Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

When Hammer walked into the command room, the Iron Warriors' sergeant stood up, walked towards him, and patted his shoulder vigorously.

"Hammer, right?" he asked, grinning a hard smile, "I'm Sims."

"Yes, sir," Hammer replied, looking at the holographic hard light projection floating on the long table in the room. This strange optical projection provides a touchable entity, allowing a person to actually touch the projected object-of course, the force applied must be moderate.

In the projection, the ship they are now on is slowly sailing in deep space. The armor plates damaged in the war have been replaced in the dock of the temporary base, but the new paint has not been completed.

Three hours ago, a strange signal was captured by them. Considering that they are currently on the outpost border of the ruins of the former Randan Empire, they cannot be sure that it must be the remnants of the Randan who are being hunted. In any case, the moment they received the news, the stationed Iron Warriors sent out warships to track them.

Sims let go of Hammer and returned to his seat, staring at the image of the battleship that was slowly rotating in the center of the long table. "We haven't caught up with it yet," he said. "Sit down and talk?"

"Talk about what?" Hammer sat down.

"I don't know," the sergeant replied, "Maybe Randan, maybe yourself. You are my adjutant now, although I personally think that according to your achievements, I should be your adjutant."

"Because of Randan?"

"Yes, you participated in the last battle and you survived." The sergeant moved his eyes to Hammer, "You are a veteran of Terran origin, and you have made great achievements."

"That was a few years ago. Besides, Iron Warriors come first in everything. This is what my instructor told me." Hammer replied, smiling, "Reputation is not important, identity has no value, I only care whether the duty is completed."

"Respectable." Sims replied.

Hammer shrugged and stroked his unloaded gun with his fingers. Orpheus, he gave his gun a name. This was once the only unnecessary thing he had done in his life that he could remember.

He had recently done a second unnecessary thing—and he was surprised when he did it, but he did carve the names of the squad members who had fought alongside him into the lower edge of his shoulder armor. This went against his own preference for ordinariness and self-denial, and it often caused ripples in his calm heart.

"This is what I should do." The silent warrior said briefly, "Captain's communication request."

Sims passed the request on the internal network, and a new image appeared next to their own ship.

It was another unfamiliar Imperial ship, slightly smaller than the Iron Warriors' own standard cruiser, but still a warship rather than a merchant ship, and it was now turning around and approaching them along a long straight line.

From the external decoration alone, they could not distinguish any marks or marks that could be used to infer the identity of the ship.

"No communication signal yet?" Sims asked.

The captain in the channel immediately responded: "No, sir."

"Perhaps we should prepare for battle," Sims said, his eyes lingering on Hammer, "It may not be the long-lost Randan traitor."

"Don't fire easily, we can't confirm the specific situation inside this ship."

"You are right. Even if it is likely to be controlled by the now unconscious traitor mortal, we should be cautious." Sims said.

After the smoke of the main battlefield of Randan cleared, they have spent more than five years following the guidance of Lion El'Jonson and the remote prompts sent from time to time by Perturabo, searching for the remaining alien enemies in the territory of the Randan Empire, which has now been classified as the "Extinction Domain", and strive to completely wipe out Randan.

The lion seemed to have a kind of enthusiasm and determination for this hunting mission that he himself did not know where it came from.

Some people speculate that the First Primarch is using this good training opportunity to help the Caliban-born Dark Angels gradually gain a dominant position in the legion; others think that Lion El'Jonson simply has a strong hatred for the Randan aliens, which may be related to the fact that he was once trapped on the base planet of the Randan aliens - his humiliation must be washed away in order to re-prove the honor of the First Army.

Of course, when the warriors discuss privately, there is another argument that often appears: Lion's hatred for Randan must be due to some more personal and unimaginable reasons, and perhaps no one except a few Primarchs knows the hidden truth.

"Hunting traitors and eliminating heretics. For every Randan alien who deserves death, the Dark Angels will hunt until the day of its destruction. In the name of Lion El'Jonson, the Dark Angels swear to the human empire."

In any case, this communication was broadcast three times in a row in the Imperial warship fleet throughout the Randan Realm.

The unusual ordinary warship continued to approach without knowing what was good for it, approaching the Iron Warriors' range, of course, this did not mean that the Iron Warriors had also entered the opponent's range.

When it comes to long-range firepower, even the most humble and cold-blooded Iron Warriors can't help but straighten their chests for the creation of the Gene Father.

"Prepare for battle," Sims ordered, while picking up his helmet and preparing to put it on himself skillfully. Soon, a light click sounded when the lock was locked. In wartime, they have become accustomed to this set of eternal and unchanging combat procedures.

Hammer slowed down his movements, and the moment before he put on his helmet, the captain sent new news, stopping their actions.

"The other party sent a reply." The captain said, "claiming to be loyal to the human empire and requesting further face-to-face video communication."

Sims stared at the floating projected image through the goggles. As the two sides approached, the outline of the ship became clearer and clearer. It is indeed full of the characteristics of the empire, with a bow ram like a knife and the entire hull like a pistol, showing the aggressiveness of the human empire.

"Connect it." Sims said, "Its name?"

"Orpheus." The captain replied.

Hammer heard his teeth knocking up and down for a moment. He remembered something. Something deeply engraved in the bottom of his mind.

Soon, an image appeared in front of the two.

The visitor who strayed into the military extermination zone was wearing gray Space Marine armor, without a legion logo, and it could only be seen that the armor he wore was relatively new. In fact, it was probably a brand new set of armor, just taken out of the foundry and put on the Space Marine before experiencing any damage.

"This is the Iron Warriors," Sims said in the standard Gothic language of the Empire, "You have entered the military extermination zone. Report your identity and shut down your weapon system, otherwise the Iron Warriors will launch a bombing."

"The Orpheus is from the Empire, Iron Warriors, don't fire, we are friends, and our purpose is to visit the respected Lord of the Dark Angels."

The Space Marine on the opposite side answered, his voice was vague, just like him, all the characteristics were erased, and there was no extra emotion - except for a kind of mild arrogance that seemed to be true and was most likely still a disguise. Ordinary, this is the only impression he gave to others.

"Report your legion name, departure time, location, and your name, we will start to verify immediately."

"The departure time was six months ago, and the location was the deep-water port of the Akinas Rotation Angle in the Kamas Rotation Arm. As for the name of the legion..." The Space Marine fell into a period of thinking, as if this was an extremely difficult question to answer.

Finally, he shrugged and gave the answer: "The 20th Legion has no name for the time being. As for me, I am Alpharius."

--

The Orpheus and the Iron Warriors' ships were traveling side by side, which could be called traveling together and leading, but considering the gun muzzles of the Iron Warriors' side guns that had not been closed, it was better to say that it was an escort. The Orpheus did not resist, perhaps because they knew that no one could get a good end under the gunfire of the Iron Warriors.

The man who claimed to be Alpharius personally boarded the Iron Warriors' ship and asked Hammer, who came to lead the way, to take him to the command room. After seeing the real person, Hammer realized how tall this warrior was - he might be taller than most Space Marines, not to mention the Iron Warriors.

The two walked side by side, neither of them unloading their weapons.

"The style here," Alpharius said, "is beyond my expectation."

Hammer glanced at the long corridor. They didn't decorate much here. Everything was as simple as the shipyard in Olympia.

"The Iron Warriors retain the Olympian style features in the Agora Market and the living areas of the Astartes, while other areas are used for combat and do not need decoration." Hammer explained, and various names swirled on his tongue for a few times, and finally all were swallowed.

"It is indeed the style of the Iron Warriors." Alpharius commented, lowering his head and noticing the engraving on Hammer's shoulder armor.

His tone became a little strange: "Is it also the style of the Iron Warriors to engrave people's names on the shoulder armor?"

"No, this is my...personal choice." Hammer said.

"That is to say, you did something unusual."

"Yes." Hammer wanted to rationalize his behavior, but a sudden, steel-like stubbornness stopped him.

"I did something of my own." He said with a stiff face, keeping his facial expression calm. While feeling uneasy, he could not understand the sudden pride in his heart.

Alpharius looked at him, and then the warrior of the 20th Legion took off his helmet.

The face was clearly outlined, with high brow bones and obvious shadows, as if it had some regional racial characteristics close to the pole. A pair of blue-green cold eyes flashed with a sharp light, proving that he was always observing everything in the world around him, and silently making his own evaluation and records.

"Very individual, warrior." Alpharius said, and then he suddenly laughed. "It's okay, it's not a mistake, it's just proof of your fighting. I heard that you are still an adjutant, Hammer."

"Follow the arrangements of Lord Perturabo."

"I mean, he is really good to you." Alpharius smiled, "Be loyal to him, warrior. In any case, he is an excellent general who is very popular."

"Of course." Hammer said, "Orpheus."

Alpharius patted his shoulder, "We have to keep working hard. Oh, it seems that we are very lucky-Lion El'Jonson wants to see us in person."

"The First Primarch wants to see you in person," Hammer added, relaying the notification from the communication channel, "Lord Perturabo wants to see me in the communication."

"But we still have to see Lion together, don't we?" Alpharius said, "On the Indomitable Truth. The throne is on it, the oldest active ship, the Queen of Glory, and it is my first time to board it."

He paused, "There, we will announce our existence to the galaxy."

——

As the Stormbird entered the Dark Angels' flagship, Houguin, under the order of the Lion, led the two warriors out of the hangar and toward the command center.

The Deathwing's direct lieutenant had some of his own intuitive feelings about the two men beside him - strangely, one of them was from the Iron Warriors and the other from the nameless 20th Legion, but for no reason, he felt that there was a unique similarity between the two.

"I am Alpharius," Alpharius said, bowing to the shadows of Lion El'Jonson and Perturabo. "The 20th Legion has decided to join the Randan's cleanup war and assist in completing everything that needs to be done."

The Lion watched the two visitors, while Perturabo was particularly concerned about his own Iron Warrior.

Perturabo looked unsurprised by Hammer's appearance. Of course, it was he who asked to summon Hammer here.

"Alpharius," the Lion chewed on the name, "means the first. But the twenty... is the last."

"That's right, my Lord," Alpharius said easily, looking relaxed under the Primarch's gaze, "You have learned the ancient Terran language well."

"And what about Orpheus?" Perturabo asked. "What does this code mean to you, Alpharius?"

"It represents respect for you, Master Perturabo," Alpharius replied, "and this is not flattery."

Perturabo snorted, "Rogal Dorn and Malcador have been too easy on you."

Alpharius smiled and said nothing.

"Your position, Alpharius," the Lion said.

"Just a Legionnaire," Alpharius replied, and now even Hoguin could see that he was not telling the truth.

Houguin had to hide his surprise that someone had the guts to tell a lie that everyone knew, right in front of two Primarchs.

The lion was silent for a while, then slowly spoke: "Has the 20th Legion not reunited with the Primarch yet...Hammer?"

He changed the subject and added the person being asked.

Hammer was startled, raised his head, and subconsciously looked at Perturabo.

The Iron Lord stared at him, and there was no hint on his face made of steel.

"I think," the fourth Primarch said in a deep voice, "telling the truth is the right choice, since the 20th Legion has considered coming to the stage. No one will blame you."

Hammer breathed slowly and nodded deeply: "The 20th Legion has reunited with the Primarch, my lord."

Alpharius seemed to sigh, reluctant to admit that even the existence of Perturabo made any concealment meaningless.

"Yes, my lords. That's right, although-I think this statement is not accurate." He had to say.

"It's indeed not accurate. After all, the Primarch has never left the 20th Legion, right?" Perturabo smiled. "You are a good warrior, Hammer."

As usual, Hammer nodded silently.

As Alpharius said, Perturabo was tolerant enough to him - even if the reason for his doing so was probably just to hold the controllable variables in his hands, Hammer was still willing to accept it.

Then came Alpharius's momentary anger as if his secret was ruthlessly exposed.

He lowered his head reluctantly: "Yes, adults."

The lion narrowed his eyes, and Hou Guin recognized that expression, which meant that Lion El'Jonson had seen through a clue that needed to be cracked.

"It seems that we have welcomed back the second-to-last Primarch to return." Lion said, and his words suddenly became indifferent.

Alpharius seemed to finally admit that he was not very happy. Perturabo's existence obviously disrupted all his plans - the Iron Lord forced him to admit something in front of the Primarchs, even if Hou Guin was not sure what it was.

"No," he said stiffly, sounding almost angry, "Primarch Twenty is the last Primarch to return to the Great Crusade. Alpha will return at the time of Omega, the prophecy has not been destroyed, the plan has not been ruined."

"Oh?" Perturabo perked up, "I thought there was a vacancy among us?"

"Eleven will never return," Alpharius replied, "Leman Russ has ensured this by order of the Emperor."