Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 290 SBR
"Uh..." Magnus read the psychic ripples they cast in the subspace, and deduce the whole incident from the mouths of the quarreling Space Marines.

To this day, he still finds it incredible that this could have happened. This was neither in line with his imagination of the Emperor's Children, nor with his impression of the Eighth Legion, or even with the habits of Konrad Curze, whom he didn't even know very well, but Perturabo was willing to give his deep trust to. Some ways of doing things are very different...

To be correct, if Sol Sahar, the company commander of the Night Ghost King's Court, did not lie, then the behavior of these warriors who were decorating their armor with little bats would be understandable. Justice, fairness, Magnus knew Konrad Curze hung them on Article Zero of the Legion's Code.

"Here's the thing," he said to Vulkan and Roger Dorn, who had just been dug out from under the floor, "we all know about that equestrian competition, right? It was when we first came here, most of Months ago, that game was announced at the foot of the snow-capped mountains of Taylorforth?”

"Of course," Roger Dorn said, his tone was no different from when he played Caesar just now. Maybe his acting rule is to show a side of himself on the stage.

"The race schedule is now over halfway. For the first batch of riders, there is still about half a month left. Perturabo has calculated the entire process of this event very well. At the same time that all sports events are over, this The champion of this long equestrian cross-country race will surely win the trophy at the end. At that time, it will be time for us to leave separately. The time when we can meet each other again is not yet in any arrangement or plan..."

"Well, back to the subject, most of the players are located in the hills of the west, but there are also a small number of players who, due to various irresistible reasons, such as sudden illness, temporary injuries, people's acclimatization, or drinking directly from the mountains Due to...abdominal discomfort caused by the spring water, as well as food poisoning caused by collecting wild fruits from the mountains, I chose to withdraw from the competition."

"Most of them chose to hand over their respective riding animals directly to the organizing committee of Olympia. Among these animals, there are Iron Warriors who are stationed in Olympia and are responsible for part of the preparations for this games in cooperation with Governor Callifon. We first discovered that some of these large animals can even bear the weight of space warriors... Let’s go this way, or should I take you to fly there together?”

"No need." Vulcan politely refused and shook his head.

"Okay," Magnus said regretfully. "I continued to say that after asking Perturabo, some Space Marines on the ground were holding a small equestrian competition among themselves. To be more specific, they let the Iron Warriors ride a large animal in front. Fu Grim's Emperor's Children, my Thousand Dust Sun, and Conrad's Night Ghost King's Court each dispatched a few temporary athletes to chase after them."

"No matter how he decides to look at it, Perturabo is watching a duel at this time." Magnus lowered his voice. Even if this conflict does not need to be mentioned explicitly, he should know that the duel will not have any consequences. True and permanent physical harm, but the Red Primarch could not approve of such a thing happening.

But applying this sentiment to conversations with brothers is probably less common.

"There was a conflict between them," Rogal Dorn said. "What does Perturabo think?"

"Telemanon Lylas denies the other party's slander. My warrior Iskandar Khayon is familiar with Telemanon, and as you know, we can feel the emotional radiance emanating from the etheric aura of those around us. , so he defended his angry friend. Sahar, the captain of the Night Ghost Court, seems to particularly trust their mortal army in this matter, although they don’t seem to have known each other for too long, right?”

Konrad Curze did not know how, on the uncut thread of fate, another him would personally forge weapons for his warriors. Maybe he was still sober enough at that time, sober enough to have the ability to yearn for a better destiny.

There were times when a Primarch's vast and complex mind was allowed to dwell on idiosyncratic matters while away from business.

Magnus blinked, trying his best to unfurl his furrowed brows. "Actually, it was Konrad Curze's strange mortal auxiliaries who told their Space Marines that they smelled something alarming from the Emperor's Children..."

It is true that Konrad Curze is not as skilled a craftsman as Vulkan, Ferrus Manus, and Perturabo, and is difficult to find in the entire galaxy, but any Primarch undoubtedly has the ability to create a A simple weapon.

"They said that the Emperor's Son who participated in the competition, Telemanon, must have taken a dose of 'Splintermind.Booster.Remade' against the rules, which is a combination of some kind of alien spinal cord extract. A specialized dangerous agent of Space Marine blood protein."

Saul Sahar bowed his head to his master, completing the penultimate ritual before the duel. The firearm on his waist was carefully cared for and treated with utmost respect by the company commander.

It's called the Bite of Darkness. This exquisite and classic bolter has a certain dark and mysterious temperament like a rainy night. It was handmade by Konrad Coze himself.

For the Iron Lord, this is really not a rare emotion: every planet conquered by the Iron Warriors, every world that kneels to the empire in the majesty of the Iron Lord, is more or less A taste of it, and the bitter consequences of going against it for the entire world.

"Thinking from all angles, we can come to the conclusion that they should not have fought in the first place, without Conrad's support!"

He gave a bolt gun he made to the first heir who bowed to him. This was not only a supreme reward, but also one of the few he was willing to use as a template reference to reflect into the present in his observation of another fantasy world. One thing about the world.

"Combat," said Perturabo, "is indeed a good way to resolve conflict. But can you tell me why you want to promote a real battle? Isn't the Court of Narni enough for you to satisfy your desire for battle? Needs?"

"This is not a battle," Konrad Curze hissed back, watching his captain step into the duel.

"Is there no one to stop them?" Vulcan asked.

"Yes, Sons of the Muse - that's the name, right? They're not Space Wolves, why are they smelling..."

"During this process, did Conrad's descendants discover anything unusual?" Vulcan asked.

His words were calm, but deep in this unwavering calm, there was a deep-seated doubt.

"Smell?" Rogal Dorn repeated.

For example, now, Konrad Coates couldn't help but wonder, if the gauntlets worn by his warriors were not hard ceramic steel shells, but soft white gloves, would he pursue a particularly classical etiquette and take off the gloves? down, contemptuously and solemnly thrown between him and the warrior on the opposite side.

"This is a duel," he finished his sentence softly.

Opposite the two of them, about a hundred meters away, Fulgrim was gently caring for his heir. Ferrus Manus was beside him, his silver eyes cold and calm.

The purple-robed phoenix spoke some dialects that only the locals of Chemos understood. It was undeniable that sometimes, each legion did use the language of their respective home planets as encrypted code words.

No matter what he said, Telemanon was not inspired. The handsome face of the swordsman who was good at wielding two swords and had the characteristics of the Emperor's Children was somewhat eclipsed at this time, and his bright eyes were not as penetrating and sharp as usual.

He still held his bolter and walked towards Saul Sahar.

It was morning, and the star of the Olympia Galaxy cast its light onto the earth at a suitable angle. The connection between the two Space Marines who are about to participate in the duel forms an equal angle with the sunlight, ensuring maximum fairness.

This time, a veteran of the Arvini clan from the 1st Company of the Iron Hands was in charge of presiding over the duel - the Iron Hands were well known for their pursuit of personal honor.

The two teams each dispatched a coordinator as a ceremonial auxiliary.

The Emperor's Children chose his friend Khayon, and the Nightghost commissioned a most normal-looking Son of the Muse - one with hair covering his ears, no strange growths on his body, and a masked face. The outline is also more in line with the definition of ordinary humans.

"The rules are very simple," the soldier said. "You use the guns in your hands to shoot at each other at 100 meters, 60 meters, 30 meters, and 10 meters respectively. If someone falls in the process, He will be judged as the loser. After the end, the Primarch Perturabo will evaluate the shooting accuracy of each of you. The one with the better shooting level will win. Finally, do not attack the head."

Three bullets are naturally difficult to kill or even harm a healthy armored space warrior, so the rules of the duel have also been flexibly modified.

"First shot," the soldier said.

The two bullets were fired at the same time, met in the air, and passed by the hot wind rolled up by each other. No one dodges. The bolter left a dent in Thor Sahar's left pauldron, and Telemanon received one that struck him in the knee.

"I think he practiced his shooting skills," Conrad Curze said, "Oh, if each of them is given a gun, the Night Ghost Court will have the best shooting skills among the entire Space Marines."

Magnus, Vulkan and Rogal Dorn came from a short distance away. Judging from the speed at which they arrived, Magnus still took his brothers on a short flight.

Rogal Dorn walked to Perturabo and Konrad's side, and the first thing he said was "Don't underestimate the Iron Hands."

"You don't have time to order bolters for tens of thousands of warriors, my brother." Vulkan said, wanting to pat Konrad on the shoulder. The latter endured this move stiffly, and received an apology from Vulkan who suddenly understood. "Second shot," the soldier announced.

One hundred and twenty meters apart, two bullets were fired from their respective muzzles. Telemanon changed his aiming target. This explosive bullet was pointed at the relatively weak belly armor. Sahar persistently shoots the opponent's knee again. The two impact points overlapped each other, leaving behind scorched black marks after the hot lava cooled.

They didn't stop for a moment because of being shot this time. They continued to take steps and approached each other straightly.

"There should be bruises." Magnus made his judgment. This master of supernatural abilities did not use any additional means to explore the true state of the two people on the field under the thick ceramic armor. This is unnecessary.

Perturabo nodded slightly, his eyebrows furrowed, and he acknowledged Magnus's assertion.

As the last step fell, the two space warriors walked to a place sixty meters away from each other at the same time. The auxiliary personnel around them also followed the two closer, although there was nothing they needed to do.

"The third shot."

What was particularly coincidental was that this time, the two bullets happened to hit each other, exploding a cluster of brilliant but short-lived sparks in the air, and the broken shrapnel flew out and pierced into the soil on the ground.

This amusing coincidence, in a serious atmosphere, did not elicit a smile from anyone except Conrad Coates.

As for the Blood Marquis, he seems to have been accustomed to raising the corner of his mouth diagonally upward on various appropriate or inappropriate occasions, using his dark eyes to absorb all the events happening in front of him into the depths of his mind. at.

The two warriors continued to get closer, and the distance between them was enough for the bolter to do real damage.

The warriors of the Iron Hands looked intently.

In addition to rumors, from time to time they would fondly caress their respective aircraft, tanks, or the bolt guns and chainswords in their hands, and pour out their thoughts to these cold and charming steel machines. Warriors are not the type to show their emotions.

"One last shot."

At the moment when the last words of his words began to surge and spread in the air, the explosive bombs did not even delay for a moment, and immediately flew towards their target with the sound of the trigger being pulled.

Telemanon raised his hand and looked at his penetrated arm. The armor that was carefully decorated and wrapped in fine silk was broken, and bright red overflowed from his palms.

Across from him, Thor Sahar kissed the fiery barrel of his bolter and the skull carved into it, blood pouring from his flank. When he lowered his hand and let the gun rest against his leg armor, his own blood flowed onto the gun's body, cooling it in the voluntary blood.

The two auxiliary personnel immediately stepped forward, as if announcing their victory in advance, and weakly supported the duelist's arm, of course, the uninjured one.

Khayon seemed to want to say something, but in Telemanon's soft whisper, he showed surprise and betrayal. His expression hardened in annoyance, but he walked with the Emperor's Children toward the center of the field.

Perturabo walked toward the center and watched as the two dueling warriors held each other's hands.

"Your conflict ends here," the Primarch announced, "and it shall not be mentioned again. Do you understand?"

The soldiers nodded in reply.

"Okay," Perturabo said, "Now, I need to assess your injuries."

Surrounded by other Astartes or Primarchs, the two naturally had nothing to avoid. With the help of the Sons of the Muses, Thor Sahar's plastron was individually removed.

"This will not affect the battle, sir." Night Ghost said.

"Okay." Perturabo's eyes glanced at his abdomen, "Go and clean the wound. What about you?"

Telemanon nodded to Khayon. Afterwards, Qianchen Zhiyang used a small technique to remove his arm armor and gauntlets.

Perturabo exhaled softly. "Clean the blood," he said.

"I'll do it." Magnus stepped forward, and the blood evaporated under the ripples of red gold, leaving behind the pale skin of the Emperor's son.

There are no more scars except for the essential neural interface.

Perturabo immediately looked at Fulgrim, the phoenix was walking towards his heir.

"Why are you doing this?" He sighed, "I don't need you to pursue perfection in this way."

Telemanon trembled under his father's gentle rebuke, his eyes filled with mist of regret. "Please punish me for bringing shame upon the glory of the Emperor's Children."

"You are not aware that you have taken any additional alchemical potions, are you?"

Konrad Curze swam in like black smoke and appeared beside Perturabo. His words were soft and low, carrying carefully designed malice.

"This is the special thing about the SBR potion, my brother... while it enhances the temporary individual quality, it also reduces the individual's subjective perception of it, thereby avoiding psychologically affecting the soldier's confidence and combat ability. "

"But, hey, do you know why it is still an alchemical potion that is forbidden to be used casually?"

The Blood Marquis closed his eyes and counted the last three numbers.

"Three, two, one..."

Telemanon's eyes turned gray in an instant, and in the sudden bone-piercing pain, consciousness left his mind immediately. He fell backwards and was barely held up by Khayon.

Kurtz took out another tube of injection from the tool bag he carried and threw it out. Khayon reached out to catch it: "Injection, otherwise his genes will collapse within a day."

"Did you invent it?" Fulgrim's eyes twitched slightly. "Heartbreaking potion?"

"Invention? The history of this thing is much older than mine, and why should I update an unusable piece of garbage?" Conrad Coates said lazily, "My subordinates are studying it. As for how this potion spreads It's in the hands of your Emperor's Sons... I'm going to hold Hexakaris accountable, what about you, Fulgrim?"

Fulgrim's eyes turned cold. "I understand," said the Primarch.

"Okay." Cozz stretched his arms. "By the way, your sports meeting is about a week away. It's over, right? I just happened to be going to deal with something else, something... something really worth studying."

(End of this chapter)