Chapter 277 Rebroadcast
“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed this, Conrad, you should be able to guess that your blood is not suitable for direct use in the extraction of gene seeds—the Eldar’s. The higher the success rate of transformation, the higher the success rate of human transformation."
"Yes, I have a little understanding of your gene seed technology. The Third Legion, the Emperor's Children, What a friendly name for the Legion...their degenerative gene-seed defects are good specimens. Did I help them? A little bit. I'm not sure Fulgrim knows that, but that's not the point."
"In short, if you want your aspirants to stop dying like an assembly line, remember to study your genetic status, Blood Marquis."
Conrad Coe He clasped his hands into fists, rested his elbows on his raised legs, and put the cold back of his hands against his forehead.
The craftsmen's voices echoed in his ears. When he closed his eyes, these echoes, together with the high-pitched screams floating in the corridor, the creaking of iron chains, and the broken gasps from the dying people's lungs, were reflected in the darkness. It spreads and fills the space, like a thick puff of smoke, lingering until it is cut open and pushed to both sides by a beam of pale light reflected in the room.
The rusty iron door opened with a harsh hiss, and the buzzing of the Space Marine power armor became distinct. Footsteps lingered in the dark corridor one after another.
Conrad Coates made no move, just waited.
Someone took off his helmet, then a second, then a third. Coates remembers where the first sound came from.
"My lord," said the same man. Uneasy, hesitant, yearning. The chemicals secreted from his body speak for him and express these hidden feelings for him.
Conrad Coates still has not responded.
The servo system of the power armor hissed, the armor collided, and the air formed a weak current in the warrior's movements.
"Stand." Curze said softly. "In what capacity do you kneel to me? A guard? A servant? A jester? A prisoner begging for mercy?"
"Your child, father," the Space Marine replied, standing up straight again , stood beside the iron gate.
"Then stand, my child. I do not need my children to kneel before me."
Konrad Curze lowered his hands, exposed his face, and looked down at the first warrior who dared to enter this dark prison.
In this lightless space, the Primarch could still clearly see the silhouette, features and features of the warrior, just like observing a black and white silhouette.
He saw an Eighth Legion soldier with pale skin and an almost deathly demeanor, staring at him quietly, his eyes not daring to blink for a moment.
"Saul Sahar." Konrad Curze thought of his name.
In the broken dream, he had seen him, a member of the Night Bat Council, the First Claw Master, who believed in him and rebelled with him. After he met his destined death, this loyal heir's pursuit of the assassin of Kalidus was regarded as a cowardly betrayal by the other Night Lords...
Saul Sahar, his beloved "Betrayer", was still just a young warrior.
He was so nervous, so immature, surprised and uneasy that his father knew his name, but he also had numerous military exploits, enough to make him one of the first to stand in the Terran Eighth Legion. One of the Astartes before him.
"Yes, father." The soldier saluted him. "I am Saul Sahar. Any instructions?"
"Are you familiar with this place?" Curze asked, his voice calm.
“Yes,” Sahar answered truthfully.
"Why would you feel familiar with the prisons of Terra, Sahar." Curze continued to ask.
His voice was still low and steady, but the content of his words made many soldiers grit their teeth unconsciously, and cold sweat dripped down their spines.
"Because...I grew up here, Father."
"How many people are like you?"
"...Most of us, my lord. We were born in the prisons of Terra, or came here early, until the Recruiter and your blood gave us a second life.”
Conrad Coates was noncommittal.
"Some legions," he said, "are carefully selected from the nobles of Europe and born with glory. Some legions are exchanged from the ancient kingdoms of the Achaemenids as allies of the Covenant. Prove. And my legion, my descendants, you are born with sin... Remember, your second life cannot wash away your sins."
"Father! Hal couldn't help shouting, his face tightened with anxiety, and a sense of shame sprouted from his chest, "We..."
"I am satisfied with you." Kurtz interrupted him, Amid the disbelief on the other's face, he laughed softly, winked, and waved to the warrior.
Thor Sahar walked towards him, remembering the Primarch's previous request and restraining his desire to kneel.
"We also fight for humanity, Father," he emphasized.
"I know, I know..." Coz said, "Who denies this? I just want...you see, this is like this-"
He licked Licking his lips, "No matter where people are born, too many of them are born with sins, or few truly admit this, except for my legion, who are honest, frank, and dare to face the truth."
< br>His words caused a small ripple among the warriors, their armor shook and their breathing increased. For a Space Marine, this reaction was no small one.
Conrad Curze stood up, walked around Saul Sahar, and put his fingers on his shoulders.
In the darkness, he said to his legion: "The reason why I am meeting you in prison today is not because I want to tear open your scars and strip away your honor. No, I can tell you... If I were not a Primarch, I would have done enough to keep me in this cell for a long time to come before I returned to Terra."
"Just one example," he licked again. He pressed his lips, and a sweet smell of blood came out from the unhealed wound. "You can smell it, right? I changed the composition of my blood. It is now more toxic to humans than the withering of the Third Legion." Disease."
"For another example, I brought some... creatures that should not have appeared in Terra as my followers."
In Conrad Coe. Behind him, some surges of light and shadow occurred in the dark shadows, which allowed the soldiers to barely make out the tall, dark outlines of those slender figures.
"We are the same, my children." Coze said, lowering his eyes, "We are all guilty people, but it was just the right time for the expedition that we were lucky enough to have an opportunity to atone for our sins. . And my eighth legion, the Night Ghost Palace, will also be a temporary residence for the guilty to cleanse themselves of their blood sins... The last thing we need here is the innocent righteous people."
"They call me the Bloody Marquis, the King of Sins, the Lord of the Midnight of Death... What about you, little sinners, what do you want to call me?"
Saul Sahar's shoulders are on his The palms of his hands trembled, and Curze took a step back curiously.
“Look up,” he said.
The soldier raised his head, revealing a tearful face.
Conrad Coates "tsk".
"I don't understand," he said, pulling a spare handkerchief from his carry-on bag and tossing it to Saul Sahar before retreating to his seat. "Stop crying."
"...Lord of the Night." Sahar grabbed the handkerchief, squeezed it tightly, and pressed it against his eyes.
"Say it again?" "Long live, Lord of the Night." Saul Sahar grasped the handkerchief, lowered his head, knelt down on one knee, his knee armor hit the wet prison floor, "I will follow I beg you in the name of the redeemer, and I kneel to you in the name of the redeemer.”
Kurze looked at him, waiting, and thinking at the same time.
He realized that this heir was making his own choice in front of him, without instructions or urging, based on his own will.
Kuzz then spoke, making sure every syllable was clear: "I accept."
For the Eighth Legion, this was the best signal they could get. Behind Al-Sahar, more warriors prepared to make the same decision.
Koz raised a hand, "No," he said, "The space in the prison is small, I already understand your thoughts."
He squatted down silently, looking at him of warriors.
Then, he moved his left leg back, and the spiked combat boots made a dent on the ground until his knee touched the ground.
“May our sins be washed away at the end of the expedition, or may we die on the journey to cleanse our sins.” Conrad Coates stretched out a finger and pressed Pushing Sol Sahar's shoulders back, allowing the warrior to stand again. "Until the evil is terminated, we will fight forever."
"For innocence, for justice."
The Blood Marquis swore softly.
“For innocence, for justice.”
The whispers of his warriors formed a midnight wind, cold and long, passing through the dark prison.
"Okay, I'm very satisfied. I hope you feel the same way."
"We have nothing else to ask for." His court replied.
Koz stood up again, returned to his seat, and waved back.
A woman with bloody hands wearing a dark hood handed him a blank notebook and a pen.
"The company commanders of each company, report to me the status of the legion. We will complete the handover as soon as possible, and then the Lord of the Fourth Legion will invite us to his home planet Olympia. I believe you have heard about the discipline and strength of the Iron Warriors..."
Koz said, something suddenly occurred to him, and he tapped the tip of his pen on the notebook, "I don't think one of us could summon a warrior named Sigismund?"
"You mean the Templar Marshal of the Seventh Legion, father?" Thor Sahar asked, his tone calmer, but the emotion still surging in his heart.
Koz shrugged, "Well, it seems that the genetic surgery still pushed him to Rogal Dorn. I don't understand why the prophecy has to come true in these things, but I don't actually Think he would be better off here."
He paused and hissed: "This is the prison of sin, children, and I want to show you... the other one who also follows me. Atoning for the soul."
A lamp is lit, and darkness escapes from the light. Slender, masked figures are illuminated by the light.
"When you see them on the battlefield later," Curze said, "remember not to fire on this group... unless they have a tendency to betray. As for the name, just call them the Sons of the Muses."< br>
——
"Sorry, I'm a little noisy here. I want to confirm again. Are you saying that your father is also going to watch your sports meeting?"
Holu Si said loudly, over the roar of gunfire in the background.
The pearl-white battle armor of the Lord of the Shadow Moon Wolf and the thick imitation wolf skin on his shoulders seemed to be eclipsed by the light and shadow.
"Yes, Horus." Perturabo replied, "Morse and I will return to Olympia first to make preparations and agree on which period of history to use as the prototype of the drama. Within a month, The other Primarchs will come in turn, and finally, when we are ready, the Emperor will come to Olympia."
"And I," something chirped on the table, "and I too. Come with Perturabo."
"Is Magnus here?" Horus asked, his voice changing. He cleared his throat and deliberately adjusted the signal communication array. After that, his voice returned to normal. "Which of our brothers are going to go?"
"Of course I am," Magnus said dissatisfied, "otherwise, who will maintain the long-distance psychic communication beacon for you?"
"I didn't know you had such a small form, Magnus."
"This is my first work," Magnus said, letting Perturabo lift him up. In order to appear in the camera, waving his arms to Horus, "At that time, I could only create and use temporary shapes of this size. I did not rush to destroy my first work, considering that it still has some archives. And research value, so you can still see him, uh, me."
"Okay, I understand..." Horus said, closing the window to make the sound of outside gunfire smaller. "I...can't get away, brothers."
"You have a heavy responsibility, brother. This is a symbol of the Emperor's trust and respect for you. And among the others, only Fogg Reim, Ferrus Manus, Vulkan, Angron, Konrad Curze, and Rogal Dorn are free."
"They are all free." Horus said blankly.
"Several people have just returned from the battle, and some people decided to entrust the task to trusted heirs, so that we can just make up this hard-won time." Perturabo said, adding a word of comfort: "If the event goes well, , I will definitely discuss with you some free time and invite you to visit Olympia. My planet will surprise you."
"Sejanus...forget it. Ruth's hand just reached for the data tablet, then shook his head and put it down.
"The war is at a critical moment right now. I cannot selfishly leave the battlefield for my own personal reasons and betray my father's expectations and trust. Magnus, can you do one thing for me?"
< br>"Okay," Magnus said, "What is it?"
"Broadcast some scenes for me." Horus sighed, "If I can find time after the battle , you can also take part in this event.”
He thought for a moment and then said: "If you can... maybe you can also transfer a section for Robert, Lorgar, Riemann and Duncan? I think they will be a little curious about the activities you hold no matter what."
< br>"Robert would be fine if he was in Macragge recently. His Pharos Lighthouse is bright enough, within a certain radius, even comparable to the Star Torch, and that guy... forget it, I'm familiar with Macragge." The coordinates of the grid." Magnus closed his eyes and felt the light and undercurrent in the supreme sky. "The remaining brothers, I really can't confirm their coordinates."
"That guy?" Horus repeated, smiling, "It's rare for you to be so excited, great scholar."
"I'm about to carve instructions on how to use psionic energy into his brain!" Magnus stamped his foot vigorously in Perturabo's gauntlet. "I have decided that unless he can learn If you take the initiative to send me a psychic beacon, I will never relay it to him..."
"What's wrong?" Horus asked.
Perturabo turned the camera to reflect the scene outside the porthole into the transmission signal of the communication array.
"Olympia has arrived." The Lord of Iron said, exhaling gently, relaxing his body in the steel armor, looking at his Olympia without looking away.
(End of this chapter)