Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

At the top of the Spiral Tower, the abandoned hub city of the Eldar Webway, three powerful psykers sat in a circle on the ground, pondering around a glass jar.

In the glass tank enlarged by the Emperor, miniature greenskins fought each other in a thick opalescent network.

They fought for a while and then paused to rest, then energetically repaired the buildings and roads damaged by the brief waaagh, cheered loudly to the emperor outside the glass jar and reflected on various surfaces in the glass jar, and then continued to look at the greenery next to them. They started fighting, vowing to tear off the opponent's big teeth.

In the process of this cycle, the psychic reflective material that Morse broke off from the abandoned building materials at the top of the tower and threw it into the glass jar was gradually integrated into the construction of the green skin.

I don’t know where the knowledge of these creatures comes from. In short, they seem to be born with an understanding of how to use the mysterious technology left by these ancient races, and without realizing it, they throw this technology that humans have no way of mastering into the most incredible low-level struggle. , practicing the joy of squandering natural resources to the greatest extent.

"I thought..." the Emperor spoke slowly, "even the Eldar would have difficulty understanding the construction and maintenance of the Webway."

"There is no record of the green-skinned orcs borrowing the Webway to sail, right?" Morse read part of the empire's existing information on the face of the emperor who no longer even concealed his surprise. The Emperor would not have been so surprised if the Orcs had ever had a documented use of the Webway.

"Before this, I don't think there was any precedent in the empire for green skins to exist in a miniature state." He continued, "Maybe this group of green skins is particularly special, or... it's just that no green skin has ever been able to enter the network. An opportunity to unleash your potential.”

"They are a dangerous force." Malcador tightened his grip on the scepter, his old eyes revealing their sharpness.

"And I am a radical person." Morse smiled, the contempt in his expression not directed at Malcador. He has always been an advocate of radical policies and has a clear self-awareness. “I see a possibility and I reach out and grab it.”

"Very similar to my lord." Malcador sighed, and sorrow emerged from his aging face with ridges and grooves.

He looked into the distance. Even though there was no direction in the Ada ruins, Morse could still feel that what he was looking forward to was where they came from, namely Terra.

Beside the two men, the surprise had unconsciously dissipated from the Emperor's expression. He focused on observing the movements of the greenskins, using silence as the voice of thought.

The human emperor's thoughts also aroused the emotions of the other two people. Their obvious or hidden respect and care for the emperor made them suddenly stop disturbing the emperor. The words slipped from their lips, and they fell into a silence equal to that of the Emperor.

A few minutes later, Morse and Malcador looked at each other, sinking into the ether's vision, and sensing at the energy level with the Emperor around the psychic circle created by the green skin.

A young man with a laurel crown on his head, a middle-aged man who has gone through vicissitudes of life, and a group of voids sitting in strange wheelchairs all gazed at the spiritual world of this small group of greenskins.

There is something strange about the existence of these creatures. Each thought seems independent and yet seems to resonate with each other all the time. They each selected the will of the greenskins, sliding along the edges of the minds of these strange creatures into the murky fog of memories and thoughts, and began to communicate with a mixture of surprise and laughter.

"They don't care about their origins." The Emperor's voice sounded. Without the deliberate blessing of psychic powers, his slightly hoarse voice became much softer. "No greenskin knows where it comes from."

"Some greenskins vaguely know that there was a group of guys called smart boys thousands of years ago," Morse said. "The origin of this race has been forgotten."

"They are not a naturally born race," said young Malcador, making his judgment. "Their social structure and physiological needs do not conform to biological laws, and there are no other aliens like them."

"Will instinctively obey the more powerful orcs..." Morse stretched out a transparent hand outlined by flowing runes, causing a vortex of consciousness to flow through the palm, "War and brute force are the sources of growth. This is a race created for war."

"But these Orks," the Emperor paused, considering how to translate the language system the Greenskins used to think, "what has affected them?"

"They regard construction as a kind of battle." Malcador said, "When enough orcs gather, they will automatically select the best builders, and the rest will become... brats?"

"Constructor boy." The emperor tried to find the corresponding meaning in Gothic. When this incomprehensible word came out of his mouth, Morse saw a smile flash across the emperor's dark eyes, "And each has its own category. , each kid has a mastery in different areas of construction.”

"Probably from being with Perturabo for too long," Morse said. "Listen to Perturabo's command of the construction projects of the fortresses on various planets every day."

"When a leader gathers enough Builder Boys, they will begin to build and fight at the same time," the Emperor said.

"Very poor construction habits," Morse shook his head. "I'm sure your Adeptus Custodes and Adeptus Mechanicus are doing much better than the Greenskins, at least in terms of rules and regulations."

"Their construction is at the same level as the construction of war machines. It is incomprehensible, but they can be used and are practical." The emperor commented objectively.

"They praise you every moment, my Lord." Malcador added perhaps the most important point, the young man's sighing appearance coincided with his aging appearance in the real universe.

"It's impossible to imagine what was going on in the minds of the race that created them," Morse said airily, his laughter stopped too quickly to betray the deliberateness in it.

"They are geniuses and madmen at the same time. But if I were to choose..." The void outlined by this rune thought for a while, "While granting the Webway technology to the Eldar, I will indeed find a place to do it. Some humble backup - after all, the Eldar were able to sink their empire into the abyss, and we all witnessed the tearing of the deep purple eye in the sky. Anyway, I now highly doubt that's another one of their creations. Green Orcs."

"You support the inclusion of Greenskins in the development of Webway technology," the Emperor said softly.

"If you can study the secrets of the Web Channel yourself before the official construction of the Web Channel begins, I will not support it." Morse replied. "Between the pursuit of the dark gods and the alien technology, we may have to make a choice."

The Emperor's lips pressed together, forming a narrow line. "Befriending aliens is not an option," he said, summing up his thoughts with the most obvious of reasons.

"Why bother making friends," Morse said, "kill whenever you want."

"Most green-skin technologies cannot be separated from their spiritual existence, whether this is because most of the green-skin inherited technologies are incomplete, or this race is born this way." Malcador pondered. "They can't be killed immediately and we have to take that into account."

"Before humans master the required technology, we can use it as a transitional purpose to seize the time to complete the temporary construction before the subspace storm arises again." The emperor said slowly, "But how to ensure that the green skin's mental state can be maintained The stability of the network?"

"We need someone who can contact and stabilize the mental state of the green-skinned orcs." Morse said thoughtfully, "A person with a talent for telepathy, a professional telepathic master."

"None of you have such free time, and although I can temporarily take over...then Perturabo must be informed of the Webway plan, otherwise he will not feel at ease. Doubts bring accidents, and accidents bring disaster."

"I can rotate with you." Malcador said, "I don't need to leave Terra. But although we can use psychic energy to inspire the orcs' waaagh state, after a section of the webway was built by the greenskins using their technology and humans, And what will happen to the green skinned bodies before humans completely replace the Webway with their own mature technology?”

"Build a wall," Morse said. "Just kidding."

"What do you think, my lord?" Malcador turned to the Emperor.

The Emperor closed his eyes, then opened them.

"I need to think," the Emperor said. "Leave these greenskins... for now."