Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 488 Thousand Sons
"The Great Library is going to burn."

Ahriman walked forward, each of his steps was light and careful, falling on the ancient drumbeats of all their heartbeats, like a light feather touching the sedge, billowing in the hot air. He raised his eyes through the goggles of his helmet, and the Great Library of Tizca had already bloomed with lotus-like flames in the light of the runes.

He blinked slowly and gently, and threw the manuscript paper in his hand for calculation into the burning library. He watched as thousands of pictographic patterns burned into dry ashes, and the flames jumped upwards, sending out a cloud of scattered sparks.

"Do you know what you are saying, Azak? I don't want to stop you. You are Magnus' most trusted student, but you must have a reason."

Amon's voice surged up from his memory, circle by circle, as if climbing the long steps of the tower he remembered, and found his will at the top of the tower of thought. The Primarch's attendant was much gentler in private than he was in the meeting. He was no longer the verbal representative of the thousands of troops stationed on Prospero, but just another Thousand Dust Sun.

A fire burned at the end of Ahriman's robe, a lens between the real and the unreal, reflecting where he was into the back of the world, imprinting a solidified and broken place in a place that did not belong to humans.

After the ritual is completed, all traces of the Great Library of Tizca will disappear from the real universe, transformed into a creation that will last forever beyond the Sea of ​​Dreams, or a pyre that will burn long and lonely in the depths of the Warp.

"We have saved the fruit of our wisdom and the most honorable hall from the hands of the Luna Wolves. For many years, the status of the Great Library has even been higher than that of the Primarch's own pyramid. Look at the top floor, with the golden sun supported by magic in the sky. That is the symbol of the Legion."

"I know, Amon, it is so important that it must be located here. It will serve as a guiding beacon for the Sah, and something must serve this purpose.

"Amon, you know we are leaving, moving far away from our old place to the stars... But when our souls return here, won't we find that the place where Prospero should be is empty? The resting souls should know where we have gone... We are leaving with most of the traces left by their souls."

Ahriman stepped back, letting the fire burning the Great Library remain in its proper place. Gradually, the material structure of the Great Library became blurred, while its shadow on the other side of the world was etched out by the powerful psychic wave, becoming clearer and more stable.

At the top of the Great Library, the light wheels they used to simulate stars lit up again, and the light that was originally evenly sprinkled around the world condensed into thin golden threads, penetrating the mist of the warp space like fine needles piercing the ocean.

A stinging cold touch poured down, piercing him, or their connected thoughts, bringing a squeeze of dizziness. Above him, the mental layer used to resist the attention of the Dark Throne was vaguely slowly falling down the burning fragments, each fragment was a part of their life essence.

Ahriman felt many words flying in his mind, and the faces of his brothers flashed before him, the reluctance in their eyes lit up by the cold spiritual fire. He hoped that these brothers would wait a little longer, or rather, let them stay a little longer.

"I believe you, Azak." He sighed, "Then do it. This is not the first time that the Thousand Dust Sun has burned down a library... Is this ritual also engraved on the Book of the Primarch? What is it called?"

"It's not all my father's work, I confess. This is an unfinished spell, a ritual that has not yet begun."

"Just like I have never heard of the return of the dead." Amon said meaningfully.

"No... not a true return." Ahriman felt a trembling sense of helplessness in his heart, but he carefully suppressed it. "That is impossible. There has never been a magic spell to bring the dead back to life. Maybe there is, but I don't believe in those witchcrafts. I imagine..."

"Words have power, Magnus told us. Every phoneme counts. Don't tell me what that is."

"No one is listening, Amon."

"I'm listening, don't give me hope."

Ahriman closed his eyes in memory and opened them in reality. A cold wind rose from the ashes of the burned Great Library, crushing the same souls of the Thousand Dust Suns, parts of whom were lost with the burial of the Great Library. Dust was lifted by the wind and covered his visor, like snow falling in the indentations of his blank cheeks.

He took a breath, continued to maintain the connection within the Thousand Dust Sun, and let the Great Library fall completely into the subspace, flashing a torch-like light in another void. All this happened just like every formula in his calculations. He did not make a mistake, and he could only believe that he did not make a mistake.

+Smoothly. + He said in the mind language, and the leaders of various schools responded to him one by one.

In preparation for the subsequent large-scale ceremony, they stepped up their defenses to ensure that there would be no interference from the Moon Wolves for a certain period of time.

When they descended into the Warp, any invaders still on the planet's surface would be taken with them, including the imprisoned Cyjanus. Leaving the Luna Wolves alone would be an additional hurdle, and after deliberation, they determined that was unnecessary.

The next ceremony will follow the aftermath of the destruction of the Great Library and proceed as quickly as possible. Every second of delay will cause their defense against the Dark Throne to further collapse, and the frightening danger will gradually press down on them, and there will also be interference from the unknown - the transformation slaves who may or may not have left.

Time stretches out infinitely in the universe, but it is not owned by them.

Fusistaka's eyes looked at him through the drooping flag, Tubek's hands were surrounded by bright fire, and Hasholmat's raised robe passed over the fire, casting trivial, leaping black shadows on him... and many Thousand Dust Suns, many inconspicuous dust particles, fluttered around his body, they examined each other, protected each other, and occupied each other.

Ahriman's throat was a little dry, his heart sank, and he suppressed the words he was about to say.

+We are ready too. +The voices were engraved on Azak Ahriman's life, one after another, whispering that he was fragile compared to this huge force, and even though he was the leader, he could be completely destroyed at any time.

Compared to the will of the entire Legion, he was but a mortal shadow. He was not Magnus, not the Emperor of Mankind, not any great transcendent being, he was only Azak Ahriman.

There is no going back.

The staff in Ahriman's hand grew heavier, and his head was throbbing with pain. Tens of thousands of minds were under his command, and he closed his eyes stiffly, urging his mind to imprint the prepared sigils on the surface of the world. His eyes seemed to burn hotly behind his eyelids.

A long, sharp scream rang in the ears of Azak Ahriman, and the scream gradually expanded and stretched into a continuous flute sound, carrying the rising and falling of a thousand chants, their broken sentences and words all belonged to him, and he belonged to them.

The sound of the flute was still expanding, rolling into a boiling river of fire, mixed with too many glittering fragments.

The harbor of the old Tizca city, the waves splashed, and crisp sweet white foam was beaten out. The sunlight of the Sanctuary Mountain spread on the silver wings of the flying birds. The sparkling Sesostli Canal rolled through the Palatine city. The Skoumis Hill fell into the deep pit left by the destruction of the Secret Eye Square. The flames of the soul licked everything they had built with their own hands, and even the Great Pyramid of Tizca echoed in their minds, leaving a long and winding echo.

All the fragments flashed their most dazzling moment, melting into a consciousness like an active volcano. The vortex of the soul continued to spread, and circles of invisible spiritual wisdom spun out red ripples on the surface of the planet, which was both a raging storm and a solid shield.

+It’s time to go,+ Ahriman said to them. +Let’s go.+
The drumbeat of the heartbeat accompanied the long ringing in the ears, trembling and vibrating completely, dragging the souls that gathered together upward. The river of fire overturned the sky and the earth, wave after wave pushed higher and higher, covering the earth, surging through the trees and pyramids, impacting the atmosphere of the planet in the foreshadowing of destruction, and reaching the vast starry sky in the distance.

In a flash, the violent power wove a secret web that enveloped the world. The "Ka" of the Thousand Dust Sun was disassembled into ten million tough threads, and the "Name" was broken into countless strokes and syllables. Ten thousand minds burst into a blazing rage under the dark sky covered with haze. Ten thousand tongues of hope violently tore at the dark shadows condensed in the sky, and then gathered into a hurricane of power, surrounding the eye of the hurricane, Azak Ahriman, and stirring the whole world. They were ready.

Azak Ahriman wanted to say something, but words were no longer necessary. They were one, no longer individuals, no longer being or not being, their marks fused into a new heart, and the ocean would give way to them.

Step aside.

He raised his staff and stretched his hand forward.

The star map emerged in their minds, and the locations of the stars corresponded one by one with their names and places in the map. There were also countless broken star dust and the emotions of sentient beings that condensed into colorful stars, illuminating their way forward.

They need a channel.

In the depths of this vast sea of ​​stars, they saw a distant star and a dim star field projected by the subspace... Even though there were still dangers there, there were still lurking shadows lurking maliciously on the edge of time... It seemed far and near, and seemed to exist and not exist.

No, maybe it was a trap, maybe they were about to face the next war. Maybe war and dust were their fate, but it would never be another battle with the Luna Wolves. It would never be another time of being alone and dying in the dust with the Iron Warriors.

You will yield.

The vast red power roared, and the fierce anger ignited by thousands of thoughts instantly burned through the ocean. This was not a single will, nor was it scattered debris. Everyone was together, looking forward to their future. What was burning was life and will, energy and essence. Burning to the last fragment, what could turn into the last wisp of dust left in the fire was their hope.

The power of the Thousand Dust Sun surged forward, cheering and roaring as it rushed into the sticky and filthy invisible world, forcing the soul sea to retreat to both sides on the back of the heaven and earth. Gradually, the vast ocean was burned dry, and a wide, dust-free, vast void was opened up.

Prospero sank into the Warp, into the empty nothingness left in the vast ocean, moving forward... forward, to the deepest point.

Planets rolled over this divided ocean, and the fireworks flowed from the surface into condensed lava, drying up in the ocean, leaving an infinitely long tail. They sang and steered this ark based on planets, leaving the ocean behind. This was all they had, and they would not throw away a single bit of it.

The existence of the Library of Grand Tizca, sunk in darkness, remained where it was, echoing the planet they had in reality. Only the Prosperos, who had already engraved Grand Tizca in their souls, could feel the connection between the two places. No matter where they were, the blazing sun of Tizca was still beside them.

Gradually, they came to reality. How much time had passed during this journey? There was no time, no space, everything existed in a non-existent moment, it seemed that nothing was lost, it seemed that the cost was not worth mentioning. They did a great job, this was where they were going to arrive, and no matter where they were, they were still in their hometown.

They raised their heads again and stretched out their hands to the vast ocean, and the ocean flowed back to where it came from. Some of the ships that were chasing them, the tangible traces, and the evil spirits that were native to the vast ocean were all crushed in the returning ocean. They dealt with it completely. Only dust remained of the enemy.

A new starry sky has accepted them... The gravity of the orbit still needs to be adjusted, but the relationship between the stars has been solved in the initial calculations. It will still require years of adjustment in the future, but the Empire's technology is enough to solve these small matters... The next mission is to talk to the Interrex, and the Iron Warriors have promised that, and they just need to wait for them to recover from this voyage.

Ahriman knelt on the ground, holding his staff. His skin prickled, his mind was blurring. He was back inside himself, but the world was still spinning. Did they succeed? Yes... His heart began to beat again, and the blood in his body resumed its flow, even a little cooler than usual. There was a sharp pain in his veins.

Their thoughts separated quietly, and there seemed to be little obstruction between them. The tangled ropes swung away easily, as if the close connection between them suddenly disappeared... or was no longer enough to support the previous huge network of connections.

He heard a sound of falling. Not far away, a soldier fell down. He fell lightly and quickly, as if he was just an empty metal shell.

Azak Ahriman's breath hitched.

He opened his eyes and saw ashes falling all over the sky, like heavy snow, covering Prospero in a vast expanse of white and clean.

He was stunned for a moment, then fell silent.

"Yes," Azak Ahriman said, even though no one had asked him whether their exodus had been successful.

He paused and spoke again: "No." Even though no one asked him if this was the ending he was looking for and whether his plan had come to an end.

It's not time to rest yet. Ever.

He paused for a moment, waiting for his consciousness to clear up, and then counted the remaining wills on the planet. The only voice in his heart was his breathing.

Ahriman... Voices called to him, Ahriman, whose name Prospero sang and remembered, whose name was the last sigh of countless wills, Ahriman... He felt their last words, listened to their voices, their gasps, screams, songs, whispers... Ahriman...

He burned them, yes, he did, for Prospero, for their home, for their will, for the Thousand Dust Sun, for Magnus, for the Tizcans, for everything that was worth cherishing, which was everything…

He counted them one by one, and his counting gradually stopped. It was too fast. He would rather count a little longer. However, he had counted the last person. The sound had disappeared. It was over. There was only dust and embers in the sky. All Prospero was snowing.

So, Magnus still has a thousand children left.

Thousand Sons.

Thousand Sons.

Thousand Sons.

So Azak Ahriman did the only thing he could do.

In the dust, he stood up.

(End of this chapter)