Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 460: Conversation with God
Is it time to do this? Lorgar Aurelion asked himself once again.

Darkness stretched out before him, around the locked, hollow wooden door—plated with black iron and coated with animal fats from the Word Bearers' kingdom of believers—and pierced like needles into the muffled gasps coming from within the punishment room. Fragments of light flickered through the hollow acacia wood, coming from the strong iron chains swinging inside.

He turned his head to glance at the Wandering Son Temple outside. Dim yellow sparks were dancing in the incense burner like raindrops, and the temperature was so cold that it was stinging.

Ever since Perturabo revealed his true colors at the Nicaea Congress, Lorgar Aurelion has used his own city to probe the Iron Lord's attitude. Perturabo's hypocrisy disappointed him. The eldest son of the empire had long been poisoned, perhaps by darkness, perhaps by time.

He gently pushed open the wooden door, and silence rushed towards him. All the trivial sounds seemed vague and unclear, as if they were covered by thick fog.

Are those the wails and prayers of the souls? Lorgar thought, lowering his eyes to listen to the cries on the wind, his throat trembling silently, reciting all the prayers he knew to comfort and inspire the lives that died for the Dark Star.

Warmaster Perturabo, who commands millions of guns and cannons, and can command millions of Astartes, each of which is equivalent to one hundred Imperial soldiers.

However, he could not silence the voice of faith. He could not kill the echo of faith that was ringing like a bell on tens of thousands of planets throughout the empire.

What a futile and humble effort, what a useless self-righteousness!
He could imprison the Warmaster who had deceived the world and stolen his reputation, the traitor who had seized power, and ban the Holy Word, and tamper with the truth of the Empire. He could issue ten thousand decrees to seduce mankind from believing in the Emperor - but it was too late, all too late.

The Galaxy has accepted the Word.

During the Great Crusade, the Word Bearers ensured that every planet that surrendered to the Seventeenth Legion would be devoted to Him, the Master of Mankind who suffered for the world on Holy Terra. There was no heresy in their path - unshakable loyalty, unrepentant fanaticism.

So now, they are sacrificing their lives for their beliefs.

No persuasion or convincing was needed, only the announcement that Lorgar Aurelion was about to be convicted of murder was enough to convince the countless people on tens of thousands of habitable planets to act out of indignation and conviction. They whipped themselves with white branches until all their painful blood was squeezed out and flowed into the eternal soul of the Lord of Mankind.

Lorgar smiled silently, his two hearts beating, allowing him to listen to the sound of his own blood flowing in his ears.

He heard that in the Pacific Sector, near Colchis, where Perturabo had immigrated, a planetary governor demanded that one-sixteenth of the people come out of their huts and die on the earth on a day of a star eclipse, watering the sand plains given to them by the One Lord with their own blood. In the end, one-eighth of the people died.

Lorgar Aurelion stood still in the darkness until the eyes of the Primarch showed him the Serpent of Eden.

Erebus's face was blurred. Lorgar had peeled off his face not long ago. He admitted that it was an act of venting anger.

The blood flowed to the ground and dried. The seat of the chair opposite Erebus and the mercy seat were soaked with scarlet and brown residues, as if growing out from the depths of the wood grain. Some bones were broken under the execution rack and piled up like ashes. These were not all Erebus's.

"Are you in pain?" Lorgar asked, speaking to Erebus in the darkness. "Is your pain enough?"

Erebus did not speak. Lorgar knew that he was not dead yet. An Astartes would not die easily. Their bodies were supposed to be temples that carried the Emperor's wrath and will, so they were forged to be particularly tough, and the pain and despair they could carry were far greater than that of ordinary people.

So Lorgar Aurelion tortured every inch of his flesh and blood with extraordinary patience, and made sure that there were intervals between his entry into this darkness, in order to allow for a gap between the two periods of pain, so as not to destroy the temple's load-bearing foundation in an excessive and exhausting one-time effort.

The Bearers of Truth hope that what they have done in the past month has touched the limits of this venomous snake, so that everything that the evil snake has stolen from the Emperor's glory can be returned to the Lord of Mankind on Holy Terra in the form of pain.

He sighed. "I once favored you, Erebus. I thought you were a perfect devotee, able to give all we had for our faith. But you deceived us, and you taught me a lesson."

"Not all are willing to place the Emperor on high ground," he continued, heating the amber water over the candle flame, the flames eagerly licking the edges of the cup, leaving a faint afterimage in its wake, like the blinking eyelashes of a great beast. "Not all are as devout as they say they are."

The water was boiled, and Lorgar poured it over Erebus's head, letting the consecrated water flow hotly over the skinless, twisted monster until it condensed into wax. The traitor had become nothing more than a vessel of pain.

"I offer you the pain of a traitor, father," Lorgar said. "Is this the final sacrifice? I have long prepared for it. I have listened to your grace behind the veil, father."

He held the knife and cut open a portion of Erebus's remaining torso, imagining the world tree carved on the temple, carefully engraving on the raw material in his hands, undoing the damage to the image caused by the incorrect healing of scar tissue.

A distant scream came from the darkness, parting the veil that blocked his ears, and struck Lorgar's eardrums. He prayed quietly, hoping that pain would bring people closer to the Emperor.

"Some people," he continued, "have conditions for their piety. You must first give them infinite love, so that the superficial benefits outweigh their impious interests, and then they will be willing to pretend to worship you and say a few good words about you.

"Behind your back, they curse your throne, ridicule your army, and regard you as a non-existent symbol and a man-made image. They are profit-driven and ignorant of reason."

A piece of flesh fell out of the material under his hand, as if the limited membrane and blood vessels were no longer enough to hold all the muscles strengthened by the muscle strengthening organ. Pain climbed along the gap and seeped into the deeper layers of the material.

"And Your mercy in this world was so great that You were unwilling to punish them for their sins, unwilling to bring punishment upon them out of thin air. You continued to provide for them, because You are the only source of great goodness, but they were self-righteous and thought that this was Your weakness.

"They cannot respond to your love with love, nor do they know how to approach your pain with pain. In them, noble morality disappears, and vulgar and narrow selfishness is reflected. They are complacent and self-satisfied."

Lorgar Aurelion paused what he was doing and stood still, waiting for his tears to dry.

Humanity needs an Emperor.

In this vast and infinite universe, in this darkness surrounded by enemies, humans need protectors.

This is not an empty statement, nor is it an excuse made by the ignorant people of ancient Terra when they worship the gods in their hearts: the dark enemy does exist.

The violent bloody eyes were glaring, the fickle deceivers were grinning evilly, the smell of decay was flowing blasphemously, and corruption and blasphemy were blooming ugly buds... He knew all of this during his days in Colchis.

Humans cannot protect themselves with their own hands, no matter if they are a flash in the pan hero or a united warrior. It is not enough. It is not enough.

This is a cold fact of the universe.

Only an equal force can protect mankind - how fortunate they are that they happen to have such a human God, and He truly loves mankind.

The Emperor leads humanity forward, ever vigilant and never stopping, holding the entire race in His cold arms and keeping darkness and evil out.

In these turbulent times, in the golden light after the old night - mankind rebuilt its empire and united as one.

This is His earthly kingdom.

"But they don't believe you," Lorgar murmured, unable to control his tears. "Half of the Empire, or a third of us, would rather believe a liar who tampered with your scriptures. They are not your children at all. Father, they doubt you, but waste your kindness and flesh and blood. Why are people so bad?"

The wooden frame that held Erebus collapsed, sending forth a shower of unclean fragments. The wailing grew louder, whipping his back and gnawing at his spirit.

How many of his Word Bearers were devout enough? He had hinted at them, hinted at the approach of revelation, at the coming of judgment, and at how they should dedicate themselves to the One Lord.

If Warmaster Perturabo thought he could kill their faith by locking them in steel, he was sorely mistaken.

How will steel kill words? How will guns execute piety?
Lorgar thought about it, knelt on the ground, drove the sharp knife into Erebus' chest, cut out his second heart, and placed it respectfully to one side.

“Second Heart,” Lorgar Aurelion whispered. “You gave us a second life. I took it from the snake’s body and gave it back to you the pain it had bred.”

The wailing sound of the wind in my ears grew louder and louder, darkness surged, and the ship seemed to be shaking, as if it was tossed around in a storm.

The bone strengthening organ was replaced by a section of spine, which Lorgar placed on the right side of the heart, followed by the muscle strengthening organ, the blood regeneration organ, and the Laraman organ.

"You gave us new blood, monitored our muscles and bones, healed wounds, and ended diseases. I took it out from the traitor's body and gave it back to you with the end within." An uncontrolled light lit up behind him, and in an instant the world flashed into a black and white silent film, and was instantly shattered by the howling of souls, with black and red alternating in the howling.

Just beyond the Wanderer's Sanctum, deep within the ever-silent Halls of Hindsight within the Vessel of the Law of Faith, a howl suddenly rose up, framing the words of Lorgar Aurelion's prayer.

Lorgar smiled at the loyalists' devotion and permission, wishing them to enter the glory of the Emperor as soon as possible.

He concentrated and continued with his work.

"The knot of nerves," Lorgar said softly, "keeps us ever alert, half asleep, half monitoring your world. And you never rest. Ever, father. I respect your choice."

Is Erebus still alive? Lorgar no longer seeks to confirm this.

The darkness around kept swirling, and the devil's screams quietly mixed into the pious howls.

He put down the knife and lit an ordinary candle. The grease slid down along the tallow wax, quietly illuminating a small piece of flickering light. The chains on the sacrifice trembled like twisted snakes in the light, as if they were afraid of something. The faint light of the candle gradually dispelled the screams, and the candlelight opened up a small circle of full silence.

The pre-installed stomach was cut out, and the inside was empty. This organ allows the Space Marines to eat anything that is slightly nutritious, so as to make the greatest contribution to humanity with the least consumption. This is also a manifestation of the Emperor's love for mankind.

Genetic detection nerves, multiple lungs… Lorgar continued to chant the hymn in his mouth, changing positions and placing the next organs in other open spaces on the ground.

Some subtle changes caught his attention. Lorgar stared at the nerve for two seconds. Did this thing just jump and hiss? Did it twist itself into holy words, like the threads of a vestment that does not need to be woven?

Maybe not so fast, not enough... and this conversation is not over yet...

"The organ of visual control," Lorgar whispered. "Your sight extends through it. The pain we see is the pain you pity. The rebellion we see is the reason you want to end the kingdom of the earth. From this blasphemous temple of the evil snake, I will take back the pure part that belongs only to you."

He suppressed his sobs and took the sacrificed Ear of Leman. In order to implant these ears, the Space Marines hollowed out their own ears and replaced them with the gift of keen hearing.

As he did so, waves of lustrous sound rumbled from all parts of the Law of Faith, the chandelier in the sanctuary shuddered and suddenly exploded, and his breathing also echoed, and in the echo there was a chant of pain.

That's it……

exactly……

Burnt offering of your son...

The darkness around him pressed toward him, and in the darkness, it seemed that the entire hall was quietly reorganizing, bricks and stones shifting, doorways expanding, marble rumbling and scraping against columns, arches and paths reversing their positions, the building creaking painfully, reorganizing toward infinite repetition and vastness.

Drops of blood leaked from Lorgar's ears, and his lungs ached as if a wild beast was scratching and struggling inside, draining his oxygen and throwing him into an infinite abyss with black eyes, falling into the void. Pain also fell on him, and Lorgar accepted it devoutly, sharing the torment brought to him by the darkness. Torment was the way to get closer to His mercy and giving.

"Sus-an meninges, we rest in this brief death, enjoying the comfort you bring us, and glimpsing the new world we can enter after the end." Lorgar said, breathing heavily, and tremblingly put the completely peeled meninges aside, "Your darkness, your touch, let us get encouragement in the intervals between battles..."

His world was shaking, the deck tilted and collapsed, the railings overturned, and all the bones in the torture chamber were shattered and rushed towards him. He fell to the upper layer of the void, his body immersed in the dark waves that seemed to have substance. A steady bell sounded from above, and he grabbed the knife and swam upwards desperately. His clothes pulled his heavy body and whipped his calves...

On the verge of exhaustion, he suddenly came back to reality, his heart still beating wildly, whipping him fiercely from the inside.

He glanced around vigilantly. The candlelight was still steadily supporting a quiet sacrificial scene, but the bloody smell was pouring in from the countless cracks on the deck.

Lorgar felt a little relieved, knowing that many good boys in his fleet were loyal and sacrificed their suffering to their master.

Yet some stalkers in the void are quietly drawing back the veil, seeking to steal the power gathered here, and the prayers they offer to the Emperor.

He sniffed and smelled the ichor oozing from a decaying soul, while violent, colorful colors began to dance and swirl on the other side of the darkness.

Lorgar exhaled solemnly, knowing that he had to quicken his pace.

"Pigment-controlling organs," he said. "Pebbled kidneys. Taste-detecting nerves - what you have tasted of the world's poisons. I offer you my sacrifices, and may they be pains that please you."

The howling of his soul was calling out beside him. His whole body ached, and then he felt completely numb, as if he were already dead. If he died here, that would be fine. If he could offer his soul to Him, that would be fine too…

"Sweat glands improve our organs, allowing us to fight endlessly in extreme environments. Becher glands, your hatred is our poison, and your punishment is the death we give. We are your weapons, your tools, and your angels."

"Gene storage glands, we carry one of the trillions of your power, using our bodies to cultivate angels. Your will is carried out throughout, and the Holy Spirit fills us. Your darkness is our darkness, and your curse is our curse."

The last step, Lorgar thought, his spirit stretched into a thin spider thread in a frenzy of tension.

"Black Shell," he said, weeping once more. "We live in armor, and kill for the good of your humanity. Your earthly empire has rebels within and enemies without, so you go to the city beyond the earth and open up a new world for us. I have seen it, we have seen it. Do you hear me? Do you accept my prayer and my sacrifice? Is it enough? If not - if it is not enough -"

Suddenly, as if an invisible door slammed open, he was thrown into a brilliant world filled with bright light, with ribbons flying, the storm subsided, the air was fresh and clean, and the bright light illuminated the entire world.

The wild red and pure blue intertwined and danced, the green leaves and vines spread endlessly to the sky, paving a road to the sky, and living roses grew from the eye sockets of the skull, delicate and beautiful. The blue glass sea was endless below, and lazy kingfishers spread their wings and danced in the garden, and the powder dropped from their pure wings brushed against the tip of Lorgar Aurelion's nose.

In the center is a crystal rainbow throne, surrounded by emerald lights. Surrounding it are four living creatures, with the appearance of a lion, a calf, a man, and an eagle, with six wings and eyes, holding seven torches that burn brightly.

Lorgar Aurelion looked around and faintly heard loud music and joyful clapping, which encouraged him to move forward, kneel before the throne, and offer sacrifices to the true God he believed in.

Go to...

Go forward...

Go ahead.

Salvation lies ahead.

The true light is after the suffering, and grace is on the other side of the sacrifice.

Slowly, his lips curled into a smile.

"These are your enemies," Lorgar Aurelion smiled. "These are the cursed creatures that would steal your true name. Are they trying to trick me into fighting for them? Are they promising that they can also give humans a paradise like this? What do they want to say? Do they think that human suffering can be soothed by inhuman beings? No, no..."

He lowered his head. His feet were covered with blood. The coagulated black and red blood clots and yellow and white bone residues were like rough crayon drawings, spreading wantonly around. The candle was still burning, pale and stubborn.

Blood and bones, hatred and death, the faith of mankind for thousands of years was born only from darkness.

"Pain is also human's own, salvation is also human's own, everything is human's own, and only you can guide the true path of mankind..."

Lorgar Aurelion stabbed the knife into his own first heart with his backhand, and darkness surged out of his chest, engulfing the world in an instant.

(End of this chapter)