Chapter 232 Because Someone Poisoned the Machine
The fight with Tuchucha was filled with destruction of perception, disordered time and tragic dispersion.
In a certain chaotic gap of transformation and turmoil, the black robe that Perturabo was holding tightly in his hands suddenly broke, and the craftsman who was wrestling with the subspace engine fell into the torrent across space, and he They fell into the two poles of the webway filled with milky white oil mist.
His iron ring body instantly cut out thousands of cracks that penetrated the green light of the Star God fragments, and his consciousness fell into darkness in the same microsecond that he was separated from the protection of Morse's curse.
And his awakening was a long process.
At first, the gravity sensing device in his body began to remind him that he had been captured by a stable gravity field, while the anthropomorphic senses such as vision and hearing were still dormant. He fell into a high-density liquid entity and climbed to the shore based on his analysis of the direction of the water flow and his limited but sufficient perception.
When Perturabo was taken away by some unknown armed force with broad blades as weapons and light armor with many spikes, he confirmed that his mechanical body was in the warp, the webway And the actual triple drift suffered considerable damage.
His olfactory system returned to functioning before the rest of his senses.
Known and unknown chemicals spread from the surface of his still moist body with a strong psychedelic effect, superimposed with the smell of rotten blood to create a strong irritation, even enough to burn out the nerves of the more vulnerable. system. This made Perturabo frown—it was at this time that he discovered that part of the bionic skin on his face had begun to fall off.
After being taken to the operating table, his hearing gradually recovered. Low and hoarse murmurs surrounded him in a low voice with an unfamiliar yet half-familiar tone. After several milliseconds of analysis, this language system finally corresponded to a type of text that Morse once mentioned.
Eldar language. A unique and complex language, where different letters have different meanings in different situations, and where body parts and expressions can be written.
Morse mentioned that he could speak this ancient alien language, and Perturabo began to regret that he should have learned it earlier.
But where is Morse at this time?
When his visual perception bionic nerve finally completed self-repair, he looked at the pale and thin pointed-eared being. Its body had been complicatedly modified. The dark blue medicine penetrated into the body along the direction of the bones, and the spine was wrongly It elongates and rises from the tail, and finally wraps around the neck, and is set on the shoulders together with many luxurious and different jewelry.
The Eldar commanded the combination of flesh and blood and alternative machinery to inject different medicines into his restrained body, and one of his fingers that had already been about to fall off during the wrong transmission was removed.
The white eyes turned blue and stared at him intently, trying to grab more painful essence from this rare giant as a condiment to assist mental intoxication and sublimation.
What must be said is that from the reflection of those strange eyes, Perturabo saw that his frowning eyebrows had been relaxed, and the remaining bionic skin on his face pulled out a seemingly unrealistic figure. No smile.
After all, he could even feel how those medicines followed the gaps between the metal structures in his body, were guided by gravity all the way to the bottom of his body, and then followed the several wounds that had been cut in the chaotic transmission. The cracks gradually dripped onto the floor.
In this iron-shaped steel body, there is no pain at all.
He began to think about the problem of escape, missing his powerful original body. He tried contacting his subject, but of course, losing the dialogue system that was actually powered by Morse, the attempt didn't work.
Perturabo began to learn the grammar of this ancient race from the chaotic language of the Eldar in front of him, and judged and identified the achievements of science and technology here in the operation of flesh and blood machinery.
This is a slow and difficult process, a new knowledge that is completely outside of Perturabo's innate knowledge reserve.
He was learning about this strange alien world like an ignorant mortal. In this process of facing the unknown, the strange peace in Perturabo's heart made him suddenly have a deep appreciation for Morse's teachings. gratitude.
The opportunity to escape came earlier than he expected. After a needle penetrated the gap between the steel sternum and completed the puncture, the silent fragment of the Star God was finally touched enough, and an explosive force instantly dismantled reality into a quantum network of virtual clouds, and then It is a tampering with the entanglement laws of tiny particles, and a large-scale explosion of energy in this process.
After a non-existent time gap passed, he rolled off the operating table and witnessed that a large amount of material in the Eldar noble mansion was destroyed by the energy explosion of the Star God fragments.
He tried to figure out the local language system from the books he could find and made plans for future actions.
The remaining records of vicious and terrifying skills here did not touch his soul. In his past conquests, there were always technologies inherited from the ancient dark technological era that were regarded as treasures here. Similar murder tactics.
What shocked him were the many prophecies about the end of the world that were preserved locally, and the hints about the fall of the entire territory in the gorgeous writings. In these records, the birth of an evil god becomes traceable.
Perturabo read what he could learn until he was approached by a servant clad in various leathers, the bones so modified that they were missing and the skin hung loosely around them. He held something valuable in his arms, and his cautious actions contained a disgusting humility and surrender to the strong and the pain.
He reconfirmed his location from the mouth of his servant: After the birth of Thirsty, Comorragh, an important port of the Ancient Eldar Empire, has now fallen into large-scale ownerless chaos, with conflict and fire everywhere. , careerists took the opportunity to fight for a cold place in the decadent society, and this place is a small subsidiary area on the outskirts of Comoros.
In addition, this is the mansion of the Wyatt family. The owner of the house who is dead and no one seems to be resurrected has interacted with a small organization called the Cult of the Awakened among the many existing churches in Commorragh. Good to avoid getting involved in large family-church conflicts.
“Bring it.”
Perturabo got the church treasure he kept from the servant and found that it was a unique handicraft, similar to the precision made by a blacksmith. The weapon uses a simple mechanical structure to fire the built-in chip. Compared with actual combat equipment, the moon shape and long knife logo engraved on the shape prove that it is indeed a work of art.
"This is..." Perturabo hoped he was not mistaken about the beliefs of these Eldar.
He found that the Eldar here seemed to have two different belief systems: one important genre was the worship of the Dark Muse, which was based on the many forerunners who went too far in pleasure and indulgence, and imitated their evil deeds. and cruelty; and the more ancient worship of the Eldar gods was massively despised when the Thirsting Ones were born - because the once pantheon was too weak to protect a race.
"Shaymesh? Veles? Innis? Who does your church believe in?" Perturabo asked.
"No," the servant replied uneasily, "they are not the same."
"Explain this inscription." Perturabo asked the servant to come to him and threw the work to him , continue to peel off those less regular skin. He would rather remove all the bionic skin used to maintain appearance in human society, rather than hanging around with a bunch of troublesome obstacles.
"The moon of Vaal will give birth to dragons." The servant said, glancing at Perturabo's metal body from time to time, with a rising feeling in his eyes that were used to absolute obedience. enthusiasm. His perception of Perturabo seemed to be changing.
Perturabo was silent for a moment. Val, this term only appeared once in a wild history book he found, and was described as "the blacksmith who brings the secret of spiritual bones."
His mind came to the conclusion in high-speed derivation that the Church of the Awakened still rarely has faith in an ancient Eldar craftsman god, and his own steel body now contains an extraordinary energy source. It seemed like...
He didn't want to continue thinking about it.
But if he has to live in this dark and depraved strange city in his current weak and penniless state until he finds the Empire, or Morse finds him, then maybe he will have to use some of the aliens power.
"My lord," the servant called to him, and with each word that came out of his mouth Perturabo learned more about the Eldar language, "I have one more message to report."< br>
"Say." Perturabo nodded.
The servant swallowed a sip of saliva, and his expression added a different kind of excitement and light, "There is talk in the church that some Haemonculi recently seem to have something to do with a strange... tiny organization called the Cabal. Collaboration. It is said that a monster called the Bloody Marquis is flying among the spires for this reason." "Okay." Perturabo kept these new terms in mind. "We can discuss this later. First of all, I want to see the church you are talking about."
——
Morse considered a long walk in the Webway to be a disgrace. It's a stupid experience, especially when the walker has to drag a struggling subspace engine with all his strength, staggering and struggling in the space gap where time is reversed, trying every means not to be dragged away by this inexplicable thing.
I don’t know whether it should be called lucky. After Perturabo separated from him, Tuchucha, who was no longer close to the fragment of the Star God, gradually returned to calmness, and finally fell into its original appearance, that is, a silent star. A huge perfect sphere floating quietly in the subspace.
Morse could not find a way to shrink this ancient racial creation to make it easier to carry. Although this thing made him feel a rare rise in anger, he still did not want to destroy its internal structure.
He used a very crude and simple method, which was to drag Tuchucha forward through the webway.
The roads here are unexplored, or unexplored by humans; some areas are narrow enough to allow only one person to travel, while others are large enough for an entire fleet to enter, and the terrain is so complex that it is almost indescribable. Several times Morse wondered whether he had lost his way here, or whether the webway had changed its structure the moment he turned around.
Following the traces of Perturabo, who he could still sense the unexpected separation, he groped his way through the cobweb-like tunnels as quickly as possible - he could feel that the passage of time was not normal, But without comparison, Morse couldn't tell how much of the passing moment he had missed.
His progress ends with an encounter with a colorful group of weird aliens.
These Eldar are dressed in holographic suits with rainbow-like colors, bright jewelry, colorful sequins, clear-striped spotted patterns and their ethereal and gorgeous leaps together to create an extremely dazzling visual effect. .
The reason he stopped was that these groups of Eldar were jumping off their brightly colored ships one by one and walking straight towards him, as if they had been waiting here for a long time.
The first Eldar to greet him wore a bone-white mask engraved with smile lines and a high ponytail mixed with ribbons. Behind him, a slender Eldar wearing a sky blue hood, his face obscured by a reflective black mirror, followed lightly.
“In the past, our sect chanted silent words, weaved stars, spun threads and embroidered nylon, and ancient mysteries revealed their traces. You were destined to be an outsider...”
"Are you some kind of theater actor, Eldar? You can't speak when you get off the stage? I don't want to waste my time watching a poor performance." Morse interrupted the other party in the gap between words. He used the low Gothic language of the empire, knowing that the other party would understand it.
In a sense, he could feel the Eldar's observations hidden behind the masks, and the sentences that were deliberately arranged to be difficult to interpret were also part of the observations.
"Theatrical actor?" The Eldar headed by them tasted this word and stopped in place. He tilted his head, seeming to be quite interested in this new title. "This may be a road in the future. On the long road leading to the end, our dance will not stop."
He suddenly bent down and stretched out his hands slightly, his movements as precise as time-honored ones. A trained physician, yet smooth and graceful like the fluttering wings of a butterfly or the swirling leaves. Behind the mask, a pair of heavily made-up eyes are quiet and straightforward.
"Please come with us, blank men of nothingness, we are about to leave the road and go to the dark city, to perform our new repertoire for our blood relatives, bringing the echo of the fall and the prelude of the catastrophe, Played in the silent depths of the upper world.”
"Do I know you, Eldar?" Morse asked.
"The demigod vessel you are looking for is in Commorragh, the Void One." The Eldar leader said rhythmically, "And, yes. Following the guidance of the Laughing God who escaped the fall, we have known each other for a long time. "
Morse stood there, and for a moment, he threw out a phrase: "Nukeria's message"
The leader smiled happily and began to walk around him. His companions also followed his leader, some shook hands in pairs, danced briskly, and some were alone, with heavy but quick steps, walking around behind Morse; different actions combined with bold colors of clothing, naturally The ground forms a double-layered round dance.
When they stood still again, the strange airship with silver sails, blue lines and poker marks had opened its hatch in front of Morse.
"Where is this thing?" Morse nodded to Tuqiucha.
"You can tie it to the stern of the ship, Void. You are our honored guest." The leader playfully pointed to the tail of the airship, and led his companions to jump all the way back to the ship.
(End of this chapter)