Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 406 Ran Dan's Angel

"I began to wonder, then, where we would go after the Great Crusade.

"Nyos needs us, but he won't need us forever; I worry about what will happen to Perturabo and the Iron Warriors, and the place these beings, so similar to humans, will ultimately have in the Imperium of Man.

"But today, No. 11, you gave me the answer, and I couldn't help but be surprised, because we are really willing to choose this path ourselves." - "Craftsman's Notes"

Lion El'Jonson sat in the center of the ivory and onyx throne, a heavy cloak of deep purple with gold edges drooping down along the lines of his body, wrapping the black armor of the lion king in the luxurious robe. Just sitting on this throne, without saying a word or making any movements, he was already a natural king, and under his seat, it was as if everyone had surrendered.

He closed his eyes slightly, looked down, and placed one hand on the carved armrest to support his white stone face. His mind was immersed in the distant end of the world.

Two Space Marines stood by, carrying out basic information dispatch and issuing orders in silence, with no intention of disturbing their master's mind, even though the sound of gunfire and war cries echoing in the hall had become a seemingly eternal background sound, dissolving any noise that was not loud enough in the echo of the battle.

"The first one," Luther said, watching a Randan alien disintegrate into the depths of the universe on the holographic screen in front of them, its two pairs of wings falling to both sides in the burning flames, and its torso shrinking inwards and disappearing in an instant as if it were drawn into eternal dark matter.

Even though this was not the first time he had seen such a strange beast - not to mention the years of fighting, he had witnessed many terrifying beasts when he was on Caliban, but every time he saw the enemy they were facing now, he was still deeply shocked.

From the strange traitorous controlled beings outside Randan, to the insect and sea creature-shaped warships that have been seen everywhere since entering the sentry range, and the mountains of flesh and blood and dead bones on land, all of these are too small and too dim compared to the enemies the Dark Angels are facing at this time.

No, what they saw now was not ugly, but something more glorious and exquisite, an ascended form of those dead giant skeletons that were still alive.

They are tall and majestic, with bodies up to ten kilometers long, and their shapes vary slightly, but most can clearly distinguish the upper torso and the scaly or bony tail. Their heads vary in shape from teardrop to ellipsoid, and the number of eyes varies, but most are perfectly symmetrical and elegant, with a peaceful expression and no pain.

Pairs of huge wings with a wingspan twice their body length are embedded in their backs. Sometimes they are feathers that reflect the sunlight from the stars and refract colorful light, sometimes they are hard and stretched membranous wings, or even snow-white bone wings covered with just a gelatinous transparent cortex.

From various perspectives, the creatures they most resemble are no longer the aliens hated by the human empire, but rather the angels from above in the sculptures and paintings of ancient religions that had long been burned at the call of the Emperor.

No one knows why in the heart of the aliens, their forms are similar to the legendary forms in human ancient history. No, perhaps their master knows, Luther thought, looking back at the sleeping figure of Lion El'Jonson in the mirror-like smooth metal reflection.

A few hours ago, Lion El'Jonson himself entered the navigation room and used his green eyes to find a path in the sky that no one knew the principle, leading them to find the traces of these angels.

The First Primarch must know more than they do, and even as his closest second-in-command, Luther couldn't see when the Lion would have the chance to learn more.

"The second one." Hou Guin said, pressing a few control units next to the projection. A deep green light marked a planet surrounded by three angels. "The third and fourth."

These creatures are softly coiled in the orbits of some planets, or simply floating in the endless darkness of space.

Regardless of whether they are beautiful or not, the killing power they demonstrate is undeniable. The combination of psychic energy and matter, the sharp light beams absorb cosmic dust and are stimulated from the gaps between the wings with every flap of the opponent's wings, causing a significant armor-piercing effect on the ship's armor.

The bone space torpedoes that carry out large-scale bombings have the ability to destroy the real universe, blasting broken gaps in the scarred universe, in which energy briefly bursts out in an annihilating surge, instantly creating an unstoppable and brilliant death, biting off and devouring ships.

Under the precise bombardment of the macro cannon, the Dark Angel fleet methodically dismantled their limbs, breaking off wings one by one, cutting off half of the interlocking glowing white bones at the tail, and destroying the flesh and ganglia that stored memories one by one.

As each alien was completely destroyed and fell into the interior of the planet or deep into space due to gravity or inertia, a long, soul-deep howl crossed the barrier of vacuum and, in some more metaphysical way, spread like ripples in the universe, seemingly slowly but actually quickly, lingering in the hearts and souls of every member of the Dark Angel fleet.

No one knows what it is, but just hearing it will make all the sadness surge into one's heart.

"Watch out for the dark spears," the Lion said, raising his eyelids and calmly turning his gaze towards the two Space Marines. Luther immediately passed the message to the Dark Angels in the battle.

A few minutes later, the extremely dark-colored annihilation psychic spear tip rushed through the shadows of the universe. Even though the Dark Angels were prepared, it still pierced through the explosion-proof baffle of a frigate, and then triggered a small-scale devouring effect - this attack was too precise, and both the timing and location were almost impeccable, and its power was difficult to guard against.

"Hmph." The lion snorted softly and appeared behind the two Space Marines at some point.

"My Lord," Houguin frowned, "We need to draft new orders to defend against these attacks."

"Go ahead," the Lion King said. "Draft the order here, and don't reveal it to any specific ship until thirty seconds before the decision to attack."

"But, my lord, this will affect the fleet's ability to make decisions and react flexibly," Luther said, keeping his voice calm and implicitly refuting Lion El'Jonson's decision.

"Do it, Luther," Lion repeated, his tone low and cold.

Luther paused for a second, "Forgive me, sir."

The deputy commander and the directly elected lieutenant opened one communication channel after another. The roar of the engine and the noise caused by static electricity were restless in the broadcast, and the whispers and roars of conveying orders were intertwined, just as the burning fire and the hum of power armor were entangled with each other.

The first order the Lion King gave them was to never get close to the Randan aliens and not listen to the messages they tried to convey through psychic power or any other means. Therefore, the Dark Angels' channel only carried the wartime sounds that could be produced within the legion. At first glance, this could almost be misunderstood as a battle that only existed among the Space Marines.

Another Randan angel lost its wings in the bombardment of the artillery, and its skeleton shattered into thousands of bright spots like broken stars, scattered in the universe. A wave of sad emotions spread from the place where it was shattered, and Luther's emotions were also infected. He blinked his eyes, controlling any emotional fluctuations that should not appear.

A signal suddenly came to Hou Guin. The Death Wing Lieutenant glanced at it and was slightly surprised. "Sir, you might want to take a look at this."

Although the Lion said nothing, the two warriors felt unreasonably that Lion El'Jonson seemed to know what they had decided to report.

Lion El'Jonson stared at the projected star map in front of him, took a step forward, stretched out his hand, and pressed several control units one by one. A brand new picture was enlarged to the size of the entire screen.

At first, the enlarged image was just an insignificant background in the raging void battlefield, until several snowflake-like shadows suddenly appeared in the depths of space.

After several bright blue lightning bolts of psychic energy, a new angel flapped its wings and leaped out from the warp route, like a silver fish jumping above the sea level, with a bright metallic luster flowing all over its body.

Its head was covered in a helmet-like bright shell, with only its light pink lower jaw exposed. Its lower body was no longer a pure fish tail, but instead consisted of two feet together and a single snake tail, all wrapped in a hard, streamlined silver shell, swaying lightly in the deep space.

The next moment, after a sudden flash, a zigzag lightning suddenly struck, but the target was not the empire's ships, but the group of Randan angels that arrived earlier. The azure lightning folded several times, and the moment it touched the other angel's bone wing, it burned and broke the almost three-mile-long bone into pieces, decomposing it into broken smoke and flying dust. Then, it was the second Randan angel with the iconic silver shell and slender legs, and the third one.

A cluster of silver angels travel freely between the warp and the real universe. The commonalities between them make them seem as if they come from the same bloodline, and each of their elusive attacks is mercilessly aimed at the Randan Angels themselves, with a kind of cold anger hidden deep in their determination.

"Sir, should we attack them at the same time?" Hou Guin asked. Although he didn't know where the hatred within this group of aliens came from, it would undoubtedly be beneficial to the Dark Angels.

The lion king narrowed his eyes, exhaled gently from his lips, and looked calmly at this unexpected reinforcement, without taking any action.

"My Lord?" the warrior repeated, quietly reminding him. Despite his question, Houguin didn't think the Lion King would grant any of the aliens mercy.

Among the four Primarchs, in Lieutenant Yi Zhixuan's personal opinion, the fighting spirit of the Sons of the First came from their grief over the death of their brothers and their obedience to the Emperor's orders; the Word Bearers - from their daily war cases, it can be seen how much the Word Bearers hate the existence of aliens; the Iron Lords, this legion has never shown any inclination or enthusiasm for war, Hou Guin cannot see through their true feelings beneath their tough appearance, especially their Primarch who is always as hard as steel.

And their Lord, the Gene-Father of the First Legion, Lion El'Jonson - he was born for the Emperor's command and only for his command.

The lion king returned to reality from silence. In his noble face, beneath the solemn background, there seemed to be a faint sense of unhappiness.

"Don't attack at the same time," he said softly and hoarsely, which meant that he was suppressing his unhappiness. "Aim your guns at the first group of Randan angels first."

With that, he turned and walked away, striding towards his jeweled throne, throwing off his heavy purple cloak, and sitting again, still in his doze. But this time, his brows furrowed, suppressing his disgust at the decision he had made.

Luther gritted his teeth, nodded to the leader of the Deathwing, and then moved closer to the throne, suppressing any syllables in his tone that could reveal emotion.

"What happened after we defeated the first batch of Randan angels, my lord?"

The lion king raised his eyelids and glanced at him. "Hmm?"

"Should we continue to hunt down the new aliens?"

Leon frowned even more deeply, his chest heaving, and he exhaled a hot breath through his teeth.

"It is their civil war that requires our cooperation, not that we cannot do without their help." He said coldly, as if he was not only responding to Luther's question, but also angrily rebuking another being's plea at the same time. "There is no doubt that no prey in this hunt will be spared."

"Yes, my lord."

Luther bowed his head and answered, while Houguin connected the various communication channels one by one to convey Lion El'Jonson's orders to them.

"Hunting down any angel within sight..."

"...until the last few Silver Angels that arrived a little later fled back to the warp." Morse flipped through the battle report book that the First Legion sent back via astropathic communication, and then turned his attention back to the parchment scroll and quill in his hand.

Perturabo suspected that this was the same data tablet as yesterday, but it had changed its form under the influence of some supernatural power, becoming a parchment scroll that was more in line with the atmosphere of the Wandering Sanctuary.

"If there isn't an astropath in the astropathic communication who is not so clear-headed as to make a mistake in the numbers, our First Legion will have performed very well," he concluded.

"They are too radical," Horus said worriedly, then smiled helplessly, "After several years, how can I be the one to criticize Jonson's plan for being radical? How dare he lead a fleet alone to penetrate deep into the enemy's territory?"

"I'm more interested in his talent for warp navigation - or rather, Magnus would be interested." Morse raised the corner of his mouth, "It's best if he's not another legendary master who uses a compass and sextant."

"Excellent war attrition ratio, and unexpected kill numbers."

Perturabo quickly calculated in his mind the number of kills and prisoners the Iron Warriors could achieve in the time it took the First Legion to follow the normal process of probing, reconnaissance, and bombing, and the answer he got made him feel a little disappointed: the Iron Warriors could not complete such a beautiful mission alone.

It was even difficult for him to understand how the First Legion had successfully carried out such a clean and neat raid. In any calculation based on known data, he could not figure out how the Dark Angels had defeated two groups of enemies with different styles at the same time.

Could it be that the First Legion's arsenal contained more secret weapons that Perturabo had no way of finding? Perturabo could not think of any other possibility.

The Bearers of the Truth took Lion El'Jonson's achievements in stride.

"It must be Father's inspiration," Lorgar chanted quietly, "All our honor comes from His glory, and all our strength is attributed to His might. And the angels of Randan, if not the one who guides fate, are nothing more than a poor imitation of His spirit. Our brothers are blessed by Him, and we should rejoice for Him too."

He paused. "I would rather know about the 'angels' that Leon saw. How blasphemous are they?"

Luo Jia said with a hint of curiosity. His excited words were like a gust of cold wind, blowing quietly through the Wanderer's Church.

Morse took a deliberate breath. "I have a feeling that tomorrow the picture of the Angel of Randan will appear on the bedside of all of you Word Bearers, with one hundred and thirty cursed nails stuck into the paper. Oh, don't look at me like that, Aurelion, or will you all burn a copy?"

"Morse." Perturabo sighed.

"Well," Morse shrugged, "In short, I believe that Lion El'Jonson's attack hides secrets that only he knows. You can explore it on your own. If you have any questions, you can come to me. I really need to return to Terra."

"Farewell, Messenger of the Emperor," Horus nodded, somewhat curious whether Mors would once again disappear into the light of the Templar.

"Farewell, His messenger." Lorgar made the sign of the cross.

"I have the feeling you are in no hurry to report back," Perturabo said suspiciously.

"You guessed it right," Morse waved his hand, rolled up the notebook in his hand, and stood up silently. "The latest batch of tribute-level fruits from the agricultural world is limited in quantity. I hope I can grab some leftovers from Malcador - or dear Miss Lillian Chase can help me intercept a plate. Goodbye, Primarchs."

(End of this chapter)