Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 471 Sailing

"What did you see, Azak?" Hathor Maat stood beside Chief Black Crow, as if he was seeing the distant world seen by this far-sighted psychic master through Ahriman's eyes. "Past or future?"

Ahriman was interrupted from his gaze. He turned his head, his face darkened by exhaustion.

"The past is the unfinished preface, and the future is the dust-settled postscript," he murmured, taking off the first rubbing of the "Nikea Sacred Code" from his waist. What he was reading was the signature of Magnus. Inscription on title page. "As for now, I still cannot see the way back to Prospero, Hathor. Even the light of the Star Torch is dim."

"Neither can you see the way," Hathor answered.

"I'm trying. We have to meet up with the other half of our army, or find out more answers. I think this is the moment." Ahriman whispered, making a gesture, and the clear glass in front of him filled the air. A smooth dark red shadow appears on the glass, and the vast shadow outlines a tangible manifestation similar to magnetic current on the glass.

"For the Black Crow's original vision. The shattered vision." Hathor said, and there was something deep in his voice, as weak as the muffled cry of the grass blades on the ground before a rainstorm, which touched Ahriman's heart.

For a moment, the searing pain that penetrated the soul like a dazzling white light came back, half the impression brought by the new snow of Terra in his childhood-the industrial waste settling in the air, and half the sparkling light of Prospero. sea. These two lights left a deep memory in him. They briefly disappeared in the terrifying moment when darkness fell, and then quickly returned, supporting his head with his chin raised.

"Yes, there must be a road here that allows us to return to Prospero, or use Terra as a transit..."

Hathor Maat looked at him for a moment, until the universe outside the glass went completely dark again. Clear darkness, slow darkness, darkness with no way to move forward.

"Wish us luck, Azak," Liangyu's temple instructor said.

"May we be blessed," Ahriman modified a word in Maat's words, and when he uttered the word, he was thinking of anything other than prayer.

After Maat left, Ahriman opened the manuscript of the holy book and pressed his finger on the spot where Magnus had written his signature. A cluster of fire in his soul was ignited super-materially from his fingertips, and a thin burning sound echoed on the back of the world. sounded.

The signature floats from the manuscript, growing and extending like a vine of ink, winding its way into the void until a line of red fire burns out at the end. Ahriman stared closely at the direction of the fire and extinguished it the first moment it showed its direction.

Before his father left, he declined his company and told him that he was going to Terra. The most obvious psychic traces he left behind during his lifetime were undoubtedly heading towards Terra.

He slightly crossed the line Magnus had drawn for them, expanding the output and use of his psychic powers. In this way, he finally saw the only fixed point that could be tracked, a door that could be pushed open.

Ahriman took a deep breath and drew a pattern on his fingertips. His voice instantly spread throughout the Glory Queen-class ship.

"The Primarch Amon is waiting in Prospero, and we cannot find a way to join him. But we cannot continue to wander in the darkness for long."

"Thousands of us are going to Terra first, Suns of Thousand Dusts. I saw the hidden road. It may be windy and rainy and full of thorns, but we have a direction. There, we will seek everything related to our father. , and ask for the Emperor's protection in this stormy season, and for a beacon of light to return to Prospero."

Ahriman paused. He felt an echoing warning, but it had no source. Is this fear in his rationality, or sentimentality that transcends reason?

"I will personally navigate the Wan Zhang Ray," he said. "Even if the truth hurts, the road ahead is bleak."

The echoes of his words gradually faded in the ship. Soon, he would go to the navigation hall to hold the rudder of the flagship. However, he still stood here, staring at the shadows outside the window during this last moment, as if holding on to some hope, hoping that someone would appear in front of him in the darkness.

"Then there is no other way," he whispered to himself, "this is the only option."

——

"The Emperor shows us the way forward," Asimander said, staring absently at the pool in front of him. The artificially projected moon phases rippled slightly in the water, sometimes lighting up to an almost burning brightness, and sometimes dimming like a lumen. halo. The phases of the moon are also changing regularly, like companions moving forward with their entangled thoughts.

The navigator sent them news not long ago, saying that the Emperor's light was once again lingering around them after months of violent darkness. Looking from the chaos and unknown warp, the light of the Star Torch was still dim. It's hard to tell, but a new, separate dark light is touching their hearts, pointing out a clear path with fragments of restlessness and injury.

Their answers cannot dispel the heaviness in the hearts of the Luna Wolves, let alone considering the mission they are about to perform...

"What did Primarch Magnus do?" Loken couldn't help but ask.

He had just gone through the ceremony where the Shadow Moon Council invited him to join, and was currently surrounding the Yingyue Pool with four other warriors. Here he felt a tight entanglement of interconnectedness, as if the five of them were connected in series by the same thread, making the preparation they needed to face the future—or as ready as they could.

"Oh, I don't know," Togaton said, the breath from his mouth reflecting a layer of white mist on the cooler lake surface, "I don't know, Gavir. I would rather believe... there is some misunderstanding. "

He said the second half of the sentence calmly, and the others were not surprised. They looked at each other, and then sat down along the lake. Loken caught the faint flash of exchange in their eyes, and sat next to Sejanus.

"We all have our own opinions," Sejanus said, looking sideways at him. "Father chose us for different qualities."

Lorcan realized this was a call for his opinion.

"You can speak your mind," Abaddon stretched his head forward and looked at Loken. "You will not be more noisy than Torgadon."

"I -" he collected his thoughts, "I think we need to fulfill the Emperor's decision, as warriors under the Emperor's command. Just as the First Legion and the Sixth Legion did for the Emperor."

"Go on." Sejanus nodded to him.

"However, we may be able to grant some grace that does not violate the rules," he continued, nodding to himself mentally, "We will find a way to talk to the Fifteenth Legion, and then, if there is indeed room for change, If the Fifteenth Legion is willing to repent of their mistakes, and if they show no signs of rebellion - we will report this back to Terra."

The wolves looked at each other, and the silence spread and deepened by the lake.

"This means that we will control the distance at the edge of the Emperor's order," Arcimand said softly. "If we are not careful, we also run the risk of being involved in possible rebellion. Out of sympathy, out of old friendship , we don’t believe Qianchen Zhiyang’s betrayal, but what is the basis for our sympathy..."

"You think that we have lost the original body, so we must be more cautious; if we make a wrong step, no one will be able to make up for our mistakes." Loken said, looking around, his eyes gradually becoming firmer, "But we cannot lose our father because of the loss of our father. , to change our original quality.”

"In my opinion, the possibility that the Star Language is mistaken is greater than the possibility that the Emperor asked us to kill Prospero. I support Loken's point of view. What if we believe a lie? Yes. , we have to ask the Emperor again - where is the Astropath?"

"Astropaths can only receive letters from the Emperor. They are not powerful enough to actively break through the barriers of the Warp Storm. I told you." Sejanus said.

"Let Prospero do it himself?" said Abaddon.

"Oh, we should be almost there. And those friends or traitors are indeed psychic experts, I think-" Tarik Torgadun shrugged and responded cordially, but his words were interrupted by the sudden sound of the siren. Broken, "What?"

Sejanus straightened up and looked ahead. His sound array buttons buzzed at his collar.

"We saw their flagship," he said. "The flagship of the Thousand Dust Sun, the Wan Zhang Ray."

For a moment, Loken's scalp stung slightly from the unexpected news. The news came very unexpectedly, and they had not yet discussed the decision.

What's more, they are in the subspace. The sea of ​​souls where the environment may undergo a thousand changes in an instant is the place where Thousand Dust Sun is good at fighting. Could it be that the 15th Legion came just for them? Do they really have evil intentions and have intentions towards Terra?

Sejanus stood still for a few seconds like a statue. He was the one making the decision now, and a tiny mistake would have irreparable consequences.

Where is Warmaster Perturabo... This was the moment when a commander above all armies waved his hand, but the darkness surging in the warp made everything blurry.

Crescent Sejanus exhaled and lowered his eyes. Under his gaze, the four of them stood up, waiting for the next instructions.

——

What gleaming words are woven out of those silver tracks? Like a tapestry embroidered in the darkness, faintly burning prophetic words?

Ahriman looked out the porthole at the patterns composed of firelight flowing like molten wax in the subspace, and felt a dazed confusion. Which army is that?

He rises into the gap between meditation and reality, controlling the scale of perception. This is a simple little ritual. He carefully touches the waves outside the force field, and restores the fragments of time and emotion one by one without turning into a ball of flesh and blood screaming eternally in the subspace. Bit, re-find the intended byte in the opposite spiritual voice.

"For..." He located the first pattern, which was the initial flash, but the identity of the army passing them was still hidden in the mist.

They did not welcome the approach of the Sun of Dust, Ahriman confirmed this through his emotional perception - but what kind of army could be bold enough to sail through the storm in darkness? Who can see more clearly than them at such a time? More distant? This is not the pride of the Fifteenth Legion.

"What..." The second byte melted into the dark storm at the moment it was formed, and then came the third, "What..."

The fragments shattered like pierced glassware, turning into thousands of scattered sharp clouds, cutting the vortex on the back of the world, and also turned into the last wake left by the army in this encounter...

He pressed his dry tongue against his teeth, breaking away from the confines of semi-meditation, beads of sweat running against his skin.

+You saw it too. +Sky Owl Barak's telepathy came, and the emotions that followed were accompanied by deep confusion, +Why. Who is that? What is the 'why'? +

Ahriman watched the broken fragments of fire continue to fly around, and the shells of used ammunition fell out of the Geller force field. He identified the metal fragments of the ammunition used by the Empire. It was an extremely bold attempt to do so in the warp, and all accidents could suddenly come... Why?

His expression became more and more solemn, until a group of metal debris suddenly turned along a new dangerous ocean current and rushed towards the direction of the Radiance.

——

"We will share the defense tower authority of Tizca with you again, Iron Warriors," Amon said, one hand on the railing on the second floor outside the tower, staring at him with a blank mask. "Compared to when you helped the 15th Legion build fortifications, we have added new psychic measures, as well as necessary maintenance and iteration."

The blue psychic sparks crackled outside Tizca, gathering into a vaguely visible protective network, and the hidden gun ports on the pillars used for physical protection also protruded. Light and lightning were like invisible mist, swirling around the periphery of the city-state, and only when the angle was right could you glimpse the flash of that moment.

Unknown dangers lurked in the glory of Tizca - like a luxurious and heavy armor to resist the fatal blow that fate might deliver at any time.

"We will accept it," Fricks said loudly, "but the equipment we brought on this trip has not been updated to the latest level, and we cannot ensure that we can communicate with your system now. Give us some time."

"I express my gratitude for this," Amon replied, his eyes were strong and could be perceived through the mask.

"But - why?" Fricks asked.

"You have 30,000 people."

"We are just passing through, there is no need to defend here, maybe we will leave within a week."

"Be prepared, Warsmith." Amon said, "Danger may come at any time, and the best temple lecturers are not here-I have to think that they can't return before the dark storm is over."

"So what dangers are we facing? What do you foresee? A surprise attack from the warp?" Fricks asked, his impression of the Black Crow School focused on meditation and foresight.

"I believe it will be a surprise attack from the warp," despite this, Amon's silence seemed a little longer, "Otherwise, apart from the minions of darkness, who else has the power to destroy Prospero? Another legion?"