Chapter 251 Good News Before Bedtime
"If you are satisfied with this, human craftsmen," the troupe leader said, without using the unnecessary scorn, "take away the fragments of this sharp blade, which we Another gift for you; the best forging materials, taken from the cooled embers of the stars. The human empire is not that good at playing with the stars, is it? "
"I assume you don't act like it. That's crazy, Avatar. I assume you don't really think that there is any essence worth using in this material that is deeply corroded by subspace."
"You can't belittle Dawn like that. Naris, Val spent a lot of energy to cast it. The fallen breath of the divine sword comes from Val himself who fell into the abyss, not how the material was affected..."
"Take it away and something will happen. What." Perturabo interrupted the two people's nonsense, and the fragments of the divine sword floated in front of his eyes, projecting a bright white light into his eyes. "How will your Val-Vastor react when you fall into Chaos?"
"The Eldar are still afraid of the direct mention of this term," the troupe leader played with his golden buttons, "but you are not even willing to be surprised by our secret. Oh my... Primarch, I really saw it. Destiny draws circles in that colorful whirlpool, taking us one by one into the depths of the spiraling story - no, don't grab my neck, this makes me a little breathless, haha, Vastoll There will be no reaction, friends! He is so weak!”
The troupe leader who was picked up flipped over dexterously as he fell back to the ground, and finally landed on all fours.
He covered his throat and got up with a giggle: "Even Keshamenra was torn into a thousand and a thousand drops of blood by the fight between the Lord of Blood and the Prince of Darkness. How can poor Val be spared? ? It's so vulnerable that guarding that funny little forge is hard enough. How can you care about every dangerous person who touches the relics of its lifetime? If he can think of anything particularly unique, Vastor will not move his limited gaze above your heads!"
"Where is the Tuchucha engine?" Morse asked suddenly.
"That's enough...the Horn of Honor, that's very enough. When Broken Sword smells the smell of that engine, the demon of the forge has to move his cloudy eyes to Cordoris," Harlequin He replied gently, and the dazzling luminous stones on his body jingled as he waved his hand, "But how did you think of it? Which of my sentences revealed this truth? Ah, I really don't know... ”
Perturabo’s next bombardment accidentally hit a layer of remaining camouflage illusion.
The followers of the Laughing God flashed to the other end of the forge in the blink of an eye, shouting across the dull roar of the furnace: "O Primarch! Where did I anger your noble steel body?"
“When did you start planning all this!” Perturabo suppressed the surging thoughts in his chest, tried his best to restrain the sudden boiling anger, and showed it through continuous shelling, “Nukeria ? Macragg? Omegon's early return? "When did this scam begin?"
The seemingly unrelated events are connected with each other, and the coincidences of fate are driven by each other. The destiny of the world is moving forward.
Whenever he thought that the twenty years taken away by Tuchucha's engine, and all the possible negative impacts that might follow, might not be an accident, the anger in Perturabo's heart ushered in a new round of expansion.
For his mechanical body, his disappearance is of no consequence.
But the loss of the Star God fragments stored in his body, the shelving of the Iron Ring team, the suspension of the Olympia Space Fortress based on high-power energy design, and even Morse's departure from the empire, and even Konrad Curze Falling into Commorragh, going back to the unrest caused by the ghost Omegon in Macragge, and even the initial Eldar attack on Nuceria... all of this, it seems now, may be related to this group of crazy people. Related to the doomsday sect Pied Eldar.
When the fleeting images of these events flashed through his memory module, Perturabo became more and more excited.
Over so many years and such a long time, he has already learned to control his mind in order to have a clearer observation and stronger control of the world.
But what if the many misfortunes he and his brothers had experienced were closely related to these damn prophets... He restrained the pain that echoed in his heart, and could hardly think of what to do to suppress this ignited desire. Cold and bright rage.
In the corner of his eye, a layer of iconic golden rune shield has added a layer of protection to the fragment of Anaris of Dawn.
Morse's acquiescence completely eliminated Perturabo's last concern.
As the decision was established, the energy within the body of steel began to surge like a tide. The green energy was precisely regulated and converted in the translation nodes inside his body, and the star-like power that had gone through countless generations was released here. All the hidden gunfire channels on his body were opened, weaving these disordered energy into a powerful symphony of guns and guns. The sound of gunfire echoed in the hall, shaking many corners.
The Pied Eldar shuttled between the smoke of gunpowder and the beams of lasers, avoiding the fire that burned their clothes, desperately looking for a glimmer of hope. In this life-and-death moment, his body showed ultimate dexterity and agility. The excuses uttered by the face covered by the mask were like vague whispers sunk in the endless abyss, swallowed up by the long distance, chaotic environment and the shooter's anger, and could not reach Perturabo's ears. middle.
The troupe leader wanted to escape from the melee, but the closed hall built around the forge was a huge cage from which he could not escape. The bone-white mask on his face revealed a clear image of crying during a brief pause. He suddenly disappeared over and over again, moving quickly, as if he had been blessed by the Laughing God, bursting out with incredible potential.
And when the entire grotto began to tremble in Perturabo's rage, witnessing the full expression of the Primarch's anger, but the huge mechanical man still had no intention of ceasefire, the Primarch disappeared. The terms of the transaction contained in the anger became cold and stark.
Either he will be shot here, or Perturabo will completely destroy the remains of the Temple of Vaal, and even turn fire on the Harlequin airship in the sky, undoing all their achievements so far.
He immediately stopped his next dodge. In the blink of an eye, the laser accurately penetrated his abdomen, burning his spine from front to back.
The troupe leader fell heavily, supported the ground with one hand, and knelt in his hot blood, in exchange for the iron giant's cannon fire quelling.
Behind him, the metal wall remained exactly at the previous level of damage that was about to completely collapse. It was not far away from collapse.
"Now we can talk." Perturabo said, his tone no longer containing any trace of irrationality.
"Believe it or not believe it..." the troupe director coughed, turning the pain into a harmless smile, "We just follow the footsteps of fate until someone places us on the chessboard... Don't Overestimating our power, demigods created by the emperor of mankind, do not transfer the bitterness in your heart to the surface of the facts, demigods, we dare not design a path, and we have no intention of forcing you to do anything..."
His free hand tapped his mask: "The changing threads of fate in the galaxy have brought you and Tuchucha here, and we, the little pawns in the universe, only do it when necessary. Provide a little help that the Emperor of Mankind needs. What if..."
The Eldar wiped the blood that spilled from under the mask.
"If you don't bring this fragment to the surface, Vastor will not be aware of Tuchucha's existence in the barrier of the ruins of the temple; if you want to see the corrupted Craftsman God, then, in After its will is triggered, it will have about three days to allow you to lay a trap."
"You sound more confident about capturing a demigod than we are, Avatar." Morse. Said, squatting in front of the troupe leader, beside the crumbling followers of the Laughing God, to achieve a level-headed perspective.
"Is this the gospel of the Laughing God that the troupe obtained? About how to lure the fallen god of the Eldar to the humans who are enemies of him?"
"A long time ago, I made another joke." The troupe director laughed loudly and threw his injured body to the ground. "I said to an old friend, look, old madman, I will challenge you. Now, you might be able to eat your companions and rob them of their power! He smiled and said, "Don't lie to me. Do you think I'm a fool? I might as well eat you to fill my appetite." ! ”
"Then, he took a bite from the left and a bite from the right, making his own kind look like me, and swallowed them all in his stomach. The fragments were tossing in his skin, making his head hurt. In the end, the old madman discovered the truth and tortured himself crazy, so he ran away!"
His laughter stopped suddenly: "This is a malicious plan, humans. How sincere I am to the Emperor of Mankind! What about you, dear friends, what will you do with my gifts and thoughts?"
Petura looked at the divine sword. The fragment, assessing its value, and the rewards that a weak craftsman god could obtain for the human empire.
After many years, he was still deeply impressed by the memory of facing one of the dark gods in Olympia; and the comparison of Vastor's current power undoubtedly revealed a clear and absurd gap.
Perhaps he was injured by Chaos when the Eldar fell, or perhaps the damage caused to him by Bloodhand Kane has never healed. The fallen Vaal is still not worthy of the title of god; as for whether there will be a turning point in the future, All are unknown.
In a sense, what the followers of the Laughing God handed them was indeed a rare gift.
"I will not fight a Chaos Demigod." Perturabo said, walking around the muffled ancient Eldar forge and walking to Mors. "Do me a favor, Morse."
"Okay." Morse said, "What is it?"
"Return to Commorragh alone and bring Vastor's The being told Konrad Curze that he was my brother and that he would see this as an opportunity for you to travel independently through the webway."
The Iron Giant raised his head as if through the thick. layer of soil, and saw the dark city on the other side of the Webway in the distance.
"I'm waiting here. In three days, I will return to the surface with the fragments of Dawn's Anaris. At that time, I hope that the Harlequin airship can send Tuchucha and me back to Comoros, hanging in the sky above the black sun, waiting ..."
"The fallen remnants of false gods come to boldly offend the real demigods?" Morse said.
"The Chaos Demigod has come to boldly offend the descendants of the Lord of Mankind." Perturabo corrected his wording, then looked down at the troupe leader lying on his back, "This is my request."
Furthermore, he was not prepared to add any additional discussion about what to do with Vastor, or indeed all of Commorragh, with anyone other than his own brothers and Morse.
"Of course, of course," Avatar said, "Can you take me with you when you return to the surface, dear friend? You see I have some mobility difficulties now..."
"That's enough," Morse interrupted, "stop with your pretense, Avatar."
——
"Morse said: This is "The whereabouts of the God of Artisans."
Conrad Coates closed his eyes, leaned quietly on his cold seat covered with several layers of leather cushions, and spoke in Nostramo's unique accent. He muttered broken words to himself.
“The craftsmen can’t help but wonder why people still haven’t seen the Eldar fallen into Chaos... Or maybe this is just a matter of luck and probability.”
"A carnival on the gambling table, a golden cup made of flesh and blood, was delivered to my blood-stained hands by my brother, the giant of machinery and the master of craftsmanship. My bleeding fingertips were burned and injured by tolerance. The painful heart trembles in front of the unknown opportunity, affecting my exhausted bones and blood."
"Drink, I seem to hear Xu Xu's whisper, drink your pride, and be shocked by his understanding of you. , your astonishingly dirty soul, in this way, received the blessing-like forgiveness from the gift of blood relatives, and the best message before sleeping, the artificiality in your heart was easily seen through, even if he was far away from you. Wanli..."
A burst of cheers from the crowd woke him up. He opened his eyes tiredly, his dark eyes fixed on the joyful and noisy Eldar clan, watching as another novel piece of goods was wiped by the slaves' hands, and the wooden box was carried into the vast land that once belonged to the Church of the Sun. Within the hall.
While his remains servant, Lilia Ander, silently used her scarlet-gloved hands, instructing the visitor to deliver the gifts into the shadows hidden by the leather curtains, and the rest of the gifts were presented hastily. Stacked in one place.
These Eldar, who respect strength from the depths of their souls and crave power, seem to have regarded his royal court as one of the most important forces in Commorragh. Hints of surrender flowed in, gifts and agreements piled up.
Conrad Coates accepted the offer without hesitation. He is willing to increase the lively atmosphere within Youdu and let the Eldar themselves speculate on his true thoughts and ultimate goals.
Whether the Eldar regard him as a foolish upstart who once gained power, or as a hidden overlord who is overthinking, all of this will be finalized when the Emperor comes here, and the sins will be completely punished. Cleansing; but before that, he must first hold Comorragh in the palm of his hand.
He doesn’t have enough time. The experience of more than ten years is almost not worth mentioning in the Eldar society that often counts thousands of years. But... Perturabo gave him a gift that was exactly in line with his plan.
Conrad Coates put his hand on his chest, feeling the beating of his heart.
For a moment, he looked towards the entrance of the hall, waiting for a familiar figure to approach him.
(End of this chapter)