Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 251 Good News Before Sleeping

"If you are satisfied with this, human craftsmen," said the troupe leader, without using the unnecessary scorn, "take this fragment of the blade, one more gift we can give you; the best forged The material is taken from the cooled embers of stars. The human empire is not that good at playing with the stars, is it?"

"I'm assuming you're not as crazy as you seem, Avatar. I'm assuming you don't really think there's anything worth exploiting within this warp-corroded material."

"You can't belittle Anaris of Dawn like this. Val spent a lot of energy to cast it. The depraved aura of the divine sword comes from Val himself who fell into the abyss, not how the material was affected..."

"What will happen if you take it away?" Perturabo interrupted the two people's nonsense. The fragments of the divine sword floated in front of his eyes, projecting a bright white light into his eyes. "How will your Vaal-Vastor react when you fall into Chaos?"

"The Eldar are still afraid of the direct mention of this term," the troupe leader played with his golden buttons, "but you are not even willing to be surprised by our secret. Oh my... Primarch, I really saw it. Destiny draws circles in that colorful whirlpool, taking us one by one into the depths of the spiraling story - no, don't grab my neck, this makes me a little breathless, haha, Vastoll There will be no reaction, my friends! He is so weak!"

The troupe leader who was lifted up dexterously turned over as he fell back to the ground, and finally landed on all fours.

He grabbed his throat and chuckled and got up: "Even Keshamenra was torn into a thousand drops of blood by the fight between the Lord of Blood and the Prince of Darkness. How can poor Val survive? It is so vulnerable. It’s so powerful, guarding that funny little forge is hard enough, how can you still care about every dangerous person who touches the relics of his life?”

"No, unless you can think of something particularly unique and good, Vastor will not move his limited gaze above your heads!"

"Where's the Tuchucha engine?" Morse asked suddenly.

"That's enough...the Horn of Honor, that's very enough. When Broken Sword smells the smell of that engine, the demon of the forge has to move his cloudy eyes to Cordoris," Harlequin He replied gently, and the dazzling luminous stones on his body jingled as he waved his hand, "But how did you think of it? Which of my sentences revealed this truth? Ah, I really don't know... "

Perturabo's next bombardment unexpectedly hit a layer of remaining camouflage illusion.

The followers of the Laughing God flashed to the other end of the forge in the blink of an eye, shouting across the dull roar of the furnace: "O Primarch! Where did I anger your noble iron body?"

"When did you start planning all this!" Perturabo suppressed the surging thoughts in his chest, tried his best to restrain the sudden boiling anger, and expressed it through continuous shelling, "Nukeria? Macragge? Omegon’s early return? When did this scam start?”

Seemingly unrelated events are connected in series, and the coincidences of fate are like gears fitting into each other, driving the destiny of the world forward.

Whenever he thought that the twenty years taken away by Tuchucha's engine, and all the possible negative impacts that might follow, might not be an accident, the anger in Perturabo's heart ushered in a new round of expansion.

To a mechanical being like him, his disappearance was of no consequence.

But the loss of the Star God fragments stored in his body, the shelving of the Iron Ring team, the suspension of the Olympia Space Fortress based on high-power energy design, and even Morse's departure from the Empire, and even Konrad Curze's fall into Commorragh, Going back to the unrest caused by the ghost Omegon in Macragge, and even the initial Eldar attack on Nuceria... all of this, it seems now, may be related to this group of crazy doomsday pied Eldar. .

As fleeting images of these events flashed through his memory module, Perturabo became more and more excited.

Over so many years and such a long time, he has learned to control his mind in order to have a clearer observation and stronger control of the world.

But what if the many misfortunes he and his brothers had experienced were closely related to these damn prophets... He restrained the pain that echoed in his heart, and could hardly think of what to do to suppress this ignited desire. Cold and bright rage.

In the corner of his eye, a layer of iconic golden rune shield had added a layer of protection to Dawn's fragment of Anaris.

Morse's acquiescence eliminated Perturabo's last remaining concerns.

As the decision was established, the energy within the Man of Steel began to surge like a tide. The green energy was precisely regulated and converted in the translation nodes inside his body, and the star-like power that had gone through countless generations was released here. All the hidden gunfire channels on his body were opened, weaving these disordered energy into a powerful symphony of guns and guns. The sound of gunfire echoed in the hall, shaking many corners.

The Pied Eldar shuttled between the smoke of gunpowder and the beams of lasers, avoiding the fire that burned their clothes, desperately looking for a chance of survival. In this life-or-death moment, his body showed ultimate dexterity and agility. The excuses uttered by the face covered by the mask were like vague whispers sunk in the endless abyss, swallowed up by the long distance, chaotic environment and the shooter's anger, and could not reach Perturabo's ears. middle.

The troupe leader wanted to escape from the melee, but the closed hall built around the forge was a huge cage that could not be escaped. The bone-white mask on his face revealed a clear image of crying during a brief pause. He suddenly disappeared over and over again, moving quickly, as if he had been blessed by the Laughing God, bursting out with incredible potential.

And when the entire grotto began to tremble in Perturabo's anger, witnessing the full expression of the Primarch's anger, but the huge mechanical man still had no intention of ceasefire, the Primarch's anger hidden in Trading conditions became cold and stark.

Either he would be struck here, or Perturabo would completely destroy the remains of the Temple of Vaal, and even turn fire on the Harlequin airship in the sky, undoing all they had accomplished so far.

He immediately stopped his next dodge, and in the blink of an eye, the laser accurately penetrated his abdomen, burning his spine from front to back.

The troupe leader fell heavily, supported the ground with one hand, and knelt in his hot blood, in exchange for the silence of the Iron Giant's cannon fire.

Behind him, the metal wall remained exactly at the previous level of damage that was about to completely collapse. It was not far away from collapse.

"Now we can talk," said Perturabo, no trace of irrationality in his tone.

"Believe it or not believe it..." the troupe director coughed, turning the pain into a harmless smile, "We just follow the footsteps of fate until someone places us on the chessboard... Don't overestimate our power. , demigods created by the emperor of mankind, don’t transfer the bitterness in your heart to the surface of the facts, demigods, we dare not design a path, and we have no intention of forcing you to do anything..."

He tapped his mask with his free hand: "The changing threads of destiny in the galaxy have brought you and Tuchucha here, and we, the little pawns in the universe, only provide what the human emperor needs when necessary. A little help. What if…”

The Eldar wiped away the blood that spilled from under his mask.

"If you don't bring this fragment to the surface, Vastor will not be aware of Tuchucha's existence in the barrier of the ruins of the temple; if you want to see the corrupted Craftsman God, then, in After its will is triggered, it will have about three days to allow you to lay a trap."

"You sound more confident about capturing a demigod than we do, Avatar," Morse said, crouching in front of the troupe leader to gain eye-level perspective beside the crumbling cultist of the Laughing God.

"Is this the gospel of the Laughing God that the troupe obtained? About how to lure the fallen god of the Eldar to the humans who are enemies of him?"

"A long time ago, I made another joke." The troupe director laughed loudly and threw his injured body to the ground. "I said to an old friend, look, old madman, I will challenge you. Now, you might be able to eat your companions and rob them of their strength! He smiled and said, don’t lie to me and think I’m a fool. I might as well eat you to fill my appetite. !”

"Then, he took a bite from the left and a bite from the right, making his own kind look like me, and swallowed them all in his stomach. The fragments were tossing in his skin, making his head hurt. In the end, the old lunatic discovered the truth and tortured himself crazy, so he ran away!"

His laughter stopped abruptly: "This is a malicious plan, humans. My sincerity to the Emperor of Mankind is already enough! What about you, respected friends, what do you want to do with my gifts and What’s your intention?”

Perturabo looked at the fragments of the sword, assessing its value and the rewards that a weak craftsman god could bring to the human empire.

After many years, he was still deeply impressed by the memory of facing one of the dark gods in Olympia; and the comparison of Vastor's current power undoubtedly revealed a clear and absurd gap.

Perhaps he was injured by Chaos when the Eldar fell, or perhaps the damage caused to him by Bloodhand Kane has never healed. The fallen Vaal is still not worthy of the title of god; as to whether there will be a turning point in the future, it is unknown.

In a sense, what the followers of the Laughing God handed them was indeed a rare gift.

"I will not fight a Chaos Demigod." Perturabo said, walking around the muffled ancient Eldar forge and walking to Mors' side. "Do me a favor, Morse."

"Okay." Morse said, "What's the matter?"

"Return to Commorragh alone and inform Conrad Curze of Vastor's existence. He is my brother. He will see an opportunity and you can travel the Webway independently."

The steel giant raised his head, as if he was seeing the dark city at the other end of the network through the thick soil.

"I'm waiting here. In three days, I will return to the surface with the fragments of Dawn's Anaris. At that time, I hope that the Harlequin airship can send Tuchucha and me back to Comoros, hanging in the sky above the black sun, waiting …”

"The fallen remnants of false gods come to boldly offend the true demigods?" Morse said.

"The Chaos Demigod has come to boldly offend the descendants of the Lord of Mankind." Perturabo corrected his wording, then looked down at the troupe leader lying on his back, "This is my request."

Furthermore, he was not prepared to add any additional discussion about what to do with Vastor, or indeed all of Commorragh, with anyone other than his own brothers and Morse.

"Of course, of course," Avatar said, "Can you take me with you when you return to the surface, dear friend? You see, I have some mobility difficulties now..."

"That's enough," Morse interrupted. "Stop your pretense, Avatar."

-

"Morse said: This is the whereabouts of the God of Craftsmanship."

Konrad Coates closed his eyes, leaned quietly on his cold seat covered with several layers of leather cushions, and muttered broken words to himself in Nostramo's unique accent.

"The craftsmen can't help but wonder why people still haven't seen the Eldar fallen into Chaos... Or maybe this is just a matter of luck and probability."

"A carnival on the gambling table, a golden cup made of flesh and blood, was delivered to my blood-stained hands by my brother, the giant of machinery and the master of craftsmanship. My bleeding fingertips were burned and injured by tolerance. My painful heart trembles in front of unknown opportunities, affecting my exhausted bones and blood."

"Drink, I seem to hear Xu Xu's whisper, drink your pride, and be shocked by his understanding of you. In this way, your shockingly dirty soul receives blessing-like forgiveness and a peaceful sleep in the gift of blood relatives. The best piece of news before. Your inner pretense can be easily seen through, even if he is thousands of miles away from you..."

A cheer from the crowd awoke him. He opened his eyes tiredly, his dark eyes fixed on the joyful and noisy Eldar clan, watching as another novel piece of goods was wiped off by the slaves, and the wooden box was carried into the vast land that once belonged to the Church of the Sun. Within the hall.

And his remains servant, Lillia Ender, silently used her scarlet-gloved hands to instruct the visitor to deliver the gifts to the shadows hidden by the leather curtains, where they were piled hastily with a large number of other gifts.

These Eldar, who respect strength from the depths of their souls and long for power, seem to have regarded his royal court as one of the most important forces in Commorragh. Hints of surrender flowed in, gifts and agreements piled up.

Conrad Coates accepted the offer without hesitation. He is willing to increase the lively atmosphere within Youdu and let the Eldar themselves speculate on his true thoughts and ultimate goals.

Whether the Eldar regard him as a foolish upstart who once gained power, or as a hidden overlord who is overthinking, all of this will be finalized when the Emperor comes here, and his sins will be completely cleansed; but before that , he first wants to hold Comoros in the palm of his hand.

He didn't have enough time. The experience of more than ten years is hardly worth mentioning in the Eldar society, which often counts thousands of years. But... Perturabo gave him a gift that was exactly in line with his plan.

Conrad Coates put his hand on his chest, feeling the beating of his heart.

For a moment, he looked towards the entrance of the hall, waiting for a familiar figure to approach him.

(End of this chapter)