Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

+ Why was it necessary to implant the gene-seed into the Fifteenth Legion when a subspace storm appeared at the edge of the solar system? + Morse's doubts were mixed with anger.

+coincidence. +The Emperor replied briefly.

The astropaths on both sides had handed over the psychic interfaces for communication to the Emperor and Morse himself respectively, so Morse had no intention of remaining polite.

+Thousands of people are lying on the operating table at the same time so that you can't stop any of them? +

+...I cannot determine when the Warp Storm will cease. +

+You are worried that the Warp Storm will continue for tens or even hundreds of years again, so in order to rush for your damn time, you still set out to establish the Fifteenth Legion even when the Supreme Sky dropped the power radiation. +

Morse inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly, using reason to control his anger again.

+Are there any current consequences? + He asked coldly, + Positive, negative, potential. +

+They are generally gifted in psychic abilities. +The Emperor replied. +The negative consequences are unknown. The 15th Legion is still in the army building training stage and has not yet entered combat. +

+Like their genetic father. + Morse commented. +Excellent talent, not tempered. Such a coincidence. +

+ Such a coincidence. +The Emperor's voice was filled with majesty.

When he mentions the judgment of fate, his subtext always seems to contain a grand guarantee that humans will one day judge fate with their own hands.

+Have you told the Fifteenth Legion that their genetic father has bloomed with brilliance that can be seen by you in the vast sea of ​​​​stars? +

+They are ready to go. +The emperor said.

Morse thought for a moment.

He couldn't find that handing over a young psychic legion that had never been on the battlefield to their naive and arrogant legion leader who temporarily hated psychic powers could do anything else except add a little flowers and a sense of ceremony to the empire's expedition. effect.

+I will reply to Terra once. + Morse said. +I want to check the genetic status of the 15th Legion within your territory. +

+Good. +The Emperor said slowly,+I am not on Terra. You can find a particularly bright psychic focus in the direction of Terra. I named it the Star Torch. Follow it and Malcador will await your arrival. +

+Looks like I missed an opportunity to ask you face to face what you taught Magnus. + Morse smiled, and his consciousness returned to the real universe from the radiant golden light surrounding him that connected with the horizon.

Perturabo did not let go of the countless jumping information flows and auxiliary calculations in the temporary storage area in front of him. The situation of each ship in the entire reorganized fleet jumped into his highly active brain, just as the attendants impatiently reported to the king. Give them everything they have.

"What's going on over there Magnus?" Morse asked. "I see you're getting busy. Is the situation so bad that we're going to pour ammunition on the ground?"

"No. Perturabo dealt with Morse's teasing skillfully, "When we were chatting in the Tizka Library, I mentioned to Magnus that there is only one small town on a planet with a normal climate. The way the city is run is a waste that I can't stand. He readily expressed his understanding of my preference. "

He conveniently sent some passed documents to Morse.

Morse glanced at the complete set of industrial machinery and supporting materials listed on the document: "Are you going to send two construction teams to land?"

"This is what I am good at." Perturabo said frankly, his brows relaxed, "I have used blood and fire to build a solid territory for the Emperor. Why should I let the warriors never rest?"

He paused: "And that's not a construction team, that's my Iron Warriors."

"So it's time to build a planet to reward yourself?" Morse said, "That's good. Just remember to line up the cannons in orbit."

"I was about to do that." Perturabo's snort could not tell whether it was sarcasm or displeasure, "Did I tell you that their prophecies regard you and me as the source of Prospero's future destruction? "

"Taking all indirect causal logic into account, we can be the source of any future event," Morse said quietly.

On the planet where the Lord of Change is watching, any false talk that stirs up disputes is nothing more than the ripples caused by the claws of the Changeling One across the vast ocean.

The more we pursue the prophetic entity in the dazzling colors, the more it represents the death of the sober heart in the spiraling and twisting storm.

"The Prospero people think so, so I simply let them know that I do have this power." Perturabo's words were like boulders rolling down the cliff, loud and resolute, with a destructive spirit. “Power is always greater than explanation in the eyes of scholars.”

"You have a deep psychological shadow on the Nine Wise Men of Pelecontia." Morse accurately grasped the origin of Perturabo's mentality.

The young giant nodded reluctantly, flashing back to the past at several debates in Olympia that year. He was so angry at the sophistry and stubbornness of the so-called wise men that he secretly wrote satirical poems all night long and stuffed them under their doors.

The day after learning that Perturabo had the ability to quietly stuff parchment into their residence, Perturabo finally enjoyed the heavenly experience of two debaters communicating effectively on the same core point. .

Recalling those easier days, the Primarch shook his head, abandoning the pleasant memories that were useless for the time being.

"As for the city's population, Olympia will allocate a portion of its residents for immigration."

Morse pondered for a moment: "Do you think this sounds like... you plan to make some subtle changes to the actual ownership of your brother's planet?"

Perturabo's hand while flipping the documents froze, and a trace of confusion suddenly appeared on his usually calm face.

His fingers rested awkwardly on the file with the Olympian personnel list printed on it, neither putting it down nor taking it out.

"Let others be." Perturabo said after a moment, "I only do what I want to do for my brothers. Do you want to see my plans, Morse?"

He raised his head, moved his cervical vertebrae, and looked straight at the man in black robes floating next to him.

“For the first time I incorporated the Tizca style into my architectural design.”

"I don't like Tizka's style very much." Morse shook his head, "So we can discuss it together when we have time. But now, I have to go to Terra."

"And I am on my way to Prospero," said Perturabo. "Goodbye, Morse. I will show you a planet in rebirth."

"Who has a hobby of watching construction sites?" Morse shrugged, and the body of light began to separate from the body, just like taking off a soft coat.

"If you need anything, remember to contact Terra to find me. Goodbye, Lord of Iron."

"What did you think of?" Amon asked.

The boy recovered from his daze, and his face, as delicate as a stone carving, added a hint of softness that contained joy.

He followed Amon's footsteps: "Nothing, someone gave me a new name."

"Do you like it very much?" Amon asked, but got no answer.

"This is it, Magnus's mansion."

"I can go in alone." The boy opened the door.

The agreement to build Puxing was in Chapter 18. I didn’t say to burn Prospero ()