Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 489: Traveling Upstream
"That's me." Perturabo's words surprised the others. The tall Primarch leaned down slightly and approached Morse, Waldo, Orlaneus and John who was hiding in the corner. His eyes swept over these different and extraordinary people.

A deep sense of worry was still etched on his face, making his features hard and somewhat gloomy. A kind of contemplation resided in his gemstone-like eyes.

“I didn’t know you looked for your father before you were born,” Morse said.

"I thought it was a vision," Perturabo said, crossing his arms over his chest like an iron lock. He breathed in silence for a moment, then continued, "In Ultramar, at the Pharos Lighthouse in Sotha, I saw fragments of the laboratory where I was born, and of my early years in Olympia, with the help of a fragment."

Morse raised an eyebrow. "But you really did cross time at that moment, so the Emperor suddenly came to help you grab the fragment that day. It's very unusual."

Waldo said confidently: "The Lord saw it, so he built..."

"To the Primarch's palace. You have just said it again, Grand Commander. There are no forgetful people here." Morse said, examining Waldor's body.

After the battle with Erda, the commander of the imperial guards seemed to have undergone some fundamental changes. No, this had nothing to do with his personality and appearance. Some of his elements that were closer to the source of his birth were no longer the same. Morse couldn't tell what it was for the time being.

"My lord does not do anything without a reason. Everything he does must have a reason." Waldo made a direct and cold conclusion.

"Excuse me, you... big shots," John Grammaticus, who was at the back of the line, raised his hand to attract the attention of several people. "You know that I worked for Erda for a while, right?"

"I'm not sure," O'Her said.

"Don't," John slowly stretched out his hand and lightly pressed the Spear of Apollo that Waldo suddenly put against his throat, "Don't, I have turned over a new leaf. I even accepted the commission and brought Orlaneus here with great difficulty. I have worked hard."

The look Waldo gave him back was filled with only indifference.

"You'd better be frank," Orr said tactfully. His temper had been tempered by the mystery of Hydra during his time with the leader of the Alpha Legion.

John swallowed cooperatively, hoping that this would make Waldo feel that his intimidation was effective.

"Erda often said that your lord changed after Moloch..."

"The Lord has indeed changed. He had no intention of granting the Primarch free will at first..."

"Sir Constantine, we know you want to chop Aurelion into pieces. Why don't you just be quiet for a moment?"

John gave Morse a grateful look. "Erda said that the Emperor had no intention of using the Primarch. So according to what you said, he must have a reason for doing what he did. What is the reason?"

"He saw the shadows he had seen," Or repeated.

"Yes, yes. So who is the shadow reflected in the cave?" John's eyes rested on Perturabo. "Why would anyone think that the Emperor seeing you is the same as seeing your shadow? What do you think, Valdo?"

Waldo was silent for a moment.

"Again." He dropped his eyes. "After the Lord saw Pharos's number four, he said 'Again'."

"So..." John spread his hands and looked at the few people staring at him inquiringly. The dripping water in the cave where they were fell quietly from the stalactites and hit the ground lightly.

"Continue." Perturabo looked down at John Grammaticus and gave his order. He stood here almost as a monarch.

"Well, I think you know what I mean. You Immortals - except for this unfortunate Mr. Morse who knows nothing - all of you know that your Emperor said his revelation came at the beginning of the thirty-first millennium. Isn't that right now?

"Elda came here to guard the gate for this, and Commander Constantine Waldo came here for this as well. It just so happens that we have two extra people here, and they came here by coincidence. What do you think?"

"Go on," Morse said, staring at John, who began to feel as if his gaze had pierced six holes through him.

"I don't know what happened before that, everyone. I think we should listen to Orlanius." John decisively handed the narration position to the next person.

Three pairs of eyes simultaneously turned to the veteran being mentioned.

Ol Persson's fingers trembled: "What... do you want to hear?" he sighed.

"His transformation," Morse said, narrowing his eyes slightly, and finding some things in his memory... things he had never paid attention to for many years, possibilities he had seen in the library deep in the Crystal Maze. For example... his birth. This was almost an accidental event. Among the countless stories told by the Lord of Change, he was the only one who was reborn by the spell.

Another example is Neos’s transformation of the concept of the warp… He was the founder of too many sects. The Tree of Life took shape in his writings. He analyzed “Ka” and “Ba” day and night. The celebration of Lugnash Day and the return of the elves, the legend of toasting in Valhalla, the snake shadows swimming on the long steps of the temple tower… He went to a thousand places until one day he suddenly sent that short note to Or Persson…

"Nios changed his mind," he said finally. "Tell us what you know."

"I can't list them all, you know there are too many, Remus..."

"Then tell me why I was reborn, Orr." Mors stared into the old soldier's eyes. He knew that this was the Emperor's first Warmaster, and perhaps the only one he truly chose. Even though he preferred Perturabo, he still had to admit that in the Emperor's heart, the Lord of Steel was the second choice.

"That was a promise." Orr recalled slowly, gradually walking to the front of the group, as if he was unconsciously following the footsteps of someone in front of him. "On the Tower of Babel, he swore to the lightning that he would not use this dangerous power."

The old soldier's fingers clenched and unclenched, as if he had stepped back into those ancient times, and a dagger that was about to stab him fell from his hand. He shuddered silently, and even though it was just a memory, guilt still came to him again.

"He once said that he would find an individual who could keep the spell, and that this power would not be used without restraint by him. I swore to him that I would never betray him again." Or shook his head. "I was really lost at that time. I couldn't imagine what would happen if I hurt him at the Tower of Babel..."

"Of course, you didn't do it," Morse said, his eyes becoming even more distant. "For that reason, I should thank you."

"Oh, Neos said you were always going to be immortal," Or said honestly, "You just hadn't died yet, so you didn't know it."

"Accept my thanks, anyway," Morse repeated.

"And Valdo," John boldly interjected. He bet that Valdo would not kill him in front of this group of people. In fact, he smiled at Constantine Valdo. "I'm afraid the birth of the commander of the guards is also one of the things that my old boss can't forget. For example, 'He created another killer', something like that."

The mere presence of Waldo's eyes was enough to bring a threat. "I can kill an immortal," he said indifferently. "Yes, just look at Erda. Well, then again, you can't be born specifically to murder immortals, right, Grand Commander?" John shrugged. They had already walked deep into the cave, and the light behind them was distant and dim, as if it was at the other end of time.

Constantine Valdor clenched the Spear of the Sun God in his hand to his side without leaving any trace. "I will inform you of the orders I know after you make your decision. This is also the request of the Lord."

The seriousness on his face relaxed slightly, which was rare.

"The Emperor does not trust easily. He will not participate in a gamble that has no chance of winning, but what he sees can make him change his mind and make a bet. Even the Imperial Chancellor was surprised by his decision, but he had seen the consequences of his decision. Although he has great ambitions to conquer the stars, he is by no means a reckless person who recklessly ignores everything."

Constantine Valdor said that he rarely made comments about the Emperor, or he was still repeating the orders and voices that had already been given: he would always be the Emperor's arm, even if the Emperor had left temporarily.

"However, the prelude of the past has not yet dropped its final note. The choice is not in my hands, because only the ignorant can become that shadow, and in those eyes that have never observed the truth, the world has not yet been cast into shape."

They were nearing the end of the long passage, and John's face was more and more thoughtful. "Hey," he turned to Morse, "are you..."

"Be quiet, Grammaticus," Morse turned his head, his eyes flashing with the light of a large number of runes, and the overflowing power attached to his words instantly made John unable to make any more sounds. The man in black robes realized his mistake and carelessly untied John's restraints. "I need to calculate the feasibility."

John raised his hands in surrender, found the next person who was in deep thought, and lowered his voice: "This respected Primarch, would you like to reconsider it? Do we really have to rely on this five-minute discussion to decide the direction of humanity?"

"What do you mean?"

"No, I just feel... well, it's a bit awkward." John said, "I did guess it a long time ago, but after all, we don't know the truth about the past. These are..."

"I dictate," Orr said. "I can hear it."

"Then let's talk about it together," John patted Orr's shoulder affectionately, "Let's assume that the imperial craftsmen over there really figured out a way to go back to the past here..."

"Hrud stone... the warp..." Morse said softly, and fell into his thoughts again, floating gently in the passage. He reached his hand into the void, and a stasis box fell into his palm. He stared at the iron box in his hand with a green glow, his face cold.

"Look, he's got some results," John whispered. "I'm going to assume this is actually possible. What I'm asking is, are you really happy with the situation now?"

He looked at Perturabo's gloomy face with awe. "If we really did what we thought, then the result we would get would probably be like this. I can see that you are sad, Primarch Perturabo. I am not sure what you have lost, but it is not a good thing. In the current situation, let's see what we have gained."

"Olanius, I suppose you don't know the others, but you must know that the Emperor you knew is no longer here. In this situation, we have lost your Emperor. This is our present."

O'er looked at John blankly, as if he didn't understand what he was saying for a moment. "Isn't he still..."

"I told you on the Webway that the Emperor was dead, and you interrupted me," John said quietly. "Do not assume that he is still waiting on Terra to see you again, soldier."

Ole was silent.

Waldo ignored or condoned John's behavior, even though John felt for a moment that the commander-in-chief was chewing him in his mouth with gnashing teeth.

"And Primarch Perturabo, I don't think the current situation is what you want. Many people have died, and they must be important people, otherwise the Dark Throne would not have come this far." John said. He couldn't explain why he said this. Maybe he just felt that he had done something wrong, so now he had an obligation to propose a second possibility. "Do you accept all this?"

"You mean this could have been avoided?" Perturabo said, his eyes fixed on the back of the black-robed man in front of him. The golden runes wrapped around Morse became brighter.

"The past is not set, and we can still modify it, thereby changing the future." John said, "The only thing that is truly set is your meeting with the Emperor in the laboratory. Things before that are uncertain. For example, you can actually not show the Emperor what the Webway can do, then you will not be created as a fixed node, and the Emperor will not ascend to the Dark Throne."

"It sounds like Yalda is obsessed with that day," Perturabo said sharply.

"You are right, my Lord. I have heard it many times. Of course, the choice is yours." John's voice was full of sighs. "What would have happened if the Emperor had simply stolen the spark that created the Primarchs that day? I don't know."

"There will be no Tyrant Star," Morse's dreamy voice joined the conversation. It was just a small, almost instinctive fragment of his thoughts that he threw into the middle of them, while he himself was still immersed in complex calculations.

"Warmaster Horus will be crowned... We will return to Olympia, child... You will not be harmed, and I will not allow the Enemy Blade to be stolen... No, Omegan will have no reason to act..."

He could not forget the time when Perturabo was wounded by the power of the Dark Lord in the Temple of Davin. The many futures he had seen flashed before his eyes, and he picked through the ten thousand possibilities of hope. His nature called for a better unwritten story.

"Aurellion will continue to worship the Emperor himself, a mad cultist, but Neos will keep an eye on him..."

Another voice also from Morse sounded, and the second fragment gently peeled off from his mind, "In the established history, if everything returns to normal... we only need to never show up, and then the world will return to its original track... I have seen that kind of future... We have to make choices and decisions."

The third voice was liberated: "Like Waldo said, I think he never told us about his past experiences. He did so on purpose... because by doing so, the unnoticed past has room for change in our eyes. This is the bifurcation of time... Ha, he still left too many traces, but we have never seen all the fragments..."

"As for you, Or, if you had hurt him at Babel, he would have forgiven you, and the curse would no longer work for him. As you said, I am still immortal... Alas, I still don't know where my lost arm is... Make your decision, Perturabo, perhaps you would like to try to meet a more... craftsman in Olympia who has never held a grudge and forgotten his past fate..."

At the end of the passage, the vague light hidden deep within the planet became clearer, and the surging glow pierced the mirror-like door with a sharp blade-like light. The surrounding real universe was dimmed by the brilliant glow of the warp, and the pure and brilliant golden light undoubtedly came from the former Emperor himself.

"What do we have to lose?" Perturabo asked at last, his eyes fixed on the light. "What do we deny?"

"The choice is yours, Perturabo. I will not accompany you," Morse said, and this time he spoke in his entirety.

He waved his hands and the fragments returned to him, merging into his broken, whirling, ethereal soul. His physical body had been broken down as he moved forward, to maximize his power.

He stretched out his invisible hand, and the outlines of the scattered stone bricks became clearly visible. Zigzag golden lines were painted on the coal-black stones, and the glowing door was framed in the lines.

"… your turn," he said, murmuring to Perturabo. "What a beautiful seal! No weapon can remove the protection here, except for one thing. Perturabo, you have the blood of the Emperor flowing in your veins. This door is destined to be opened only by the Emperor's own son."

"And you?" Perturabo asked.

"This is your journey. I will shine upon you, casting your shadow on the other side of the veil of time. I will be the light outside the cave," Mors said, the Hrud stone floating in his empty palm. "Don't worry, you can still hear my voice."

(End of this chapter)