Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 416 He is coming

The Queen of Glory sails through the void.

"Legatus Saeculorum", that was her name.

She floated gracefully, stretching her magnificent body with a metallic luster in the dark abyss. Plasma balls formed by condensed will emitted green electric light in the endless deep space, flickering in the boiling.

The non-existent airflow erupted with blazing ionized flames, tearing apart the gigantic monster before its eyes that existed like an endless wall, burning the colorful scales and wriggling dark purple blood vessels on its body into charred black and crispy fragments, with blood floating out in the form of mist droplets.

Each explosive bomb seemed to be accompanied by a low and angry roar of a lion. Lion El'Jonson's will was infused into the conflict of the spiritual world, and assembled in the form of entities he knew on this glorious queen between the vast ocean and the real Tianchuan Milky Way.

In the Dark Angels' arsenal, there are countless extinction weapons inherited from the Old Night, which are difficult to use properly under normal circumstances. But now they are all used by the Lion King in the current war of nothingness.

Void bombs that tear apart space, deadly carbon-based genetic viruses, high-energy particle beams that penetrate the ecology of the planet's surface... Each attack contains the technological crystallization that has survived to this day, obtained by humans over tens of thousands of years through their most efficient means of weapon development - killing each other.

The Eternal Herald was not the only ship attacking the Randan Overmind. Hundreds of human warships loomed in the silver shadows, with their blade decks and subspace keels pointing directly at the enemy that had brought them to this point - even though their size was just an almost invisible speck of dust compared to the huge Overmind.

Resurrected angels with silver light flowing all over their bodies surrounded their former battleships, circling, hovering, and guarding, ensuring the normal firing of turrets and towers in silence. The beams of light burned by pure will were half bright and half dim in the void, like needles piercing through.

From the rapid expansion of high-temperature and high-pressure gas, to the precise calculation and control to ensure that the shells hit the target, to the secondary engine power that propels the starship, and finally to the ichor and flesh that burst in the master's consciousness...

Finally, the dominant consciousness, which was millions of miles tall, withdrew a trace of spirit from the alien creation and mental infusion in the real universe, and launched its half-hearted counterattack against the phantom of the Second Legion fleet.

Most of the creatures devoured by Ran Dan do not have the ability to enter the universe alone. Therefore, in the universe of consciousness, Leon once again saw Ran Dan's angel——

They are uglier and more primitive than the unique beauty they possess in reality, as if life was forged and hammered freely in a furnace, and then cooled by the cold wind that blows through the world, and finally condensed into strange creatures. Every horn and every tentacle is beyond the aesthetic understanding of humans.

As the aggressive extensions of the dominant consciousness, they launched their attack towards the Second Legion.

"The original appearance of the Randan aliens... is unknown," said Duncan, taking the helm for Lion El'Jonson.

The two chains never left his palms, even though drops of blood were dripping from the gaps caused by bone spurs.

"In the process of spiritual devouring, even the dominant consciousness cannot avoid being affected by any devoured memory. Every moment, it is twisting, getting closer to the form of the latest devoured species, and growing new organs."

"If the will of a race is strong enough, it can even gain its own place in the will under the control of the dominant consciousness."

He continued, a transparent silver shield flowed on the outside of the Queen of Glory, forming a hexagonal grid.

"Like the resurrected?" Leon asked.

Duncan shook his head and said nothing.

Leon didn't like questioning a fellow camp member who refused to answer. If it wasn't an interrogation, his pride would make him resist it.

Through the screen and the porthole, he could see fire flickering in space, and the edge of the world was a bloody corner of reality, with a faint hint of blood.

"Show me the real world," Leon said.

"where?"

"Around your glorious queen."

The new picture replaced the porthole of the conscious world. The empty shells of countless dead Space Marines were scattered on the Queen of Glory, which had long been completely covered with bones and flesh. The continuous artillery fire was used to resist the newly born Randan aliens.

Duncan focused his sights on a fallen Iron Warrior on the hillside of bones. His gun and knife were taken away by comrades in need, who took over the dead man's place to continue fighting.

"That commander, he reported your situation and the illusion of the psychic confrontation to the orbital command."

"Horus Lupercal, Perturabo, and Lorgar Aurelion will know all this," Lion commented. He and Horus did not have a deep personal conflict, but even if he did, he knew the choice the other party would make in this situation.

"Tell me, Duncan, why did you not call upon the Emperor all those years ago?"

"I called." Duncan replied, his face became gloomy, as if there was some regret hidden in it, "Everything happened in an instant, my brother, when my star language reached Terra, everything was too late. Otherwise..."

"This is why you were expelled." Leon suddenly realized and directly stated his conclusion. "The Emperor knows what happened to you."

"Lion..." The Second Primarch turned his head and looked directly into the lion's face, his tone almost pleading.

The lion remained unmoved, "Father will bring you relief."

Duncan's face was tense, but Leon continued without a pause: "No matter what, the dominant consciousness is our common enemy. You must fight it with me with all your strength."

The Second Primarch looked away in silence, acknowledging the Lion's words.

After a few minutes, he raised his eyebrows slightly and said, "In the oath hall, several of your warriors are talking to you."

Lion looked at the center of the screen. The soldiers guarding Lion El'Jonson were repeating the military order they had just received: "Control the dominant consciousness. The Emperor is coming."

They said it the first time—the first time Lion El'Jonson heard it himself—and then the second time.

"The Emperor is coming," they repeated, not knowing when they would be heard by the lions fighting in the void.

"The Emperor is coming," the voice said a third time, and once, and again, piercing the void and across the veil until it reached the ears of the two Primarchs.

Leon suddenly woke up and snatched the sound array in the Queen of Glory, "Do your best to restrain the master's consciousness, at any cost!"

Duncan seemed to take a breath, and wanted to say something, but was barely able to control himself. He looked at the outside world anxiously, and finally spoke reluctantly: "Follow the orders of the First Primarch, boys."

One after another, hooks were thrust out by the silver angels from hundreds of human ships, and the sharp hooks at the top pierced into the flesh and blood scales that embodied the consciousness of the Overmind.

A thin rope is insignificant to the Randan Lord, but it is comparable to a thin hair and can be easily torn apart - even if hundreds of hooks are deployed at the same time, it will not be of much use.

But they changed too quickly. The first round, followed by the second round, the resurrected angels sewed the void, weaving alternately, pinning the huge bloody creatures one stitch at a time into the specimens with the sky as the background.

Leon's dark green eyes surveyed the outside world. He saw the silk thread that had just been nailed on was broken by the struggle of the master. The silver angels kept dying from various biological weapons. With each angel's fall, a trace of pain flashed across Duncan's face.

More blood flowed from where he was bound by the bone chain. Tick-tick.

"He will come," Leon said. Otherwise, all this desperate effort will be in vain.

In the light reflected from the porthole, he saw the Oath Hall in the real universe. The Word Bearers were clad in blood-stained grey armor, and every hollow scripture character was filled with dried blood.

They formed a circle around the sleeping lion, chanting and singing, tears flowing silently inside their helmets, until the first soft sound of the liquid dripping was heard.

Tears, gold and red tears, clung to their steel visors and dripped from the eyes of their helmets. Tick-tick.

The smell of blood gently surged up from around them, swirling silently, gradually becoming thicker and more obvious, like an originally distant echo, gradually approaching them.

Tick.

A drop of blood overflowed from the gap between the buttons of the console in front of them, and then more golden-red blood flowed out from all the metal gaps between the buttons, keyboards and servo machines, gradually increasing in speed, soaking the cold floor of the Eternal Herald, and constantly accumulating until it gradually formed a pool of blood reflecting light.

It was warm, as if it were flowing from a living person, wrapping the soles of the Primarch's boots warmly, then his ankles, and stopping at this height.

Even though the blood is still flowing.

Outside of the void, within reality, the mountain of bones covering the Queen of Glory is bleeding. This huge yet still vibrant structure of flesh and blood, the blood that has accumulated over the years inside it, is being squeezed out at this moment, flowing out, washing the ground covered with charred craters and dirty slime.

Wherever he went, there was no holiness, no purity, only the blood of the Second Legion. Once bestowed by the Lord of Mankind, and now used by the King of All Ages, it was like holy oil carrying golden flames, gradually igniting a blood-red fire.

crackle.

The aliens were destroyed in the blood and fire. They screamed anxiously, roared wildly, and their ganglia were burned one by one, turning into bubbles that burst in the blood and fire, and were ruthlessly destroyed.

“The Emperor is coming…” the Word Bearers sang.

"The Emperor is coming..." Duncan repeated, with an indescribable emptiness in his expression. "Yes, he is coming... He is coming. He is already here."

Until this moment, the Overmind Consciousness really began its frantic struggle. All the restraints broke in the blink of an eye. The wailing of countless silver angels knocked their Primarch to the ground in an instant. They immediately knelt in the pool of blood and screamed in pain. The spiritual connection within the resurrected was so tight.

This huge consciousness (Overmind), which has existed for who knows how many years, is enough to shatter all the tiny chains that humans attempt to impose on it with just one decisive turn.

Its swollen and deformed body groaned and turned, and the evil tattoos made up of countless blood vessels opened with a grin, throbbing with blood. Foul-smelling air gushed out from the tens of thousands of exhaust ports on its body, carrying it in a deflected direction, ready to escape into the endless darkness again, back to the deep well-like nest that nurtured it...

However, it was too late. The previous successful delay had already brought it to the fore.

"He is coming." The Word Bearers all raised their heads and looked up at the sky above them. "He is coming."

Kara.

It was a bright spot. Bone-white. Blazing. It gently pierced a tiny hole in the dark shell of the world.

It was a dagger that cut directly through the fragile surface of the spiritual world. The cracks spread out like a slender spider web, and golden light seeped out from the cracks like golden mist and rain.

It was a spear. It came in an instant, dazzling, carrying supreme majesty and power, piercing into the scales of the master's consciousness and hitting the center of its huge body.

It was locked in, penetrated, reacted too late, left too late.

The dominant consciousness wailed. Its pain resounded in the spiritual world, as if the entire universe was twisted and collapsed, returning to the origin of the collapse.

The purple squirming muscles opened up, and countless new aliens poured out from every gaping hole in its purple body, rushing towards the golden gap high up, trying in vain to fill the ray of golden light leaking out of the sky with dirty and mixed flesh and blood...

Then it was reduced to ashes.

“He is coming…” the Word Bearer sang almost peacefully, “He is coming…”

Then, a dragon-shaped phantom appeared, like an animal but not an animal, like a human but not a human, with claws like sickles and a long tail sweeping across. It appeared in front of everyone in an infinitely changing form that hindered observation like pixel spots, as if it was an uncertain quantum in the cracks, hiding infinite eternal power...

On that shadow, a golden spot of light stood on its back. He was so tiny, so light as dust, so insignificant...

So grand and infinite.

It was like the sound of bronze when it is refined in a furnace, like the sound of rushing waters, like the sun shining brightly.

There was fire, smoke, and brimstone, lightning, an earthquake, great hail, and thunder.

The black world opens to the absolute light, and the roar of the dragon in the long dream shakes the universe. The magnificent brilliance overturns the sky, and the world is turned upside down...

The bloody screams, the angry curses, the screams of countless creatures after death... the flowing mucus, the smell of corruption, the proliferation of cysts and bones, the transparent gelatin...

No, we have survived so long! Our billions of lives, the will to dominate the galaxy, the great existence wandering in the shadows on the back of the universe! Every drop of blood we have accumulated, every bone we have gnawed... ah, there is still a battle to be fought... woe, woe, woe!
The dominant consciousness rose up in resistance, and everything happened outside of time, in the void, before sight.

Time and again, battles that surpassed the observation limit of any living being, transcending the marginal line of the world's operation... the roaring dragon, the war cry of the warrior king, the surging waves of aliens, the sharp whistling of the blade tearing through the void...

The ugly, rebellious enemy dissolved in the torrent of great power, dissipated under the dragon's roar and the bright judgment of the Lord of Humanity. Their dark outlines briefly remained in the vision, so intermittent, like a shadow that should not exist, fleeting easily and briefly...

Finally, a flaming spear, anointed with holy oil, made of gold, majestic and anointed.

It nailed it.

-

Perception found memory again, and among countless combinations, it matched the only correct one. Vision, hearing, smell... they returned to the fallen lion's mind one by one, like a rehearsal of a new life, awakening him from his coma.

He woke up slowly, with a splitting headache. He immediately grabbed the sword beside him and looked around.

Lion El'Jonson returned to the Hall of Oaths in the Everlasting Herald.

Tick.

A drop of blood fell along the bone chain hanging at the dark end of the hall and hit the pool of blood on the ground.

"Cough..." The lion coughed, propped himself up, and staggered to the end of the hall until he stood under the towering sculpture.

"The Emperor is coming," said Lion.

Duncan was still there, hanging silently, his consciousness slipping into a coma.

More than half of the densely packed bone-white chains wrapped around his body had broken, hanging sparsely and gently colliding with each other.

"The Emperor is here," Lion El'Jonson repeated emphatically. "We go out to see the Emperor."

no respond.

Lion snorted, raised his sword high, estimated the distance, and then broke a chain on the Second Primarch.

Duncan fell down a bit in an instant, swaying slowly.

The fragility of these chains was far beyond the lion's imagination. With just a slight touch of the sword, the seemingly solid chains turned into powder and fell from the broken ends.

It is hard to imagine how a Primarch could be restrained by such fragile constraints for more than a decade.

Lion continued to dismantle the other chains, and Duncan's face showed a trace of pain. As the bone chains continued to break, the feet of the second Primarch finally touched the ground.

After another slash, he suddenly knelt in a pool of blood on the ground, with blood drops splattering all over his body and sliding down his black hair.

"I..." Duncan Aihe shuddered, suddenly awakened, and panted violently, on the verge of over-breathing. He looked at the chain still wrapped around his arm in horror, and squeezed out a weak breath from his throat.

"Come with me and meet the Emperor." Leon lowered his head and said in a cold voice.

Duncan did not answer immediately. His face was pale, his breathing was difficult, and he could hardly utter a word.

The lion didn't intend to waste time and swung his sword again.

Duncan immediately raised his arm and blocked his sword.

Leon frowned and put away his sword: "What are you doing?"

"I... can't leave." The Second Primarch took a breath and said intermittently, "They rely on me to survive."

"What do you mean?"

"Once I leave here, my angel will die, Leon—"

"You are talking nonsense..."

"I told you, Lion! I know every word I said. I know I am still Duncan Iher - but you didn't listen to me..."

Duncan gasped and looked up, staring at the Emperor's eldest son.

"Randan's dominant consciousness treats all Space Marines equally. The Resurrected are no exception. My warriors alone cannot gain independent consciousness and a reserved place to live under Randan's control..."

The Second Primarch took a deep breath, looked at the chains in pain, and then said, "But with me, it will be enough."

He turned his arm and opened his palm, which had turned white from the exertion, revealing his palm which was covered in blood from being strangled by the bone chain.

Without the Primarch's tight grip, the end of the chain slipped lightly from his palm.

Duncan Ihe was never bound by bone chains.

It was he who grasped the chain that bound his offspring with his own hands.

(End of this chapter)