Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 482 Lord of Humanity
The Word Bearers son of a bitch.

Ctesias heard a voice say.

He had no time to tell whether it was one of the thousand elite members of the Fifteenth Legion who usually pretended to be polite cursing in his heart, or the resentment of some mortal captain, helmsman, calculator or operator, nor did he intend to explore further unless necessary.

Ctesias let the runes swirl in his hand, dipping into the vastness of the water. His runes stretched across the ocean of the soul, searching for names and patterns hidden in the waves, capturing the sensibilities and thoughts of those who existed in the spirit. The iridescence of emerald and forged metal danced on his staff, reflecting a manic and dangerous aura.

He decided to treat that statement as Batusa Narek, the renegade Word Bearers who had severed all ties with his past, the man who had just come down to the hangar and launched a gunboat to help defend against the Word Bearers' surveillance and hunting of them.

When Narek appeared at the Round Table of the Thousand Dust Sun, where he had been almost escorted, a thousand warriors knew of the burning of Prospero. They greeted Narek in silence, while some of the attendants wept at the news.

Ctesias pushed the staff, and the aura brought by his power gradually expanded, blending into the entire outer psychic shield that protected the Radiance, and continued to expand outward, like a needle piercing a bulging balloon without bursting it.

Then, a dangerous spiritual fire burst out from the tip of the needle, which contained the murderous intent naturally born in the toxic environment of the vast ocean. A series of invisible fires focused into a beam of blazing light, and before the traces it left in the real universe were noticed by the Word Bearers fleet, it swept away the names of the red-armored warriors in the void space, which meant that their existence was torn apart and plundered.

Red Armor - Blood-red armor, the color of dried blood. Ctesias added to himself that the red armor he wore was brighter, shrouded in a hazy mist or aura of the Warp's radiance. When these misty threads appeared during his spells, others would know it was not time to touch him.

The consequences of his attack would take some time to show up, as the damage he had done was not directed at the steel structure of the real universe. But the ship still broke apart quickly enough: it crashed headfirst into another nearby speeder, and a large amount of sparks erupted during the collision. The remains of some of the dead began to float out of the cracks in the spacecraft, and from a distance they were no more than a few tiny dust particles.

+The beacon grew brighter,+the voices of his brothers told him, reminding him of Ahriman's deeds. Ctesias took a breath and replied:+Go to the captain, not me.+
The Queen of Glory-class ship began to vibrate, and the outer void shield array screamed miserably under the extreme saturation state of anti-strike, and a burst of bright red blood flashed before Ctesias' eyes.

+Law of Faith! +Echoes echoed throughout the Thousand Dust Sun’s ship, and the surrounding psychic environment also underwent obvious changes.

Ctesias's affinity for the Warp was fading fast, the power he had gained through the trick of his name being wrested away again, turning into a cold and terrible roaring force like fire.

Lorgar Aurelion, and his sorcery.

Witchcraft. Ctesias repeated, his battle armor warned him that he had used too much psychic energy - this shouldn't be the case, this was undoubtedly caused by the Word Bearers' sorcery.

According to Narek, they called it "Emperor's Magic" among themselves, but the Thousand Dust Suns could see at a glance that it was undoubtedly witchcraft that violated the Holy Code of Nikea.

...Except that Lorgar truly believed that it was divine magic bestowed by the Emperor, and that the thing on the throne now probably really did bestow divine magic.

The Word Bearers sullied their own existence in formlessness and ignorance, giving their name and faith to another nameless power; Magnus the Red had spoken numerous times at the Council of Nikaea about not worshipping any higher formless gods, but Aurelion either ignored a word or scoffed at it.

Thinking of this, Ctesias found himself unable to help but feel contempt for a Primarch, even if he was just an Astartes.

But this did not prevent them from being unable to defeat Aurelion who came to hunt them down personally.

+How far is it to the beacon? How far is it to Ahriman's Webway Gate? +
+Come now. +A thought was sent to their psychic network, instantly occupying the core of the network. They involuntarily handed over their part of the leadership to Azak Ahriman.

The Chief Librarian said nothing more after giving his only instruction, and the psychic flames of the Thousand Dust Sun began to swirl and surge in the same direction, burning a large amount of invisible will and desolate primitive power, until the scorching hot flames gradually swirled in the opposite direction of a black vortex that was becoming apparent.

Ctesias' skin began to prick, and he braced his hands on the platform beside him, his staff hooked to the side to support his dizzy body. Sweat fell into his eyes. The Word Bearers' attacks were increasing, perhaps half the fleet was after them, hunting their cousins ​​with a terrible sense of ecstasy.

+Hurry up. +He said a powerful word.

The dark vortex and the scorching flame began to intersect, and the two twisted forces collided to produce ripples that interfered with each other, like the scorching sun reflected on the black water, the waves sparkled and surged, and new images began to flash. For some reason, Ctesias seemed to be able to see the fleeting shadows of the Prospero people from the power guided by Ahriman, those light and bright colors... He paused, as if he understood something.

Different forces were still canceling each other out, but the spiritual energy of the Thousand Dust Suns gradually gained the upper hand, and the red fire rushed forward, breaking through the barrier of darkness.

The flow of light.

A shining invisible path...

Suddenly, a new, weak force summoned their existence. Space lost its meaning under the flow of light. They seemed to have suddenly fallen into the body of a long, phosphorescent beast, and like a stone, they continued to fall into the depths of the light until the wake of the Radiance became a thorny needle that pierced from the front to the back of reality...

They fell and fell until a miraculous tremor suddenly caught them.

Right in front of Ctesias, two afterimages intertwined, two contradictory yet unified things overlapped. On one side was the shadow of the throne, and the dim light of the electric candles reflected a dull and huge, cold large-scale machine with pipelines as half of the main body. There were some incomprehensible things supporting it, attached to the existence of a living corpse, but it was much darker than that.

The image on the other side was superimposed on the throne's shadow, and gradually intensified, fiercely occupying Ctesias's perception. It was far beyond the constraints of the physical existence of the throne room, and even beyond time and space itself, rising above the world, and born from the ancient vicissitudes of time before it began...

Ripples appeared one after another. The air was suddenly filled with another kind of transparent and even fresh smell, even with the unique smell of soil when the evening breeze swept across the grass after the rain. Some faint sounds rustled in their ears, which were the fluttering of primitive small animals rushing out of the bushes...

A river with people living on its banks. The wheat fields sent a scent of crops rolling in. The voices of people in the village drifted in from the houses one by one. Some whistles sounded as long as the evening wind... The wooden boat passed by in the river, and the silver fish jumped in the basket...

There was a boy playing in the water sitting on the shore. He had a dark complexion, messy black hair, a shell necklace, and simple and rough clothes. He held a ball-like object in his hand and sat there without saying a word. The water flowed past his legs, and the light of the setting sun flashed in the water.

Ctesias looked down at himself. He was still wearing his armor, and blood was flowing from the gaps in his armor due to excessive use of psychic energy. Apart from that, he was alone. "Who are you?" A powerful thought appeared, and its appearance caused time to be tense. This thought directly broke into Ctesias's mind, and he fell to his knees, with countless overly bright spots exploding in his mind.

Then, time relaxed, and Ctesias struggled to stand up, and finally he just knelt on one knee.

Before he knew it, the boy was standing beside him. He held a skull in his hands, staring at him mercilessly. Water dripped from his wet clothes.

"Who are you?" the boy asked again, and the question hammered at Ctesias' heart, but not as painfully as the first time.

"I am a warrior of the Emperor," Ctesias replied, the staff slipping from his hands as he barely managed to catch it, "and am following the orders of Brother Azak Ahriman, for our father is dead."

Why did he say the last half of the sentence in that tone, Ctesias thought, with a rusty taste of hatred in his throat. Why? Because he already knew who this was...

He exhaled, and looked into the boy's dark eyes with a slight tremor. This moment became long and silent.

"Who are you?" asked Ctesias.

The boy's gaze became distant and he looked down at the skull he was holding, looking confused.

"My father just died, too," the boy said, stroking the skull with his rough fingers, then lifting it and pressing it against the side of his cheek, as if trying to listen to any sound the skull could make. He tilted his head. "My uncle attacked him. I don't understand why he did that."

Ctesias shook his head. "Wealth, or power."

"Is this worth it for him to kill my father?" the boy asked thoughtfully.

"I can't answer that," Ctesias tried for a moment to find a suitable title, but his attempt failed. "But you can't stay here forever. There are many things waiting for you outside."

"I know." The boy raised his head and said, which gave Ctesias the illusion of being superior. He held the skull in his arms again and stood up straight.

"Do you remember who you are?"

"I don't remember," the boy put his hand on his heart, feeling the beating there, "but a thousand people were trying to get me out at the same time, telling me I was a leader... a leader of what?"

"Human," Ctesias replied tremblingly, and a startling panic burned through his body as he gave the answer. He could not pay homage to any higher formless gods...but what was he doing?
The boy touched his cheek with the hand that had felt his heartbeat, exploring the contours of his face, and soon Ctesias realized that he was feeling the shape of his skull.

"But you're not human," the boy pulled his hand back in confusion, "None of you are."

Somehow, this sentence made Ctesias's consciousness slightly painful, and a silent irony rose unwillingly from the edge of his consciousness. "Maybe." He said, "We don't ask for your guidance, but humans are waiting for you. This is a wish."

"So says the sorcerer whose name is—," the boy mused, and a startlingly unique name uttered from his lips, a series of ancient syllables like a prayer or a mystical spell, a name different from "Azak Ahriman" but unambiguous in its reference to whom, a name... a true name like chains and bonds, fire and tides.

The boy had no idea that he had done something so unexpected, and he blinked at Ctesias's surprise.

"But how can I leave here?" the boy asked. "This is the only village I know."

This stumped Ctesias. He had countless methods that might be related, but none of them were completely applicable. No knowledge told him how to carry a... what was this? A fragment of the Lord of Humanity or a reborn creature? How to carry an invisible god who had lost his memory and walked out of the end of time?

The boy saw his distress and a smile slowly formed on his face. A normal, childish smile. He thought and touched his forehead soothingly, like the touch of a feather.

"Then take this," the boy said, taking off the shell he had used to decorate his father's skull and handing it to Ctesias. "I will hear your voices, just as I hear the sound of the river flowing. It is beautiful, and sad."

He smiled, and Ctesias suddenly realized that the river was a long river of dead souls. His expression was tight on his face, and Prospero's wind once again passed through his soul.

"But I only have one shell," the boy continued, "and there are a thousand of you. Which of you likes the shell best?"

He paused, "Who can afford the torture of listening to my voice?"

-

"He saw a lot of scenes, I think. When we learned that he decided to create a batch of inhuman creatures, we were all surprised... I was surprised that he would change, and Erda doubted whether he knew the consequences of his actions... Who did he see behind the door? We don't have the answer, and he himself doesn't know..."

Ol Persson still spoke the fragments he thought he had forgotten long ago. John Grammaticus had a knack for persuasion. Every syllable tasted bitter, as if every word he spoke had grown into a sin monument after it fell to the ground, engraved with ominous omens.

"At that time, I remembered the letter that Remus had sent me - sent on his behalf. That letter once wrote down his doubts about the warp, his past naivety, and the time we spent together. I held the letter, and I didn't understand why he chose to believe the whispers in the door again, he clearly knew the danger there... and I was also thinking, is Remus still alive? I never saw him again..."

(End of this chapter)