Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 423: The Emperor's Descendants: Wandering Souls in Blood

"On this day of great victory and national celebration, I have the honor of being invited to add to the glorious record of a great and unheralded battle recently won by the Ninth Legion. Yes, an invitation - the Blood Angels invited me to Melchior, rather than summoning me with a transfer order. I am full of honor for this." - "Sanguinius: Wings in Blood"

【Time:-8.12.12】

Radon examined Amit's scarlet armor, identifying the new cracks on the opponent's shoulder armor and the grenade launcher with half of the barrel broken.

The final battle with the Nephilim hours ago had left its mark on Nasir Amit's body, but the most obvious difference was still in his face - his pupils were brightly constricted, and his breath was full of feral gasps, the excitement of fighting under the scarlet banner that brought the Fifth Company so much satisfaction.

"Glad to see that you didn't drink blood privately." Radon walked forward and hugged Amit briefly.

That year, after they reunited with the Father of Genes, Amit was punished for his past crime of eating prisoners during the first round of internal job transfers within the Legion after the Battle of Galaspa.

The punishment itself was secondary, but the Primarch's rebuke was crucial. Although it could not change the warrior's bloodthirsty nature, he at least learned to restrain himself in many cases.

The price was that his company had to keep a close eye on the company commander, lest the entire company's blood wine quota be consumed quickly without anyone noticing.

"Nephilim blood is not worth drinking," Amit replied, looking across the blood-dried heathland. "Besides, the angels taught us that we must learn to restrain ourselves."

"But I still hope that the Eighth Legion can take the time to send us a batch of supplies recently." Radon said, following Amit's gaze.

There, the Nephilim's alien prayer towers were being dismantled by humans who had been ruled by the Nephilim under the supervision of the Blood Angels. In more places, the dead bodies of the aliens were being processed in a unified manner, waiting to be burned later.

It was in that wasteland that their Primarch personally joined the battle. His wings were like lightning, his golden armor turned into thunder from the sky, and he pierced and circled swiftly within the alien defenses.

Sanguinius's battle was enough to transform any of his followers into motivated warriors. Even the Moon Wolves who were also present were deeply inspired by Sanguinius and transformed into giant scissors-like weapons, crushing the Nephilim between the converging pearly white waves.

Radon nodded, noticing that Amit had begun to walk in the direction he had come from, and he immediately determined that the captain had something to say to him. The Blood Chief followed in tacit agreement, and together they walked towards a Nephilim temple.

"Remember Osuran?" Amit said in a restrained tone.

"Oh, the former legion commander," Radolon nodded, "left us fifty years ago."

"The real Osuran passed away earlier. He relied on the ghouls to eat his flesh in order to restore his memory."

"But when he died for the last time, you allowed him to truly leave. During the Battle of Twilight of Shadows in the Holy Grail Expansion, I heard that the Fifth Company failed to bring back his flesh and blood." said Radon.

The term "Holy Grail Expansion" evoked a hidden memory in him. This dangerous border region of the Empire was nominally first discovered and opened up by the Eighth Legion, but Radoron had served the Primarch with Azkalon and had the honor of learning the reason why the Expansion was discovered.

The information did not come from the divination of Konrad Curze, nor was it an omen produced by any of his descendants.

No, it came from a prophetic dream of Sanguinius - the vision of doom lurked at the edge of the world, and expanded along with the expansion of glory. Blood, flies, livestock plague, scars, aliens, darkness... In the direction of the Holy Grail expansion area, black flames licked the edge of the Astronomican Torch cruelly and viciously.

In silence, the Night Demon Blood Lord agreed with the dream that worried Sanguinius, and as always, he took the initiative to play the role of a man with prophetic psychic powers and the ability to do whatever he wants.

In fact, the main factor that led to his choice was not his invisible friendship with Sanguinius, but Konrad Curze's personal pride.

The shadow of the temple was cast on Radolon's head. Metal arches were nested one after another on the winding gray stone road, and dim shadows were surging coldly behind the arches.

The sour smell of alien blood spread through the Blood Angel's sensitive sense of smell. He noticed that the blood and flesh of the Nephilim were scattered in almost every corner of the trail. Even though the Fifth Company was always violent and cruel, it still gave Radon a bad premonition.

"At that time, we brought Osulan back." Amit suddenly spoke, his hoarse voice slowly drifting around the columns of the archway. "He returned to us alive."

"I haven't heard of that."

"According to official records, he died in a massive plasma bombardment. But in fact, the Primarch executed him personally." Amit said, rolling his eyes and staring directly at Radon. "You should be able to feel that in the Battle of Twilight, something lurking deep in our blood... resurrection."

Radon lowered his eyebrows and did not answer. In the depths of the temple, a suppressed roar was briefly emitted, echoing horribly in the depths of the shadows, and then was barely suppressed, turning into painful gasps.

-

"The Melchior War was initiated by the Blood Angels and concluded with the Luna Wolves. It was aimed at wiping out the Nephilim aliens that were disrupting the Empire's rule at the border. The name of this alien came from the myths and rumors of ancient Terra. Some imperial scholars claimed that the Nephilim were the giant offspring of the devil and a human woman in the ignorant myth. Their birth was the result of the devil's pollution of humans in order to delay the coming of the Messiah."

【Time:-17.43.76】

The last war began with a long-range confrontation. The dense artillery fire of the human empire and the screams of the alien weapons almost created a terrible barrier like an iron curtain in the air. The flames of the explosive bombs blasted out thick smoke and golden red flames, tearing charred cracks on the disgusting gray or blue skin of the Nephilim, and further destroying the dangerous armor fragments on the mutated twisted structures. The laser cannons and deflagration snake cannons of the Land Speeder mercilessly poured out firepower, launching multiple rounds of shooting, and the explosions caused by the pulses of the gravity guns shook the earth, and oil mist and war roars rose together.

Soon, the Space Marines and the aliens engaged in close combat, and the intersecting blades of light cut through the flying dust. Resolute and cold anger burned on the battlefield, transmitted by the scarlet angels and the moon-white wolves, smashing the weak alien creatures. Those ugly ellipsoid heads and the iron filings that accidentally fell off the Astartes warriors' armor fell together.

The billowing smoke was constantly torn apart by the power knife and the luster of the claws like cutting cloth. The front line was constantly pushed forward, like a tide touching the shore, pressing up one after another, constantly and destructively devouring and gnawing at the sand surface composed of aliens.

A cheerful look of joy appeared on Horus Lupercal's handsome face.

"Look at our warriors!" The Primarch spread his hands happily, the ring on his little finger reflecting in the light, "No one can stop them."

"I am glad," smiled Sanguinius, taking in the battle on the stone plain. He recognised his illustrious sons, the crimson storms that slashed through the fray, tearing through the enemies of the Emperor with blade and fire, and his own guards in armour clad in gold, bronze and blood.

He silently recited their names one by one in his heart, and the touch of the scarlet ribbons and red jade teardrops hanging on his wings became stronger and stronger. He could recognize each of them, Azkalon, Tagas, Amit...

Of course, Sanguinius was also very familiar with some of the Luna Wolves' warriors, such as Hastur Sejanus of the 4th Company. In the smoke and dust, he could occasionally see the other's face - he cursed these aliens in a fit of anger, while having a headache because of the other's psychic sonic attack.

Behind the two Primarchs, the memoirist who was responsible for completing the narration of this battle was quietly turning his data pen, occasionally looking up at the two Primarchs who were chatting happily, and then lowering his head as if he thought he was not noticed. Joao, this is his name.

In principle, he was not responsible for the history of any particular legion, but rather for the narrative description of each of the major battles; of course, this did not prevent Joao from always following the Blood Angels, wishing to save up a whole battle book for them.

"Your warriors are vigorous," Horus said. "They are unstoppable. If they were my warriors, I would be very proud of them."

He leaned his body slightly towards the fortress wall, in a more comfortable posture, looked sideways at the angel, and admired his brother frankly: "You single-handedly shaped your legion, the most glorious of all legions."

"I am lucky," Sanguinius winked. "They knew their mission, and I followed closely behind."

Horus noticed from the corner of his eye that the memoirist behind the angel began to write furiously. He dared to say that the mortal must be recording the angel's words in real time. He couldn't help but smile briefly, and then cast his eyes on the battlefield.

The number of Astartes was not greater than that of the aliens, but this torrent of red and white seemed to drown the aliens. They moved forward courageously and worked together. Just watching this scene, no one would have thought that twenty-four hours ago, Sanguinius was still arguing with him about the specific attack strategy.

In the command center of the battle, the Primarchs debated, argued, and refused to give in. Horus tended to choose a more violent means to destroy all enemies that stood in the way of the Astartes and use this action as a military display against the enemies of the Emperor. To this end, the Vengeful Spirit brought a Memoirist to better show the Emperor's power to the Empire.

Sanguinius had to point out that there were still civilians in the alien fortresses who could be won over. He told Horus Lupercal that the world the Emperor dreamed of was not built on the ashes of destruction, but the real concerns in the Archangel's mind could not be easily expressed.

Since the battle in the Holy Grail Expansion decades ago, something buried deep in the blood of the Blood Angels seemed to be quietly reviving. He could feel the bloodthirsty dark will stirring behind every violent destruction.

This caused him to sometimes regret leading his legions deep into the Expanse to assist Conrad in the battles; although such negative thoughts made him anxious and ashamed.

Now, he is also trying to lead the legion to avoid being trapped in the sea of ​​blood, and requests the Eighth Legion to send blood wine with built-in memory factors that is more relaxing and soothing. Curze expressed his disbelief and asked Sanguinius under what circumstances the raw materials responsible for bleeding would feel relaxed and happy.

"You are modest, Sanguinius," Horus laughed. "Any more modesty and I shall say you are showing off your pride."

"Am I showing off? Anyone can say that, Horus, but it is not appropriate for you." Sanguinius blinked and looked down at Horus's hand.

Horus shrugged. On the battlefield below, a Luna Wolf chopped down a Nephilim approaching the Blood Angels. In return, the Blood Angels shattered the abdomen of a giant Nephilim with their guns. A ball of thick alien blood burst out instantly, splashing everywhere and pouring on the Blood Angels' helmets, adding a touch of luster to the scarlet armor.

That is Alotros, Sanguinius thought, one of Amit's warriors.

Horus was judging the progress of the war, and his rich combat experience gave him a good answer. He smiled and said, "It's almost over. Do you want to go down and take a look?"

"What about you?" The archangel flapped his wings and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Is this an invitation or a challenge?"

"Good question," said Sanguinius. "Whose Stormbird shall we descend on?"

"Oh, for the throne's sake, you can drop from high above, but I don't want to turn into a bunch of Horus yet!" Horus laughed. "Use my Stormbird."

"Then you had better use the xenos as your landing cushion. I believe you can, my brother," said Sanguinius, drawing the red-bladed longsword he hung at his waist.

In a few minutes, the sword will use the Nephilim's sticky silver blood as flowing paint, throwing out bright loops that cut through the smoke and oil mist, like dazzling tears, or like a new ray of light among the thousands of lights around the archangel, leading the legion, eternally advancing towards the depths of glory.

-

"After the war, the two legions arranged the fate of the prisoners of war and the remaining civilians. The prisoners of war were mainly composed of humans who had been bewitched by the Nephilim. Horus Lupercal showed great disgust towards them, which might be related to some past experience of the shepherd wolf god. No one knows the specific circumstances.

Sanguinius, on the other hand, advocated that the humans who still missed the Nephilim should personally dismantle the Nephilim's alien prayer towers and carry the bodies of these creatures themselves.

The great angel said that this experience came from the Muristan Order among the Word Bearers. This order found a balance between leniency and extremes in dealing with pagans, and letting the pagans witness the ugly death of the creatures they worshiped as gods and dominated their spirits would be extremely effective in breaking their mental shackles. In the end, Sanguinius's plan was adopted. "

【Time:-5.59.21】

Joao strode behind the Wolf God, accompanying the Lord of the Moon Wolf after the battle, supervising the cleanup work on the battlefield, and conversing with the talkative Horus Lupercal.

Once, when he had the opportunity to be alone with Horus for the first time, Joao was so nervous that he couldn't utter a word. Although he loved describing battlefields, it didn't mean that he had enough courage to apply it in interpersonal communication.

Fortunately, Horus Lupercal's kindness and charm quickly won Joao's favor. "Someone told me that we, the warriors of the empire, serve you mortals," Horus said with a smile. "Of course, don't think I will agree with him. But this is indeed a way of thinking, Joao - no, don't put this sentence in my name, I absolutely do not accept it."

Joao immediately deleted the real-time record from his data board. "Yes... yes, sir." He said with a little stammer. This made the wolf god laugh.

They walked together on the edge of the barren plain. Horus looked out at the destroyed or surviving Nephilim temples, the fortresses that had been reduced to rubble, and the various city divisions, and spoke freely.

"Jaghatai will wipe out the rest of our Nephilim," the wolf god said, generously sharing the next military arrangements with the enthusiastic memoirist. "After the battle on our side is completely over, I can provide you with a communication channel. Ask the White Scars if they are willing to take you with them."

"Thank you very much, my Lord!"

"Then write me better in your biography, Memoirist. I wouldn't mind adding more glory to me." The Wolf God said. "Unlike Konrad - did you know that it was he who actually told Sanguinius the location of the Nephilim, but refused to reveal it to others?"

"Am I... am I that... someone else?"

"Ah you are."

"I understand!" Joao shuddered. "I will never reveal... that I know... this."

The wolf shepherd god laughed softly, and the laughter vibrated in the memory maker's chest. A warm current gradually flowed out of the mortal's heart, making his stiff limbs more comfortable and flexible.

"Sanguinius and Konrad Curze maintain a secret friendship. If I hadn't had a good relationship with both of them, I would have been kept in the dark about some of their little secrets." Horus shook his head deliberately without getting angry. "These guys! It's really too much. Perturabo and Rogal Dorn, Perturabo and Magnus, Perturabo and Alpharius, Perturabo and Angron..."

"Lord Perturabo sounds as welcome as you are," the Memoirist said.

"Ha! That's a nice compliment. I accept it," Horus said briskly, regretting that Sanguinius was not with him.

Sanguinius had just decided to go for a walk, observing the battlefield separately from him, and Horus had run into Amit, the Blood Angel who was desperately searching for his Primarch.

He pressed his thumb against the ring on his finger, and put the story back from his mouth. Perhaps when he earned more merits, he could tell his story with more pride. As the Great Crusade progressed to this day, the glory accumulated by the Dark Angels, Iron Warriors and Iron Hands was comparable to that of the Luna Wolves, or even surpassed it.

Although not as keen on competition as Ferrus Manus, Horus felt that he had a role to play in furthering the Emperor's dream.

"Why do you like following the Blood Angels, Memoirist?" he asked casually.

"Because... I..." Joao stuttered again, "I am a Barr..."

He bowed his head in self-abandonment. "I failed the Blood Angels' Qualification Test, my lord."

"So you took a different approach! I like your answer, Joao!" Horus said with a smile. "I thought Sanguinius's charm surpassed mine again."

"And back then...my friend joined the Blood Angels..." Joao finished, hesitating.

"You want to see him again? Easy, tell me his name and I'll ask Sanguinius for you. That's very convenient, Sanguinius remembers the name of every child in his fleet." Horus answered readily. No matter what, he was always happy to see good things happen.

"I have actually met him, sir, thank you for your kindness... I do like recording wars." Joao smiled. "I love my job."

"That's good too. Speaking of war, I'm actually going to have one soon here. There are about ten star systems missing in Ullanor, and the Luna Wolves will go take a look later."

At this point, Horus suddenly remembered that he had not yet asked the angel whether he was willing to go to Ullanor with him to fight and share more glory with him.

He had no idea where Sanguinius was now, so he could only give up the idea with regret.

"What else do you need from your material, Memoirist? I'll take you to see it," Horus invited. "Record the Emperor's deeds well, Joao."

"Hmm... the Temple of the Nephilim?" the Memoirist said uncertainly, naming the first unfamiliar building within his field of vision.

-

"After the Battle of Melchior, the Blood Angels followed the Emperor's orders, bid farewell to the Luna Wolves, and headed to the Perseus War Zone to fight.

It is said that when the Primarch Horus Lupercal said goodbye, he made a promise with Sanguinius that when they met again in the future, they would finish the chess game they had started before the war. Sanguinius smiled and revealed that the reason why the game of regicide had not been completed was because Horus had already lost and refused to continue playing.

【Time:-02.23.06】

"Calm down, Alotros," Radon said in vain, kneeling on one knee in front of Alotros, hoping that his battle-brother in front of him could still hear him.

Although Amit was the captain of Alotros, he was self-aware enough to leave the task of comfort to Radon and set off to the combat command center to seek help from the angels.

Alotros knelt on the ground, breathing hard, sweat covered his forehead, unable to utter a single word. He was once a humble but excellent warrior, but now he was tightly holding the small pot of blood wine, his consciousness on the verge of losing.

Radon didn't know what the other party saw. It seemed different from the madness in the blood that once trapped the ghouls, but some kind of crueler and more ominous dark omen, which re-emerged from the depths of their once stable genes.

He had handed the remaining blood wine to Alotros, which barely eased the battle-brother's pain and stopped him from drinking the black blood on the ground.

But now, his panting was getting worse and worse, which made Radolon extremely uneasy.

"Father is coming. Stay awake. You can do this," he whispered in comfort, even though he had no idea what Sanguinius could do for Alotros, except give him eternal peace.

Soon, he heard two steady footsteps echoing in the corridor behind him. One of them was undoubtedly the Primarch, which gave Radon some encouragement.

"Father..." He stood up in a state of confusion, the second half of the syllable was cut off, and turned into another greeting: "Lord Horus!"

The wolf god lowered his head, stopped looking around, and looked forward. He was a little surprised: "So there are people here, warriors. Um...what's wrong with him, Radolon? Do you need help?"

Radolon hesitated. "No, sir," he said, feeling his tongue was so stiff, "we can handle it."

Horus raised his eyebrows and stepped over the black blood pool formed by the mixture of Nephilim's silver blood and human blood. Radon knew very well that the Primarch's vision allowed him to see Alotros's condition in the dark. The closer he got, the more he could see Alotros' abnormality.

"My Lord," Radoron said in vain, blocking Alotros. He heard the sound of water behind him, Alotros had put his hand into the blood on the ground, and then a soft sip exploded in Radoron's ears like thunder.

Lord Sanguinius, he thought, please come soon...

"What's wrong with him?" Horus asked again, sounding even more confused. The Memoirist followed him. "Is it your little problem of thirst for blood?"

"Yes, his captain has gone to find a solution. We can solve all this." Radolon answered, and then added in his mind: But there is more to it than that.

But Horus came too close, and Radolon knew it was too late.

"He is not in the right state," Horus said softly, "Who is he?"

"Alotros!" The memoir's surprised voice rang softly, echoing in the limited space of the room, "Are you okay?"

"Oh, your friend?" Horus said. "Well, if you want. Can you let him go and see, Radolon? This memoirist is also a Baal."

After the Memoirist spoke, the noises made by Alotros stopped, as if he had been effectively appeased by something.

Perhaps an old friend could indeed bring some help to Alotros's precarious sanity, Radolon thought.

"Okay, Memoirist," said Radron, stepping aside slightly to observe Alotros's condition. He was relieved to see that the battle brother had calmed down, but the uneasiness did not fade away. "But don't get too close."

"I understand," Joao walked over quickly, holding the data pad and stopped beside Radon, keeping a proper distance. "Are you... okay, Alot?" he asked hesitantly.

Alotros slowly stood up, and Radon noticed that there was a kind of dim tranquility in the brother's eyes, as if his life no longer belonged to him, but fell into a more empty and dark distance. In any case, at least he acted very quietly.

Joao took a step back uneasily and cautiously. He knew that the Blood Angels would have some minor flaws, and everyone knew it. But in the more than a hundred years of expedition, after Sanguinius reshaped them, they never caused any malicious incidents, and those minor flaws became the topic of conversation that people enjoyed talking about.

"...Oh." Alotros uttered a syllable softly.

Joao was not sure if the other person was calling him. He looked up, gazing at his friend's face which was difficult to see in the dark, and realized that the other person was taking a long time to lower himself.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Allot?"

Horus suddenly shouted: "No!"

At the same moment when this call was sounded, Alotros suddenly attacked, much faster than Radoron expected. His fist pierced through the mortal's chest in an instant. Joao was lifted up and his whole body was close to the lips and teeth of the Blood Angel. Fresh blood gushed out and poured on the blank face of the Space Marine.

"What is going on here—" Horus was surprised and angry, regretting that he was too far away just now. Before Alotros began to bite, he had bound the Blood Angel's arms and fixed him to the ground with a few moves. This was not his offspring, and he could not execute him easily.

Radolon silently sorted out the bodies of the mortals, his face full of regret. This was his wrong decision, and the price was a life.

"What are you doing, Blood Angels?" Horus growled. "Damn it!"

"We..." Radolon said with difficulty, "Wait for Lord Sanguinius to come... I can't decide all this, my lord."

Horus snorted and knocked Alotros unconscious, his eyes fixed on the fallen Memoirist.

Silence spread in the darkness, and the smell of blood, hot and strong, flowed quietly.

-

【Time:-72.23.42】

"The Memoirist?" said Aloteros, so tall that João had to look up at his old friend.

He looked up. "Hi... Alot. Yes, I am now the Memoirist... For the Emperor."

Fortunately, his old friend quickly lowered himself and squatted in front of him.

The face, which had become particularly handsome after the transformation, but whose former outlines could still be vaguely seen, raised a smile that was familiar to Joao: "It sounds great, Joao. Being able to record these stories and travel all over the galaxy... Your Majesty, if I were not an Astartes, this would be the best career I could think of."

"Yeah!" Joao laughed. "I like this job too. You know I like writing these stories, recording wars, and recording history. If I were to join the Astartes Legion now, I might be reluctant to become a memoirist."

Alotros laughed out loud: "Who told you to break your leg during the test month? You fell flat on your face down the stairs!"

"Hey! Stop talking," Joao reached out and punched Alotros in the chest, surprised that he could perform the same move so skillfully decades ago. "If you keep talking, be careful about how you appear in history books, Alot."

"This is horrible," Alotros shrugged. "Okay, Melchior's general attack will begin soon. See you in... well, about sixty or seventy hours."

"Then you'd better fight harder and give me more material for my description," Joao said. "Goodbye, Aloteros, fight... Come on? I see your captain is starting to stare at us."

"You sound more bellicosous than I am," Alotros stood up. "See you later, Joao. You are with the Wolf God, right? Then I will ask my father to let me go find you. It will be more convenient."

“It sounds like Lord Sanguinius is as forgiving as legend has it,” Joao said.

"Of course," Alotros lowered his voice, "the Blood Angels are the best Legion - please put that in your book."

-

"Unfortunately, I did not have the honor to watch the Battle of Melchior. I can only compile this precious war data from the manuscript of the former memoirist Joao Dávila, and try my best to restore the scenes and details of the battle at that time, as well as the infinite glory that the two great legions brought to the human world, and the selfless salvation of countless mortals who fell into darkness - this is the meaning of the Great Crusade."

【Time: 00.00.00】

"Horus Lupercal will keep the secret," Sanguinius said, his fingers twitching slightly, as if the Scion's throat was still in his grip, suspended in the final moments before it was snapped. "He can be trusted, Radoron."

"Yes, sir." Radolon bowed slightly, his expression gloomy.

Sanguinius sighed, supported himself on the table, and slowly sat down, staring at the profile of his guard.

"Sir?" Radolon asked uncertainly.

"Oh, nothing..." Sanguinius looked away. "Nothing..."

He buried his face in his hands, and the disastrous fragments reappeared before his eyes.

"Send Meros to see the gene-seed of Alotros," he said, listening to the sound of Radron's footsteps fading away.

Blood, flies, livestock plague, aliens, darkness... visions of doom and disaster flowed like a tide, all of which he had shared with Conrad Curz. Since he first saw them, they have reappeared and lingered.

But there was another disaster that the archangel never told anyone.

Eldest son. He muttered the word silently and sighed.

(End of this chapter)