Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Cruz had never begged so urgently to come out of his room deep in the countless corridors.

The tyrant Damex listened to the reports of his attendants, first the first, then the second, who knelt in rows and announced the urgent desires of the banished mad prince.

His fingers were on the golden staff, and the golden staff gave him only heavy coldness. In his memory, Cruz still looked the same as he had many years ago: his smart and clean blue eyes curiously circling under his thick eyebrows, following behind his two eldest brothers, holding the little boy who had just learned to walk. My sister’s little hands.

He didn't know when things went wrong.

Perhaps since Cruz suddenly asked him one day if he had seen eyes in the sky, the child became increasingly gloomy and his temper became particularly violent. Sometimes he shouted that the rain of fire would burn down all the trees, and sometimes he shouted To kill the night moon.

When Cruz said his sister was dead, Damequez ordered him to be given a small house.

The only time he saw his third child afterwards was at his naming ceremony.

It was already late at night, and the reason Damex was still awake was because he had received news that his eldest son had been injured in an accident and was returning to the capital.

Based on his understanding of Harkon, it didn't take him a second to guess the truth behind this so-called injury.

He didn't understand what he had done wrong, or where his education had repeatedly gone astray.

The eldest son devotes all his attention to being trapped in the struggle for power; the second son is obsessed with art and has not been out of the workshop for the past few days; the third son is crazy; the only daughter, although capable and intelligent, has nothing to do with her. He was not close, and there was always a gap between the two.

Under the mold of Perturabo and his craftsman mentors, Lokos developed at an astonishing speed into a realm like the abode of the gods that Damex had never imagined before.

However, every time he thought of his children, Damex felt endless sourness and pain in his heart.

Another attendant ran over and told how Cruz shouted not to let the birds die, broke his bones on the door of his room, and blood flowed out from the crack in the door.

The tyrant closed his old eyes tiredly, asked the doctor to bandage the mad prince, and asked Cruz to come to him.

——

Andos has always been uneasy in his heart. He has not fallen asleep since meeting the girl last night, as if the sweet sleep has left him.

He felt a kind of blind panic and a backlog of emptiness all the time. These complicated emotions almost blocked his thinking. He could only feel that things were extremely weird and nothing was running on the right track. .

At the same time, his perception of the world around him became extremely vivid, so vivid that it reached a bleak state.

Countless information poured into his thoughts every minute and every second. All the colors he could observe automatically matched themselves to thousands of unborn paintings. No matter whether he saw people or objects, whether it was wind, , the sun, the moon, the lake, or the human scenes of the city's bustling crowds, all of them are squeezed into his material storage, and they can't wait to be artistically re-created by him and come into the world.

He had to stay awake, eat or drink, and carve, paint, write, and smear endlessly from then on to shape one thousandth of his thoughts into shape.

Before this, Andos never thought that he would be driven crazy by artistic inspiration.

Andos knew something was wrong with him. This was not the state he really wanted.

He really loved craftsmanship and creation, but he especially valued kindness and tolerance between people. In his opinion, this was the most natural and beautiful thing in the world.

But in the daytime today, he accidentally discovered that the first time he saw his maid, he actually wanted to seal her in plaster and keep her forever.

Such thoughts deeply tortured his conscience, and he couldn't believe how he could be so obsessed with illusions. However, when he came to his senses, he was already holding the newly forged sword and walking on the road to kill the maid.

He immediately ran away from the road and locked himself in the workshop, throwing the key far away from the window and shaking uncontrollably.

There was a moment when he suddenly wanted to believe in the existence of the gods, hoping that they could protect the soundness of his soul and the purity of his mind: everything he was currently facing was obviously far beyond what mortals could handle.

Then he thought of a man, a craftsman, an all-powerful mysterious hermit.

Can that craftsman be forgiven of the sins that he may be born at any time, or has already been born?

Andos didn't know. He wanted to leave the workshop to find him, so he looked everywhere for his key.

He found the key to the workshop in the small sailboat with a gold background and silver edges and inlaid with blood jade, and felt as if a big stone had fallen to his heart, feeling forgiven and comforted.

He held the small sailboat, pushed open the door of the workshop, and walked towards the brightly lit Royal Palace of Lokos in the deep dark night watched by the stars and moon. The mast on the small sailboat was shining beautifully, shining brightly, and couldn't be more exquisite.

Then give this small sailboat to Morse, Andos thought.

He was about to ask Morse to help him, and it was better to give such a brilliant handicraft to the true creator of art. How could he himself be entitled to it?

——

Perturabo was awakened by artillery fire falling from the sky before he was awakened by the sentries.

A bright red light burned under the dark night sky. The ground shook with cannons and war cries, and dust particles bounced and fell on the ground like beans. The half-asleep army spontaneously responded to the enemy's attack. Every machine released the destructive power of fuel and energy conversion, turning cannonballs and gunpowder Break into the ranks of the Night Raiders.

Enemies kept falling under the outpouring of firepower, and no one could safely survive the rain of fire created by Perturabo himself, not to mention that this was just an automatic defense before the entire army began to operate, accompanied by invisible radio waves in the position. As it spread rapidly, every cell that made up the behemoth of Lokos' army was activated in turn.

One by one, the soldiers climbed up from their sleep, grabbing their guns, and silently and quickly joined their positions in the defense. The defense line was further strengthened, and the identity of the attacker was increasingly discovered.

This is not only due to their rumbling calls that are unwilling to stop even during night attacks, but also the remains of some of their iconic technologies inherited from ancient times that prove their origins.

"Axians." Perturabo held the table with both hands and read the reports sent from all over the situation at high speed. While his mind was multi-tasking, sending various instructions to different teams, he cursed the familiar group of stupid enemies. .

The Kaldis people actually chose to join forces with Ax, which was indeed unexpected, but it was also reasonable.

He remembered very clearly that ten years ago, on the way to Lokos with Morse, it was this group of howling and insidious warriors who carried out the attack. The lieutenant-general Miltiades who led the team at that time had sworn that although the Lokos were not good at fighting, they would never let him get hurt.

Thinking of this, his anger began to boil.

After the first round of sustained fire weakened, accompanied by louder and fanatical roars, some of the warriors who had survived the long-range attack relying on the unique protective shields of the Akers climbed up from the holes and rocks on the ground. A furious charge began.

They reorganized their formation, gathered into a group, and rushed toward the defensive area from various bunkers and directions, engaging the guards in the outer circle in close combat. Once caught in close combat, the effect of long-range armor loses most of its effect.

The anti-infantry melee weapons that Perturabo carefully designed for his warriors were put into actual combat for the first time, and they showed brilliant results.

Most of the blades easily hit and cut into the enemy's armor, pulling blood and minced flesh out of the human body. The Lokos were faster and stronger than Ax, gaining the offensive initiative on the defensive side.

Whenever a group of enemies is eliminated, the entire defense line will push forward in the opposite direction, and the troops will quickly regroup, then raise their guns and aim at another group of enemies in the distance.

There were also a few Lokos squads that fell into a hard fight, and Perturabo ordered them to retreat temporarily and reintegrate their fighting posture.

Under the attack of long-range firepower and a new generation of melee weapons that far exceeded the imagination of the Ax people, a small number of the Ax people almost collapsed. Commander Ax directly chopped off the heads of those who escaped to support the morale level of the legion.

In a short period of time, the offense and defense began to change shape.

Perturabo was relieved to note that Callifon's vehicle was still unattacked.

The next moment, some dexterous soldiers jumped in from the center of the line, intending to cut into the center of Lokos's army - Kaldis' special force, which was especially good at rear assault.

A team dedicated to handling this situation immediately took action to ensure that no one within a certain distance could fall to the ground. As for the enemies that successfully landed in a few blind spots, they gained more fights and various responses. When a small group was lucky enough to get close to Callifon's chariot, the tracks took care of them.

The battle situation took an obvious turn. Even if Perturabo deliberately calculated for the opponent, he could not find a chance for victory for this coalition's ambush force.

Obviously, the Olympian countries still only have a general estimate of Lokos' technological development, or underestimate it.

He sat down on the steel chair, not only to savor the sweetness of victory in battle, but also to conserve his energy to prepare for other unexpected surprises.

With such a precise attack, it became all too obvious that there was an internal leak in the military.

After thinking about it, Perturabo dialed Califon's communication.

"Where is the team escorting Harkon?" he asked directly.

"According to their speed, they should have returned not far from Lokos City." There was a confusion in Califon's tone that was extremely rare for her.

"He left at just the right time. And I... I tried just now and I couldn't reach him."

Perturabo's chest heaved violently, and he was swelling with unprecedented anger. He could hardly believe that such a thing could happen. "How dare he!" he shouted loudly. "This greedy coward, this despicable and disgusting traitor!"

"Should we continue the attack?" Callifon asked, "Caldis must have become a huge trap."

"Continue!" Perturabo slapped his palm heavily on the table, "It's better to defend than to attack!"

Occasionally, the smell of sulfur and rust filled the tip of his nose, and the clash of swords and axes seemed infinitely far away, yet as if they were very close to his ears.

——

Harkon lifted up the camouflage sheet and carefully wiped away the dried blood on his face, making his facial skin white and soft again. He put on a luxurious robe, carefully put the silver crown that symbolized the prince back into his well-maintained hair, and then used some makeup powder to smooth out the wrinkles on his face caused by age.

He doesn't like beauty, or in other words, he never cares about his appearance.

What he really cared about was the fact that even the slightest mention by others would make him overflowing with resentment, and that was his gradually losing status.

As for appearance, this is but the most superficial of several symbols of status.

Harkon looked out the window. The boundless black night still held the land in its boundless palm.

Lokos appears small and helpless under the cold gaze of countless stars.

However, even such a small kingdom, a kingdom that should belong to him, was left step by step by his stupid father's indulgence.

This should be his! As for Damex, he wants to give the country of the Lokos to two monsters who come from nowhere!

Harkon could feel the jealousy in his heart like boiling poisonous wine, emitting malicious steam all around. However, this slight moral failure was far less important to him than the loss of power.

In front of the golden scepter, character is nothing but a source of fun to laugh at. He wants far more than this worthless thing.

He longs for others to bow their heads before him and for achievements to be accomplished under his hands. He wants gold and precious stones to roll down from his fingers, crimson grapes to turn into boundless pools of wine, and he wants the praises of all peoples to ring through the sky, but these are all out of reach.

He once blamed himself for his suspicion and jealousy.

Now, he no longer cares.

White and clean fingers gently caressed his shoulders, and the dark fragrance lingered around. He closed his eyes in enjoyment and whispered: "The Church of God will return to Lokos, my respected chief priest. No one will dare to tarnish your sanctity."

"And you will become a master, my dear prince," the officiant said cheerfully. Her beautiful light-colored eyes were full of gentle piety, and her raised lips were like blood-red roses.

"We have all heard the instructions of the goddess. Yesterday, I presented the boat to your brother. Oh my God, the goddess actually told us her will. This is the first time in thousands of years-"

The next moment, the blood of the officiant spurted out from the broken neck, and the arterial blood splashed directly onto the ceiling. The fragrance immediately turned into a disgusting stench of depravity.

Harkon only felt that the world was hanging upside down for a while, and the severe pain from his limbs took away his fragile consciousness.

The eldest prince rolled to the ground in embarrassment, rolled up into a twisted ball of dirt together with the blood-stained cloth.

Morse grabbed a corner of the sheet, carried the unconscious Halcon in his hand, and stuffed the officiant's beautiful head into the bag.

He took a breath and put the last condensation of dirty concepts into a black bag.

The remnants of these powers were far more stubborn than he expected, indirectly telling him that the twisted and dark existence had personally and unstintingly devoted itself to her gaze and attention.

In any case, after the incident, he will spend a period of time dedicated to purifying the pollution of the highest heaven.

Runes flickered on and off his black robes, resisting the low chants of joyful anticipation from the hungry.

The wink of the starry sky is intimate and resentful. He controlled his will to ignore it, picked up the huge package, walked through the gap between space and space, and rushed to the core place where the fragrance gathered.