Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 47 Iron, Blood and Scolding (4k)

"When I led you away from the gates of Lokos and marched towards a country that has abandoned etiquette and integrity, I did not expect that we would face a trap."

Perturabo crossed one leg over the other, and the microphone was pulled to his mouth.All the lecture notes were torn to shreds, both out of anger and because they were useless.

What he needs now is not an inspiration and mobilization-this pre-war routine work does not need to be repeated after the war has already started.His speech almost returned to the original function of language itself, that is, communication.

He just wanted to speak his mind to his army.

"Perhaps you will wonder whether this attack violated your wish for peace. Perhaps you are already discussing why our army was attacked suddenly, and whether your commanders will be like countless generals and generals in the past , to hide the most important secrets alone, and enjoy the benefits in the rear, only to instruct you to charge forward, to bleed, to be injured."

He closed his eyes, the smell of gunpowder rushing into his nose.The bursts of angry roars were getting closer and closer to him, and he could hear the blood beating the eardrums in his ears, and the drums of war rumbled in all directions.

Perturabo stood up from his seat, and the microphone's mechanical stand moved automatically with him.

His heavy breathing passed through the electric current and entered the auditory systems of countless soldiers, touching the hearts of all soldiers and reminding everyone that no matter how similar he was to an artist, he was a born giver.

Even a tyrant.

"I'm going to tell you now why we were attacked. This is the trap of your first prince, my soldier! This is the greed and depravity of your first prince!"

"This is a unique shame and a terrible betrayal. Your prince who will wear the iron crown is a traitor who colludes with other countries! What is there to hide? Are you happy? Is it worth celebrating? Do you feel the glory? "

His fist hit the table, causing countless small objects to jump.He opened his eyes and opened the roof of the chariot, letting the bloody smell hidden in the seemingly beautiful and peaceful landscape enter his nostrils like an early warning.

In the silent military camp, countless people's throats rolled, and their teeth were clenched because of tension.

"Answer me!" roared Perturabo.

"No!" the soldier replied, and the sound wave pushed away the wind and trees in the valley, "This is a shame!"

Perturabo lowered his voice, his tone becoming deep and powerful.

"But I will not despise the Lokos, my soldiers. You are different from the followers of Harkon. It is your luck and wisdom that you have chosen me. When those stupid traitors were killed and slaughtered in the city, And you! Follow me to victory! To conquer!"

"Listen, my soldier! When you go home, go to the city wall, find the heads of those cowardly little people hanging from the point of the spear, and tell the group of the following words!"

"Let's just say: You defeated Caldis, Pelecontia, crossed Alex, Kadisia, Everiu, Walter, and broke through Selenia, Sodalian, Derk You have crossed countless mountains, crossed rivers and rivers, covered thousands of miles of grass with your tracks, and aimed your guns at passes that no one has broken."

"Go tell those traitors that when they launched their stupid little fight, you were following Perturabo and dragging the entire Olympia into the flames of war, to fight, to occupy, to unify, and to become the master of the entire Olympia! "

"Tell me, what is this? Do you know what this is?"

"I know!" The soldiers shouted like the roar of the sea, "This is glory!"

"Then attack!" he shouted.

Someone dialed his communication bell, and he went to answer it, but his hand shook and he touched the electronic device to the ground.

He attributed it to the anger he had accumulated over the past few days.

From the death of the Miltiades team, the accident, Harkon's betrayal and the sudden attack, everything became the food for his anger.

War brings subjection, subjection brings unity, and unity brings peace.His grand theater was going to come in handy—he never told anyone, but his theater was built for unity.

He remembered the Olympia Games that Morse had mentioned to him, and though Morse had never formally asked for anything, he wanted to see the spectacle.

For this he will set the earth ablaze.

The hot sun has risen from the edge of the sky, and the edges of everything are emitting a deep red light. Scarlet blood covers the road leading to Kaldis, burning everything until it dries up and bleeds like red sand.

Wherever he looked, the color of blood spread to all the light and dark places. In the bright and pale sky, the flowing clouds were as dim as rusty brass, and thick blood flowed from the edges of the clouds, condensing into countless forms from the sky. A flowing blood line connects the sky and the ground.

On the ground, the shadow of the army marching was connected to the distant city wall that was about to be smashed by him. Outlines of dead bones emerged from the shadows. The brown and oxidized bone balls replaced the stones on the road, and solidified into a road in the dark red shadow.

He lowered his head, and the eye sockets of the skeleton shattered under his gaze, turning into flying sand and merging into a river of blood.

Perturabo tightened his grip on the hammer, even though it was empty.He held the steel handle, and with his other hand he touched the sharp blade protruding from the top of the hammer along the handle. With a little force, his own blood flowed all over the surface of the metal.

"Let the blood of your enemies flow under your hands!" He heard a voice, extremely rough and hoarse.

It was the sound a warrior would make on the battlefield, the roar of the earth and the pulse of the volcano.His blood surged in his veins, and more visions floated before his eyes.

He saw himself holding a huge war hammer, crushing all enemies on the hammer. His figure became extremely huge, and his endless strength supported him to wield his weapon in any brutal and fanatical way.

He is the fighter, and he himself tears the scum's bones to pieces.

He is the leader, and the countless soldiers under his command only desire to kill and fight to the death.

He is the conqueror, his captives kneel and tremble in pools of blood, and countless trophies show his victory and glory in the form of stumps.

"I want victory..." he growled, "take down Kaldis!"

"Come! Let the bones of your enemies surrender under your throne!" The voice laughed wildly, stirring in his heart.

Perturabo saw more visions.

He saw artillery bombarding the fortress, high temperature and thick white smoke pouring out from the inside of the breached fortress, tanks' tracks pressing over the broken city, and bombs and machine guns sweeping away all obstacles into flowing blood.Smoke burned high into the sky, layers of city walls were accurately shattered in the explosion, and huge stones and metals broke inward. The most intuitive fear originated from force.

He destroyed everything in front of him, in the most effortless way.

His heart was beating violently, and the war hammer and the blood-stained hand were tightly connected, as if they were one body.

He is already a terrifying war machine, an epic, a hero, and a beast.

He is Perturabo, the eternal warrior born for war.

"Come, this is your vocation, your seat! You belong to us!"

That voice was closely integrated with every beat of his heart, coming from the bottom of his own heart.Perturabo could not deny that hoarse roar, this is what he wanted, the constant Colosseum, the eternal victor, all glory and strength.

The iron in his blood reflected the raw materials from which he was forged, and his soul roared loudly.He wants to tear up all obstacles and chop them to pieces. He wants to shed all the blood. His steel is the source of all wars!

Perturabo looked back.

His Iron Throne is there, with sharp swords, sickles, anchors, and hooks melted into a wide chair back, cushions as shields, iron seats condensed and reunited after melting back into molten iron, and carpets of broken bones and dried corpses , blood flowed out from under the throne, submerging the yellow sand into a deep iron black.

He stood up from the seat just now, but now the seat is completely different - or is it just like that?Perturabo no longer remembered.

Only iron and blood.

He heard the wailing of the soul and the endless fighting, and every time he got closer to the seat, the conquest on the battlefield was getting closer.

Perturabo stretched out his hand toward the bloody iron seat.

+Perturabo!You damn bastard, your proud calmness was eaten by a damn dog? +
There was a familiar voice yelling angrily at the edge of his soul. Perturabo felt like a basin of ice water was poured all over his body from the top of the Sky Spirit Cap. His whole body shook violently, and the blood of the Throne of Blood The temptation disappeared in an instant.

He immediately stopped and pretended to have done nothing.

"Morse, where are you?" asked Perturabo.

The surrounding scene was still yellow sand, blood and dry bones. He looked around, but he didn't see the black robe that he had seen countless times.

+ You don't care where I am!Are you awake when I'm not here?Where's your brain, whipped cream on your goddamn multigrain bread yesterday?Look around you, where are you going to sit?Aren't you afraid that that shit seat will stab you to death? +
Perturabo's face was flushed, and he took a step back, almost falling.

"I didn't sit! You are talking nonsense, I didn't sit on it!"

+ Do you have the face to say you don't want to?How do I teach you, you little bastard?Tell you to sit when you see the seat?Believe it when you hear other things yelling?This is our great wise man Perturabo? +
"What did you teach me? The guy who tells riddles every day! I don't even know what it is!"

+Don't let me know which word you meant to use, bastard. +
"You..." Perturabo took a breath, not daring to speak in anger. "What are you doing here!"

Morse laughed angrily: + Guess what I'm here for?Get out of that damn place... +
The man's voice suddenly became choppy in the second half of his sentence, making it difficult to hear clearly.

Perturabo was nervous for a while: "What's wrong with you?"

+ What can I do?Make trouble for me every day, and ask me what's wrong?very good!Find an exit for you! +
Morse's anger continued to overflow, and Perturabo somehow felt that the anger he had brewed earlier was not worth mentioning in front of Morse.

He took another two steps away from the throne, keeping it at a respectful distance.

The roar of the nagging guy from before came from the dusky sky, and Perturabo pretended not to hear anything.

"Shall I stop fighting Caldis?" Perturabo asked.

Now the roar in the sky shook like thunder.

+You fight first...+Morse's voice became incoherent again, +After you fight...then go back to Lokos. +
"What did Halcon do? Do I need help back?"

+Don't come back!Cough...wait until I take care of things! +
Morse yelled hastily.

+ Fight your battle well!The first time I went out to fight, I turned around and went home halfway. What kind of joke are you talking about?When children play games and pile up sand sculptures on the beach, they won’t play if they don’t want to play?Cough... You are idle if you are idle, hurry up and unify Olympia for me... +
"These things," Perturabo glanced around, not knowing what to call this abnormal phenomenon, "are they because of me?"

+ You guessed it. +
"what?"

+ It's not because you're OK!Speaking of which, they still owe me something, damn, I don’t even know what I lost...+
"what?"

+Don’t ask me. If you have the guts, you can ask that guy later... I should have known earlier. What a fateful disaster... Come on! +
In the long yellow sandy sky, suddenly there was a forcibly torn rift, and a jet-black cloth belt hung down from the rift, obviously looking extremely thin and fragile, but the golden runes shining on it made it appear Indestructible and extraordinarily sacred.

Perturabo immediately grasped the strip. Although he had not practiced climbing ropes much, the moment he grasped the strip, he knew what to do next.

+fast...+
Morse's voice became more distant, and Perturabo moved faster, getting closer and closer to the rift in the sky.

The fresh wind in the forest blew from the real universe through the cracks, sweeping away the bloody smell around Perturabo.But before he could touch the sky, the entire cloth suddenly began to flutter so violently that Perturabo could barely hold on to it.

With a slight change in the strength between his fingers, his whole body immediately fell down.Looking down, the cloth belt began to dissipate from bottom to top.

"Morse!" he shouted.

He didn't get an immediate response, and then he heard a sigh through gritted teeth: +I really damn owe you both...forget it...+
The three chains that had bound him for many years were all broken, and a surge of power suddenly filled his limbs. Countless knowledge penetrated the fog and returned to his brain, filling in almost all the gaps in the thinking map he had built over the years.

He felt that he was growing extremely fast, his body became tall, strong, indestructible, his soul was full and full of unique power, and his thinking speed was once again accelerated thousands of times.

Everything he had was returning enthusiastically and absolutely, everything seemed to be wiped away from dust and became extremely bright again.

The cloth belt completely disappeared, and Perturabo fell downward until a dazzling golden light pierced the yellow sand through the gap opened by Morse earlier, taking over the task of the black cloth belt.

He looked at the golden strip of light and his face became moist.

Perturabo caught the golden light and completed the final climb.

The next moment, his consciousness returned to the real universe. From the swaying of the leaves to the movement of the wind, the trajectory of everything reminded him that less than a thousandth of a second had passed since he finished his speech.

Perturabo raised his hand, wiping away a trail of blood mixed with tears that fell from his eyes.All expressions disappeared from that stone-like face, leaving only calmness.

Seven days, no, five days.

He had five days to finish this battle, and he knew his fighters could do it.

At this moment, five days later, he will return triumphant.

He will meet Morse.

(End of this chapter)