Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"At that time, I couldn't help but wonder where we would go after the Great Crusade.

"Nyos needs us, but he won't need us forever; I worry about the fate of Perturabo and the Iron Warriors, and the position that these lives so similar to humans will eventually get in the human empire.

"But today, No. 11, you gave me the answer, and I couldn't help but be surprised, because we are really willing to choose this path ourselves."-"The Craftsman's Notes"

Lion El'Jonson sat in the center of the ivory and onyx throne, and the heavy cloak with deep purple and gold edges fell down along the lines of his body, wrapping the black armor of the lion king in the luxurious robe. Just sitting on this throne, without a word or movement, he is already a natural king, and under his seat, it seems that everyone has surrendered.

He closed his eyes slightly, lowered his gaze, and placed one hand on the carved armrest to support his white stone face. His mind was immersed in the distant end of the world.

69 Book Bar

Two Space Marines stood by, executing basic information dispatch and command in silence, with no intention of disturbing their master's mind, even though the sound of gunfire and war roars echoing in the hall had become a background sound that seemed to never stop, dissolving any noise that was not noisy enough in the echo of the battle.

"The first one," Luther said, watching a Randan alien disintegrate into the depths of the universe on the holographic screen in front of them, two pairs of wings fell to both sides in the burning flames, and the torso was like being involved in the eternal dark matter, shrinking inwards in an instant and then disappearing.

Even though this was not the first time he had witnessed a strange beast-not to mention the years of battle, he had witnessed many terrifying beasts when he was on Caliban, but every time he saw the enemy they were facing now, he was still deeply shocked.

From the strange traitorous controlled beings outside Randan, to the insect and marine life-shaped warships that can be seen everywhere since entering the sentinel range, to the bloody mountains and dead skeletons on land, all of these are too small and too dim compared to the enemies that the Dark Angels are facing now.

No, what they see now is not ugly, but a more glorious and more exquisite existence, the upgraded bodies of those dead giant skeletons that are still alive.

They are tall and magnificent, with a body length of more than ten kilometers. There are slight differences in their shapes, but most of them can clearly distinguish the torso of the upper body and the scaly or bony fishtail of the lower body. Their head shapes vary from teardrop to ellipsoid, and the number of eyes is not certain, but most of them show perfect and elegant symmetry, with a peaceful expression and no pain.

Pairs of huge wings with a wingspan twice their body length are embedded in their backs. Sometimes they are wings that reflect the sunlight of the stars and refract colorful light, sometimes they are hard and stretched membrane wings, or even snow-white bone wings covered with only a transparent gelatinous skin.

From various angles, the creatures they are most similar to are no longer the aliens hated by the human empire, but are similar to the angels from above in the carvings and paintings of the ancient religions that have long been burned at the call of the Emperor.

No one knows why in the heart of the aliens, their appearance is similar to the legendary appearance in the ancient history of mankind. No, perhaps their master knows, Luther thought, looking back at the sleeping figure of Lion El'Jonson in the mirror-like smooth metal reflection.

A few hours ago, Lion El'Jonson personally entered the navigation room and used his dark green eyes to find a path in the sky that no one knew the principle, leading them to find the traces of these angels.

The First Primarch must know more than them. Even as his closest deputy commander, Luther could not tell when Lion had the opportunity to learn more information.

"The second one." Hou Guin said, pressing several control units next to the projection with his fingers. The deep green light marked a planet surrounded by three angels, "The third and fourth."

These creatures softly coiled on the orbits of some planets, or simply floated in the endless dark space.

Regardless of their beauty or not, the killing ability shown by the opponent is undeniable. The combination of psychic energy and matter, the sharp beam absorbs cosmic dust, and in every flap of the opponent's wings, it is stimulated from the gap between the wings, causing a significant armor-piercing effect on the armor of the ship.

The bone space torpedoes for large-scale bombing have the ability to destroy the real universe, blasting broken gaps in the scarred universe, and the energy briefly bursts out in the annihilation surge, instantly creating an unstoppable brilliant death, biting off and swallowing the ship.

Under the precise bombardment of the macro cannon, the Dark Angels fleet methodically dismantled their limbs, breaking off wings one by one, cutting off the half of the interlocking fluorescent white bones at the tail, and destroying the flesh and ganglia that stored memories one by one.

Every alien was completely destroyed, and when it fell into the interior of the planet or the depths of space due to gravity or inertia, a long and deep soul-deep howl crossed the barrier of the vacuum, and in a more metaphysical way, it spread like ripples in the universe, lingering in the hearts and souls of every member of the Dark Angels fleet.

No one knew what it was, but as long as they heard it, all kinds of sadness would surge into their hearts.

"Pay attention to the dark light spears," Leon said, raising his eyelids and calmly turning his gaze to the two Space Marines. Luther immediately passed this message to the Dark Angels in the battle.

A few minutes later, the extremely dark annihilation psychic spear tip rushed through the shadows of the universe. Even though the Dark Angels were prepared, it still pierced through the explosion-proof baffle of a frigate, and then triggered a small-scale devouring effect - this attack was too precise, and both the timing and location were almost impeccable, and its power was difficult to defend against.

"Hmph." The lion snorted softly, and appeared behind the two space warriors at some point.

"My lord," Hou Guin frowned, "we need to draft new instructions to defend against these attacks."

"Do it." The lion king said, "Draft the instructions here, and don't reveal them to specific ships until thirty seconds before the decision to attack."

"But, my lord, this will affect the fleet's self-determination and responsiveness," Luther said, keeping his voice in a calm state, faintly refuting Lion El'Jonson's decision.

"Do it, Luther." Lion repeated again, his tone low and cold.

Luther paused for a second, "Forgive me, sir."

The deputy commander and the directly elected lieutenant opened the communication channels one by one. The roar of the engine and the noise caused by static electricity were agitated in the broadcast. The whispers and roars of the transmitted orders were intertwined, just like the burning fire and the hum of the power armor were entangled with each other.

The first order given to them by the Lion King was that they must not get close to the Randan aliens, and they must not listen to the messages they tried to transmit through psychic power or any other means. Therefore, the Dark Angels' channel only had wartime sounds that could be made within the legion. Suddenly, this could almost be misunderstood as a battle that only existed within the Space Marines.

Another Randan angel broke its wings in the bombardment of artillery, and its skeleton shattered into thousands of bright spots like broken stars, scattered in the universe. A sad arc of emotion spread from the place where it was shattered, and Luther's emotions were also infected. He blinked his eyes to control any emotional fluctuations that should not appear.

A signal suddenly came and reached Hou Guin's eyes. The Deathwing Lieutenant took a glance and was slightly surprised, "My lord, you might want to take a look at this."

Although the lion said nothing, the two warriors felt unreasonably that Lion El'Jonson seemed to have known what they had decided to report.

Lion El'Jonson stared at the projected star map in front of him, took a step forward, stretched out his hand, and pressed several control units one by one. A brand new picture was enlarged to the size of the entire screen.

At first, the enlarged picture was just an insignificant background in the war-torn void battlefield, until several snowflake-like shadows suddenly appeared in the depths of space.

After several bright blue lightning flashes of psychic energy, a new angel flapped its wings and jumped out of the warp route, like a silver fish jumping above the sea level, with a bright metallic luster all over its body.

Its head was wrapped in a bright helmet-like shell, revealing only a light pink jaw, and its lower body was no longer a pure fish tail, but a pair of feet together and a single snake tail, all wrapped in a hard streamlined silver carapace, swinging lightly in the deep space.

The next moment, after a sudden flash, a zigzag lightning suddenly struck, but the target was not the Imperial ships, but the group of Randan angels that arrived earlier. The azure lightning folded several times, and the moment it touched the bone wing of another angel, it burned and broke the bones that were almost three miles long, decomposing them into broken smoke and flying dust.

Then, it was the second Randan angel with the iconic silver shell and slender legs, and the third one.

A cluster of silver angels traveled freely between the subspace and the real universe. The commonality between them made them seem to come from the same bloodline, and every elusive attack was mercilessly aimed at the Randan angels themselves, and there was a kind of cold anger hidden in the determination.

"My lord, are we going to attack them at the same time?" Hou Guin asked. Although he didn't know where the hatred within this group of aliens came from, it was undoubtedly beneficial to the Dark Angels.

The Lion King narrowed his eyes, exhaled lightly from his lips, and looked at this unexpected reinforcement calmly, without moving.

"My Lord?" The warrior repeated, reminding softly. Although he asked the question, Hou Guin did not think that the Lion King would forgive any aliens.

Among the four Primarchs, according to Lieutenant Yi Zhixuan, the fighting desire of the Sons of the First Return came from the grief of the death of their brothers and the obedience to the Emperor's orders; the Word Bearers - from their daily war cases, it can be seen how much the Word Bearers hate the existence of aliens; the Lords of Iron, this legion has never shown any inclination or enthusiasm for war, and Hou Guin cannot see through their true feelings under their tough appearance, especially their Primarchs who are always as hard as steel.

And their lord, the genetic father of the First Legion, Lion El'Jonson - he was born for and only for the Emperor's orders.

The Lion King returned to reality from silence, and in his noble face, under the solemn background, there seemed to be a kind of hidden unhappiness.

"Don't attack at the same time," he said in a hoarse voice, which meant that he was suppressing his displeasure. "Aim the guns at the first group of Randan angels first."

After that, he turned and left, striding towards his gem-studded throne, throwing off his heavy court purple cloak, and sitting again, still in his doze. But this time, his eyebrows were furrowed, suppressing his disgust for the decision he made.

Luther gritted his teeth, nodded to the head of the Deathwing, and then approached the throne, restraining any syllables in his tone that could reveal emotion.

"What about after the first batch of Randan Angels were defeated by us, sir?"

The Lion King raised his eyelids and glanced at him. "Um?"

"Are we going to continue hunting the new aliens?"

Leon frowned deeper, his chest rose and fell, and he exhaled a hot breath from between his teeth.

"It is their civil war that requires our cooperation, not that we cannot do without their help." He said sternly, as if he was not only responding to Luther's inquiry, but also angrily rebuking another being's plea. "Make no mistake, no prey in this hunt will be spared."

"Yes, sir."

Luther bowed his head in response, while Houguin connected various communication channels in turn to convey Leon El'Jonson's orders to them.

"Hunt any angel in sight..."

"...until the last few silver angels who arrived later escaped back to the subspace." Morse flipped through the battle report sent back by the First Legion through astrology, and then turned his attention back to the parchment in his hand. and in quills.

Perturabo suspected that this was the same item as yesterday's data tablet, but that it had changed its form under the influence of some supernatural power and turned into a parchment that was more in line with the atmosphere of the Wandering Temple.

"If none of the astropaths in the astropathic communication were not so clear-headed as to get the numbers wrong, our First Legion would be in a state of great wonder," he concluded.

"They are too radical," Horus said worriedly, and then smiled helplessly, "After a few years, why is it my turn to criticize Jonson's plan for being radical? How dare he lead a fleet to go deep alone?"

"I'm more interested in his subspace navigation talent - or in other words, Magnus would be interested." Morse raised the corner of his mouth, "It's best not to be another legendary master who uses compasses and sextants. "

"Excellent war attrition ratio, and unexpected number of kills."

Perturabo quickly calculated in his mind the number of kills and prisoners that the Iron Warriors could achieve within the time required by the First Legion according to the normal probing, reconnaissance, and bombing procedures, and the answer he got was rarely surprising. He was a little disappointed: the Iron Warriors could not complete such a beautiful mission alone.

It was even difficult for him to understand how the First Army had managed to carry out such a clean and efficient assault. In any calculation based on known data, he could not calculate how the Dark Angels defeated two groups of enemies with different styles at the same time.

Could it be that there are more secret weapons hidden in the First Legion's arsenal that Perturabo has no way of finding? Perturabo could think of no other possibility.

The Truespeaker accepted Leon El'Jonson's exploits calmly.

"It must be my father's inspiration," Luojia recited quietly, "all our honors originate from his brilliance, and all power belongs to his might. And Ran Dan's angel, if it were not for his pulling of destiny, It is nothing more than a subtle imitation of His spirituality. Our brothers are blessed by Him, and we are to rejoice in Him.”

He paused, "I would rather know about the 'angels' that Leon saw. How blasphemous are they?"

Luojia said with a little curiosity, his excited words were like a cold wind, quietly blowing through the Wandering Temple.

Morse deliberately took a breath: "I always feel that the portrait of Angel Randan will appear on the bedside of all you Word Bearers tomorrow, with one hundred and thirty cursed nails inserted into the paper. Oh, don't look at it that way. Me, Aurelion, or each of you, one by one?"

"Morse." Perturabo sighed.

"Okay," Morse shrugged, "All in all, I believe that there are secrets hidden in Leon El'Jonson's offense that only he knows. You can explore for yourselves. If you have anything, you can come to me. I really want to Back to Terra."

"Farewell, Messenger of the Emperor," Horus nodded, somewhat curious as to whether Mors would disappear into the light of the temple again.

"Farewell to you, His messenger." Luojia made a sign of the cross.

"I don't think you're in a hurry to go back and report on your duties," Perturabo said suspiciously.

"You guessed it right," Morse waved his hand, rolled up the notes in his hand, and stood up silently. "The latest batch of tribute-level fruits in the agricultural world is limited in quantity. I hope I can snatch some scraps from Malcador - or that dear Miss Lillian Zeiss can cut off a plate for me. Goodbye, Yuan bodies.”