Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 448 Tracer
"I invite you," said Konrad Curze, bowing slightly to Morse and Perturabo and holding his cloak open to one side with his arm. "I would like to have you both come to the temporary stage that has been constructed. If you want to ..."

He removed some of the fancy embellishments and riddles, and to make up for the awkward feeling of loss, he had to lick his lips.

"My subordinates have spent decades tracking the Illuminati in the Holy Grail Expanse, looking for traces of the Nightmare Sun and the Illuminati Mentor who opposes it. Finally, they told me that the Harlequin's tracer dance requires the help of a sufficiently powerful psyker. Otherwise, we will never be able to break the fog left by the three-headed snake on its trail."

"Is this why you have been so busy in recent years?" Perturabo said, and then nodded. "This is also the information we need."

"I am glad to hear that, Warmaster," Conrad's expression relaxed, and he pronounced the word "Warmaster" clearly and deliberately, "Please follow me along the Webway and find our preparations. The stage for the Pied Harlequin is in the center of the Webway, where there is no time or place, only unquestioned answers and unreal realities, where shadows and veils have lost their ability to obscure vision..."

“I bet there’s a name in there,” Morse said.

"The Black Library." Curze looked at him and said.

After a brief tacit discussion, Iron Ring was left on the Iron Won to temporarily take care of this large and expensive, but not absolutely important space fortress. Perturabo and Morse boarded the Cliff, and under the leadership of Conrad, they shuttled along the webway covered with runes by Magnus.

"Some... people do have objections to allowing Magnus to paint here," Curze said, resting his feet on the edge of the chair and supporting his knees with his hands. Of course, he is now just a shadow made of psychic energy and he can do anything. "Until they prove their effectiveness... It's like, this was a waterproof raincoat before, and then it became a submarine."

He laughed to himself for a moment, then suddenly stopped, staring at Perturabo with dark eyes. "What is it like to be Warmaster, Perturabo? Does it change anything for you?"

"In what respect?" asked Perturabo.

Curz shrugged, leaning against his armrest, "I don't know, my brother. I hope... not."

"This is not an easy crown to wear. Its radiance will make you stand out... Even my Tarot saw you, Perturabo. Three Tarot cards, the God-Emperor, the High Priest, and the Lone Wolf. This is the first time you have appeared in divination. For this, I feel... This is not what I wanted to see."

"Which one am I?" Perturabo asked.

"Jackal, because the image of you wearing a crown appeared on the LCD card, I couldn't make a mistake. But I still can't figure out what it means."

Koz bit his lower lip, then put his fingers to his mouth, trembling slightly to suppress the blood that was flowing out.

"This is abnormal, my brother, I am not sure - as Magnus said, the essence of true prophecy is to ascend above time and explore the echoes of the future of ordered time in the warp..."

"It will be fine." Perturabo said in a deep voice, and gently interrupted Conrad's thoughts with his voice. "You are probably the person in the entire galaxy who knows best how to avoid being affected by the prophecy, Conrad."

After he finished speaking, Morse, who was lying on the recliner, immediately sat up and said, "Oh?"

Curze put down his hand, looking as pale as ever. "It's almost time," he said, and seemed to be smiling. "It's time to set off, my dear brother."

-

"Each actor will only give one complete performance of Tracer's Elegy in his lifetime - and after discussion, now is the time to complete it."

Koz said, his fingers sliding over the edge of the leather pages, words longer than time flowing out from near his fingers, dissipating before being read, along with all the undeveloped and unmanifested roads, entangled into a wisp of rising ink smoke, briefly outlining a black and white picture, and then immediately disappearing.

Perturabo retrieved the memories stored in his brain. These words that should have been memorized by the Primarch in an instant had been gently shrouded by the mist - it might not be impossible to decipher them by force, but Perturabo was not interested in doing so. He was reluctant to even raise his eyebrows.

Hiding deep in the webway, Sigol did not want them to see too much, but in fact, no one present was idle enough to check the prophecies and unknown dangerous knowledge stored in the Black Library.

The clowns moved between the bookshelves. Some of them were the big clowns who played the God of Laughter himself, Xi Gaole, and others were the one-man actors who played the hungry enemy, wearing two horns and wrapped in purple flames. Sometimes, even if there was no performance, they would imitate a brilliant battle between the bookshelves, living in their unique roles, and finally bow to the three passers-by.

"Your actors are ready," a Death Clown said in a low voice, squatting on the top of a tall ladder, holding a heavy gun in his hand as light as a feather, in line with the cultural tradition of Death being placed on the shoulder.

"The Ruby took on the cloak of shadow, so that the secret behind the veil might be revealed, a sheltered secret place, a thousand-year-old lair of entwined serpents, shaped by time, made whole by the half-demon born into shadow..."

"A good announcement." Morse's words were cold.

The Death Clown flipped over the ladder and quietly fell into the shadows behind. The bookshelves in the Black Library seemed to move because of this, but it seemed that only the two Primarchs and the craftsman himself moved.

They stepped into a circular hall, where the empty gray stone hall in the center was enclosed by neatly arranged bookshelves. A large number of piled-up books blocked other roads leading to the circular hall, creating a closed and narrow area. In the center of the gray stone stage, an iron eight-pointed star immediately attracted Morse's attention.

First, he recognized the dangerous sign; second, a domino black and white square clown was squatting in the center of the eight-pointed star, with a gilded tricorne hat on his head and a broken mask of tragedy and joy, revealing bright red lips.

"Lord of the Night," Harlequin raised his head, "the dirge is about to begin."

"How can I help you?" Morse asked. "Are you Zephyrus Ruby?"

Two clowns brought weapon racks, on which everything from spears to bows and arrows was available. Curze replied: "This is a mapped tracer ritual, Morse. Your ritual level must be much higher than that of my insignificant young Primarch - look at those weapons, think about our purpose... both behind the veil and within the wheel..."

Perturabo watched Morse staring thoughtfully at the weapons rack, and could not help but feel helpless about the riddles of these psychics.

If everyone was like Magnus, trying to introduce all the principles of psionic energy in a way that the greenskins could understand, then it would undoubtedly... no, he had to admit, perhaps then humans would not be able to rely on the protection of ignorance to survive darkness and chaos.

While they were talking, Hongyu's performance had already begun. It was almost a solo dance of his, if the accompaniment from the unknown shadow was not included in the performance.

At the beginning, Hongyu is shown to be knocked down by some demonic force and falls to her knees holding her chest.

Then he spun to his feet, with a new colorful heart painted on his chest. The gloomy melody brightened with a long, high string section.

At some point, Hongyu's mask was replaced with the unique grid iron mask of the Blood Lord's legion, marking his new identity. He jumped lightly, sometimes crossing the beams of light following him, and rummaging through the piles of books around the hall, symbolizing his work for Conrad.

Until one moment, the black eight-pointed star in the center of the field suddenly emitted a terrifying black light, and the shadow of a crystal snake swam out from the edge of the field, twisting and twisting, and coming with a menacing momentum. The clown danced with the crystal snake, and the cards in his hand were played from time to time, stabbing at the edge of the crystal snake's swimming body, trembling elastically.

The tarot card outlined the route of the long snake, but it was unable to completely lock it in. The clown's lips were pressed into a bright red straight line, he tore off the mask, revealing a pale face, and suddenly nailed the tip of the broken mask into the ground, hitting the front end of the crystal snake's torso.

The snake bent and sprang up, suddenly pounced on the clown, climbed up his legs, and launched a fierce counterattack. Chaos crystal poison pierced from the snake's fangs and injected into the clown's palm. Hongyu twitched exaggeratedly, grabbed the snake and smashed it to the ground.

Morse instantly pulled out a long sword from the weapon rack and threw it violently, accompanied by floating golden words. The tip of the sword pierced the long snake from the side, and the crystal snake twitched in shock. The splashing blood formed words on the gray ground, and then it tore its own snake body and quickly swam back into the surrounding darkness, and the long sword broke.

The music suddenly stopped, the dance ended, and all the lights came on.

"Ishtar, the Holy Grail expansion." Morse strode forward and read out the words made up of crystal blood.

This is not just a name artificially assigned to a planet, it is its specific location in the projection of the warp: the name is power, form, existence and truth.

Just by seeing the name, he was able to see in his mind the deep blue outline of the planet embedded in the vast universe, as well as the bloody three-headed snake shadow surrounding the outside of the planet.

Until this moment, Perturabo finally used his logical reasoning and moderate experience to speculate the theory of the ritual: "This is..."

He had trouble with his choice of words. "Is this a real battle?" the Iron Lord asked.

"You can think of it this way," Morse said, returning to Perturabo's side. The light in his eyes dimmed in a blink, and finally returned to its original black. "This is a symbolic performance, and each scene reflects the development of the real universe."

The throw just now seemed easy, but he knew what level of energy he had poured into it in an instant. Over time, the spreading spell that was enough to tear apart the stars was attached to a temporary disposable ritual weapon, the long sword, and successfully penetrated the subspace scales of the temporarily trapped crystal snake, leaving a trace of its existence.

Perturabo nodded, a part of him still immersed in the drama that had just happened. The Primarch's mind made it impossible for him not to try to analyze the energy flow and amplification principles involved, even though he knew that even the Harlequin himself might not understand all the mysteries involved.

"I thank you, Conrad," he said.

Perhaps he felt that his mission had come to an end, so Konrad Curze waved his hand in a lackluster response, "I will not accompany you to find this 'mentor'. Goodbye... Who is willing to take the Warmaster and the craftsmen away from here? Forget it... Forget it, I will take you away. I will send you to the exit of the Webway. Perhaps you understand the overall process of Webway construction, respected Warmaster, and you also have a map, but I know how to move forward faster."

They didn't want to delay and went straight back to the exit. After all, they still had too many questions that needed to be answered after catching No. 11.

Before leaving, Perturabo looked back at the Harlequin Ruby, who was lying on the ground. He lay there in silence, his chest sunken where his heart should be, leaving an unfillable space. It was clear that he had given his life for the Tracer's Elegy.

In addition, it is worth mentioning that the immortal silversmith captured by Magnus, an immortal who was supposed to be immortal, quickly entered a silent demise under the strict supervision of the Crimson King. After the chaotic power that supported his existence was isolated, his extra lifespan turned to dust in the blink of an eye.

When he was dying, the silversmith neither threatened Chaos nor confessed the entire Illuminati plot. He only handed over the architectural drawings and various works he had designed in the Old Night. After Magnus carefully analyzed those drawings and found that they were just ordinary architectural designs, he was so angry that he didn't want to talk.

"But Ishtar is there," Perturabo said, watching Conrad drift away in his black boat. "Will it flee again?"

"If it feels it can continue to move freely in the warp while bleeding profusely," Morse replied, his eyes closed so he could observe the looming body of the crystal snake. There was no doubt that it had been traumatized by the ritual, and its sharp, nonexistent wails echoed around the entire deep blue planet, causing ripples in the sea of ​​emotions.

He stood up, walked to the porthole, and observed the three-headed snake's protective pattern and energy structure.

The three-headed snake enveloped the entire planet of Ishtar. If he wanted to reach the surface, he would need to break through the defenses of the Chaos Creation raised by No. 11 - or kill it, he preferred the latter. This meant that he would need to deal with a Chaos monster that could compete with the Tyrant Star that had not yet arrived. This was feasible, but not easy.

Just before he made the final decision, a voice came, not from the planet, but from the three-headed snake itself.

"Come on," it said, flicking its tongue gently, ignoring the disturbing noises. It was almost a sigh.

(End of this chapter)