Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 481 If Huron can do it, so can I (4K5)
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Hong Suo is now both happy and worried.

Such a situation rarely occurred to this half-blood Astartes.

For a man like him who was born in Fabius' experiment, became the last sample to survive in a row of reagent bottles, was rescued by Lucius, and was even taken in by the Iron Warriors in the end. Not only did he not die in the following centuries, but he was also able to serve as the Iron Warriors' war blacksmith and the chief pharmacist of a Primarch - to put it more simply, he was a 30-year-old mortal youth who was thrown into the battlefield without any education, and became the leader of a whole group of unjust super soldiers and a genius genetic and bioengineering scientist with only fragmented memories in his mind, and switched between these two identities smoothly - it can be seen that treating other people as external objects without investing emotions and appropriately eliminating the influence of emotions in thinking and decision-making were obviously one of his secrets to survival.

So now his pacing attitude fully illustrates his inner conflict:
The good news is that they got accurate information about their father from Grendel, and it is very likely that he is the same kind and perfect father as he remembered! He clenched his fist and waved it fiercely in the air. And the information that Grendel brought him about Soltarn's integration of Medlengard is also a good thing - at least if he really can't do it, he can still return to Medlengard and reunite with the Second Captain, so as not to be in a bad situation on both the Empire and Chaos. Although Hong Suo is absolutely sure that he can survive alone, what's the point of just surviving? He wants to prove that he is no worse than any so-called "pure-blooded" Astartes! Not to mention any Iron Warrior! His seed is cunning and powerful, with all the best qualities of Perturabo's descendants!
What worries me is that, first of all, there are obvious problems in Grendel's narration. The champion cannot be sure how many times he encountered the warp storm while sitting on the ship after being captured, because the pirate warship that captured him originally started the warp engine in a hurry, and their navigator was even a half-orc, and the navigation was guesswork. According to the research of Honso and Vannas, they believe that since the soul and the body have traveled, the time and space dislocation is very likely to exist. So, if they leave here rashly, will they not be able to find the new Medlengard after Soltarn's integration after returning to the fully real universe? After all, here, the Great Whirlpool, is half a galaxy away from the Eye of Terror in terms of the straight-line distance of the plane system - this means at least tens of thousands of light years away and the uncontrollability of multiple warp voyages, and they only have one chance to bet.

"Although there will certainly be some time difference from the time when we can find our father, I don't think the time difference will be too big."

Honso announced, standing up from the table.

Grendel was given the position of security chief of the camp after passing some mysterious quick verification. He is now patrolling outside. It may also be because he also claimed that there are too many books and scrolls here. He saw that his headache was not conducive to recovery, so he picked up the axe and walked around to recover.

Vannas and Honso were busy studying what point in time they were at so that they could make better plans to decide what their next move would be and how large the scale of the action would be.

"Look." He picked up a scroll of old blood-stained papers scribbled with gossip and anecdotes about the Black King Huron's past. "It mentions the exact year that the Astral Claws fled into the Maelstrom after being defeated at the Palace of Thorns on Badab - it's a rare find."

"Are you sure this year is correct?" Wannas frowned. "The followers of the Corpse King always like to tamper with historical records for some personal reasons they think are necessary or for so-called pious purposes. And my experience of being expelled from the chapter tells me that even in an ancient fortress like my original chapter, the records kept there are not completely reliable."

"This document is an original record from a clerk who previously served the Huron allies, and should not have been tampered with by the Empire. It was used as a bookmark in another manuscript that described how to praise the true dark god and summon the names of all their subordinates. The unfortunate guy didn't finish reading the book." Vannus raised his eyebrows, and Hongsuo held up the book in his hand. There was a hole on it that was pierced through the book by some slender weapon or claw, which also explained the source of the bloodstains on the note.

"Okay. So how many years is that?"

"As far as I can remember, the last time I was on the Destiny Steel before that strange warp storm started, I was drinking tea and chatting about some anecdotes with a few noble princes (sigh with regret). So the time point of the log recorded by my built-in recorder at that time should be correct. It was the 912th year of the 41st millennium, and this note said 'It is now the summer of .M', and the recorder heard that the Corpse King's warriors launched the final attack on the Thorn Palace. It seems that the time it took Huron to govern this place so prosperous was shorter than I expected."

"The 'Blackheart King' is indeed very resourceful." Vannus nodded. "If we cut off the beginning and the end, it may only be a few decades in the real universe outside since the establishment of New Badab. It is not a very long time difference in interstellar travel. It seems that the warp storms encountered by Grendel caused his time to drift. It is meaningless to discuss the time scale inside the Eye of Terror and the Maelstrom. Perhaps the perception of time by two Astartes on the same ship can differ by a hundred years. However, if it is a few decades, even if we go to the real universe now, our lifespan will be enough to support it when it naturally advances to the last year of the 41st millennium. What should we do next?"

"Since Huron can do all this in a few decades," a smile appeared on the face of the war blacksmith, "Huron can do it, so can I. Undoubtedly, making good use of the gifts from my father and the princes can accomplish an extraordinary career, which will certainly be of great benefit to my father's mood and my qualifications. Vannas, I will stay here to do some things, and then go to the Misty Star Region to meet my father after the Great Rift opens. In this way, the timeline can be perfectly connected, and we don't have to think too much about any time paradoxes. "

Vannus was about to agree with this, but he caught a glimpse of the light of ambition reflected in Honso's eyes. From a certain angle, it seemed that his eyes, which were part of the genes inherited from the Iron Warriors, even had a very light cornflower blue pigment.

At that moment the Son of Krakos felt a chill: part of the warsmith who had once coldly calculated everyone and everything around him and himself as a completely rational resource seemed to be resurrected in the soul of the Astartes before him.

"Uh, Honso, I've been wanting to ask this since the beginning," Adalic began cautiously.

And when the Warsmith turned his head, he looked so professional, cool and confident.

"what?"

"Why are you so confident that you can achieve feats that are not inferior to Huron's? Even the leader of the Black Legion, the Great Plunderer Abaddon, cannot ignore Huron, and he is a full ten thousand years older than Huron."

"That sounds like a hint that Abaddon is not good enough, Vannus. Has anyone ever told you that your crow's mouth sometimes looks like a pointy-eared alien?"

"Not really, but I probably did mess with them a little too much sometimes."

"Don't deal with them." Hong Suo reminded, "The ones here are Dark Aida pirates. The place where they live is called Comoros. Among the Dark Aida, there are guys called 'Haemolects'. You don't want to be caught and become their experimental subject."

"I have only heard a little bit about it. Why do you know so much about the situation of the alien race?"

"This is the professionalism of a Primarch's chief pharmacist." Honso added, "I think that although these guys have average taste and should be used as experimental materials more than any Eldar, some of their actual surgical examples can still provide a lot of ideas for later generations and reduce experimental time. I really miss Lord Maatra's salon and his magical library. It's so convenient to find any book there."

"Speaking of this..."

Vannus' words were interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps and a knock on the door.

"What's going on?! Come in!" Grendel strode into the room. "There's a bunch of people out there looking for death."

he said shortly.

"Is this worth your haste?"

"Oh. Those who were obsessed with blood and wanted to die were not worthy." The Iron Warriors Champion replied, his axe was not even stained with much blood. "I was reluctant to send them off myself. It was too boring. These cultists didn't even think about returning alive. They came to sacrifice themselves for their gods and masters. Why should I waste my energy to help them? Although the darkness caused by witchcraft helped them, it was useless. They were all bombarded into a large pool of meat at the door by the crossfire of the wall guards, and it was all over the place."

"Cultists of the Blood God Cult?" Honso and Vannus exchanged glances, and the son of Krakus spoke up. "I guess it was some kind of declaration of war brought by the warband champion of Pushtok Uluwente, the one you killed. Uluwente himself is a loyal believer of the Eightfold Slaughter, and so are his warbands and mortals."

"Okay, although I don't see how this action would do any good other than waste their own human resources and make their gods happier. So what else?"

"A messenger arrived shortly after I ordered them to beat the bunch of mortals to pieces." Grendel smacked his lips. "It was as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time and needed to be particularly dramatic and impressive to his visitor."

"This shows that your brain... uh, body has indeed recovered well, Kadaras. Congratulations." Hong Suo looked at his champion and wrote down this observation log in his own memo. He decided to prepare some more injections to mix with the veteran's medicine next time to see if the experimental materials can develop in the direction he wants.

The latter shrugged upon hearing this, "So do you want to go meet this mortal? Or do you want me to bring him in?"

“No,” Honsuo said. “Let’s go out and meet this messenger. I can probably guess who he’s representing.”

A moment later, they saw the messenger at the camp's bloody and open gate.

Slightly to their surprise, this messenger was not a Chaos Astartes, nor even any physically enhanced human or mutant, but merely a thin mortal in a tattered scribe's robe. The ebony box in his hand was decorated with golden thorns, indicating that he and the documents in it indeed represented the will of the Blackheart King, and nothing else.

"It seems that the owner of the palace really doesn't care about us and our belongings, and is also very confident in his own power and strength."

"In New Badab, he has the capital to be contemptuous."

If the Warsmith was noncommittal about this, he didn't show it.

Within the distance that the envoy's mortal eyes could see, he had adjusted the subtle muscle expressions on his face to make them look more in line with his current character setting: an ambitious man who was eager to find an opportunity to prove himself, but had a slightly hidden uneasiness about his own strength, a calm, bold and careful Iron Warrior, and a new war blacksmith with a sense of desperation.

He took out the letter paper from the wooden box and could hardly hold back his smile: it was not a piece of human skin paper that could be seen everywhere here, nor was it the parchment used by the empire to write official documents. It was an ordinary white paper used for the most common administrative documents, with a few simple lines of words written on it.

Honso read it quickly, then nodded and told Grendel to watch over the camp while they left for the palace. He then asked Vannus to go with him and follow the messenger who led the way.

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Although the mountain and the palace-fortress on its head, which looks like a crown, seem close at first glance, in fact, if you measure it with your feet, the vertical climbing distance is often far beyond people's imagination.

Although they were mortals and extremely skinny, they all found that the messenger's speed was not slower than theirs who had been genetically modified and strengthened and were wearing power armor. He walked up step by step, so skillfully and nimbly walking on any unprotected slippery steps carved out of stone at the edge of a deep abyss, or on an iron chain bridge swaying in the high-altitude fog, or when they were about to cross a large area of ​​dangerous trench wire full of barbed wire, he would suddenly lead them into an inconspicuous tunnel and then come out from the other side.

They climbed and climbed, and Hong Suo thought he had reached a height that was difficult for mortals to reach. He had walked through at least three winding mountain roads, three tunnels at different angles, and three iron cable bridges. However, the scribe leading the way was still walking very fast in his simple lace-up sandals.

The blood carried in Hongsuo's genes boiled in his veins. To outsiders, this palace might only be tall, huge and magnificent, and at most they would only admire the terrifying defensive turrets. But in Hongsuo's eyes, the designer of this palace fortress exercised the greatest malice towards others that an architect could achieve from a different direction than their father.

This palace was not built purely for the purpose of killing enemies or defense. It reflected a part of its owner. Who the hell designed such a steep, slippery, and long staircase without handrails? It was full of malicious intent, just like a show of power! Hong Suo felt that if he continued to climb in circles like this, he might not be able to control his expression well when he met the emperor.

Fortunately, as they climbed higher and higher and were about to approach the summit, the clouds surrounding the mountaintop dissipated for a while. When Hong Suo looked down, he saw numerous glittering bonfires and lights, like pearls of all sizes surrounding the neck of the mountain. Bonfires, life, and humanity, meant countless people and the possibilities behind them.

Hong Suo paused for a few seconds on the last platform, digesting what was conveyed to him from the human firelight below the mountain, and then realized that this new experience filled him with power.

(End of this chapter)