Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"After that we decided to clear the orbit around Olympia and find the moon occupied by the Black Trial.

Perturabo's temporary armor was currently lying on Olympia's workbench in a state of being dismantled into several pieces.

The young giant bent down, almost lying on the edge of the workbench that was too short for him. The excitement of analyzing new technology diluted his discomfort of not having suitable size tools.

"Morse, we know from the existing samples that the power of their laser weapons is obviously limited by the energy source. This is an additional product of a static defense system. The complete frame is definitely still where they would be located under normal circumstances, that is, Olympian Moon."

"You are right. And it is empty now. If the aliens did not destroy it, then it is an open treasure house. The only way to get the blades and gold is to break the door open." Morse was on the wicker chair. He half-closed his eyes, "Who would do this?"

"Ourselves," said Perturabo, "myself and my legions."

"Are you proud of your legion now, Perturabo?" Morse swayed as the wicker chair rocked back and forth slightly. When he decided to pack the necessary items and take them away, he took the wicker chair with him.

"I do need a legion." Perturabo avoided answering the question directly.

He straightened up, stretched his body, took some manuscript paper that he had drawn before, and handed it to Morse.

"The Emperor and Horus have left. There are still endless planets throughout the galaxy waiting for the Human Empire to recover, and my legions are rushing to Olympia.

"They feel guilty for asking me for help when they first met, and they want me to punish them. But before that, I want to choose their colors."

Morse took the manuscript, and Perturabo was almost using the design as an oil painting. It seemed that he had been too excited recently.

In addition, each picture has a yellow and black color combination. This had to make Morse feel that Perturabo had already thought of a plan, and now he was just vaguely boasting about himself in front of him.

"They already have names?"

"Yes. The prayer has also been compiled." Mentioning this, Perturabo moved his lips and suddenly felt a little difficult to speak.

If he were to stand on the podium, he would know exactly how to mobilize the atmosphere of the whole place, and lead the Astartes to shout out the glorious name and slogan of the Legion when their emotions rose to the highest point.

But on such a sunny and lazy afternoon, with Morse lying on a wicker chair and rocking back and forth, he solemnly introduced his thoughtful prayer and the profound meaning behind each word?

Morse keenly captures the hesitation of the young giant.

He immediately sat up straight and put on his standard smile, full of interest. "tell me the story."

"I...just thought about it, there is still a lot of room for improvement." Perturabo explained in advance uneasily.

"Um, so what?"

"How about you wait and listen when I meet with Legion?"

"Then why are you showing me your design drawings now?" Morse shook the manuscript paper in his hand, and the paper, which was heavier due to the oil paint, clattered. "You won't feel shy if you show me these drawings." ?”

"I've never been shy about showing off my work," Perturabo said forcefully. "I named them Iron Warriors." "

Morse nodded: "Very good, it fits your personal style."

"I hope they are as firm as steel and will never hesitate or give in..."

Perturabo couldn't speak anymore. He grabbed a pen and paper from the table, quickly wrote a string of words, thrust it in front of Morse, and turned away.

Morse stepped back slightly to focus his vision. Then, he deliberately cleared his throat, lowered his voice, and recited word for word in a low and powerful voice: "Steel begets strength, strength begets will, and will begets faith. What did the emperor teach you? Faith begets honor." You actually care about this, honor begets steel - it's back around, well, it's pretty good...

"You write very well, Perturabo. So don't be so coy. You are over three meters tall. Who says your writing is not good? You can just hit him. You can't beat him except me. And the Emperor, Horus , Machado and so on.”

Perturabo covered his face with one hand, "When did you become violent?"

"When I know that you won't actually hurt people because of your emotions." Morse took the paper with the prayer written on it in Perturabo's knuckled hands, and waved his right hand in the air, with more fingers. A quill pen.

He wrote the date of the day on the paper, noted "Perturabo's new work", and threw it into the air. The golden runes flashed and the paper disappeared.

Perturabo, who had just been comforted, was immediately stunned, and a terrible possibility jumped into his thinking circuit.

"Have you been collecting the things I made over the years?"

"Well, it's worth collecting." Morse said directly, "Mainly physical items, the first one is the daguerreotype. Do you remember it? The one we took under the cliff? At that time you He’s not that big yet, he’s quite cute.”

"You...Morse!" Perturabo shouted in panic. Thanks to the original body's amazing memory, the wild words he said to Morse back then came back to the surface of his consciousness. "you can not--"

"The second piece is the double stone statue you carved for the second time, the one that you won in the competition with me. Because the original was too large, I later helped you draw three views as a souvenir."

Perturabo felt that the whole world began to shake, and darkness and coldness covered his head. The only thing he could do was to stand there and try to block out Morse's voice, but the tone that deliberately created an emotional and full effect tirelessly invaded. His psychological defense.

"The follow-up is some exercises you did when you were a child, the making of some exquisite gadgets, geometric pattern designs, and charcoal sketches. Every time you start a new exploration, or I find that you have made progress, I will leave a record. "Morse is a treasure trove.

"Later, do you still remember that you gave me a camera you made yourself? You also emphasized to me that your camera has better performance and much higher shooting efficiency. So most of the subsequent records are based on what you gave me Taken by the camera, such as your serious face when Carifon wears the crown.”

Perturabo wanted to sit down, but could not find a chair of suitable size.

"Okay," Morse stood up. He patted Perturabo's forearm. "I treasure these things because I care about your growth."

"I have reflected on it in the past two days and found that I have admitted to Malcador and the Emperor that I care about you, but I have not yet said it to you personally. I am determined not to become a negative example like the Emperor, so I plan to confess that Two sentences - OK, that's it. If you still want to hear good things, I'll just start reciting hymns."

Perturabo suddenly felt that all the darkness in the world had receded, and all lovely things showed their own brightness and joy, although he still felt that his face was getting hot.

He pursed his lips, and was too embarrassed to ask Morse about the emperor's statue.

Perturabo could not destroy the rare atmosphere at all, and then he realized that the few words Mors had just said would also be treasured in his heart.

Forget it today. he thinks.

"Then...what was the last thing you recorded?" Perturabo tried his best to tell himself that this was nothing to be ashamed of.

He has the confidence to tell anyone that he has performed well in recent years and has nothing to hide.

Morse raised his eyebrows and snapped his fingers.

A video suddenly appeared in the sky.

"I don't need him, Morse." In the video, Perturabo, wearing a weird robe that didn't fit completely, said seriously to Morse's emperor statue, "Do I need it? I'm sure I don't need it... …”

Perturabo clapped his hands on his face, not wanting to say another word.