Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 517 Isstvan III (2)

On his tightly closed eyelids, there were scattering colorful spots flashing, and some pale blurry squares trembling on both sides... The white squares condensed into clusters of fireflies, taking away the broken spots of light around them, climbing higher and higher, emitting multi-pointed starburst-like light in the process. Each ray of light emitted was associated with a dim spot, a star falling from the sky... Suddenly, the pale halo split into two halves, each of which quickly soared into the extremely high sky and disappeared in an instant...

Locke suddenly opened his eyes, his two hearts beating violently. Above his head, the two lights in the makeshift pharmacy were shining high.

"You're awake, sir," he heard the pharmacist say.

It brought back his last few memories, of how he had stumbled along the way from the Emperor's Children, desperate to contact the men he had brought with him, whether to fight against the Emperor's Children together with them, or just to hope that there would be a few more living Luna Wolves left in the cathedral of the temporary headquarters...

"You finally woke up, Gavial." Torgaddon's voice came from the side. He sounded out of breath, perhaps the World Eater had hit his lungs with an axe. "If you don't wake up, I'm afraid I will have to carry you on my back when I escape in thirty hours."

Loken felt the situation inside his body. He felt like a furnace, his internal organs burning fiercely in the closed furnace. However, the Astartes modified genes that he had added as firewood were strong enough, so he could still...

He supported himself on the ground and sat up, calming his breathing. His throat felt dry and painful, like swallowing gravel. The pharmacist glanced at him, and perhaps because he had been rejected too many times by the stubborn battle brothers, he gave up the rash action of coming over to stop Loken.

"How many people are left in my team?" he asked.

"You have three left, I have four. The World Eaters are better at close combat than I remembered, but they're still a little slow," Torgaddon said. He stood nearby, one arm armor completely peeled off, the shoulder armor on the same side burned and melted into a twisted polymer that looked like it would drip metal blood at any moment.

"When the communication from you was cut off, I thought I was going to lose you, but then I remembered that you said you would rather die in a glorious battle - against a powerful alien nation like Randan, so I bet you won't sacrifice yourself so easily."

"There was no glory when Cyjanus left us," Loken said, feeling somber.

"Yes, that's what will happen." Torgaddon nodded, "That's what we have to avoid next. The communication station is seriously busy right now, but I think the next batch of support troops will arrive on the ground soon."

Loken replied: "We have more enemies than we could ever imagine. The Emperor's Children, the World Eaters, and possibly the Iron Hands."

Loken almost shuddered when he thought of how many unknown Space Marine Legions had sided with Perturabo without their knowledge.

But how is this possible?
Is it possible that they no longer have any loyalty to the Emperor and the glory they have always sought? Can the memories engraved in their bones be easily shaken?
Especially the Imperial Fists and the Terran Guard, one of the legions that should least side with the rebels.

As for Warmaster Perturabo, he almost owns half of the empire, or even more. What higher power is there for him to seek?

Many questions swirled in his heart, and a bitter smell became stronger. He exhaled a turbid breath, and finally thought of the moment when Saul Tarvitz swung his sword at him.

"How long did I miss? Did I give the order for the warriors deep in the lower nest to retreat temporarily?" he asked.

"I did this as soon as I woke up. The Alpha Legion was the first to confirm that we had two new enemies. As soon as their intelligence came in, our soldiers adjusted their attack and defense plans on their own."

"But it's too late, I guess," said Loken.

Torgadon nodded, acquiescing to Locke's judgment: "Do you want me to put the sand table on your knees?"

Lorcan stood up, his shin bones trembling for a moment, but quickly readjusted to his weight.

There was no sand table here, only a crude hand-drawn sketch hanging on the wall of the hall, which used fine brushstrokes to outline the general topography of the area they were in - undoubtedly the result of a survey by the Mechanicus's drones, and used weighted carbon strips to mark the movements of both sides.

The arrows symbolizing their troops were evacuating from east to west. Some tiny enemy arrows created small-scale movements around them. Inside the underground of the hive, dotted lines marked the speculated movements and situations of two new enemy legions. Some of the dotted arrows advanced toward the center, while others chased after the retreating army.

It is not easy to deal with the strategic deployment of the two iron legions, the Imperial Fists and the Iron Warriors. However, even if their understanding of the enemy may still be the tip of the entire rebellion iceberg, the will of the Luna Wolves will not shrink in the slightest.

"What do you think?" Torgaddon asked, patting Loken on the back to give his limping brother some support.

"Why are the Word Bearers still going deeper?" Loken couldn't help but ask, noticing an unusual line on the map.

"They are fearless about life and death. Perhaps too fearless. Objectively speaking," Torgaddon whispered in a low voice, "I doubt that our life and death will be taken into consideration by them sooner or later."

"Our father would not allow this to happen - you still don't like the Word Bearers."

"You, too?" Torgaddon shrugged his good shoulder. "That's the worst ally we could have. Even Perturabo knew to remove the civilians."

The reason why the Iron Warriors had moved away from the inhabitants of Isstvan III was unknown, but Loken was more concerned about his friend's audacity to address a Primarch by name. Truthfully, after the initial shock, it gave him a secret sense of relief and freedom.

Torgaddon continued, "... no matter how our father was assassinated, and how he forgave the two leaders of the Word Bearers, I still remember who did it... Alas, this does not sound rational. Then, you can just take it as my intuition."

“Instinctively, this sounds like another team named after wolves, my brother,” Loken said solemnly, “but we are the Luna Wolves, so we can certainly do this.”

Torgadon put on a smiling expression, but it was just an attempt to swallow his anger. He looked away and suddenly saw a falling star in the distance through the bay window.

"Is that our backup signal?" he asked softly.

"Who do you think came first? Little Horus?"

"Very likely. He's acting relatively cautiously. If it were me, I'd want him to go down to the surface - but Ezekiel would surely be tempted to go see Sigismund himself."

Loken opened the internal channel and waited for the support forces to approach within the range where they could maintain contact.

“Perhaps Ezekiel has finally been given a chance to continue the victory that failed at the Feast of Blades. If loyalty is the measure of victory,” Torgaddon said, “then it will be a victory worthy of praise.”

Soon, a buzzing sound exploded in the ears of the two commanders for a moment, and then returned to the calm sound of electricity.

"His loyal children, the suffering you have endured will be repaid one by one to your enemies who have caused you to suffer. The fire of revenge of our comrades has reached this planet soaked in sin. After this, we still need more help, and they are on the way. For our faith, our numbers are large, and our thoughts will save us from the hands of our enemies and those who hate us, and make our enemies the stepping stone for the world to enter heaven..."

Torgaddon's lips twisted. "Oh, it's Lord Aurelion."

"You sound disappointed, Tariq." Another voice said, the source of the sound was at the other entrance of this temporary pharmacy, and the clear voice lifted the hearts of the two commanders like flowing water. No matter how many times it happened, Loken would feel honored to talk directly with the owner of the voice.

"Lord Horus." The two commanders stepped aside to greet their Primarch.

"I am not disappointed, my lord. On the contrary, I am looking forward to it," said Torgaddon. "Especially when I see you."

"Well," Horus smiled, "flattery won't please me. But your military exploits will."

In the civil war that lasted nearly a month, the commander-in-chief, Shepherd Wolf God, was still as impressive as ever. Although he did not directly participate in the battle, his armor seemed to be covered with a thin layer of dust.

His arrival made the originally spacious room suddenly seem a little small. In addition to some Astartes, Horus Lupercal was accompanied by various mortals: including clerks, medical personnel, weapons maintenance personnel, various engineers, some priests with holy crosses who looked like the Word Bearers, and some soldiers wearing blue-gray uniforms.

Titan Control Team members. Loken recognized them, and the meaning behind this made his heart beat faster.

"At least Aurelion has brought a few God Machines from Mars to help us, my warriors." Horus raised his arm and made a gesture similar to a tall one. "However, he has not actually come to the surface. He is still meditating in his temple. I brought him the recording he intended to broadcast on Isstvan III."

Locke suppressed his excitement and said, "But your injuries have not healed yet. Why do you need to come here in person for such a small matter, sir?"

"You are a very competent adviser, Garvir. As for the injury... it is really a poisonous weapon. If the Emperor cannot leave the throne, I am afraid that I will not be able to recover in another ten years." Horus said, "To be honest, after a period of time, I still have to return to the Spirit of Vengeance, taking care of the ground and space at the same time, and welcoming the next legion to help us."

"Who is that?"

"It depends on who is around Terra when the message arrives. I believe that any Legion within the reach of the sun that can receive our message will be loyal to a commendable degree."

Horus walked towards the map they had hung on the wall, staring sharply at each location on the map, and finally his sight fixed on the core area of ​​the hive city.

"Is Perturabo there?" he asked.

Loken realized that Horus was referring to the former Governor's Palace on Isstvan III, located in the center of the Upper Hive, an area not represented on this flat map.

"We can infer this conclusion from the messages we were able to intercept," Loken said cautiously. "Besides, the defenses there are the most complete. I'm afraid that when the entire Isstvan III falls, the Palace of the Chancellor will still be standing."

"Sometimes I wish I could see him in person," Horus said, and Loken saw a lingering sadness on his father's face. Most people probably wouldn't even believe that such a sentiment could belong to the great wolf-herder god. "I feel in my heart that we should talk, as if that could salvage something."

"grown ups!"

"Of course, I will not rush to the Palace of the Chanting Lord," Horus said calmly. "That would be accompanied by terrible risks. We have already lost a lot, and I don't want to add more potential losses to our list. So, let's try to see if the public frequency bands we used to fight alongside them can still be used."

-

"Horus's patience is still good. You have already rejected him once." Angron sighed slightly, thinking of the time more than seventy years ago when Horus overcame all odds and used diplomacy to regain a pocket empire. He was not a nostalgic person, but he often remembered many things recently.

"The credibility of astropathic communication is extremely low. Unless necessary, we do not need to conduct astropathic communication with the enemy."

Rogal Dorn said on behalf of Perturabo that he was still busy on the Phalanx maintaining command of the space battle and tracking down the elusive Alpharius. At this moment, only a holographic projection of him arrived at the Palace of the Chancellor. After saying a word, Dorn turned around and left in a hurry, disappearing in the projection.

"But this time it's a sound array. On this planet, the Iron Warriors always make sure the sound array information is conveyed correctly." Fulgrim said, his hands flowing with brilliant silver light. He was wearing an unexpectedly plain light-colored robe, which matched the original milky white light and crystal chandeliers in the Cantor's Palace. He looked like he would disappear into light at any time.

He smiled at Perturabo, who sat at the head of the singing palace. "No doubt, Horus was unable to hear your voice in the sea of ​​stars. Perhaps it was because you were unwilling to speak to Horus, Warmaster."

Bandage-like circles of steel unrolled to either side, and Warmaster Perturabo rose from his seat and walked down the ceremonial steps laid by the former Governor.

His left hand was wrapped in a steel glove. The sensors built into the glove provided him with control over the various plates and platforms within the capital city of Isstvan III. In the few seconds he walked, a group of iron-gray weapon platforms rose from the depths of the earth and towered over the originally green park area.

The holographic sand table in the center of the hall also projected this scene in real time. Among the exquisite palaces and towers of the upper nest, this cold weapon group seemed out of place.

"Indeed, it is only now that we can confirm that Horus Lupercal has indeed awakened from Terra," Perturabo said, "and it is not a trick of Alpharius and Lorgar Aurelion. I have no problem telling Horus whether or not."

He came to the central long table where Angron and Fulgrim sat opposite each other, and stared at the sand table on the stage. At the same time, more weapon structures continued to appear on the sand table. The continuous changes caused a rumbling vibration sound from the outside world, just like he turned Isstvan III upside down with just his gaze.

Watching Perturabo's command of the battlefield at any given time was, in a way, a rare treat.

"Through the information sent by Horus Lupercal on the public frequency band, we were able to further analyze the information encryption technology currently used within the Imperial Army." Perturabo explained his actions lightly, "At least we know that Aurelion has finally mobilized the Titans. To do this, we need more artillery fire to melt them in the wilderness."

He raised his hand, and a faint sound of empty electricity spread in the room.

"I look forward to Horus Lupercal letting me hear his voice at the appointed time."

"Every piece of data is a piece of broken steel in the furnace of battlefield. I believe your information analysis team is also ready." Fulgrim sighed leisurely and stood up. "I will go and see my captains to see if they can form coordination with Angron's troops." The tactical tendency of the World Eaters is still to attack head-on with their extremely high spirits; and the exquisite skills of the Emperor's Children are not always suitable for matching with them.

"Angron, if you have the time, then go ahead." Perturabo stopped Fulgrim and turned to the Purple Phoenix. "From what I know of him, Horus Lupercal would want to hear from at least one of you."

Fulgrim's eyes flickered, and he finally returned to his seat reluctantly. He had to admit that he was not yet truly ready to face Horus, and Perturabo undoubtedly used a pair of cold and scrutinizing eyes to peel off his outer thoughts and pierce the hesitation in his heart in his sharp silence.

Trying to analyze the other party's signals was secondary. No matter how much information a single sound array channel could transmit, Perturabo could obtain more information than a few words of conversation sent by the Luna Wolves when they were deliberately encrypted. They had the help of the Thousand Sons in psionics, and in pure technical means, Perturabo himself was the true master.

If Perturabo was willing to speak to Horus, then that conversation was for him, Fulgrim the Purple Phoenix.

And he would not go against the choice he made for Ferrus, Fulgrim thought.

-

"I know how sad you are, my brother, but you must not fall into the trap he set. Perturabo will certainly make all kinds of excuses for his evil deeds, to explain why he destroyed the achievements of the God-Emperor, and try to add justification for his betrayal, but..." Lorgar Aurelion advised earnestly in the projection.

“That’s enough, Aurelion,” Horus said, interrupting Aurelion. His loud voice was now deeper. “I don’t need you to treat me like a baby.”

The bearer of the truth brought part of the background of the Wandering Temple to the interior of the bunker environment where Horus Lupercal was located. The altar vaguely visible in the dark environment, the electric candlesticks in the dark niches, and the Emperor's Eagle hanging high on the granite statue were like a second layer of deep indoor plating, covering the dusty temporary command center of the war zone.

A ray of flickering light reflected on Horus' cheek, making his face look even more rosy, in sharp contrast with his cold and clear eyes.

"I understand your thoughts. I will remain silent then," Aurelion said docilely, nodding towards Horus and indeed stopping his persuasion. Aurelion's usual attitude was always hard to believe. This was the Legion Lord who had advocated for the extermination of the surface of Isstvan III with a firestorm not long ago.

Horus leaned against the empty cargo box and looked up at the gray-clouded sky. He cleared his throat and waited for the clouds to gradually cover the distant stars under the natural wind. His commanders were around him on both sides. Seeing their gene father lower his eyes, the two wolf cubs who prided themselves on strict discipline also looked up and smiled at him encouragingly.

Horus couldn't help but laugh. In just one year, he seemed to have become a junior of his offspring.

Soon, the timer skipped the last frame, and the sound array communicator was connected.

At first, none of them spoke. Then, a voice came, more heartless than Horus had expected. A machine-generated voice.

"Horus Lupercal," the machine representative Perturabo said, "you have finally awakened."

Horus stood up straight, and with a high degree of concentration, he felt the power of confidence return to his limbs. The friendship of the past turned into a box of chess pieces at the negotiation table. Only when the chessboard was cleaned up before and after the negotiation, it was enough to cause an unspeakable and endless pain.

"Perturabo, have you really chosen this path?" Horus asked straight to the point, "Going against the Imperium of Man?"

The mechanical voice replied coldly: "I have chosen no path, Horus Lupercal. This is the only path for Mankind; I can tell you directly that the Emperor is no longer the Emperor you knew. If you are still willing to convince me otherwise, there is no need for us to continue this conversation."

He remembered that Perturabo was always calm and firm... When had he become so cold and ruthless that he spoke with a mechanical synthetic voice?

"I know, Perturabo," Horus said, with just the right amount of sadness in his voice.

"You know?" Did the synthesized voice sneer coldly? Or was it just some noise caused by the transmission process? "No. Just like if I were in your position, I would rather believe that the Warmaster would betray than believe that the Emperor has changed beyond recognition - when I find that the evidence in my hands cannot convince myself, I don't expect to change the Wolf God with words."

Was this a linguistic trap, or was Perturabo expressing his emotions? When the betrayal occurred, Horus's past impression of Perturabo suddenly became so vague and elusive.

"You were my most trusted brother," Horus said earnestly, his voice trying to penetrate the gulf between them. "Perturabo, I never believed that you had arranged my assassination. I am not blind enough to do that."

He suppressed the surprise of Loken and Torgaddon when they heard this with a look. He had to hear it all with his own ears from Perturabo's mouth.

Horus continued, "But what happened after that, I know almost nothing. Tell me, what is going on?"

After a period of silent beeps, the mechanical voice sounded again.

"In your eyes, what does the Emperor look like now?"

This statement struck a chord with Horus, who frowned, "Because the Emperor is no longer the sole father of our Primarch, you call him unrecognizable?"

Now, Horus was sure that it was a mechanically simulated low and hoarse laugh, which seemed to be accompanied by a sinister coldness.

"I am surprised to hear these words from you one day, Horus - it is a pity that your mind is still trapped in the puzzle of yes and no. From the beginning to the end, the Emperor is not the father of the twenty of us. Among all his titles, the first is the Lord of Mankind."

The mechanical voice sneered, as if Perturabo had no attachment to his past friendship and instead regarded it as a heavy yoke.

Aurelion nodded quietly to the side, never hesitating to agree with the correct words spoken by his enemies.

Horus raised his hand to signal Aurelion to remain silent. He replied sternly, "You diminish the humanity that the Emperor showed us, Perturabo. It is a part of our father that we should respect and cherish. I think he gave you as much as any of us could. And you deny him that."

"Perhaps," the machine whispered, "however, the one sitting on the throne now, human or not, is a rotten corpse that has long been unrecognizable, thanks to Lorgar Aurelion beside you, and intends to subvert the human race that you truly rely on and that the Emperor loves so much; and what we pursue, and even everything we do, is for the arrival of the will between the stars - that is where the true Emperor goes after leaving his body."

Horus took a few breaths and regained his composure. He saw his own anger in Loken's eyes. Torgaddon's eyes also flashed with complex emotions.

A corpse? The Emperor he met in the throne room was indeed a gaunt fragment of his former self, and yet, a corpse? No, he could feel it, he was clearly heard and seen, but he was not noticed.

Ascended. Transformed. Transformed. Became the god of the human race.

Yet, he was still the Emperor in a sense. He was still the Lord of Mankind. He was born for Mankind and existed for Mankind. This was so real that it could not be denied...

The Sagittarius tattoo on the palm of his hand warned him like a burning flame.

"So, is this why you betray us?" Horus said sadly. "I do not want to assume that you are right. But even so, is this why you turn the sword against your former brother? Is this why you let the fires burn? No, even if you kill all who disagree with you, it will not bring the God-Emperor back to the world. All you will gain is unlimited power, and a devastated galaxy."

"This is necessary for the coming of the true Emperor—"

"The death of countless humans?" Horus growled, "This is the only thing you will bring to the galaxy!"

There was silence on Perturabo's part, but it didn't last long.

"You reject the truth, Horus Lupercal. I am not surprised, for you are still stuck in the past. That is why this conversation is doomed to be meaningless."

Horus closed his eyes. Many lives had been lost, and this was only the beginning. He saw the shadows of Magnus and Ferrus Manus. Then, the tens of thousands of fellow Luna Wolves who had been killed in just one year, more than in any other year since the Great Crusade.

Aurelion said that Perturabo would defend his destruction of the Emperor's legacy - no, achievements, he would never want to acknowledge the Emperor's passing.

Yes, his most trusted brother was indeed doing this. He had brought nothing but death and betrayal to the Empire.

"Our mission is to bring enlightenment and civilization to the galaxy." Horus said, remembering every instruction from the Emperor, and some blurred scenes were given new colors. "There is no true victory in war and death. The era of the Great Crusade is over, and the war should have come to an end, but you brought all of this back to this universe that should finally enjoy peace."

Warmaster.

The commander of the war. The controller of the flames of war. The forger of the war situation.

Such a title... a title that was destined to be closely related to war and blood. He was almost about to be bestowed with it, or cursed by it.

Horus thought, perhaps, finally, he could understand why in the early discussions of Ullanor, some preachers had mentioned that this was destined not to be a peaceful title; why they repeatedly wrote down the commemoration of the countless lives buried in the quagmire of war in the past; why the mortal Terra Council constantly raised objections to the Astartes military system and honor...

Because this is a title that is destined to be accompanied by death.

Now, at this moment, standing on the bloody ground of Isstvan III, he flinched slightly as he recalled the blood-stained weapons on the many shelves in the trophy room, the various blades that could cut through hair and the high-tech guns that could take down cities.

Miraculously, the mighty weapons and bloody triumphs that once delighted him faded from his mind, replaced by all the splendors that each civilization he had conquered had built. Facilities that were built rather than destroyed, bright halls and celebratory banquets, and smiles and welcomes that embraced his heart...

Perhaps, indeed, he was still stuck in the past.

"I entrusted you with the mantle of Warmaster, Perturabo," Horus Lupercal said, overcome by the grief and indignation that surged through his chest. "With great boldness, I gave you half of my own Imperium. Because I believed so deeply in your ideals, my own, and the Emperor's, and your ability to carry them out.

"I trust you enough to serve as Warmaster, not for you to betray this trust, not for you to destroy the glory and hope that the Great Crusade has finally created, not for you to destroy the achievements and blessings that my father left to all mankind!"

"Perturabo, my former brother, since when did your ideals die in your heart?"

There was an eerie silence.

"Horus Lupercal." Perturabo suddenly called out his name softly, in his own voice.

His voice was so soft that any outflow of emotion was drowned out by the subtle noise flowing through it.

Then his voice expanded, becoming solid and resolute, just like the name he had chosen for the Legion, more like the clang of steel clashing than any mechanically synthesized sound.

"Do you regret giving me the position of Warmaster?" he demanded grimly. "Regret giving me the position of Warmaster?"

"What about you?" Horus asked, his voice trembling with excitement, "Do you regret taking it?"

"Horus, my brother," Perturabo said, "I only regret not having seized it sooner, leaving the Fool with a gap in power that led to the current situation. Had I taken the Warmastership from you at the outset, I can assure you that nothing would have come to this."

Perturabo spoke coldly in a tone of determination that was unfamiliar to Horus. "Power has gravity, and at the core of power is a vacuum. You hope for peace, but if you do not seize power and expel the Chaos entities that are enough to interfere with peace, then this vacuum will be occupied by others - such as the false emperor you are loyal to, such as the false emperor's loyal servants, our foolish brother Lorgar Aurelion, and many more people who have been deceived by the false emperor and have truly betrayed everything."

He changed the subject: "However, I am also grateful that my mistakes pushed me onto this path; a path that I would never abandon even if I had to make a thousand choices."

"A path of betrayal and death? A path of treason?"

"A path of betrayal to the Imperium of Man," Perturabo said firmly, "a path of exterminating the false emperor. But remember one thing, Horus Lupercal, at any time, I don't mind sharing the fruits of our victory with you -"

"Put away your insults, Perturabo. The Luna Wolves do not associate with traitors."

"Traitor," Perturabo said playfully, not knowing whether this was a nickname for Horus or an assessment of his own identity. His tone deeply hurt Horus.

His next words turned back to mechanical synthesis. No doubt, Perturabo lost interest in the conversation and returned to his most handy work. Perhaps, in the short time they were talking, several more planes were destroyed by the artillery fire from the Iron Warriors' positions.

"Is there anything else you want to say to me, Horus?" the machine said coldly.

"Is Ferrus Manus still alive?" Horus asked sincerely, not knowing what he was expecting.

Even though, if Ferrus was still in this reality, it would most likely mean that they had one more enemy, he still looked forward to his survival... as if it was some kind of spiritual proof of importance.

There was an electric silence, and then another clear, moving voice said, "He is gone, Horus. I am sorry."

Then, the other party cut off the channel first. Then, Aurelion smiled at him, said a few words of comfort, and then ended the projection, and the whole room was illuminated.

Horus patted Loken's shoulder, after all, his other shoulder injury, Torgaddon, had not healed yet. Was he trying to confirm that the warriors around him were still loyal to him and still stood firmly by his side?

Horus put aside his distracting thoughts and forced a smile: "What a pity, it seems that Perturabo is determined to destroy everything we have worked so hard to build."

"My lord," Loken said after a long silence, "the new war has already begun."

Horus nodded. "I know. This is Isstvan, not Ullanor. When even Fulgrim mentions the death of Ferrus Manus, what betrayal is impossible?"

He cleared his throat, as if thinking about what he was going to say next. It was strange that he was already feeling tired after only being awake for so few days. Could a Primarch also feel tired?

"You have read the support list, my outstanding warriors." He came back to his senses, "Before this communication, I gave you enough time to analyze the battlefield. Then, let's talk about the Battle of Isstvan III itself. Torgaddon, you start the report."

Torgaddon walked up to Horus, and he was indeed confident about his preparations for war.

"We suffered heavy losses in the Emperor's Children's ambush, but the battle line has stabilized again. We noticed that the Iron Warriors' manpower is very likely not matched to the entire Legion's strength, but we still have to consider hidden forces like Prospero's hiding of the Iron Warriors - through reasonable inference, the number of casualties reported by the Iron Warriors in the past is likely to be exaggerated..."

"No, I am certain that Perturabo had no intention of betrayal."

"Then you must not say this in front of Lord Aurelion. He is now analyzing Perturabo's ambitions that have been hidden for two hundred years from a hundred clues."

"Alas, do you think I am as blind as Aurelion? I have left you alone for a year, and you have become so bold, Torgaddon?" Horus cursed with a smile, and when Loken beside him laughed quietly, he gave him a second gentle slap, pushing Loken to be side by side with Torgaddon.

"Go on," Horus said.

Torgadon nodded. "If the Titans can successfully reach the vicinity of the Anthem City, we will have a chance to make the defenders there crawl away..."

Before he could finish his words, a loud roar shook the furnishings in the room. Every lamp shook violently, making a harsh noise, and the earth hummed sadly under his feet.

In the distance, artillery fire fell like a frenzy of fire, and the intense flames tore the sky apart. Huge pillars of fire rose into the sky, and the land in the distance trembled under this ruthless bombardment, as if it was struck and forged by a giant hammer. Thick black smoke rose from the burning scorched earth, and the skyline reflected a purgatory-like red light, and the aftermath of destruction spread all around.

Torgadon subconsciously looked up at Horus in surprise. "That's our Titan's position," he blurted out.

Horus watched silently, then smiled coldly. "I still underestimated my former brother. The traitor Perturabo."

(End of this chapter)