Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 3 Reforging
Perturabo didn't like his tone.

The boy thought he was experiencing a great humiliation.If the sharp awl in his hand could have pierced Morse's throat, then Morse's throat should have been torn by him quickly, like a wild dog tearing up prey, breaking the neck bone, and disemboweling the guts.

Morse never doubted that, he just thought maybe Perturabo would be more civilized.A man who prides himself on his level of knowledge is often restrained in his actions.

Perturabo's shoulders tensed up, the dark pupils of his blue eyes dilated slightly, and his brow furrowed unmistakably.

He glanced at the rough forged sharp cone in his hand, then looked around at the living circle made of stone and soil, and suddenly relaxed.

"You're jealous of me, Morse." The boy said triumphantly, throwing the pointed cone to the ground. "You are jealous of my knowledge and my ability. Look at your primitive way of life and your failed crafts. Your mud house is far inferior to the high walls and castles I will build; in front of me, you are a backward barbarian, wearing a Ridiculous fabric, messy hair, torn clothes, you are nothing but your inexplicable strength.”

Perturabo raised his hand and raised his voice without permission: "Where's your estate? Where's your workshop? Don't tell me you're still beating sticks and trunks on branches and trunks for fallen olives, and don't tell me either You only use your feet to squeeze the grapes out of the basin. Is that why you use black cloth for shoes? Where are your book scrolls? Where is your parchment? Are you still using sedge Thin slices of long stems, laid flat on wooden planks, toiled with hammering the thin strips into paper? You can't even build a perfect sewer, Morse."

Morse lowered his head, covered the lower half of his face with his palms, and exhaled lightly.

Perturabo interpreted his small movement as a poke where it hurt.His fighting spirit was stronger, and this expression made his demeanor finally unify with the childishness of his body.

"You humiliate me like this, don't you want to successfully use me by suppressing my self-confidence? This is all an ignorant person like you can do to me."

Morse wasn't sure how long he could keep his shoulders from shaking.

"You ask me what I'm afraid of, are you trying to manipulate my fear? Then I'm going to tell you that what I know is a higher thing that you can't see."

Morse saw a proud and cold head rising continuously. Perhaps in Perturabo's eyes, the vortex of stars deep in the clouds were converging and gathering.

"It is the vortex of stars, the bruises and scars of the sky. My great mission awaits in the stars, and my power and potential are unmistakable. I was born for a realm far larger than Olympia. You will never touch to my height."

Perturabo became calm and proud. "I know all about it," he said.

Morse raised his head, repeated a fixed breathing rhythm, and waited for the smile to disappear from his face.

Perturabo's counterattacks were filled with attacks on non-existent weaknesses, sounding as if the child couldn't live without contempt for others.

He was so afraid of the vortex of stars in his mouth that he had to overwhelm it with false self-comfort.

But Morse would not ignore the praise he felt for Perturabo—not for Perturabo himself, but for his creator.

How did that craftsman create such a work of art that combines human and inhuman features?

Morse didn't know.

At the same time, he was sure that he would keep Perturabo.

"You're not what I imagined." He didn't hide the teasing in his tone.

Perturabo was close enough to him that he could put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

Then, press down.

"you!"

Perturabo's exclamation was blocked by psychic energy, but he had no time to care.All the strength of the boy was used to contend against the weight on his shoulders.His feet were bearing the weight apart, and frost condensed by water vapor floated on the ground that hadn't rained for a long time, and was melted by the hot skin temperature conduction.He tried to look up at Morse, his face flushed from the force.

"Do you know what you remind me of?" Morse shook his head slightly, stretched out his left hand, and the sharp cone flew into his palm.

He pressed the awl against one side of Perturabo's maxilla, exactly where he had shattered the face of the statue of Perseus.

His control is precise enough, and he knows the shortest distance without hurting anyone.If Perturabo had the guts to rush forward, he wouldn't mind repairing it afterwards.

"Reminds me of kids from the age of four to 12. They develop their first value system in their families, where they say, 'You are one of a kind,' and they believe it. And when they come into contact with each other, they try to Keep this idea alive.”

"The first child said: I know more than you all. I know that trees can bear fruit, pots can be produced in workshops, and salt comes from sea water."

"The second child said disdainfully: What do you know! I also know that those who disobey the prophets of God's religion will be thrust into the spiral by dark judgment, and slaves will grow from the opposite city-state."

"The third child laughed loudly: There is one thing you must not be able to compare with me. My parents were all executed by the tyrants, how about you!"

He put away his smile and said coldly: "Which one do you think you are, Perturabo?"

Suddenly, Perturabo raised his hands and wrapped his fingers tightly around Morse's forearm, like a tightening iron ring.The boy's strength was amazing. After Morse removed his guard, the crisp sound of bone cracking immediately sounded. A hot burning sensation rose from the inside of his arm, and the black cloth became damp.

The energy crackled in Morse's fingertips, part of it pointed to Perturabo, the boy let out a painful groan, the strength of the iron ring-like palm relaxed, and the other part spiraled upward along Morse's arm, repairing the fracture skeleton.

"You're a combination of all of the above," Morse said in a low voice. "You feel like you know more, understand more."

At the top of the pointed cone, a drop of blood seeped out and flowed down the edge.

"You think you are above mortals, so you despise mortals."

"When you find that the first two are not necessarily true, you have to say: Look, I am a complex of tragedy and sublimity! How great I am!"

Perturabo's tough expression was broken, like a broken statue of a hero, which could not be maintained.A sound that sounded more like a scream than a roar came from his mouth.

"You don't know me at all!" he exclaimed. "You don't know anything!"

Morse's palms on his shoulders were more gently flattened, and he rubbed the side of the boy's neck comfortingly, signaling him to relax.

"Next, I hope you stay awake, Perturabo. Although I won't hurt you." The sharp cone flew away from his hand, and he did not answer Perturabo's question.

Morse put his hands on the side of Perturabo's neck, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

One thing Perturabo was right about was that he didn't know the boy before him; but that didn't matter.

"I will reforge you," Morse said.

Spiritual energy gathered in his body. It was the first time in countless years that he mobilized such a huge power. Electric shock-like tremors surged and burned. Dark blue and golden light spots alternated in front of his eyes. Non-existent flames and snow-covered ashes. Burn together.

He dives into the depths of his soul, mobilizing the echoes of power and emotion from the bottomless whirlpool, and the multiple noises overwhelm the beating of the pulse in his eardrums.

Morse could vaguely hear the tearing howl of hunger and thirst in the storm more than a hundred years ago, and as usual, he ignored it, avoiding the occasional glance from the invisible.

He vaguely guessed the truth of the vortex of stars that Perturabo said.Before concrete thoughts take shape, he pinches them away.

The first lock was like a veil covering the eyes, separating Perturabo from what he feared.A golden silk thread was broken, and four filthy chains were rusted.

This is more difficult than Morse initially imagined. If this is the handiwork of Perturabo's creator, the range of candidates can be further narrowed.

The second lock is like a horse wrapped around him, suppressing the boy's growth instinct and extraordinary body.

Morse had no intention of allowing Perturabo to completely return to mortals, so he did not tamper with the other party's genetic spiral.Within ten years, the growth rate of this magical creation will be back on track.

He took a hard breath, his skin cracking under the black cloth.

The third lock was shrouded in mist, blinding the excess knowledge in Perturabo's mind.If the accumulation of knowledge precedes the maturity of the mind, it is no longer a gift, but a curse.

Again, this lock can be broken through fluctuations over time.

The more he understood Perturabo's structure, the more amazed and delighted Morse was.He used great strength, but he couldn't touch a single bit of its essence.

If he didn't fight for more, his psychic powers would still only be able to change Perturabo's appearance.

Fortunately, this is enough.

Morse backed up until his back touched the wall of the house.The murals on the walls bleed.

"Your Creator has not finished his work. Perturabo, you are an unworthy tool."

He laughed genuinely.

"And how should a qualified craftsman deal with the steel that failed to forge? I choose to melt it back into molten iron, quench, beat, cool, and repeat the cycle."

Released by Morse, Perturabo staggered to the ground, scratching his palms in the sand.

He stared in disbelief at the scratches on his palms that had not healed for a long time, and real fear easily captured him.

(End of this chapter)