Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

The days spent diving into the warp often felt like years for Ahriman.

In fact, the experience of abandoning worries and exploring the vast ocean often combines the characteristics of beautiful dreams and unrestrained freedom.

However, what if a psyker is trained by the Gene Father to the point where his mind is constantly thinking about the thousands of dangers hidden behind the colorful and gorgeous ocean in front of him, and what kind of traps and truths the ocean currents and cliffs are while submersing. Disaster, how will breaking the commandments turn into a fallen flesh-eating maggot named by Master Amon... Then no matter how brilliant and beautiful the journey is, it will turn into a disgusting nightmare that makes your stomach churn.

He had a hard time imagining how those mortal navigators could have guided the ship - perhaps they just hadn't been warned by his father of the potential contamination of the Warp.

"Brother Azak Ahriman." Someone woke him up from his meditation, and his voice was really mixed with the noise of metal pipes.

"Sergeant Iscus." Ahriman opened his eyes and greeted the captain of the Imperial Fists.

There was no superior-subordinate relationship between them, so Ahriman did not salute.

If he did, he was sure that the captain would press his shoulder armor to stop him silently, just like Iscus did to his subordinates.

There are not many organs in this sergeant's body that are still in the state of flesh and blood. Metal limbs, servo joints and pistons have replaced his flesh and blood body. Enhanced prosthetic eyes are embedded in the face that is wrapped in exposed black carapace and metal chrome.

Combining a lot of reading and a little reasonable speculation, Ahriman knew that this was the price paid for victory that the nanocarnivorous bacteria took from Iscus in the Unification War, and Iscus obviously proved it with the subsequent impressive results. He does not need to sleep in fearlessness yet.

Iscus's prosthetic eyes were fixed in the sockets, and his remaining muscles did not support him to make any more expressions. Ahriman knew that he was looking at him: "Can you confirm the position of the orc warship again, brother Ahriman? "

"I have sent my precognition into the mind of the navigator." Ahriman said, "When we emerge from the subspace and return to the real universe, there is a half chance that we will see the weird-looking orc hulk."

"Is there any other valid information?" Iskus asked.

"They are savage in nature," Ahriman closed his eyes again, recalling the trajectory of the green-skinned orcs swinging their machetes in the darkness. "They have power that goes against common sense. But they are no stronger than any alien team that the Iron Warriors have ever defeated... Two The firepower of a light cruiser was enough to repel this small ship."

"Cannot be annihilated." Iscus's eyes literally twinkled, his statement implying judgment.

In order to increase the flexibility of light cruisers and save energy supply, their firepower and armor are only about half of conventional cruisers. The effective damage that the combination of naval gun arrays and torpedo tubes can cause to the enemy is an issue worth considering.

The captain of the Imperial Fists continued to ask: "Is it possible to join a gang?"

"If the captain of the Iron Warriors agrees," Ahriman said. "An orc's skin is no tougher than a chainsword."

"Okay." Iscus replied. His metal parts made a tooth-gripping sound. Maybe he should add some oil to himself. "After arriving at the destination, I will report our actions to the father of genes. I I have asked Captain Kaidomo Frix, and based on the factors of our own combat effectiveness, he gave the exact same suggestion as you."

——

The immaterial flames tore apart the membrane of the subspace, and the vortex violently impacted the hull of the light cruiser. The physical gravity of the real universe and the tearing waves of the subspace acted on the ship at the same time, exploding with fleeting dazzling lightning. As the passengers' momentary sensory dissonance and Geller's hunched position disappeared, the ship jumped out of the subspace.

The bright spots marked on the auspicious display made Ahriman breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that he had once again made a contribution to the fleet.

After another flash of light, the battleship on which Frix was located completed the jump and appeared in the real universe.

Soon, the commanders of the two ships completed their pre-battle reports and tacitly rushed to the dilapidated ancient monster warship, with half of its hull still embedded in the imperial transport ship. Even if the warship moved without realizing it - moving with the embedded Imperial transport ship completely wrapped in a strange force field shield, it could not escape the pursuit of the light cruiser.

"Kill them," Ahriman said to himself, putting on his helmet and raising his force staff, taking his place next to the Imperial Fists squad in action.

Gang dancing begins.

In the other cruiser, Frix decided to shout "For Victory". He was once a silent warrior, but the captain had to make some decisive moves to inspire other brothers to fight.

But what really encouraged the battle was Lord Perturabo's voice in the headset, "Destroy the aliens," Perturabo said, "Prioritize completing your own combat objectives, and if you are able, keep a prisoner and obtain the information of the alien fleet. More information."

Perturabo's voice directly injected endless energy into all the Iron Warriors present. Of course, no one expected to win the honor of finding their own pedestal in the memorial hall in such a miniature battle, and their marching enthusiasm was purely based on their determination not to disappoint the genetic father.

Those ugly things with colorful checkered green broken breastplates shook and screamed loudly, shouting out the alien language that no one intended to recognize, and slammed the torsos of the Space Marines with huge rough blunt objects.

Frix's heavy hammer smashed the head of an orc whose stench almost penetrated into his armor. After confirming the lethality of the bullets to the orcs, he ordered his team to prioritize long-range fire coverage, and his tactics tended to be defensive and counterattack, and the first thing to do was to clean up. The green-skinned teams were squeezing each other in the narrow corridor, advancing slowly while stepping on the enemy's blood and the skin of creatures that didn't look like skin.

Static sound filled the communication equipment, and something had interfered with their communication, but this could not stop the tacit understanding of battle formed within the Iron Warriors. Frix stepped on the human bones and the bullet-riddled remains of the orcs who had died here before. The sticky sound of the soles was masked by the bombardment of artillery fire, until the bolt gun in his hand clicked. A sound.

Laser weapons are not easy to use against orcs. Precise and fatal strikes are just an innocuous wound for these monsters that are not animals at all.

Frix clearly saw an orc whose brain had been penetrated laterally, still screaming and knocking an Iron Warrior to the ground with his companions. He decisively threw a bolt gun to rescue his battle brother.

The roar of the chainsword's whirling blade replaced the attack of kinetic weapons, foreshadowing the pain of death - although Frix doubted whether these snarling aliens really understood the meaning of the word pain.

He pressed the blade down and pulled it out, finding the correct rhythm of cutting and slashing in the chaos, and the words of the Gene Father were once again confirmed, that is, the difference between the battlefield and the forge is far less than most people think.

Frix's will stretched along the pulse of muscle and blood at the end of the tool, and the green monster split into twitching pieces of flesh and struggling blood clots under his hands. Calm rather than frenetic thinking underpinned his movements, and his strikes showed calculated precision.

The battle brother tossed the bolter back to him, and Frix caught it and hung it behind him. Ahriman was right, this lone alien was not strong.

When they met with the bright yellow armors in the center of the ship, a warrior without a helmet and half of his body made of steel threw an ugly and huge head in the middle of the open space.

"Looks like the leader," Iskus said. The more dirt on the armor reflected their preference for close combat. The hot breath steamed from their hot sword blades. "Continue cleaning?"

"Stay alive?"

A warrior who should be wearing red armor walked out of the team. His armor had been stained with blood and made it difficult to distinguish the color. Frix could barely make out the golden sun pattern on his shoulder armor.

The dark blue psychic energy controlled a small alien with all its limbs to float to the center of the clearing.

"There is one alive already," Ahriman said. "Although there is a language barrier."

"Then, annihilate the aliens." Frix and Iscus looked at each other. "Kill all the orcs our chainswords can reach."