Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 494 Parting
Imperial official calendar, 002.M31.

"Not a bad place, don't you think, Amon?"

Azak Ahriman said quietly, standing with Amon on the balcony of Zenobia Hills, looking out over the pearl-like Interrex Federation. The morning mist rolled over the trees, gently enveloping the green grass. Among the quiet shrubs, fragrant pale yellow wildflowers bloomed at the bottom of the pleasant dark green spikes. Birds like wild geese passed through the sky.

"It's peaceful here," Amon replied. "It's been a long time since we've tasted the breath of war, but we will definitely bring the war here, Azak."

"I know it, and they know it too. It is my choice, and their judgment," Ahriman replied, his eyes wandering to the bright lights in the distance.

If this were Prospero, those lights would be the beacon lights on the bay's shore at night, leaving a hot afterglow in the day. The building at the center of Zenobia would be a pyramid...if...

Unimaginable, Amon thought to himself.

It was hard for him to imagine that there was a human federation that, after going through such a long period of darkness and terror in the Old Night, still retained a heart of trust and kindness, so much so that it was willing to accept hundreds of thousands of exiles and help them rebuild their homes.

He could hardly imagine how powerful and crucial a force they would lose if Interrex had not belonged to the Empire, or had not made friends with the Iron Warriors, but had chosen the other side.

He could not imagine that there would be such a place that was independent of the erosion of the Warp, but was well aware of the harm of Chaos, so that as soon as they mentioned the Dark Lord and the power of Chaos, the other party immediately agreed to fight alongside them... If Magnus was still alive, the commander-in-chief here would definitely have a good chat with their gene-father.

Behind them, Naud, the commander of the Intrex, came forward, and with him was Ferros, the warsmith, whom Ahriman did not recognize.

Accompanying Naud was his interpreter musician. As he approached, the faint music filled with melancholy and sadness also approached, and the sound waves spread outward on the balcony, gradually fading away.

"I remember the Iron Warriors' visit a year ago. Friends from the Empire..." Naud said that when the Iron Warriors contacted Interrex again, they confessed everything they could.

"I never imagined that in such a short time, the tentacles of darkness would reach into our midst. I feel sorry for what you have had to go through - if you have any requests, please tell us directly."

Ahriman turned sideways and nodded slightly. "Right now, the Dark Throne does not know where we are going, but sooner or later they will catch up with us. I ask again, if you are unwilling to get involved in the war, the Thousand Sons will leave after resting."

After they arrived in this system, Azak Ahriman changed their name to the Thousand Sons. No one objected - these were dark times, and they had no intention of calling themselves the Sun. They were the remnants of the Legion, a thousand shattered pieces of rubble, a thousand children of Magnus.

"Once the human race is overthrown, it will be completely overthrown forever. We are willing to form an alliance with the human empire because we don't want to consider staying alone." Naud shook his head. His accompaniment music became increasingly passionate, and then fell into the undercurrent of restraint. He stretched out his hand to Ahriman: "Besides, even if you were not there, your pursuers would come to us one day - I am very sorry about this, but the Nemesis Blade comes from our country."

He lamented sincerely, his ears drooping in guilt, "It was the Empire that took away the disaster for us, but we have never given anything in return. If we are wrong in the eyes of the Empire, then this war is inevitable... I even want to thank you for your trust in us at this moment, Space Marines. Therefore, you don't need to leave."

Ahriman's hand dropped from the railing, and the sorcerer's eyes were completely removed from the sight of Zenobia. He did not take the commander's hand.

"At least some of the Thousand Sons will leave," he said. Even though he was just looking straight at Naud, there was still a blazing light in his eyes, shining like a blue star high up in the sky. "Our mission is not over yet. We must go back into the galaxy. Our destiny lies not in preservation and defense, but in pursuit and exploration. We will become..."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "Prodigal son."

Amon's eyes widened slightly: "You..."

"Our father's 'heart (Ib)' and 'Ba' - in the words of ordinary people, that is the soul, must still be exiled in the depths of the world. As long as it exists, as long as we remember it, it means that we still have his 'name (Rn)', which means that he will continue to exist... but he has never been found."

Ahriman said, choosing his words calmly, his heart beating steadily as he recalled the secrets recorded in the Book of Magnus. There were many things that needed to be revised, but he saw the outline of a great ritual, only this time there would be no one to guide him.

"And what Star Cross took from humans was not only death, but also our 'card' - the essence of human life and death. One day, I will return it to those who were taken away... Even if it is not enough to revive anyone, it is not enough to reverse the fate of life and death. However, this is what we will do in the future."

"So, will you succeed?" Naud couldn't help asking.

Ahriman dropped his eyes. "I don't know."

-

"You are back," Orr said, watching the Primarch of the Iron Warriors walk out from behind the Morro Gate, unable to tell what Perturabo had done in the past. His existing memories seemed to have not wavered at all... but he was indeed the one who knew very little about everything, since he said goodbye to Neos after Morro.

He raised his hand, took down his cross from his chest, and took a deep breath. Some old and restrained emotions in his heart were blurring into an unrecognizable afterimage... and a wave of expectation rose from it.

"Did you save him?" O'er asked eagerly.

Perturabo did not answer immediately. His gaze swept from top to bottom sternly, paused for a moment when it met Or's eyes, and turned away.

For a moment, Orr tasted a coppery smell from the tip of his tongue. This was not due to his fear of the Primarch... No, he just felt something from Perturabo's solemn attitude. A pain came to him, as if it was an old pain deep in his soul.

Not long after, the black-robed craftsman also returned from the Moloch Gate. His presence seemed to fade, the ends of his messy hair turned into nothingness, and the traces he left on this world were thin and swaying, and could break away from the physical state at any time and turn into a few drops of falling rain. He nodded slightly to the silence present, not caring about the heavy silence, and announced with almost a smile: "No."

O'er exhaled with difficulty: "Why?"

Even as he asked this question, he already knew part of the answer, from his past readings of Neos: this was their choice.

"Abandon the current plan. Even if the human empire continues, we will still face the coercion of Chaos." Perturabo said grimly, "Therefore, we will not give in and let everything return to the original state; we will not exchange the possible resurrection of a few people for the Thutmons Circle of the Webway and the Glorious Crossroads of Vigberach."

"We will continue along this path, Orr. As for what happened just now, we just went back to fill in the time fragments that should be filled in." Morse said briskly and calmly, "Obtaining fire, the Tower of Babel, a battle, Moro, the beginning of the empire... and, unfortunately, Neos's suicide note did not mention you. At least I should remind him in this regard... Since it is a suicide note, it should not be written like a secret letter. What do you think, Constantine?" Constantine Waldo's eyes fell on Morse, in response to his rude remarks. After two or three seconds, he stroked the Solar Spear with his hand tightly holding the spear and turned it slightly.

“You haven’t changed anything,” he said. “You haven’t strayed from the path you’re on.”

John Grammaticus, who was standing in the corner leaning against the wall, shrugged his shoulders regretfully and moved his lips, perhaps muttering some helpless swear words.

Perturabo studied Valdor's face. "Indeed. Now, tell us why the Emperor created you, Constantine Valdor."

This was the promise made by the Grand Commander of the Guards before they entered the Gate of Moloch.

As he watched, Constantine seemed to utter a deep, guttural sound, and it took Perturabo a moment to realize that it was a bionic laugh.

The head of the imperial guards said clearly: "To kill the inhumans, to kill the false emperor."

The eyes of several people were fixed on Constantine Waldo. Some were shocked that such a word could come from the mouth of the commander of the imperial guards; some were disappointed and expected, knowing that Neos would not leave a second backup plan outside the plan.

"You... can do it?" Morse pursed his lips and looked at Constantine Waldo, who had changed fundamentally. This time, he saw some different traces, a deep golden energy, like a fire burning on oil-splashed fabric, surrounding his reflection in the highest heaven, and a series of phantom-like pictures intertwined around him...

…Luger shot Belle in the eye with his slingshot, putting an end to the mighty giant…

... Bellerophon, riding on Pegasus, pierced the Chimaera with his spear...

...Vidal avenged his father by stabbing the giant wolf Fenrir in the heart with his sword...

The echoes of the killing of the more-than-human swirled around Valdor, weaving and framing his being. His essence came from this, taken from the fragments of time and forged into its present form by the Emperor. Yes, Mors thought, yes, when the Emperor was vague with him about his true plans, he had listed Constantine Valdor's name, alongside the Primarchs and himself... Had he known all along what he had been given?

"Perturabo, Remus," Constantine said, "I watched as the Thunder Warriors were created, and saw my Master place His trust in them, believing that their danger would be contained. Utholtan and his warriors proved me wrong, and then I saw the birth of the Astartes. I remained silent, trusting in my Master's decision - and now I have finally confirmed the hidden error in your creation, the unnecessary emotions that ultimately led to the birth of the Dark Throne."

Was he gnashing his teeth, treating the man before him with the same fury that the entire Custodes held for the Astartes, who had just decided the Emperor's death?

No, not at all. There was only a kind of quiet thoughtfulness in him.

"However, at the same time, I must finally affirm the necessity of your existence, because the human empire is as solid as a rock, and only an equal force can overthrow it. Only you can destroy the world controlled by the Dark Throne, fight against your compatriots on both sides of the fortress, kill the legions and primarchs who are equal to you, use sacrifice to complete the Silent Realm magic circle, and use death to exchange for the rebirth of my Lord."

Perturabo said slowly, "We are the only ones who can set the galaxy on fire."

Constantine Valdor nodded. "That is your duty, Warmaster."

Perturabo closed his eyes.

"John, Orlanius," Constantine said the names of the two people in succession. "Among all the current situations, the Glorious Cross is the only exception that is not in my Lord's plan. Therefore, I need you to take me there. I will witness my Lord's decision with my own eyes and then perform my duties. In addition, there are two things I need to find."

"What?" John Grammaticus perked up when he was suddenly called.

"First, my Lord's true name now." The commander of the guards said. "I know the true name of the Golden Throne, which may not be the Dark Throne's."

"anything else?"

"The second is a demon. A demon capable of murdering any human being. An echo capable of killing a human god. It must have existed beyond the veil of the world when the first murder took place."

"That's how the Warp works." Morse nodded.

Perturabo stood still and opened his eyes again. He raised one hand, as if there was something solid and indestructible in his palm. Suddenly, he clenched his palm into a fist.

"Consider where we will build our bases, consider which Legions will travel with us, consider how we will gather our forces, consider how we will strike before all is known, consider who we will make our enemies, who will pay the silver for the Emperor's rebirth."

His words were calm and somber, his stone face etched with suppressed anger: "Consider how we will destroy everything we have built with our own hands in order to pursue the path we truly must pursue."

"So, we shall part ways," said Constantine Waldo, looking toward the Moloch Gate. "Will you go with me, John, Orlanius?"

"Of course." O'er sighed, "I still..."

He swallowed the rest of the words. He still remembered that the Alpha Legion took him away because Neos wanted to see him one last time. Then, he would always keep the appointment.

"What choice do I have?" John muttered. "Well, well. I guess you still need me to open the Webway Gate."

He raised his hand, some psychic spells were taking shape, and the fluorescence of supermatter began to rise. Suddenly, he was stopped by Morse.

"Wait a minute, John," Morse said. "I have something I need to give you, Or."

(End of this chapter)