Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 435 Class Reunion

"This is a dead world," John Grammaticus muttered to ease his nerves.

He felt that the one who bears the truth would not be satisfied with the answer he obtained, just as he felt at the moment of landing that it was unlikely that this deserted place could attract the Nightmare Sun, which was closely related to the death of mankind.

More likely, this was a trap set by Zephyr Ruby: perhaps for Lorgar.

But John had to admit that he recognized this place the moment he poked his head out of the warp channel.

This was once an industrial world, at least that's how John felt. Even though it was deserted, the strong smell of chemicals still lingered around him, continuing to corrode all the long-abandoned scrap iron and signboards, as well as a large amount of artificial faded grass that looked like it had albinism.

In the garbage dump in the distance, there were a pile of broken wings of civilian drones, modified prosthetic arms, and wheelchairs that had fallen into the mud with all the axles broken. Of course, there were also dead bodies here. Thank God, their skeletons had long since rotted away and there was no smell at all.

The sky above was dark and grey, broken up into countless tiny pieces by the remnants of the orbiting space rings that still floated. The stars shrank to a tiny blue dot, and in every sense of the word, it was lifeless. It was like... some kind of post-apocalyptic world that had been stuck at the last second before restarting, and it had continued to do so in a lifeless manner, supporting a group of rodents.

"Where is this?" Lorgar Aurelion asked gently, and John could not tell his emotion.

"I--" He swallowed the words "I don't know". It was not a good decision to test the Primarch with lies, especially when this Primarch could always throw you to the stake with a smile.

"Sivers," he said, "I didn't think we'd end up here. It was dead the last time I was here, nearly two hundred years ago."

Lorgar Aurelion walked on the upper layer of the garbage heap with a lightness that did not match his body size, completely ignoring the burning smell that penetrated his nostrils. This world that was as crippled as a railway pileup was reflected in his violet eyes, and damn it - John saw a genuine sadness on his noble and solemn face.

"The dead..." Lorgar Aurelion murmured in a low voice, with an ancient tone that was rare in this era. "If they had lived for hundreds of years, they would have received His glory. But among the stars, at the distant border of the empire, they died in an age of ignorance and darkness, without the good fortune of being bathed in His truth, and no longer have a place for eternal life..."

He lowered his head, and the corner of his white robe brushed against the waste on the ground. The True Word bearer ignored this material pollution, his eyes wandering on the ground, sometimes leaning over, gently moving aside the collapsed steel frame, looking at the skinny skeletons that died in awkward postures, and then sighing softly, moving his lips, and offering a belated prayer for the dead.

John didn't know what to say. On their way here, the Word Bearers had stayed for a few extra days and burned a primitive world with its own polytheistic beliefs to ashes.

"Is there any water?" Luo Jia asked suddenly.

John felt around in his pockets to show that he had looked hard.

The leader of the Truthsayers turned around and gave a few instructions in Colchis, then said to Lorgar, "Send it immediately, Aurelion."

This also made John remember that all the Word Bearers called their Primarch by his name. This even made John eager to try it.

"Sivers..." Aurelion repeated the name of the place. "Why did you come here, John?"

This involved some things that John couldn't say directly, mainly that he didn't think it was wise to betray his mentor.

"I thought there was something of interest here, your Excellency, and I—"

Lorgar interrupted. "Who among the Illuminati has been here, or is still here?" he asked gently.

"Hey, sir, I didn't say—"

"We have the same goal, John," Lorgar said in a gentle and persuasive way, with a sincerity in his eyes that seemed real and fake. "We are all tracking down the Nightmare Sun. Why do you think I want to hurt your Illuminati?"

"It's Elihos," John gave up struggling. He was not a loyal subordinate. "The Faceless Elihos, he's watching here now."

Lorgar nodded: "Has he always belonged to the Illuminati?"

"That's a question that I'm not sure about, sir," John shrugged. "But I don't think so. I actually... uh, I knew him a long time ago. He was an excellent architect, and the Illuminati hadn't been established when he was born. Later..."

Later, a group of psykers of the Old Night sailed to Prospero, were bitten by the Soul-Eating Bees, and all huddled in Tizca until Elihos left - just a few years before the great Magnus fell from the sky. This was the information he was shared with.

As for how Elohos Paridius later joined the Illuminati, John tended to think that it was a retro class reunion where a psychic communication was sent saying "Let's meet at Easter. We haven't seen each other for many years", but the organizer of the reunion was too ambitious.

After all, if a person lives too long, he will either plan to make a big move to dominate the world, or rot in obscurity in a corner.

"Then he came to Seavers to work on his own thing. It seems he has no time to clean up the garbage here." John finished his words tiredly.

Lorgar listened quietly and narrowed his eyes: "Will you introduce me to him, John?"

"If you wish, Aurelion." John chose the most appropriate moment to address Lorgar by name, and was alert to Aurelion's reaction. Very good, the Primarch nodded at him.

A few minutes later, an aircraft rumbled down in front of them, and the wind pressure almost blew John away. Lorgar Aurelion walked towards the aircraft and stopped at the edge.

John watched in shock as the Word Bearer allowed two Word Bearers to wash his hands with water from a water bag, then he recited a whole prayer with compassion, gesticulating with various characters, wrote a prayer with his bare hands, and then ended his consecration with a cross. Then, the aircraft took off from the spot and sprayed holy water in the clouds like pesticide, watering the dead land of Sivers.

"This--" John hesitated, "No, this... is it like this?"

Lorgar smiled. John had never seen such a genuine smile on his expressionless face.

"Isn't that old-fashioned? Yes, I know, but Perturabo said that the development of technology is also His will. We must follow His footsteps and understand His true heart, rather than being restricted by the dogmas of the past priests to annotate His actions."

"Oh, I see," John said, wondering what Perturabo's exact words were.

-

This is not a good sign. In fact, it is terrible.

Something had happened to Perturabo, even if Morse didn't know what it was. After all, he was the one who helped Perturabo deliver the message - but suddenly, the source of the signal was cut off. It was not the kind of weakening that was covered by a layer of lantern paper in a dormant state, but a weaker and dimmer abnormal state, which made Morse's heart ring with alarm bells.

Now he wanted to know not only how to get to Perturabo while keeping the set of blades in his hands safe, but also, Your Majesty, at least someone should contact him first.

+I knew he was not available, so I came to you, Malcador.+
He stared at the twisted blades. Perhaps he should crush them with spells now. The curtain of the area where the Cliff was located was stable, and these blades had not been nourished by blood for perhaps thousands of years. Their source of power had long been exhausted. Unless the power of the warp suddenly burst out, a meaningless hole would be blown up in the depths of the universe, and the power of chaos would briefly peek out, like a flame exploding into a flame, and then, there would be nothing here -

Stop. He didn't want to become the driving force for the evil forces to invade the real universe because of an inexplicable adventure. He closed his eyes tightly.

+I can't contact the Iron Warriors fleet either, Morse,+ Malcador replied,+ It's too far away, and if you can't do that, how can I accomplish this mission? But... what can happen?+
Morse was in no mood to stop and introduce the 180 bad endings in the prophecy. The moment the Nemesis Blade appeared, he knew he had to be vigilant, no matter what form the shadow that was about to touch this world would take. However, the task of escorting the Nemesis Blade made him unable to split his attention.

Unlike those psychics, he could not split his soul into two halves and send them to different locations. That would destroy his inner structure and destroy the remaining part of him. Yes, long-distance communication can be easily achieved, but his power cannot really make a difference across hundreds of thousands of light years...

+The last mission they accepted was to quell the rebellion in the Davin system. You might want to know, + Malcador said seriously.

+It's better not to assign this task to him - no, forget it. +Morse pressed his brow, +Prime Minister, are you sure you can cross the warp with a set of chaos weapons? Or you can come over, no... +
Suddenly, he stopped talking, raised his head sharply, and stared in a specific direction. The light from the dim soul fire shone again, distant and blurry, as weak as if it was separated by a layer of frosted glass, but it was unmistakable.

As for the glass that created the barrier effect, he would never forget the strength of it. Even though time had passed and the smell inside was very different, he still remembered the crystal-like texture.

This surprised him greatly, for he had no idea that there were many more Immortals still active in the world, beyond the Emperor's sight, on the fringes of the Imperium, at the edge of the galaxy, but it gave him a target, and all he had to provide was a psychic projection, the kind that could communicate.

Would that be someone he could talk to? Erohos's hatred of Chaos was older than that of the Emperor. Perhaps that was a helper rather than an obstacle, but what kind of thing would make him do it?
He had been silent for such a long time that Morse suspected that these old guys had died one by one in the storm of the old night. How many of them were still active?
+No, is there anything else I can do? +The Imperial Chancellor asked.

+Prepare the Shadow Prisons, I'll bring the Nemesis Blades later. Don't let anyone get their hands on them, not even Alpharius. These blades are powerful enough to hurt a Primarch.+
+And... help me find Magnus, I don't have time to search for him. +
+Good. +The Prime Minister said that when a person who usually focuses on talking nonsense suddenly shows up in front of you like a snake that has been kicked, it often means that the matter is very serious.

Morse had closed his eyes, chasing the faint light, looking for a way to reconnect with Perturabo's will in the warp.

His will traveled through the vast ocean until the turbid smell became stronger, and the colorful stars shone through the thick clouds, twisting together chaotically to form a seemingly multi-headed snake shadow, with venom dripping from the snake's fangs, a drop of rusty silver black light. If this is the latest research that Errochos Paridius is conducting, then he really should hide his damn ass.

He constructed a shadow, and the chaotic sounds around him squeaked like crawling beetles. He quickly passed through the shadow of the giant snake, leaving a golden rune afterimage. There was almost no fresh breath of sentient beings on this planet, except for those lower creatures that survived.

No... The Word Bearers are here? Why? He had no time to think about it. Because Perturabo was very close to him, the light gradually became clear, the shadow of a titanic steel giant, burning quietly and weakly, with a black shadow that seemed to be bleeding. But that was Perturabo.

Somehow, something calmed Morse, even though he was still ready to hold the silversmith accountable, or, he thought, thank Elohos. His shadow slid gently across the wet, broken earth toward the light... past a water purifier, up through the window, into the house... along with the distant blue light of the stars, searching for the right path...

Then, he saw Perturabo's soul, which existed in the real universe. Because he was separated from his body, he leaned on a chair weakly and semi-materially, returning to a vague shadow, obviously not awake. The light net formed by the three keys of the silversmith protected his existence, and Erohos himself was missing, which made Morse wonder if the guy who suddenly appeared was stimulated by something and just ran away again.

And the tarot cards, three tarot cards are lying on the ground, like some kind of prophecy waiting to be revealed, which needs to be uncovered by someone existing in the physical universe.

For a moment, Morse suddenly felt a huge force leaving, and the whole world became bright in an instant, and the hissing and wriggling sound covered the sky, like a thunder eagle gliding over his head at a close distance. Then, the world dimmed again, and the stars still emitted a small, cold and silent light.

But the hydra had just left, its belly wriggling in the sky, its tail quietly sliding into the ocean current of the warp, its proliferating tentacles and whip-like tendrils trembling elastically, chasing the departing silversmith and disappearing together.

He sat down beside Perturabo, waiting for Magnus to respond to Malcador's call and find him.

He could only choose between bringing the soul of a Primarch all the way back to Davin or ensuring the Nemesis's arrival on Terra, but Magnus was enough to accomplish the first of those tasks - or, at the very least, to keep the Crimson King here to watch over his beloved brother.

Then he heard the footsteps of marchers. They came from the real universe, the sound was clear and purposeful.

"I remember this," John Grammaticus said from the door. "But I can't guarantee that Elihos is here. Maybe he's out for a walk, Aurelian."

(End of this chapter)