease of darkness. Four forces collided fiercely in the dark background, and various ancient powers intertwined in the air, creating a magnificent scene. The bird of fire soared into the sky and sang around the place, spreading bright hope.

In chop after chop, his sword first penetrated the first dragon head, and the violent flames of war miraculously merged with the light of the saint, emitting a unified light. Immediately afterwards, the other two dragon heads were cut off, and the power inside them was decomposed and reconstructed, and finally became part of the burning fire on the long sword. It was captured, transformed, and used by the saint. Every successful attack was like a ignition. The candle engulfs the darkness with its light.

Finally, when the last head of the evil dragon was cut off, the power of darkness and blasphemy completely collapsed under the impact of light. The last traces of darkness were driven away, the swamps were covered with unprecedented light, and the world was given life again.

St. George raised his sword, and thousands of light strips separated from the sword, turning into eternal chains, dragging the dragon's corpse into the ground, forever imprisoning it in the abyss of silence and void, with no possibility of appearing in the world again.

The firebird flew back over St. George's shoulder, and the illusion of swamps and grass gently faded, revealing the original appearance of the theater. The Emperor put away his sword and faced everyone with his golden armor still on.

The phantom of Horus walked towards the Emperor and knelt before him.

The Emperor bowed his head and spoke to Horus.

+ Do not be afraid, for I am with you; I will strengthen you and help you, and I will uphold you with my right hand of righteousness. +

+I wipe away all your tears. There will be no more death, nor mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. The thoughts I have for you are thoughts of peace, to give you a future and hope. +

He stretched out his hand to Horus, pulled up the phantom of the Returned Son, and stood beside him.

Then, the Emperor raised his head and looked at the silent theater with a sound like thunder.

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth do I give. Let not your hearts be troubled, nor let them be afraid. He who is called according to my purpose shall be among all nations. You who are my people will find rest for your souls.”