Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 505 Phoenix in the Mirror (2)

The voice in the darkness has not subsided... Do you need me to complete you and him? Phoenix, you should be brilliant and flawless... What does this wind want? It makes the brilliance even more brilliant...

"Alas, if you had said it two hundred years earlier, I might have listened." Fulgrim replied lightly, without haste or annoyance, his sword clanking through a gap between the incoming mechanical gears, accurately and gracefully breaking a series of delicate mechanisms. Now that Ferrus' mind was in his arms, there was nothing worth worrying about.

Half of his mind was still hanging on the head in his arms, thinking about how to wake Ferrus up... He had never seen Iron Hand so weak. In many past meetings, he had seen Ferrus's frustrations and successes, anger and pride, but he had never seen him so unconscious. Only this matter affected his mind.

He took a moment to stare at the silver head in his arms, looking at the familiar face. Thanks to the characteristics of the Primarch, Ferrus was still very similar to when they first met, with an unchanged and resolute face. He hesitated and thought - what was Ferrus missing? What was taken away from him?
He raised his hand to block another charge from the steel machine. A handful of blood exploded from above. Fulgrim's blood turned into a rain of fire as it fell, and then stopped like mist above Ferrus' head, dissipating harmlessly. The demonic flesh that was touched by the fire mist melted in an instant, but the floating ribbons and gems still couldn't help but pounce on it, like moths to a flame. These corrupted creatures longed for Fulgrim's existence, because they...

...lacking the essence that enhances their existence.

Fulgrim held the sword horizontally in his hand, leaving his thumb free. His blood flowed from his fingers, and he consecrated the ears, eyes, mouth and nose of Ferrus' head with blood, like an incomplete sacrament of extreme unction.

"I give you my blood," he whispered, "I lend you my existence, Ferrus Manus. May our common blood fill your will, and may you wake up from your loss - or at least, let me feel your existence from the loss."

He did this in between battles. The swings and dodges were minor matters. The noise of the battles around him and the clash of swords seemed to be isolated at a distant edge. The swings and dodges became shadows in the background. At the moment, all his attention was focused on the head in his hands, on the faint pulse that might be hidden there. He waited, eagerly, almost holding his breath to listen to a little bit of reaction from Ferrus.

However, the facial features of the head began to fade again. In fact, it was quietly disappearing as a whole. Although it was still in his arms, it kept falling deeper into this unreal world. Fulgrim did not say a word, but just held the head, trying to catch its shadow that was sinking deeper - he even thought that it was just like he wanted Ferrus' life... It was a strange thought, but he could not dispel it for a long time.

When the head in his arms completely disappeared, he heard the voice again. For a moment, Fulgrim stopped breathing, and then he heard another voice coming from the other half of his face.

"……This is where?"

Fulgrim heard his own voice speaking in a different tone. It was not coming from outside, but... from within him, from deep within his own throat.

"Where is this?" The voice repeated again, clearer this time, with the calmness and questioning unique to Ferrus.

And Fulgrim suddenly realized that Ferrus was no longer the mind sealed in the head, but had merged into his body and relied on his shell.

He heard his own voice asking in Ferrus' tone, low and unfamiliar, and the strange feeling made his chest heave violently.

He couldn't explain why, but he suddenly laughed again in his own way. He succeeded, he gave a part of himself, and Ferrus had awakened from the void.

"I do not know, Ferrus," Fulgrim said, his voice brisk, his answer falling from his lips as if he had prepared it all along. "I have come to find you, and I know the location of this place better than you do."

Half of his face was colder than his own flesh and blood, and the joints that had long been accustomed to it also became cold. And half of his shoulder finally lost the last feeling, perhaps because the hand knew that the steel arm had free time and relaxed all of a sudden.

What would Ferrus answer him? According to his character, he might regret falling into this trap. However, in front of him, Fulgrim believed that Ferrus would be happy to tell him about this matter - after all, he did not blame him, but took him away all the way.

He looked forward optimistically, as if the rescue was already a success.

Then, darkness slowly surged like a thick curtain, as if it had grown out of those twisted shadows. A voice came from the endless darkness, carrying some kind of ancient malice.

"How can your body bear the steel?" The voice was like a poisonous snake whispering in the ear, with an unsettling chill. "Look at yourself in the mirror, your heart was once rotten, your blood was once corroded. Look in the mirror, look at what you look like now... Look at the silver mirror reflecting the old face... The flaws are hidden and there is no way out..."

Alas, Fulgrim thought, why must one always insist on questioning his perfection? Had he not been taught enough by his scion in the Corruptor's Garden?
"It just so happens that your head disappeared just in time," Fulgrim joked to Fulgrim, and the flames of the flaming sword were brighter than before. The flames cut through a head that was sticking out towards him on the wall. Blood rain fell like petals, and the crystal mirror on the wall shattered with a crackling sound, and the charred fragments left an ink mark on the ground like an inscription.

"...Free up a hand for me." He finished the second half of the sentence and waited expectantly for Ferrus' response.

"What do you mean?" Ferrus' voice asked, a hint of confusion in it. Fulgrim's heart sank as a strange feeling of unfamiliarity ran down his spine.

Fulgrim took a deep breath, trying to suppress the uneasiness and pull himself back to their conversation. Ferrus shouldn't ask this - he was Ferrus Manus, the fearless Iron Hand, the brother who had fought alongside him and witnessed countless victories and defeats. The years they had spent together, the glory and frustration of battle...

Fulgrim took a breath and turned his thoughts back to their conversation. "Are you so ignorant of humor, Ferrus?"

"I am Ferrus?" Ferrus asked.

Fulgrim exhaled the breath that was stuck in his chest, and the colors before his eyes almost made him dizzy.

Could it be that his body was really unable to bear the existence of Ferrus, so that his brother no longer remembered - no, damn, these voices were too annoying.

He bit his lip and smiled calmly again. "You are. You are Ferrus Manus."

The compound whispers returned, laughing sharply at the edge of his consciousness... How sad you are, Fulgrim, purple phoenix... The whispers echoed in all directions as a chorus... You once danced proudly in the sky, but now you have fallen. It's unbearable to watch you fall into depravity. You have made mistakes and have no way out. Why bother with your happiness now...

The rosy light turned into a gorgeous blood-red color, and suddenly fell from the infinitely high ceiling, like a beam of stage light, splashing directly at Fulgrim's feet.

"Where am I?" Ferrus continued. "Who are you?"

"You asked about the first part. As for the second part, I am Fulgrim, and I am trying to get you out."

"You're angry?"

Fulgrim's lips trembled. "Don't worry about it. I will get you out anyway."

Yes, they have encountered countless worse situations, fought in more dangerous battlefields, and faced deeper darkness. No matter what kind of troubles they have experienced, they have come out of it every time. And this time should be no exception. Just give him time, give them time. But first, they will live and live well.

Fulgrim breathed a sigh of relief and regained his smile.

After a moment, Ferrus said - crowding out Fulgrim's words by occupying their now shared vocal chords: "Do you see a way out?"

"No, I can tell it's a maze!" Fulgrim said, "Why don't you help me figure out how to defeat that elusive machine -"

The entire mechanical maze kept moving. A loud clang hit the drum beats of a song that had started at some point, and then a few intertwined weapon collisions fell in the gaps between the beats of the background song, creating a set of exquisite differential sounds. With each sword strike, Fulgrim's peripheral vision was constantly attracted by something distributed throughout the maze - mirrors, mirrors that should not exist in the dark depths.

In the mirror, images of the past kept emerging. That was the former Ferrus Manus, the indestructible, cold-blooded warrior.

Fulgrim paused for a moment, his eyes drawn to Ferrus. He turned to the other mirror, and what he saw was himself - himself now. His armor was scratched and ripped, his ornate decorations faded, blood and dust mixed together, and his missing arms and damaged legs... so different from Ferrus...

Fulgrim's thoughts surged like a tide, and the darkness wanted to overwhelm him in this way, to make him question himself, his relationship with Ferrus, and his own brilliance.

He gritted his teeth and beat his unwanted mechanical partner back into the darkness, only to find that Ferrus had not reappeared to pay attention to him.

Just as he was about to call him, he felt the pulse and his heart skipped a beat.

"I don't see how," Ferrus reappeared. "I don't know how to defeat this maze."

"You are Ferrus," Fulgrim said with a crisp smile, "you should be better at solving this kind of problem than I am."

The Phoenix's iron arm deflected a string of gems, and the long sword was swung, and a wave of fire surged out, covering a chariot with spiked wheels rolling from the other side of the maze. The flames flickered and extinguished in an instant.

"Anyway, we're going out together."

"Did you find a way out?"

"You'd better stop talking, Ferrus."

"I thought..." Ferus paused, "you wanted to hear me speak."

"You are the Hand of Iron, not the Mouth of Iron, Ferrus, I should have let you continue to sleep - forget it!" "I am the Hand of Iron? But your hands are made of steel." Ferrus said quietly.

Fulgrim wanted to laugh, but a wave of frustration suddenly hit him. He forced a smile and said, "You gave it to me, brother."

The light and shadows around him swirled like bubbles, and countless pictures rolled and coiled. In each mirror he saw half of his own face, as well as the outline of Ferrus floating on the iron surface, like misplaced light and shadow, obscuring his iron face.

What Ferrus Manus had given him, he now returned to him in another form.

Those mirrors made him look dazed for a moment, and he scattered some of the lenses at random.

"Are you... okay?" Ferrus asked in a deep voice.

Fulgrim's temper suddenly rose. He raised his voice and said, "It's fine..." Then he lowered his tone again, "It's just that there are many things to fight against, such as this maze itself - and that ghostly machine. It always manages to get out of every wall."

"He is one with the maze. Stay away from the walls and don't look directly into the mirror. Why the mirror?" Ferrus said, not knowing how he came up with these analysis results so quickly, and asked a question.

"I don't know. It can't be that it's convenient for me to look at myself. Why would I have such a high degree of self-admiration?"

Fulgrim said, glancing at a mirror from the corner of his eye, and suddenly realizing that he was looking at the face of Ferrus -

"Quick!" Ferrus reminded him. Fulgrim rushed to make another strike with his sword, and part of his fire feather was torn off, while his transparent legs and feet broke into many fragments and fell into the creeping ground.

"You're distracted. Maintain your combat intensity. You can do it," said Ferrus.

Fulgrim sighed, "Ouch!"

The endless attacks reached a climax, pieces of glass crystals mixed with pink mist floated in the air, demons with sharp claws and long tails were hatched from the veil of the ground with long jelly-like tongues spitting out, and sad calls permeated from the air, which seemed to belong to the natives of Cadia, and seemed to belong to something more.

The figure of the phoenix was as blazing as a candle in the maze, burning through one place after another with extremely beautiful light, jumping and floating endlessly. Its sword moves as fast as rain and wind, and it takes delicate steps in the gaps between the blades, with bloody flowers blooming all the way under its feet.

"Stop for a second," Ferrus said suddenly, and Fulgrim obeyed without hesitation. The shadow of another iron arm suddenly emerged in his empty arm - no, it was a heavy hand cannon. A series of precisely calculated artillery fire penetrated the weak point of the mirror maze within this second. A series of broken mirrors fell like dominoes, and a large number of gears and pistons collapsed, blasting open a branch road with few enemies.

"How do you know that? Well, this is you," Phoenix muttered.

Fulgrim found a moment of respite along this empty path, a pool of living silver flowing under his feet, cushioning his injured foot.

The flaming swords cut through the air, creating a gust of searing wind. Fulgrim moved as fast as the wind, while Ferrus's accurate fire formed an impenetrable line of fire behind him. Mirrors shattered under their attacks, and more parts of the Iron Labyrinth collapsed with them.

"You and I are familiar with each other." Ferrus said thoughtfully. "You also fight perfectly."

"What conclusions have you reached?"

"You beat me, so we got to know each other?" Ferrus inferred reasonably.

"What! How could such a barbaric thing be used to create our friendship? Am I that kind of person?" Fulgrim scolded with a smile, posing an innocent attitude, and for a moment he wanted to ask Ferrus if he remembered something.

"No," Ferrus replied without blinking - or at least Fulgrim didn't blink. "I just can't imagine why you're my friend."

"That's a little hurtful, Ferrus."

"You have an extraordinary will and superhuman skills, and you have achieved perfection."

"I'm beginning to wonder if you're cursing me in secret. I'm very wary of this word."

"Then why did we become friends?" Ferrus asked hesitantly, while helping Fulgrim to supplement his lack of long-range firepower. At some point, Fulgrim had added a set of long-range firepower backpacks on his back, so that his fire wings had to find a way to leave space on his back for it.

Fulgrim shrugged. "Look at those mirrors."

"The mirror is covered with witchcraft and cannot be looked at directly. The battle time is urgent. If you want me to know, you can tell me directly." said Ferrus.

"Alas!" Fulgrim sighed again, and said dramatically, "You'd better not understand why."

Yet the fragments of mirror still inevitably flew past Fulgrim's sight.

Each wall shone with a cold silver light. The surface was smooth as a mirror, but it was distorted in the visual sense, as if it was constantly flowing with the steps. The metallic luster reflected the phantoms deep in the maze. The interweaving of light and shadow made it difficult to distinguish between reality and illusion. The gears on the wall were running crazily at high speed, making a low mechanical roar, as if the entire space had its own life.

The air was filled with an intoxicating aroma of mechanical grease and the fresh metallic smell of some high-tech material slightly burned. The mechanical heartbeat sounded faintly in my ears, carrying a deep sense of beauty and fatal attraction...

The mirror reflected Ferrus' past: those most perfect battle commands, the impeccable art of war and his powerful legion, the calculations of sieges and targeted destruction, and the legion's supreme and terrifying efficiency... In Fulgrim's private heart, this has always been unmatched even by the Warmaster.

What about his own turn? The reflection in the mirror no longer reflects his present appearance, but takes him back to the past, back to the time deepest in his memory.

He saw Chemos, an ordinary world on the verge of death. There were no giant beasts conquering, no glorious interstellar battles, only the last struggle of a planet before dying... He saw himself standing in front of the Legion for the first time, and they were so lonely and weak at that time...

He earnestly told them to pursue perfection. His words were bright and full of hope, chasing a better future and racing against life - his descendants believed him, and even he himself believed it.

Many years ago, someone asked him what perfection was, on the eve of his first foray into the depths of the Warp. He explained part of it, but he hid something else. He described a resilient planet, Chemos - a place of constant progress, of perfection. However, he left out the part about the mirror...

"Why can't I understand?" Ferrus asked, his voice suddenly rising, interrupting Fulgrim's thoughts. He had said he would not look into the mirror, and he did not even look.

"Because that is very strange," Fulgrim said in a daze, but he did not stop talking. "If you are curious about how we became friends, I will be heartbroken."

Ferrus woke him up. He woke up from his memories, and his consciousness gradually drifted from the edge of chaos. But it was temporary, because the whispers of darkness never stopped.

Why do you resist looking at your imperfections?

The darkness whispered to him softly, like the murmur of a lover.

I can help you, let's see what you need, dear child, I shouldn't criticize you, let's see what's wrong with you... let me help you find your true self...

Fulgrim's mind seemed to be swallowed by a vortex of metal maze, and he sank into an endless world of darkness and strange lights. Ferrus' existence became blurred, and his once unshakable faith was also eroded in this illusion.

He understood where his fear came from, these anxieties were real, but he had left them behind - this was the darkness trying to disturb him again, stirring up the worries that had long been quelled. But he couldn't completely control his thoughts and slipped into them uncontrollably.

He had stayed in this maze of darkness and steel too long, and he felt himself being eroded. His essence, his fire, was dying.

So, does he need to continue resisting?

Yeah, why should I resist?

Fulgrim seemed to be too lost to resist. He relaxed his tense will and let his consciousness follow the mechanical vortex all the way down to its deepest point. His thoughts traveled to the farthest distance and the deepest depth, quickly slipping back into the old whirling thoughts...

He didn't need to resist these thoughts.

(End of this chapter)