Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"What were you looking at, Morse?" asked Perturabo. With the end of the entire ceremony, the knife wound on his hand was no longer bleeding.

"You feel it?" Morse fiddled with a piece of fruit on the plate in front of him. After playing with it for a long time, he took a bite. "Your senses are getting sharper, Perturabo."

He raised his fingertips and pointed at the golden cup in the hand of the goddess statue that was being removed, destroying the blood cell structure in it and adding some complex energy with occult meaning to counterbalance its original symbolic image to guard against possible problems.

"Stop playing riddles." Perturabo said dissatisfiedly. He placed his fingers on the table behind his back and rested on the letterhead sent by the previous soldier.

The anger of being maliciously deceived by the Kaldis people did not leave him, but turned into a source of motivation, adding strength to the flow of heart and blood.

"Is there someone else who wants to commit a foolish act of assassination? Whose malicious intent have you guarded against me? I want to know."

Morse looked at him in surprise and continued to eat his unknown fruit: "It is also your talent to be able to say what you want to thank me like this."

"You started your conversation with another disparaging remark about me."

“Preach in season and out of season; rebuke, warn, exhort—don’t ask me who St. Paul is, it’s not me.” Morse used his psychic powers to keep his language legible so that Eat fruit while talking.

Then he threw the core into the empty plate, stood up, and walked around Perturabo to the other side of the iron seat.

"I'm checking to see if someone has cast a witchcraft on you," Morse said.

Perturabo raised his head with deep suspicion.

Morse continued: "I believe I gave you a hint as to what witchcraft, as we shall call it, is, and it is not my fault if you fail to grasp it."

"It seems that you have done nothing." Perturabo tried, having learned scattered folk science from Morse for many years, and his best mastery was verbal sarcasm, "except for making mysteries."

"You can use Harcon to practice how to arouse people's anger a few more times." Morse said easily. "To be honest, I have tried my best to choose the words to tell you the truth. But don't forget They can see you, do you enjoy the fear and pain of being noticed so much that you want them to find you again? My wise Perturabo.

Perturabo frowned, and the greatest gift of forgiveness that time had given him was that his long frown did not leave three vertical lines between his eyebrows.

He soon stopped asking questions, apparently his brain had filled in a theory that satisfied himself.

The young man also stood up from the seat. Since the weight of the iron exceeded the upper limit of his muscles, he could not push the wicker chair away as easily as Morse did. He could only move from the gap between the seat and the table. out.

This may be why he never left his steel chair while everyone was still there.

Perturabo stood a little distance from Morse, for he was half a head shorter than Morse.

The young man skipped the topic seriously. He cast his gaze further, toward the end of the ground. The sunlight made the shadows on his face profound and unpredictable, while the inside of his lake-like blue irises ignited with a golden-red fire.

After this scene lasted for more than ten seconds, Morse confirmed that Perturabo was waiting for him to ask him something.

He patted the back of the young man's chair and swung himself onto the steel chair. Perturabo took a step forward and walked into his sight.

Morse put one hand on the armrest to support his head and laughed.

"What worries you, Perturabo," he said softly. "What makes you want to go to war against Olympia? Do you know that if you build machines for another ten years, the entire planet will kneel at your feet?"

"Are you still in Lokos ten years from now?" Peturabo couldn't help but ask. He grasped a sharp corner of the steel seat and, after a pause, continued: "You gave me a riddle, Morse. I've been trying to solve it."

Morse chose to ignore Perturabo's first question, "It sounds like you succeeded in cracking it, otherwise you wouldn't be bragging with me."

"Your second puzzle. The puzzle of the moon." Perturabo said, "While I was consulting all the information and documents of Lokos, some documents provided by other countries, and communicating with the nine wise men of Pelecontia, They paid attention to and compiled all relevant documents and research reviews in history.”

"At the current stage, local research in Olympia is mostly about the compilation of astrological events, and the main research directions are theology and religious symbology. This is obviously completely inconsistent with your expectations, Morse. In this regard, I paid attention to the movement of the planet. Specific characteristics, replanned and summarized many related phenomena of the moon, summarized commonly used data sets, evaluated and compared the formula calculation effects of typical methods, discussed the more advanced lunar orbit models and calculation methods in recent years from different dimensions, and finally obtained Come to two conclusions.”

"First, the moon is indeed a satellite of Olympia, that is, a celestial body that is centered on Olympia and moves periodically around Olympia in a closed orbit. The diameter of the moon is very different from that of Olympia."

Perturabo explained the definition of a satellite with a serious face and added, "Oh, by the way, I think you know that Olympia is a spherical planet."

Considering that on the planet of human origin in the old night, it took people countless years and even several pioneer lives to conclude that the moon is not the home of the moon goddess in the myths of various races, and that the ground is not endlessly flat. Morse feels that he admires it. Turabo did a pretty good job.

"Secondly, the moon changed its orbit once thousands of years ago. The reason is unknown. It may be an impact, a large change in mass, or a change in the gravitational environment. This is not a bizarre thing, but this orbit change is consistent with historical documents. Another important event coincides with the time. "

Having said this, Perturabo spent a moment observing Morse's facial expression, trying to deduce whether he had said something wrong.

Of course, he could only feel the trouble of facing the puzzle itself from Morse's unchanging expression, but Morse did not refute this phenomenon, which was a silent encouragement to him.

"Black Judgment." Perturabo spat out the word with strong disgust.

"A color, a term, the puzzle you gave me so many years ago. 'The last time their shadow fell upon this world, slaughter and enslavement fell upon tens of thousands.' That's exactly it. It is completely consistent with the description of the Black Judgment in the Olympian legend. When the judgment comes, countless people will die."

"This is why I must unify Olympia as soon as possible. A scattered Olympia cannot resist a degenerate group that has completely inherited ancient technology and is willing to entertain itself with human blood for unknown reasons."

Morse listened to Perturabo repeating exactly what he told him ten years ago, and slightly raised the corners of his lips: "And I can tell you, they not only completely inherited the technology of the Dark Ages, More than ten nearby planets have been included in the scope of the panic rule, and their genes are undoubtedly the development and expansion of human beings themselves, rather than originating from more external alien races."

He raised his head and glanced at the location of the satellite Olympia, which was invisible in the daytime, knowing in his heart that the warlike quality in Perturabo's nature had finally found an excuse for its own appearance.

A tool, a weapon.

The shortcomings and advantages are all too human-like.

While thinking, Morse continued: "When I first discovered their existence, I thought they would be related to another fallen alien empire. It turns out that I just overestimated humanity."

"This also made me lose all interest in dealing with them, although if you want to hold Olympia in your hands, you will have to slaughter them all sooner or later in the future."

"I wish you could help this planet leap into the ranks of space civilization as soon as possible. You see, I always tell you everything, kid."

"I have completed my naming ceremony," Perturabo said grimly.

"Well, congratulations on coming of age, you child who cares about your age. Go and devote your skills to the war of reunification. I have no interest in adding a formal tearful farewell."