Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 129 Blood in the Snow
There is no snow here, and the sound of the wind is like a blade cutting glass, scratching on the surface of the vast ice field.

Morse opened his five fingers and let the wind blow through them.His robe was blown up, with the windward side sticking to his legs, while the other side swelled into a dark void, and the sound of the black cloth merged with the sound of the wind.

"Are you cold, Perturabo?" he asked.

"I am the Primarch," Perturabo answered, the annoyance in his voice muted by the wind, blending into the natural chorus of heaven and earth.

"Want a chair, or are you just going to stand here?"

"Stand."

"Then I'll stand a moment, too," said Morse. "You have to know, Inwit reminds me of the Himalayas. Do you know this mountain?"

"I know the location of the Royal Palace of Terra."

"Of course." Morse whispered, his voice penetrating the wind like a very tough silk thread. "You want to leave your mark in the construction of the Terra Palace. So, do you know why they call it Himalaya?"

"I don't know." He responded quickly.

"Well, in ancient Terra, there is a language where this pronunciation means the hometown of snow." Morse drew a string of words in the air that looked like decorative patterns. "But up there, in the mountains above 5000 meters, you sometimes find the snow bleeds a blood-red color."

In the snow under their feet, winding traces of blood gradually flowed out.Even though he knew that this was caused by Morse's magic, it still gave Perturabo the illusion that blood was oozing out of the Inwit land.

"What is this?" Perturabo moved away, "Why is this happening?"

"Chlamydomonas nivalis, Chlorococcus nivalis, and Fiber algae snow... minus 3 degrees is just the suitable temperature for these algae with blood-colored pigments. But do you want to guess that your father first encountered the Himalayas [-] years ago? What did he say when he saw the red snow?"

"What did the Emperor say?"

"No, not the emperor. At that time, he was thinking silently every day that he would never be an emperor from now on, and he also led others to say that mankind does not need an emperor. Guess what the former mortal Neos said."

Perturabo's brain, which can calculate hundreds of millions of data in an instant, gave the answer after a second: "It's hard to guess."

"Ice and snow grieve, he said." Morse shook his head. "Nios was a third-rate poet at that time."

"Who are you implying?" Perturabo lowered his lips, "Excusing Rogal Dorn? Why have you become tolerant?"

"What did I say about him? No, I mean, the four men in the tent just now were sad. You, the Emperor, Rogal Dorn, and me."

Perturabo let the wind blow across his closed lips in silence.A trembling warmth ran through his heart.

"You become sad, not just because of me, but also because Rogal Dorn quickly turned you off after catching your fancy. You realize that someone who is about to become your friend is touching your... Bottom line. You suffer losses first before gains. Are you cold?"

"……A little."

Mors patted his gauntlet, and Perturabo flinched for a moment. It was the same hand that had wounded his brother.

In any case, the pleasant spring temperature of Olympia was poured into Morse's armor, and his face was no longer stiff from the cold.

"The Emperor stopped talking about him. He is always sad. I think he is tired." Morse said. "As for Dorne, in a sense, he is a little too nervous."

"What?" Perturabo's voice dropped.

"After his grandfather passed away, what followed was 20 years of living alone in the ice and snow. Suddenly one day, a brother of the same kind as him, a brother with similar interests and nature, came to the door without any warning. ."

As Morse spoke, a microcosm of time flew before his eyes, and he relived every minute and second that had happened since Rogal Dorn met Perturabo.

"Rogal Dorn really wants to express himself in front of you, although he is not aware of his mentality. Re-read your memory, and you will find that everything is traceable."

Perturabo lowered his eyes.He didn't want to forgive Rogal Dorn now, so he didn't want to remember.

"What about you?" asked the Iron Lord. "Why are you sad?"

"It's been a long time since I called you child, Perturabo," Morse said.

"Six years."

"Okay, six years." Morse folded his arms in front of his chest and tapped his left arm with his right index finger.

"Six years ago I officially considered you an adult. You have become mature, tall, and in your own right. You are the Lord of the Emperor's legions, the uncrowned king of Olympia and even the countless worlds you have conquered. You can handle the problems in your life. Everything—at least most of it.”

"To a certain extent, I think you have surpassed me, because I still have some understanding of my character. I have never been a normal-tempered person."

"I have not surpassed you," said Perturabo. "Then let's be equals, okay?" Morse turned to look at Perturabo. The Primarch more than ten years ago was only as high as his waist.

"All in all, I thought I had finally forged an outstanding work, a unique and unreplicable treasure. I was happy, satisfied, and felt that I had no other needs except to complete the remaining work for the Emperor. But , until today, I finally discovered that I had made the mistake of being self-righteous again."

Perturabo's hands curled up in his armor. "What's the mistake?" he asked.

"I thought I could fix everything, kid," Morse said.

"Although I have not raised any descendants, I know that the way I treat you is not a normal parenting method. I once didn't like you and didn't love you. I thought you were a piece of material, a raw material to make you the way I wanted. The way you grow up. I make you doubt yourself, worry about gains and losses, and put the other side of your emotions on me. As Donne said, in the early days of your life, you were under my control."

"But it did make me better, didn't it." Perturabo's voice became broken in the wind, "One of the last things I want to do now is to admit that I was who I was ten years ago."

"You're getting better," Morse said, "and I'm getting better."

"I noticed a change in myself one day, maybe when I woke up one day and saw the green shadow of the olive tree swaying outside our double-glazed window, and then I thought of you. You no longer look like a piece of raw material, You become something more alive, young, fresh, powerful; with a look, a character, a pair of impressive eyes, and an eternally unhappy eyebrow."

"Then I realized that I was expecting you to pop in while I was making some gadgets or writing some whiny nonsense. I wondered how you would show up to me today, complaining about the people I met, or bragging about what you did again. What a good thing. I can make fun of you and praise you sometimes. I want to see you nervous or happy."

"I found that I fell into a trap. This trap was set by you unintentionally. You dragged me from the hermitage under the cliff to the world on the mountain. You made me like you." Morse paused, " Love you."

Perturabo blinked.

"So, there are some early problems that remain." Morse took a breath and exhaled, the cold air rolled over his tongue, "about manipulation."

"Never mind what Donne said—"

"Oh, you really think he can influence me?" Morse said.

Perturabo's jaw dropped slightly.

"I thought manipulation wouldn't be a problem because I stopped having conscious control. I gave up on hitting you, except for a few jokes that I knew had absolutely no impact - a snide comment would kill me if I didn't say it. I'll be honest with you, Keep your guard up, and I think you can fix your mistakes. I think people are wired to heal themselves."

"Perturabo, you look a lot better. You've found your confidence and your way of being in this world. But it turns out that breaking down other people's defenses is one thing, but healing is completely different. I'll be there later. It’s terrible.”

"You did a great job," Peturabo couldn't help but say, "No one can do it better than you."

"Look." Morse smiled and shook his head, "To this day, you still put me in an exorbitant position. I have no intention of controlling you at all, and I have no intention of doing so, but my words and deeds still have an impact. The effect of your every move. No matter what good or bad words I say, you will always respond with my will first. Your struggle and hesitation have never stopped. In a corner of your heart, you are still thinking Anxious about the shadow I have cast upon you."

"Tell me, boy, am I arrogant in this judgment?"

He could not answer yes or no.thought Pertura.

Then he said, "You care about me, so I care about you."

"That's the worst part. Love's glorification of mistakes hides problems, but it doesn't legitimize them." Morse sighed. "I have so much to say that I almost don't know where to start." You're getting upset again, don't be like this, you know I'm not alienating you."

"If you wouldn't use me," Perturabo said, it was hard for him to imagine that he would say such words one day, but after letting them come out of his heart through words, he felt a sad lightness: " So what does it matter?"

"I won't," Morse said, "but what if something happens, like we are separated? I can't let you give me the living part of you and take away the dead part."

"Will this happen?" asked Perturabo.

"I don't know," Morse said, "but the wind keeps blowing, cold, hurtful, leaving no room for warmth."

Perturabo could not utter a word.Under his feet, bright red blood flowed in the ice and snow.

"But," Morse smiled, "still, I have something to thank you for. You can't imagine how happy I am with the protection you gave me. I found some of the most real things between people here. .I love this part, kid.”

Golden light briefly enveloped him.For the first time, Mors enlarged his body and turned into a giant with the same height as the original body, hugging Perturabo through the armor.

"The only thing you don't have to worry about," Morse said, "is that I'm not taking my feelings back."

Perturabo realized that he had shed tears at some point. The tears condensed into ice in the wind, and were wiped from his face by golden runes.This stings a bit.

"You know me well," Perturabo whispered.

"I just know enough about the situation." Mors let go of Perturabo, but kept his arms around the primarch.

"I know how you feel. I haven't found a solution, Perturabo, here you go."

(End of this chapter)