Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 413 The Resurrected

"You can also choose a room to rest." Duncan said to him.

The Second Primarch looked relieved. The Lion was not sure if it was because he had accepted the invitation.

"A room for the Primarch," he added, and the next blink seemed to give him some life, brightening his tired face. "I have prepared a guest room for you, Lion."

"Thank you," Leon whispered. "What can I do for you?"

"No," the Duncan replied. "You just need to rest. Even though we are Primarchs, the universe is so vast..."

Leon listened in silence and absent-mindedly, waiting for him to finish what he was going to say next, no matter how pessimistic it might be. He was not going to refute it.

He sniffed his nose gently, trying to sense the strangeness in the surrounding environment. The lion felt that something seemed to be wrong on the Glorious Queen of the Second Legion, but he couldn't confirm it.

But Duncan did not continue speaking. He just shrugged, and his dark brown traveler's robe swayed.

He told him, "If you're willing, I'll come find you when we reacquire a new signal. Maybe you know the latest comm channel code?"

"Are you sure?" the lion asked, with a hint of cold doubt in his voice. He couldn't figure out why he was once again full of aggressive power.

From the moment he nearly stabbed Duncan Ihe's neck, the other had never once angered him. Although the appearance of the Second Legion's Primarch at this moment was very suspicious, there was indeed pure sincerity in his words and deeds.

Duncan doesn't talk much, never talks about empty friendship or honor, every word goes straight to the point. Every line is just right, his movements are as vivid as anyone else, and the occasional smile in his solemn expression... and his fatigue, which comes from being lost for a long time in the vast sea of ​​stars, does not interfere with his seriousness and solemnity.

Objectively, Lion El'Jonson admired these precious qualities. They reminded him of Perturabo, not of the noisy, big-mouthed wolves, or of a religious man who cared only about formalism and whose palms had not even an inch of callus for battle.

All the details come together to form a kind of friendship that is strange and touching to the lion.

Brotherly...feelings?

He wasn't sure, and he didn't dare to really admit it.

However, Leon still asked himself: In the depths of this vast galaxy, on the dark edge that was obviously born from accidents and crises, did he really find the so-called brotherhood here?
The burning pain that had once occurred long ago, on the day he saw Duncan's finger bones, flashed through his mind again, as if it had left a nail through his chest, causing a dull pain.

"I'm sure," Duncan said seriously. He showed a little embarrassment and embarrassment about his aggression. This made him more real.

"Okay, I will wait," replied the lion.

The first day passed peacefully, so peacefully that even Lion El'Jonson was surprised.

The next day, Leon asked about the phalanges, and Duncan took off his gloves and showed him a pair of pale palms. Some scars ended at the wrists, and his palms looked clean and fragile.

"They are broken," the Primarch said. "The Apothecary improvised a new alloy skeleton for me, transplanted nerves, and synthesized bionic muscles and skin."

Then, on the third day, they exchanged views on the various management regulations of their respective legions. Duncan was confused by the dual rank system within Lion El'Jonson's legion, the separation of multiple legions and the intersection of different orders. The lion would not admit that this satisfied his inner pride.

After waking up on the fourth day, Duncan did not take the initiative to look for him. Leon took out a book from the bookshelf in the room to browse. The books here were classified in a variety of categories, from war memoirs and research books written by Terra's military scholars and ancient generals to some pure poetry anthologies, with several books of each type.

He read a military book for a while, then turned to a book of linguistic analysis and was surprised at how interested he was in the narrative.

Later, a message from Duncan came through the audio device. The Second Primarch invited him to their oath hall.

Ten minutes later, Lion El'Jonson arrived as scheduled and walked into the empty and dark circular hall. The floor was paved with undecorated stone tiles, and candles were placed in groups of three or five on a circle of steps around the sunken floor, providing a little necessary light for the empty room.

At the other end of the hall, a towering statue was half hidden in the shadows, with only the sword in the statue's hand revealing a hint of gilded reflective glitter.

Leon walked forward a few steps and saw Duncan's figure in a dark robe. He stood alone at the foot of the statue. He did not pray, nor did he make any other unnecessary movements. He just watched silently, as if he was in a state of silent waiting.

The sound of Lion's footsteps startled him, and the Primarch turned around and invited Lion to sit with him on the steps nearby.

"It was in this hall that I first met my warriors," Duncan said, tilting his head so that his dark hair fell over his ears, highlighting his darker skin. "I named them here."

"The Resurrectionists?"

"At that time, I didn't know much about Gothic," Duncan laughed, "nor did I understand the culture of the old land. My warriors said that they felt reborn when they saw me, and I felt the same when I saw them. In this way, the name of the legion was determined. Only after that did I understand the meaning of this word in the cultural context."

Leon didn't go into detail about the classical meaning of each word. "Tell me about it."

Duncan was silent for a moment, then he spoke.

"This refers to the body snatchers of Britain during the second millennium. Resurrectionists dug fresh corpses from graves for necessary research needs of anatomists and the medical profession. This practice was hated by the public."

"It is necessary," Leon replied, easily hearing the importance.

Of course, for the legions that carried out large-scale body modifications and took gene seeds from the gene storage glands of dead battle brothers, it was difficult for them to understand why humans in the darkness of ignorance had such hatred against social progress.

Duncan nodded slightly, as if he didn't know what to say next. Perhaps he was still thinking about the name of the Legion, because soon after, he said, "I don't think I should give them such a name."

"Do you care about reputation?"

"No." Duncan decisively denied this. "Even though we are the Primarchs, the universe is so vast..."

He repeated this sentence again.

"and then?"

"…It makes me unable to stop thinking about fate."

"A name, is it related to your current fate?"

"No, I think it's just a coincidence." Duncan's voice returned to firmness, although it was still hoarse. Lion looked at the other's silhouette with distinct light and dark, and felt that the other was like a brick made of sand. They sat idly for a while. Although Lion did not agree with the second Primarch's pessimistic view of fate, he also knew that even if they were the Primarchs, their glorious queen was enough to destroy any world, and there were still times in the world when even they could not do anything.

Time passed slowly, and nothing happened suddenly. Leon was about to leave, when suddenly, a strange bloody smell drifted into his respiratory organs. He took a breath subconsciously, and the bloody smell was fleeting, like an illusion and delusion.

"What is that?" he asked immediately. His chest began to ache again, his heart pounding, and every rib in his chest felt like hot iron was flowing. But he was sure he was not injured. Suddenly, he felt a sense of detachment.

The hall before him seemed to have undergone some vague changes. A hazy crimson light surged in like a tide, and his vision became a little blurry. His chest seemed to be tightly pressed, and contractions and suffocation feelings came alternately, but were quickly soothed and faded away in the shadows.

"What?" Duncan turned to look at him, confused.

Leon's heart sank instantly.

On the fifth day, they looked out the porthole at the universe. The pale starlight spread across the lonely corridor that was as clear as stagnant water, plunging everything into an intoxicating tranquility.

The Lion became more cautious in his words, carefully probing the second Primarch's handle. He quickly confirmed that Duncan had noticed his probing, but this did not anger him, but only intensified the fatigue on Duncan's face.

As for Leon, he only felt that the scene before him seemed familiar. The paving tiles of the corridor under his feet were like a long swamp, which sometimes gave him the illusion of falling into a fluid. And the bloody smell at the tip of his nose became clearer and clearer since it appeared.

"How much do you know about Ran Dan?" Leon asked.

Duncan's breathing paused briefly, then slowly resumed, as if he was enduring some internal pain.

"I know what you know," he said, "and nothing more."

"Where are the resurrected ones?"

"Randan's consciousness cluster treats all Space Marines equally." Duncan said, looking directly at Lion El'Jonson. His eyes made the lion feel an inexplicable palpitation.

"We will execute any Space Marines that are controlled."

"Even the resurrected cannot escape Ran Dan's control, my brother..." Duncan took a deep breath. It was hard to imagine that such a level of gloom would appear on the other's usually serious face.

"They can't escape?"

Duncan said, his eyes filled with pain. "There's no escape," he said.

"I understand." The lion turned around and left along the cold starlight in the corridor.

For a moment, he felt as if he was standing on the entire galaxy, and the next moment, the waves of the galaxy climbed up to his ankles, making his steps stagger.

The scorching touch burned his entire body from the chest down. The smell of blood became stronger and stronger, lingering very close to his nose, sending out an urgent urging, like the last words of hope and earnestness of a flesh-and-blood person on his deathbed.

Duncan watched him go without chasing after him.

On the sixth day, Lion El'Jonson returned to the Hall of Oaths and walked step by step towards the statue at the end of the dark hall.

During his last brief observation, he thought it was another statue of the Emperor - anyone who had ever entered Lorgar Aurelion's flagship, which was full of churches of the Emperor, would subconsciously assume that all tall statues were the majestic figures of the Lord of Mankind.

No. That's not it.

It was the Second Primarch himself.

The statue of Duncan Aihe stood deep in the shadows, his sword chained to his open hand, his head lowered, his eyes closed, his face serene, with wings on his shoulders - not the fluffy and luxurious snow-white wings of Sanguinius, but a kind of bony, multi-layered, primitive giant wings that spread out like the leaves on the back of some deep-sea animals.

Rustling sounds lurked in the dark pipes, and dark shadows surged around the statue of the Primarch, obscuring more details around him like a mist.

Lion El'Jonson squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the pain within himself, actively urging the torturous nerve pain to intensify within his body.

The crimson tide rose and fell unsteadily. In that wave that did not exist in his perception but was actually touching his blood from the outside, broken pictures began to flash before his eyes one by one. It was the appearance of the Second Primarch, sometimes with a sad face, sometimes looking tired, appearing in different backgrounds, the corridor, the meditation room, the ecological area, the news room...

There were many places Lion El'Jonson had not been, or at least, not yet.

Heh... His lips curled up in anger. How many times had he been fooled? Stupid!
High before him the Second Primarch's voice came softly and far away, no longer through words, but directly touching his raging consciousness.

"Don't, Lion El'Jonson..." Duncan sighed, his voice was intermittent, with multiple noises, as if he was chanting in a low voice through the throats of countless people. "You still need to rest... I won't..."

The lion refused to listen. He inhaled air, and then a roar burst out from his chest with all his might. The roar rumbled like thunder and swept through the entire hall, like a heavy hammer hitting the edge of darkness. The world trembled violently in the darkness, first expanding endlessly, then violently contracting, until it was compressed to an astonishing extreme -

He heard a sigh.

Then, Lion El'Jonson opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a Space Marine lying in front of him, lying on his back in an awkward position, his hand still trying to reach a bolter that had been released from his hand, the muzzle pointed at him, even though his life was already gone.

Blood flowed out from the gaps in his armor and fell into the flesh and blood tissue below him. Although his armor was covered with blood, a hint of pearly white could still be seen, shining slightly in the dark environment.

Shadowmoon Wolf.

He was the only outsider in recent days in this flesh chamber that had once been the Second Legion's Hall of Oath. It was the smell of his blood that served as a rare external distraction, allowing Lion El'Jonson to awaken from his endless cycle through sheer will.

The lion turned his eyes away from the Moon Wolf. He wanted to make more moves, but found that he was trapped in the bondage of bones and blood, and the severe pain in his chest became more and more intense, like a hurricane passing through his chest, ready to destroy everything.

He frowned, raised his head, blinked away the dried blood on his eyelids, and looked to the end of the hall.

In the dark shadows, there lurked a huge statue-like thing. Just looking at it, reason and anger both disappeared. All kinds of sadness surged in my heart.

(End of this chapter)