Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 445: Enemy Blade

"It's time to open your eyes," one of his companions said, his voice blending in with the whistling sound of the atmosphere scraping against the paint on the drop pod. "This is Terra, and all the future starts here. As they say, the Great Crusade. Is that right?"

"Yes," Horus said, looking at the sealed iron door of the drop pod. From here, he would face a completely new world for the lower class people of Kosonia.

Terra is like a door, conceptually connecting billions of new worlds and exiled civilizations: it is the earliest ancient home of mankind and the center of the galactic center.

And in this ancient world where he is about to land, the only emperor is sitting on the throne on the roof of the world, overlooking the future that he and he will create.

And the emperor's first child to wake up and return.

Horus was uneasy, imagining the emperor's true appearance.

"I hear them," Horus said to himself, trying to relieve his tension, "they are calling my name."

The waves of calling came layer by layer from the outside of the drop pod close to the ground, making Horus feel as if he was in a dreamy golden world.

But there were some different voices mixed in. "Wake up," it sounded very familiar, circling anxiously, sometimes far away, sometimes close, "Master Horus——"

Horus looked around blankly, while Cosonia's companion pushed his back.

Their faces were blurry. Sometimes they looked like a few plundering warriors with pigtails smearing the blood of dead enemies on their mouths and eyelids. Sometimes they appeared taller and more noble. Even the extreme anxiety at this moment did not dampen the radiance on their faces.

The landing claws locked onto the ground with a loud bang, and then the lock opened with a hissing sound of air flow.

Horus stepped onto the landing ramp. When he reached the edge of the square, at least six figures of warriors and mortals cheered and applauded him. The true appearance of the Terra Palace was only revealed to this ignorant boy from Cosonia, and he was instantly overwhelmed by shock and awe.

Even with all the knowledge that humans need, Horus still cannot imagine a palace of such grandeur and unparalleled glory, not to mention that the construction of this golden palace has just begun, and countless scaffoldings and uncarved stone pillars are still lined up in every corner of the palace.

With every step he took, the sound of the call followed him, coming from the mouths of all the workers and marchers he could see. The golden leaves that fell from the sky, rustling like gold on the white marble tiles, laid at Horus' feet, were also a call to him.

Why are these sounds so familiar, so unsettling?
Wasn't he walking at the starting point of the road to glory? Hadn't his combat boots just embarked on a beautiful journey that would be unforgettable?

He would have a father, an emperor, an eternal king to whom he would serve until his death, forever and ever.

Afterwards, he will reunite with his closest blood brothers one by one. They are different and even have shortcomings, but they are all respectable and lovely people. Horus will love each of them with all his passion and sincerity.

Who is still calling him, urging him to turn back from the glory, open his eyes and see where he is now?
"Master Horus...what's wrong with you? No, there's nothing I can do...how dare you say that! Abaddon, get out of here! Calm down...understand, Cyjanus...trust the Emperor...where is the Emperor?"

The Emperor? Isn't the Emperor at the end of this road?

He remembered the unforgettable golden light, the huge, solemn throne, decorated with majestic eagle feathers with spread wings, at the end of the Golden Leaf Avenue, at the top of the white stone steps.

The Emperor sat on the throne, overlooking his subjects, his descendants, the world and his dreams, and then greeted him with a smile - what a smile! A smile that made him willing to give his destiny to him...

"Horus Lupercal." The Emperor lowered his eyes and looked at him with pity. He leaned down and gently held his hand.

Father. Horus wanted to speak, but his throat seemed to be blocked and he could not make any sound. He felt his fingers trembling slightly, but he could not make any further movements.

"Master Horus, we need you," the mournful sobs were almost in his ears, and seemed even closer. "It will be alright..."

Horus raised his head, and on the golden throne he saw a face that was more haggard than two hundred years ago, and the eyes were like two points of fire on the dark skin.

+Horus. +He heard.

Then, his whole body felt as if it were doused with cold water.

In an instant, he saw it.

He saw the Luna Wolves leave the Solar Segmentum, he saw Bucephalus sailing over beautiful Olympia, he saw the inquiring look of Russ when he returned, he saw the 63rd Expeditionary Fleet galloping across the Milky Way, he saw Lorgar burning his adoptive father to death, he saw Sanguinius's wings spread against the wind, he saw cities being destroyed, strongholds being fortified, he saw people lining the streets to greet them, bowing their heads in surrender, he saw the flag of Ullanor being reduced to ashes under the gunfire of the Vengeful Spirit...

He saw the twisted dagger gently scratch his palm, and a sharp pain came over him.

He saw himself fall at the bright edge of the Plaza de Triomphe, and be brought back to the Spirit of Vengeance, he saw his warriors kneeling by his bed, he saw Sejanus heading for the Emperor's Vision...

I'm here, I'm here.

Horus answered their calls in his heart, even though he could not make any sound, his mind was shackled in darkness by the pain in his body, but he did not want to disappoint anyone.

I'm right here, wait until I come back.

An invisible force supported Horus Lupercal, pulled his hand, and led him gradually towards the depths of light. The speed was not fast, but it was so determined.

Horus followed the Emperor's lead. And the Emperor's voice, full of sorrow, and all the waves of calling, faded away quietly.

The dream dissipated and his consciousness fell into a complete coma, but this time, his heart was so peaceful.

"It will be alright," the Emperor promised.

-

"No..." There was a tremor in Kyrill Hindman's steady voice. "How long has the master been unconscious?"

"For three days, he occasionally woke up and said a few words," Petronilla whispered painfully, "When he woke up, he asked me to come here and share with me the stories that needed to be told. No... I don't want to listen, I'm afraid I will hear the last words of the adults..."

The preacher approached him, hesitantly, and stopped near the operating table, as if afraid to see his current appearance.

Horus' eyelids fluttered as he saw them in the distance: the officials of the Empire, just behind him as he followed the Emperor down the golden-leafed avenue and into the Imperial Palace.

The broken sections of time float up and down in the darkness.

"A new commander of the Legiones Astartes? They fought well to begin with... No, they were not so controlled, those dangerous artificial creatures - why did they trust their new superior so much? Didn't they need time to see him clearly?"

The mortals were silent and hushed as Horus passed them, making way for him, with slow, stumbling steps. Eyes stared at him from behind, in fear and awe. They distrusted him, just as he distrusted them.

Malcador responded coldly, and Valdor hoped that he would disappear on the spot. Fortunately, they were still loyal to the Emperor, Horus once thought vaguely.

He raised his head and walked past them, following his Emperor, for he was the only one holding his hand.

"Master Horus bids us farewell, but how can we leave him? He said... he said that he is temporarily unable to continue to fulfill his oath to the Emperor... Do not cry for him."

Petronilla stifled her sobs and Horus wanted to smile at her, but he was unable to do so at this moment.

When did this proud lady of noble birth start looking up to him? When did their eyes start chasing after his figure? Did their praise make him too proud?

The throne is upon you... these loyal and true mortals.

"Can he bear this responsibility? Those soldiers actually called a child father."

"Emperor, only Horus can be our Warmaster now... but he will never be able to stand on the day of the celebration. I am so scared... there are only less than five days left..."

"A new Kosonian? An alien who suddenly appeared out of nowhere and towered over us?"

"I don't want to record this, Sinderman, I don't want to record these words - my lord said that his brothers couldn't help laughing at the fact that he could be injured by a small scimitar, the great Horus! He comforted me, Sinderman, a Primarch actually comforted me, I, the derelict memoirist -"

"If Lord Horus cannot wake up in time, perhaps the Empire must elect a new commander in Ullanor." Sindman said in a low voice, "The arrow is on the string."

Petronilla's dataslate fell from her hands and clattered against the low cabinet beside the bed. Horus heard her frantically pick it up.

It's all right, you're no more reckless than my dear brother Magnus, whose books keep falling off the shelf onto the table.

As for Hindman, his calmness is somewhat similar to that of Leon.

"How can this be done?" Petronilla lowered her voice. "Who can match the prestige of Lord Horus?"

Horus vaguely saw the narrow corridor of the palace, which was still under renovation, spiraling up in front of him. He walked up step by step, bypassing the ancient books and paintings piled on the ground, and the candle fell on the edge of the steps.

In the observatory tower, the Emperor closed the yellowed atlas in his hand and invited him to sit on the railing beside him. The night wind blew across their faces, Horus touched his furry hair, approached his father, and then they looked up at the sky.

"You already know the constellations," the Emperor said gently, "are there any you like?"

Horus hesitated, "Sagittarius," he answered, trying to figure out the Emperor's intention. Did he know the words that were circulated among mortals? But once he was beside the Emperor, he felt as if he was protected, and his competitive thoughts faded away quietly, while grievances mixed with tension pushed him closer to the Emperor.

"Because," he said, "Father, you said we had a whole galaxy to conquer, and Sagittarius's arrow is pointed far away."

The Emperor smiled, he looked at him, he nodded, and the pride in his eyes was the sweetest reward Horus could ever receive.

"You will be one of my most brilliant sons, Horus," the Emperor said. "Shoot down the stars, and your pack will follow you. No, many more will march with you. The Imperium needs a leader, and Mankind needs to move forward."

Then, the observatory tower disappeared, and the light of the candles faded away. The dream of recollection left him, and he fell back to the edge of dark reality.

He heard the sighs of the Memoirists.

"Who could have thought that Lord Horus would fall? The war was clearly over..."

Yes, who would have thought? Horuston felt full of guilt. He tried to concentrate and make a weak sound.

No, it's not time for him to wake up yet.

But at least there was one candle left. In the darkness, it illuminated a patch of light beneath his feet. The glory of the Emperor.

He wandered in the cage of darkness and stood in the light of the Emperor. Fragments of memory surrounded him, constantly splitting, and then blending and reorganizing with reality under the guidance of the threads of light.

-

The lights in the hall were as bright as the sun hanging in the sky, and Horus walked through the corridor to the banquet hall. His brothers sat on the benches, and those dreamlike extraordinary beings, just sitting there, were bright enough to illuminate the entire hall.

Sanguinius's face was shining with glory, Russ was fiddling with his fork, Curze, that bastard, was curled up in his chair and laughing strangely, and Guilliman was sitting upright with his eyes blank.

Only Lorgar and Perturabo looked worried; they were both shrouded in plain robes and sat closest to him.

Not to mention Lorgar, who is easily moved by true emotions, what could possibly make the Iron Lord, who is usually calm and composed, look so sad?

Horus smiled as he walked over to them and wrapped his arms around his brothers, giving them an overly strong hug - perhaps not as strong as Vulkan's, but certainly impressive.

Why are you so uneasy? Horus heard himself say cheerfully, patting his brothers on the back. What happened? Isn't our triumphal banquet about to begin? Isn't today the day for all the brothers to gather and celebrate the triumph?

"I executed Daniel, and imprisoned all suspected dissidents aboard the Covenant," Lorgar told him, startling Horus. "Erebus is dismissed from his service, unless he can atone for the crimes he indirectly committed against you. Those who wounded you deserve no mercy, my brother."

What had they done to deserve your punishment of your two chief priests? Horus was truly stunned.

"The blade that hurt you is called the Nemesis Blade," Perturabo said in a low voice. "Its poison is extremely special, almost designed specifically for you. All Nemesis Blades are supposed to be locked in the Shadow Prison, but one of them was stolen."

"How could this be such a coincidence?" Lorgar murmured. "How could Interlex have a weapon against you, Horus?"

"It must be the power of darkness... Where are you going, Lorgar?"

"Exterminate Intrex, Perturabo."

"You can't do that. That's a human regime that has declared its surrender—"

"Do not stop me, Perturabo! Are you so blinded that you cannot see the connection? The blades they created harmed our own loved ones who would become our leaders! If the powers of darkness are at work, Interlex cannot escape responsibility! They must pay with blood, and with ashes!"

"No, Aurelion, I believe the real murderer is still lurking. Don't let it go. We need reason, because we must find the truth and make the unforgivable person who really did evil pay the heaviest price..."

"Why are you excusing the guilty places that harmed Horus, my brother?" Lorgar asked incredulously. "Even if they are not the real culprits, does this make their crimes any less sinful?"

As they argued, the bright lights in the hall went out one by one, and the figures of his loved ones in various states of mind disappeared into the darkness. Horus suddenly remembered that they had never gathered together like this before.

The victory at Ullanor should have been the best opportunity.

They should have sat at a round table, wished each other well, held each other's hands, and made promises about their hopes for the future.

The lights were on, the cups were filled with wine, honey fell into the tea, and cheese slipped off the fork. They joked and fought for the eel jelly on the same plate. The Wolf King told his old jokes. Mortarion and the Khan exchanged their experience in brewing wine. Magnus was eager to try but also retreated. Corvus was thinking in the corner. Rogal Dorn explained to Fulgrim seriously that his golden skull could not eat... and this memory should not even be worth cherishing, because after the expedition, they would have many opportunities to share a good night...

I wish you can build a palace that is unparalleled in the world, I wish your town to be longed for by scholars among the stars, I wish your wolf will always meet again in winter, I wish you can ride your horse and sing after the war, I wish your loyalty will be blessed, I wish your five hundred worlds will prosper, I wish your clan will be successful in research and development, I wish your red sand land will have a good harvest, I wish your wheat fields will be watched over, I wish your beauty will never fade, I wish your wings will never bend, I wish all of us good health and safety...

This beautiful dream had recurred over and over again over the past two hundred years, so much so that he sometimes thought that this was what was happening right now.

The golden flame of the last lamp flickered and dissipated along with the laughter.

Stop arguing, Horus thought sadly, you should have been close friends, if possible, I want to hold your hands and make you reconcile. Lorgar, don't hurt an innocent regime implicated, the expedition is about to end, you should be more tolerant of people... If I could wake up, I would advise you not to execute your high priest, I am so sure he knows nothing about this sharp blade.

"By this calculation, even the clerk who allowed you to bring Number Eleven into Terra will be sentenced to death," Perturabo said softly.

"I cannot sentence myself to death, Perturabo, so I will flagellate myself."

"No, Aurelion. The most urgent task is to find Number Eleven, so that he will not cause trouble again. You know him best among us, and Horus... No, we can't argue again in front of Horus's bed." Perturabo's words trembled slightly at the end.

Aurelion was silent. "He said Horus would be alright," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"It will take time to eradicate the poison of darkness. There is no rush to select the Warmaster. I will recommend to the Emperor that it be postponed."

"How much time is needed?"

"...Morse said it depends on the Emperor's condition..."

"No need." Horus' voice trembled slightly.

Perturabo and Lorgar both looked at him immediately. Horus identified Perturabo's position and reluctantly moved his fingers on that side. Perturabo immediately held his hand.

"You're awake," Perturabo whispered.

Horus nodded, trying to focus. "I heard your arguments."

"I'm so sorry, Horus..."

"No, it is not necessary." Horus took a deep breath, his voice hoarse and difficult to hear. Perturabo moved closer to him and even deliberately reduced the sound of his breathing so that he could listen more attentively.

Horus used all his remaining strength to maintain his consciousness. He had to get an answer from Perturabo.

"Remember what we said when we first met, Perturabo? I said I would find a way to be worthy of your praise..."

After a few seconds, Perturabo said, "I remember."

"This seems... already difficult. I cannot let myself... slow down the Emperor's pace, the entire Great Crusade, and even the progress of the Empire... You are my most trusted brother, I am sorry... But we need a leader, humanity needs to move forward, on... On the day when the Emperor decides to leave, the leader will lead people... to the farthest point that the arrow can point to, and shoot down those stars..."

"Your injuries will heal, Horus."

"I know... my condition," Horus interrupted him, "I... I can't guarantee how long it will take me to wake up, and how long it will take for me to be able to barely say a few words like this... But I believe you can do it... That position is something only you can do."

At the end, Horus managed a laugh, and tried to move his fingers to hold Perturabo's hand tighter.

"If...if you find it as troublesome as I do, it won't be too late for you to give it to me after I recover, right?" Horus said confidently.

Perturabo did not reply, but responded forcefully to the clenched hand.

Horus panted softly, his breathing gradually becoming smoother and weaker.

His hand fell from Perturabo's grasp.

Then, Horus Lupercal turned around, walked through all the marble avenues covered with gold leaves and the magnificent and intricately carved pillars, calmly listened to all the distant cheers and celebrations, and with the gazes of all those loyal to the Empire and the warm and illusory company of his closest brothers, he ignored the pain of the darkness and evil scars surging behind him, and strode towards the throne of the Emperor.

The road did not get shorter, but the golden guide was always at the end of his road.

Maybe one day, maybe one year, maybe even longer, he believed that he would eventually walk under the throne where the light gathered. By then, the darkness would no longer be able to catch up with him.

(End of this chapter)