Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 506 Phoenix in the Mirror (3)

And at the moment when his thoughts sank, the mechanical gears around him made a low clicking sound, as if the entire maze was quietly approaching him. The fragrance in the air became stronger and stronger, and the silver-shining mirror seemed to swallow him up. However, he just went towards his memories.

There were always some people who were curious about why he and Ferrus became the best partners. He knew that even some of the Primarchs had asked the Astartes around him behind his back, wondering about the real reason. Fulgrim and Ferrus Manus, they seemed to be two different kinds of people...

No, that was wrong. They were the same kind of people. At least that was what Fulgrim thought. The same pursuit of perfection, the same similar qualities, made their souls seem to be melted in the same furnace and quenched together.

He saw himself in Ferrus, or what he hoped to be. He had indeed seen himself that way, long ago.

In the early days, he always looked for his own image in every mirror to determine where he was. Otherwise, he simply couldn't find where he was standing, and couldn't find which reality his existence was reflected in.

The Purple Phoenix is ​​a person who stands out from the ordinary world, but his extraordinaryness comes from some God-given things, which are superhuman qualities that suddenly increase with his growth or his birth.

When his outstanding and determined - but rare - offspring arrived, when the Emperor's light descended on Chemos, or even earlier, when he stepped up from the bottom of Chemos step by step to higher levels and entered the halls and courts, did he live in fear of being exposed?
When he was proud and satisfied with his achievements, did he worry that when he woke up one day, his workshop leader would knock on his door and tell him kindly that someone had made a mistake with his gains and that they had now been properly taken away?
Because he was so extraordinary, so unusual... On the gray continent of Chemos, he lived like a beautiful dream of humble origin. He was a bird with gorgeous tail feathers, and no other flying bird was as charming as him. He was proud of his achievements, but he couldn't help but wonder if his patterns were drawn with ink? He waited for a rain to wash away his decorations...

Nearly two hundred years ago, when he returned to the Empire, things had changed... Fulgrim's eyes suddenly changed from a grayish-white space to a vast sky of infinite light - the world was so vast that it almost caught Fulgrim off guard. His heart, which was filled with worry and pride, still had these two emotions, but their sources had changed.

He grew up on a very desolate planet, and he unified it, but that was all. His extraordinaryness became so ordinary among his brothers, and the planet and legion he owned seemed ordinary in comparison with other brothers.

Compared to Horus and Rus who returned earlier, he did not have time; compared to Perturabo, Dorn and Guilliman, he did not have a kingdom; he was not a psychic master, his craftsmanship was not at the forefront, he did not have a natural affinity, his swordsmanship was exquisite but not invincible...

He was proud, but he couldn't find the basis for his pride. He had achieved a lot, but it was no more than any of his brothers.

Does he have a permanent proof that he is as good as everyone else thinks? Will he reveal any flaws that might make him appear wrong?
I am not good enough. I am not outstanding enough. I am not perfect enough. Do I deserve this position? Are my flaws my hidden dangers? I cannot prove that no one can replace me in a certain aspect. My existence is not taken for granted. I don't want to be a failure. My imperfect existence has brought me gifts that exceed my value.

Am I still a mortal in Chemos?

Therefore, he always seeks his own existence from the confirmation of those around him. He pursues perfection, and pursues a mirror that can prove himself.

And Ferrus Manus - a legend from Medusa, a pure man who seemed to be immortal forever. His planet was more desolate than him, but he never wandered and panicked like him.

He knows his mission, he is a gun in the hands of the Emperor, and he is loyal to his existence and desires.

So Ferrus Manus was a shining, unwavering steel, a mirror that Fulgrim needed. His approval seemed to validate his perfection, the worthiness of his pursuits.

What a strange mentality - it shouldn't appear in the Primarch. Thinking about it now, Fulgrim himself wanted to smile from time to time... But at that time, who taught a proud man who looked so glorious to be a person who didn't need a mirror?
He shone with a flawless shadow, a flawless face, and a proud legion, and while he was busy improving his legion and perfecting his Chemos, he needed such comfort to prove that he could safely own his current success.

But...but. When he looked back, when he saw everything he had, when time and love flowed through him, was he still so afraid?
His children loved him, and Ferrus was his best friend. If he still used a mirror to reflect his magnificent phoenix feathers, the mirror was named Mutual Love. He was always flying, just as those around him told him, and they were right.

Yes, why did he resist and not dare to think? He had clearly figured it all out. He had clearly known how to proudly listen to his true joys, sorrows, anger and happiness in his heart and trust his own choices - if he just thought about it, what could he not figure out?
He chose to fall, and he controlled his own direction. He had such faith, and the joy and persistence to support him in doing so.

His thoughts quickly flew back to reality, and he seemed to hear faint curses in the darkness... He should be filled with resentment and never return, why was he so frivolous...

It almost made Fulgrim want to laugh.

"So why are we friends?" Fulgrim coughed and asked on a whim.

"I don't know, it's already happened." Ferrus said coldly, as if this was something he was very proud of. "Who defeated who?"

"Oh, the odds often turn. Sometimes I catch you, and sometimes you catch me," said Fulgrim. "Your hand of iron is my mirror, and my wings of fire are the light that reflects me in the mirror. This always makes me feel good."

"I do not understand the rest of your statement, Fulgrim."

"Because you have lost your memory, my brother," Fulgrim said softly, and he was getting tired. Ferrus Manus also relied on his own strength to operate the cannon, but he used Ferrus's brain. "Sooner or later, I will find out why you are here," he said.

"I'm sorry," said Ferrus dully. "I've made things difficult for you."

"Oh, you did."

“You lose a part of yourself.”

"Correct."

"An arm and part of a leg?"

"The next time you are deceived by something, think of my arms and legs, Ferrus!" Fulgrim teased. "I have come to fight for you, my friend."

Ferrus said nothing.

"What do you say?"

Ferrus said slowly: "You start to tell me why I am here."

"Yes, because you are the trouble that has been caused to me, Sir Iron Hand. Although I don't know how it happened, when I found you, you were trapped in a bunch of sacrificial rituals."

"I'm very sorry."

"You've said that before."

"Okay. It's my fault (Mea culpa)."

"High Gothic... Better not let me know what excuse you were given to get you here, or I'll find out what that excuse is." Fulgrim snorted, and couldn't help but say, "Keep your offspring well."

"I see." Ferrus paused. "My offspring of what?"

"Your clans, your legions of warriors. I doubt now whether they are responsible for your coming to Cadia."

"Really?" Ferrus fell silent, thoughtfully.

The sharp laughter hidden in the darkness seemed to have quieted down during their conversation, only returning to Fulgrim's mind in those intervals, while the fatigue of the battle and the pain that he had deliberately ignored actually surged into his torso, grabbing his heart, as if he had a mortal heart attack. The darkness continued to deprive and erode him, and he relied on his superb battle memory to maximize his strength and avoid his staggering - he fought as freely as if he was drunk, or rather staggering.

After a while, he calmed down.

"I feel a little tired, Ferrus," he said, sharing his feelings with Ferrus. "It's not painful, but my senses are dulled. But I can't keep fighting."

"No one can do it." Ferrus answered objectively, "Do you have any way to get out?"

"I'm just waiting for our companion, Rogal Dorn, a man who does things seriously, and I'm betting that he can find someone to solve the problem. For example, he might be able to call upon the Golden Throne. Last time, it was the Emperor who found me."

Ferrus did not answer for a moment, either because he was considering the various possibilities or because he was wondering who Fulgrim was talking about. "I always feel that I will not be able to discuss everything with him in time. Tell me, if I come later, will you still wake up?"

"I am not sure."

"I'll just pretend that I saved you at the last second, Ferrus, and that'll make me happy."

"Good." Did Ferrus smile? Maybe.

Fulgrim complained, "I feel like my bones are breaking. My knees are so weak. Ferrus, you'd better not laugh."

"I do not have."

Ferrus was quiet for a moment, "I can't offer any advice. You don't need my assistance in close combat."

"Talk to me and cheer me up. Wait for a turning point. I believe it will come."

"Until then, you're going to keep fighting?"

Fulgrim took a breath and heard the glassy part of himself crackle and shatter like sparks bursting from a furnace. In an instant, silvery liquid steel covered him and filled his mouth. He was like a living candlestick, with a steel frame.

"Who can defeat us - Fulgrim and Ferrus Manus!" said Fulgrim, looking at the mirrors again, but this time, there was no illusion in the mirrors, only a glimmer of the iron monster.

He turned suddenly, unable to block the next thrust. His speed slowed down, he was no longer as agile as at the beginning, his dance steps were slowed down, he was exhausted and tired.

The machine's sharp claws pierced his abdomen, digging out an empty hole in the middle of his body.

"It'll be okay." Ferrus growled.

The backpack on his back flashed a shadow, and a slender mechanical claw stretched out accurately, with the tip precisely piercing the shoulder screw of the headless mechanical monster. A piece of armor plate made a sharp metal friction sound and fell instantly, and the damaged machine sank into the shadows.

Almost at the same time, Ferrus groaned.

Fulgrim stepped back, barely aware of the warm pulsation of his bleeding abdomen, aware only of a sense of emptiness and displacement.

But Ferrus remained silent.

"…What's wrong with you?" Fulgrim asked softly. "Tell me."

"That was me," said Ferrus solemnly.

"What do you mean?" Fulgrim demanded. "What did you say?"

"That was my being, my essence. I felt him. He was my body, and the maze was an extension of him."

"I know, but it's just a shell. You're not in my body now..."

"It is more than a shell. I am not separate from my essence, Fulgrim," Ferrus replied. "When it weakens, I weaken. I am not separate from him either. We are both within my essence. We are one."

"No, Ferrus, you are not the same - it's killing me, and you're helping me."

After a moment, Ferrus answered, "I can feel it. It doesn't want you dead. It wants you. I can't help you. My presence drains your strength."

"Don't say that, Ferrus," Fulgrim replied. "Compared to running to you, this is a small expense."

"Then I won't say that again."

The wound on Phoenix's abdomen continued to ooze out a flowing liquid, no longer a pure golden-red glow, but a time matrix mixed with a hint of purple light. In his dulled body, he once again felt the irresistible pain.

The texture of the mechanical monster that continued to grow from mirrors and shadows changed. Its silver surface became smoother, and each cross-section was a small mirror. As long as Fulgrim fought against it, he could not escape those images.

No matter, Fulgrim did not care at all how he looked in the mirror. He had his own image in his mind, he knew what he looked like - but the image in the mirror was no longer his own.

A new trap, a new plan, constructed around his mind.

The man he saw became Ferrus Manus... not a reflection taken from him, but an image projected from within the depths of the machine itself and refracted onto its outer shell.

This is a thing of the past... Under the control of the dark power, he saw Ferrus appear silently in this long cave. At first, it was the satellite of the secret room sealed by the Key of Hel, which was Ferrus's attempt to expel the devil. Then, he continued to go deeper underground abnormally. There was a hint of pain and anger on Ferrus' face. Something induced him to step into this other world space that obviously did not belong to Medusa's domain.

what is that?
As Fulgrim stared at the mirror image, the mechanical monster suddenly made a sharp metallic friction sound, and the mechanical claws attacked like lightning, rushing straight to his chest. Fulgrim reacted quickly and swung his flaming sword to block the attack. The huge impact paralyzed his arm slightly, sparks flew, and a sharp collision sound broke out between the metal spikes and the sword blade.

The colorless liquid flowing in the cold machine flowed onto Fulgrim during the battle, and Fulgrim's blood fell onto the machine. Their battle became more and more entangled, and the blood-red light coated every edge of the machine's surface with a layer of cruel glaze, and the boundary between the two became more and more blurred.

Fulgrim finally removed one side of the machine's rib armor, and on the fallen armor surface, he saw Ferrus in the mirror hesitating on the edge of darkness. Instead of fighting, his mind couldn't help but shift: What made the Iron Hands' tenacity waver?
The claws slammed into the ground, sending up a shower of steel and sparks. Fulgrim quickly regained his footing, his eyes fixed on the monster as he gasped for breath. With every blow, every collision, he was aware of the connection between himself and Ferrus, as if the mechanical monster was tearing not only his flesh, but also the bond between him and his brother.

The darkness had stolen Ferrus' body... Fulgrim's eyes suddenly turned cold, and golden-red flames instantly erupted, burning the mechanical body. Along with the sound of metal twisting, the monster's lower body, which was burned to the point of having little flesh and blood left, let out a painful roar, began to retreat, fell into the darkness again, and lurked away.

In the midst of the flying fragments, he saw the image of Ferrus take a step forward. For an arm stretched out from the darkness, a very white and slender arm, and Ferrus' face was filled with such rage—

Fulgrim seemed to recognize the owner of the arm, but seemed not to dare to recognize him. His relaxed heart was lifted up again.

Meanwhile, off-screen, in his own body, Ferus' voice was feeble: "If I return to my existence ..."

Fulgrim interrupted him, "How dare you do this? Why do you think I came here, Ferrus!"

"Listen to me. I will not give up. I see clearly everything you have done for me. It and I are one. I am its mind and it is my body. As long as my mind is still there, it will not completely collapse. You are not willing to destroy us together. Then let me control it, and you wait for our rescue."

The debris fell, and among the falling debris, he saw Ferrus raise his war hammer and smash it hard against the arm in the darkness. He saw that the arm was shining with silver light, but covered with blasphemous purple patterns.

He looked at his iron hand again. Ah, it was indeed so. It was actually so.

It was not because of the trouble of his offspring, but because of another reason for Ferrus's wrong step. The voice in the darkness actually imitated the arm given to the purple phoenix.

The arm suddenly stretched out and pierced into Ferrus' chest like a venomous snake...

(End of this chapter)