Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 457: Constraints
The strong wind poured into the long dripping corridor from outside the cave, and when it touched the swirling golden light and dark blue shadows, only a faint sigh was left.

The water splashed and scattered under the trampling. The curved tip of the golden blade raised a half-moon arc from the water surface, and stabbed lightly towards the figure of a woman not far away with the sparkling water light. In response, the woman's bare feet stepped heavily on the rocky ground of the cave, causing shock waves to spread deep into the earth. Gravel hit from all directions, bringing heavy vibrations to the golden armor.

Constantine Waldo ignored the dull pain in his chest and swept the handle of the Solar Spear horizontally towards Elda's waist. The seemingly light blow was enough to break rocks and even gold and iron, but it was blocked by the woman with her extraordinary strength. A terrifying look of anger burst out on her dark skin, and she was repelled by the power ripples caused by Constantine's swinging of the spear.

A psychic shell was fired suddenly, and the two were thrown backwards at the same time. Constantine's heels cut into the earth and rocks, and dust rose from under his feet like an avalanche. Elda stomped heavily on the wall of the stone wall, and a cloud of hot blood mist spurted out of her mouth. Her sunken sternum was quickly repaired under her unique psychic power.

"Why on earth would you work for him?" Erda grinned, her headscarf that she used as a psychic hood had long since shattered into pieces, revealing her burning eyes. "Why on earth would you all die for an evil god?"

Waldo thrust out his spear, which pierced the stone wall where Erda had just been. His strength flowed abundantly in every corner of his body. Erda brushed shoulders with him at the last moment, and their faces were very close for a moment, and their savage breaths like mist competed for territory with each other.

The commander of the imperial guards elbowed Erda's arm bone with a crack. Waldo drew his spear and the tip of the spear cut off Erda's fingernails as it spun. The broken nails shattered on the floor of the cave and blood splattered.

"That is not for me to consider," Valdor replied, surprised at the vehemence of his tone, as if he were angered by Erda's affront to the Emperor.

"Then what should you consider, Commander? You are his right-hand man, so where is your thinking? Is he going to become an evil god, and you will follow him through thick and thin?"

Erda roared, and additional psychic limbs emerged from her back. Fire suddenly burst out from her palms, exploding blue bone fragments of the open skull and hitting the spine of the commander of the imperial guards.

The timing of this attack was impeccable, and Erda's swollen rage made her concentrate all her extraordinary strength in her fight. The ribs of the commander of the imperial guards were cracked, and countless broken fragments rolled out of his shattered thigh armor.

Waldo kept silent. The blazing Sun God Spear pierced Erda's left shoulder with the blue fire and threw her to the ground. The huge force instantly destroyed half of her body. The oscillating waves continued to spread in the narrow cave. The broken stones fell down and hit Waldo's head. Erda coughed violently under his spear, and pieces of lung fragments and blood foam spurted out.

"You didn't answer me," her face showed a mixture of pain and pity, "you poor dog."

Waldo suddenly slashed the spear downwards, piercing through Elda's abdomen and severing the spine. The blue light was reflected on the blade of the Sun Spear.

"He gave me instructions," Waldo said.

Elda convulsed: "Oh? He asked you to continue your loyalty, just like he told me? Oh, Saturn——"

For a moment, the tip of Waldo's spear stopped swinging, and then the commander of the imperial guards pulled out the spear with force, turned around and hooked the lower side of the spear blade with his backhand, blocking Elda's attack.

A pair of flaming hands had already penetrated the abdominal armor, and Erda's furious face was smiling sarcastically. The body that was originally on the ground was only a crystal shell, which shattered into pieces with a loud noise.

"Besides your diehard fans, what do you have left, Commander-in-Chief?" Erda asked hoarsely.

Waldo grabbed one of Erda's arms and thrust his spear upward, cutting through Erda's upper arm on the other side.

Blood gushed out, and in this brief moment, the Spear of the Sun presented a truth to the commander of the Imperial Guards, a memory that once existed. It poured in so fast that Constantine Waldo could not resist it.

He felt the most incomprehensible moment for Erda, and the content of the picture caused the commander of the imperial guards to pause for a moment.

The words he heard brought to his spear a flash of truth about the Emperor's instructions to him, and all the information he had ever received was overturned by all of them, all who had not been on Moloch fifteen thousand years ago, all who had come later and who had come later.

A brand new, perhaps abandoned, or perhaps still ongoing grand plan is burning like a raging fire along the fuse of eternal time. It is enough to ignite the galaxy and burn thousands of generations.

And it reinterpreted everything and shattered it against the unshakable body of Constantine Waldo.

Even though he hoped that the Emperor was really considering the plan that Erda had mentioned, and even though he hoped that the one who was about to enter the golden cage of Eternal Vigilance was not his master, as Erda had seen in his memory...

But this was not the latest and highest order given to him by the Emperor.

A burst of fire burned through the trembling heart of the Imperial Guards commander and was extinguished in an instant.

In Erda's memory, the Emperor stood there, looking at Erda, looking into Constantine's eyes, which were filled with a kind of noble coldness and hopeful joy and persistence. He said...

Erda slipped away from his spear point, grasping the spear that had pierced her arm, her hand bones cracking with a creaking sound, and then freed herself from the restraints. She was about to speak, more questions spitting out of her bloody mouth, but Waldo's next spear swing suddenly interrupted her.

This was the answer from the commander of the imperial guards.

"There is one assassin left," Constantine said. "The last assassin."

The storm surged around the two of them again, and Constantine Waldo swung his spear.

-

"More than a thousand were captured," Leman Russ said, leaning back in the chair in front of Perturabo, staring directly at him with his stormy eyes. There was neither joy nor arrogance in his words, nor any of his usual savagery - that was deliberately restrained by him.

"The Illuminati are like the rats you often talk about. They are everywhere in the Holy Grail Expansion. Fortunately, they seem to have lost their leader now, and their actions are in chaos, so it is inevitable that their traces will be exposed."

Many Imperials have polarized views on the Space Wolves. Those who are not familiar with them think they are complete barbarians, one step away from the raw meat and blood-drinking tribes; Imperial scholars who think they understand the Space Wolves secretly call them pretentious and barbaric.

No, in the final analysis, the object of their misunderstanding is the wolf itself - ignoring the savagery and cunning, cruelty and unity of the wolf pack itself. And the Space Wolves is just a legion that lives up to its name.

"The Grail Expanse is bleeding," Perturabo said, summarizing the overview he had obtained from the recent dispatches. "The frequency of Tyrant's appearances in the past month is approaching the total of all reports from the past fifty years. In the process of hunting down the Illuminati, have you discovered more clues?"

Leman Russ leaned forward, his lips curled up to reveal a fang. "We encountered one directly, Perturabo. At first we thought it was an eclipse, until the mortals around us went into a frenzy of self-mutilation, as if they were so hungry that they were trying to carve off their own flesh and eat it. That finally convinced us all that the Nightmare Sun was not just an exaggeration of rumors."

Then he shrugged, easing the tense atmosphere around the Iron Lord. "Don't be so serious, Perturabo," he said softly, his platinum hair reflecting the cold light in the room. "Even if more and more people begin to ask where the Emperor is, we know that Lorgar is capable of exaggerating - do you know where the All-Father is, Warmaster?"

Perturabo was silent, the light filtering through the empty cage hanging from the ceiling casting the pattern of the cage's iron pattern on his face.

"I promise to keep my mouth shut, Ruth, and if his plan succeeds, I will make all our dealings known to the public."

"How soon?" Russ asked, sitting back. "It does your reputation no good, especially since you let the Memoirist recount the entire Nikaea. You know, Perturabo, words cannot express the immensity of the Emperor's presence. Lorgar does ask a difficult question, Warmaster."

"Not for long."

"Before or after Horus awakens?" "Probably before."

"What do you think Horus would think?"

“Everything has turned upside down.”

Russ pulled his fur tighter, and for a moment he seemed dazed, losing his sharp shrewdness. Then he smiled bitterly, "I see, it seems that the All-Father has made an unpleasant decision. I will keep the secret as well, Perturabo."

Then a hint of hesitation crossed his face, and before he could ask the hidden question, Perturabo asked it first.

"You said you met Eleven once," Perturabo said. "How well did you know him?"

"Hardly," said Russ. "We met on a death world, which I am certain was not his homeworld. He told me outright that he refused to join the Imperium of Man. After reporting back, the Emperor ordered that no further investigation be conducted."

He narrowed his eyes inquiringly, "So you met him."

Perturabo withdrew a crystal box, expressing his assent with his gesture.

"Do you recognize this object?" he asked bluntly. "It is closely related to Number Eleven, and will inevitably affect the Emperor's plans."

"I'm sorry," the wolf king murmured, staring at the small box that Perturabo took out, his eyes moving from the table to Perturabo's face. "It seems that this is a puzzle that Number Eleven left for you, Perturabo. Your connection with him is indeed deeper than we thought."

"Something has to give in order to solve the problem," Perturabo said. "Thank you for coming."

Leman Russ smiled nonchalantly, stood up from the overly square and elegant chair, and stared at Perturabo. His huge body naturally cast a shadow in the room.

“I have a suggestion, my brother,” he said. “If you must implicitly lock Lorgar Aurelion away with the Iron Warriors, you might as well give a good reason. Claim you can’t stand his slaughter, or something like that.”

He lowered his voice so that his next words sounded like an ambiguous hum. "You know, even though most sensible people in the Empire are willing to trust a Warmaster chosen by the Emperor, Aurelion's Words have believers among the Memoirists, not to mention the vast majority of the Imperial public?"

"I know their assessment, which is why we must revise the Imperial Truth," Perturabo said, also standing up and meeting Russ's eyes. "That is why any explanation I may give will not work among the existing fanatics, Riemann. Continue to hunt the Illuminati. Only the Space Wolves can accomplish this duty."

Russ smiled. "I am glad you can hear the echo of your thrown stones on the water, Warmaster. I will knock on wood more often for you."

-

"It is said that the Iron Wing is empty again," Elias said, looking sideways at Narek, "Aren't you curious about where the Primarch Perturabo went?"

"It has nothing to do with us, and we just saw his image, Elias." Narek said, "Rather than believe the rumors that the Iron Lord is not on the Iron Wyrm, you should continue to look for Erebus, the one you serve. He is truly nowhere to be found."

“Aurelian himself said so,” Elias retorted unhappily, irritated by Narek’s suggestion of betraying him. “I don’t think anyone would rather distrust his Primarch than trust a Hegemon who imprisoned an entire Legion.”

"Primarch Perturabo is right about this, and he didn't do anything else to us." Narek refuted him expressionlessly, grabbing the cross hanging on his chest, "He only asked us to follow the Iron Warriors - and the last decision that Aurelion was blocked from making was to destroy the Iron City WB-004 that we once conquered."

"Murilistan," Elias said sarcastically. "A weak order whose chief priest was executed. An order that betrayed the Word Bearers and sided with the Iron Warriors. It is a shame for us to have you as the half of Halhabait."

"If you expect me to fight back like you attacked me, you are wrong," Narek took a deep breath. The air here made him feel sick, even though the smell here was mainly composed of incense, followed by the smell of burning charcoal hidden beneath the fragrance.

Lorgar Aurelion, the Trueword Bearer, now the Bound, had been shut away in the Wanderer's Sanctum behind them for days.

During this long period of time, the faint smell of incense never ceased to burn, and only occasionally would Aurelion feel in the mood to bring his warriors, the gatekeepers who happened to meet the right time, into the locked solitude to discuss matters of the outside world with them.

The warriors of Muristan were granted this privilege several times, until Lorgar was certain that none of them supported his view of destruction.

"I am glad," he said quietly, glancing at Elias. "I am glad that Lord Perturabo has stopped Aurelion's slaughter, and that he has no one to kill, so he can reflect in the sept, Elias. This is because of Muristan's love for him, not your fanaticism."

Even if his voice could be heard through the gate of the temple, he didn't care that much. Since Daniel took the initiative to ask for death, some people in Muristan went to the other half of the sect, pinning their flexible fate on the side with greater potential. This made Narek more worried than angry.

Sometimes he wondered if Daniel's death and alleged betrayal had anything to do with his warning to his own cult leader that Erebus had a personal grudge against him.

Later, his regret turned into that he should have emphasized the matter to Daniel after the morning and evening prayers every day until their overly kind-hearted leader of the sect saw the truth.

"You'd better watch your words—"

"Yes, my presence dishonors you, Elias." Narek nodded. "The Emperor bless me."

"Damn it," Elias growled hoarsely, "you..."

"Waldrek Elias, come in." A soft voice came from inside the locked black door.

Elias twisted his lips, wiped his mouth deliberately with his hand, then pushed the door open and respectfully disappeared into the gradually closing gap.

Narek lowered his head and continued to think about what he had been thinking about for a long time. Every time he thought about it, he felt a bit hesitant in his heart, which shouldn't be the case for a Space Marine.

A minute later Elias came out again and glanced at him sideways.

"What's wrong?" Narek asked bluntly.

“The chalice is bleeding,” Elias said, smiling visibly. “Lord Aurelion heard it, and even I heard it—the sound of blood dripping. It is overflowing from the chalice, and now it is full to the brim.

"Perturabo was supposed to be the architect of the true God, because the God needs architects, who are born with the knowledge of how to build houses and erect monuments for the God. But he abandoned his duty, so Lord Aurelion will take over this mission and rebuild the house of God (La Maison Dieu) with real bricks and tiles. Be prepared for glory, Muristan..."

"Construction? Where does our Primarch get the materials?" Narek said sarcastically, closing his eyes and refusing to listen to any extraneous voices, including his own uneasiness.

(End of this chapter)