Chapter 296 Gangrene
“Perturabo, listen to me,” Conrad Coates tapped his fingers on the table, maintaining communication with the mechanical Perturabo, “Think of the changes in the future. Unpredictable, reciprocating facts are unpredictable... Even if the future may have changed, no one can guarantee that the following events will still happen in our world, I still want to tell you this."
"I believe it. You know part of the truth about the Warp," he continued, "and in my prophecy, we are all the Fallen of the High, don't ask, it's the same with Fulgrim. He chose a master to indulge in pleasure and indulge in desires."
Bliss.
Perturabo immediately completed his judgment. He did not interrupt Conrad Coates.
"Stay alert, my brother. Over."
With a mechanical chirp, the communication came to an end. Conrad Coates sat back in his seat, suddenly tired from the prophecy.
The Ancient Spirit Empire has already used countless bloody examples to prove that whether it is compliance or rebellion, as long as the hidden destiny is discovered, prophecies will often turn into disasters. The best prophecy is the prophecy of non-existence.
But he could not remain silent.
Conrad Coates sincerely hopes that he has not personally tested this unfortunate iron law again.
He stepped out of the transport plane door that had arrived at the apron of the Talfus Mountain Tower and walked down the metal steps.
At this time, the ongoing mortal events in Olympia are progressing smoothly. The equestrian competition throughout the whole situation is coming to an end. The grand theater built by Perturabo has hung the curtains and set up the stage, and is ready for the final curtain call. . On the lush green land, all living things are thriving.
But the Eighth Primarch was in no mood to watch any cheering sporting event. He looked to the sky, where the low-Earth orbit ring was, and knew he had done all he could.
The discomfort caused by the occasional hallucination gradually subsided from his chest. Curze coughed lightly and exhaled his last breath.
He prepared to call the signal tower and contact his flagship instead, asking Hexakeris to come to see him.
The dataslate suddenly lit up before he could touch it. He frowned, his expression worsened, and he approved the communication application.
"Father," came the urgent voice of the Astartes warrior, "The Sons of the Muses wish to speak with you. They say that Nefertari, the Scourge Sun-Eater, is cursed."
< br>Koz made his decision in an instant. "You, contact the flagship and order Hexakeris to set off immediately and go to the temporary camp of the Sons of Muses to meet me."
——
"What do you think?" In the unfinished network Deep in the tunnel, Perturabo spoke to Morse.
During the construction of the Webway, the rune system led by Magnus worked well; the Thutmons rune shielded the psychic effects from the outside as much as possible, and similarly, the internal psychic effects associated with the subspace It can react but cannot touch the outside world. Spells are almost the only way to successfully pass through the barrier.
"You heard me, Emperor," Morse said. "Tell me, do you want to continue to shine with your golden light and sit idly by while we mortals are worried and unable to move forward?"
"Perturabo, Angron, Magnu Go away," the Emperor said calmly, his words dripping with precision. "You stay, Eternal One."
Although several Primarchs were surprised, they still resigned obediently. A faintly glowing symbol appeared at the Emperor's feet, including himself and Morse.
"What are you going to do?" Morse was confused.
The Emperor said nothing. His great spiritual energy became as thick as a mist, squeezing the limited space uneasily, like a huge net, tightening uncontrollably.
“I need to try something important.” The Lord of Humanity said, his eyes shining with golden light looking in an extremely distant direction as always, as if they could penetrate time. "This requires your help. If the attempt fails, the matter will never be mentioned again."
"What about success?" Of course, Morse asked.
"Then, we will gain more obstacles." The Emperor said, and the golden mist gathered and dispersed.
The endless spider web-like wall separates the interior of the Webway from the vast ocean, and the projection of the real universe hangs upside down on the other side of the horizon.
Morse recognized one of the planets at first sight - they had successfully excavated to the outside of the planet, and only needed a door that connected the two realms to directly connect to it.
Olympia, the joy and joy that overflowed on this planet stirred up bright and colorful waves in the subspace. At this moment, this wave was stained by a layer of strange colors, and the blasphemous stain was like jade. Surface flaws are annoying.
But before being disgusted, the first thing Morse experienced was a considerable degree of surprise and confusion.
The blessing he exerted on Olympia has been weakened in nearly forty years. At this time, it is indeed not impossible that this planet will once again fall into the covetous prying eyes of some beings.
However, it shouldn’t be it.
"Conrad Curze's prophecy was wrong." The Emperor said slowly, watching the scene outside the webway intently, as if waiting for something.
"St. George slays the dragon." Morse said suddenly. "The play I wrote for you."
"Okay." The emperor nodded slightly, "I understand."
——
Akulduna did not Bringing a suitable fire-breathing weapon showed that Fulgrim did not want to destroy all the achievements of his chief apothecary before being truly angered by the evidence of what Fabius Bayer had done.
But Fabius Bayer proved to have failed the Primarch's expectations and trust.
“We are all from Terra,” Fabius Bayer advised sadly. “We have all experienced that period of gloom. When the Third Legion was infected with the blight, didn’t you have any thoughts? Are you sad, Akulduna? You should understand my decision, I must save our lives from the pain."
Suddenly, his voice was drowned by the roar of the water.
Akulduna has never been an unattainable person, but at this moment, he refused to listen to any word that came out of Fabius Bayer's mouth.
The sword master's blade chopped up every storage tank in use, and then the bolt gun shattered the flesh and blood tissue or twisted creation flowing out of the tank.
The nutrient-rich fluids mingled with each other, forming a shallow, swamp-like puddle, exuding a disgusting oily vapor and rippling stickyly on the outside of the Emperor's Children's intricately carved and decorated purple and gold boots.
On the glass surface of the broken vessel, half of Fabius's own face was reflected. Despair, distortion, a decay that did not fit the face of an Astartes.
This fool who knows swordsmanship should really be grateful that his interest is not in cultivating viruses, Fabius thought angrily, but even this anger seemed powerless in front of the reality he faced.
"Stop, company commander." the pharmacist said, making his final struggle. Fulgrim suddenly broke in while he was conducting experiments, and he had no tools at hand that could be used to resist.
"You don't understand dispensing. Let me get on with your work. You don't understand what mixing these things together might do."
Akulduna didn't even want to pay attention for a moment. He picked up a can on the wooden stand, threw it to the ground and smashed it.
The contents flowing out of it reacted with the materials on the ground in a series of explosive reactions, and then both turned into inactive charred mud.
Well, he was wrong. Fabius' despair piled up like mud, and the hope in his heart gradually disappeared.
Akulduna is not good at dealing with biological sciences, but this warrior is just the type of person who likes to face difficulties head on. He said that only in areas where there is no talent can individuals achieve perfection that is different from the perfection that comes with innateness.
Maybe Akulduna doesn’t know much about biotechnology, but it is enough for a destruction.
It's enough. He has lost enough.
The flowing mucus touched Fabius's knees, sending a cold feeling deep into his skin. He felt dazed and numb, his consciousness was being squeezed by the increasingly intense despair, and reality was leaving him.
Even though he still retains the precious knowledge in his mind, no laboratory door will be open to him again. More than just lab doors.
His life was denied.
The illness that haunted the entire legion many years ago and first appeared in him seemed to have returned to Fabius Bayer's body.
The peeling feeling of life withering deep in his body climbed into his spinal cord and brain along the nerves connected to his servo arm, resulting in a hallucinatory buzz that echoed in his ears, like a buzz. Buzzing flies.
In the midst of mental confusion, these insects that should not exist seem to have taken on physical form. The incandescent lamps in the laboratory turned into dim dusk, and the torn and severed curtains seemed to have long since decayed, with a layer of transparency floating up. The dark light coming out.
The viscosity of the nutrient solution is still rising, approaching the texture of pus.
Fabius slowly turned his head indifferently, a feeling of pulling pushing him to complete this action.
Akulduna, in his vision, the sword master's body was still fresh and beautiful. He had never been bound and troubled by disease, or was chased by death. He devotes his passion to every aspect of the world, full of hope and sincerity.
Like a cruel contrast, the blight left no trace on Akulduna, but took root latently in Fabius Bayer's body, it became a kind of constant decay The concept, as gangrene of the soul, crumbles in silence.
Fabius Bayer was a genius. On the genetic road, his perfection paved the way for him.
But before Fulgrim returned to the Legion and brought the Perfect Manifesto into the Third Legion, before he was summoned by the Gene Father, he had already begun to explore the ultimate secret of biology. This certainly does not stem from a search for perfection.
This comes from the fear of the particularly cruel pole in the cycle of life and death that accompanies the blight.
What he seeks is immortality.
…You seek immortality, Fabius. Your pain will end, the pharmacist who makes soup and medicine...
Peace and warmth, in the vague whispers, Fabius's will is gently supported. He was so immersed in it that he could hardly think.
......We are waiting for you and looking forward to you. Listen, we have collected for you the music that you like very much in your spare time of scientific research. We made strings out of the best rotten gut.
Waiting for me?
…Grandpa sees you, our new friend. We have been watching you for a long time, your attendants who don’t want to be seen by others, the samples you sealed, the colonies you cultured, we have been among them, waiting for a birth...
I know .
…Hello sad, new friend. How sad is your despair, who hurt your heart? Allow us to cheer you up, okay?
No.
......Oh, good friend, it doesn't matter, grandpa still loves you. Your genetic father, he despises you, but your grandfather will not abandon you, just like the endless cycle of life and death.
No.
…Dear friends, there is no more death in our gardens. After that initial break, you will be immortal. Do you want it? We can all give it to you...
Immortality?
The floating will of Fabius wavered in an extremely tiny moment, a ten thousandth of a second, and at this eternal moment, the runes protecting his genes took the initiative as he promised. It loses its effectiveness when abandoned, and the blight breaks out quickly, devouring him from the inside.
Following this, another force came in, filling his hollowed-out shell and supporting his weak skin.
"Akulduna," Fabius said, listening to his voice had become a torture for the person he was speaking to. It was an overly dry, overly dull noise that filled the air like falling ash.
“I made a mistake.” The pharmacist muttered.
Akul Duna turned around, his sword pressed against the slime on the ground.
"Oh, it's too late," the swordsman said, "I can't tell you that it's okay on behalf of anyone."
Fabius felt the swordsman's sharp observational gaze. It fell on his face, seeming to be wary of the change in Fabius.
He did not remain angry, the emotion had left him.
Fabius Bayer smiled. "Let me finish your work, Akulduna."
"I won't trouble you, Fabius." The swordsman refused him, "You'd better wait where you are for Fulgrim. Lord Mu's judgment. However, your face..."
Suddenly, the swordsman lowered his head, and the sword tip instantly rotated in a circle, cutting off something. He stared at his feet, a look of horror in his beautiful eyes.
The remains of the servitor were lying motionless against his boots. The brown-black liquid dripping from the broken neck slid down drop by drop and dissolved into the thick liquid beneath him. Inside.
One of its arms was cut off easily from the wrist by a sharp sword, just as easily as cutting off a ball of cotton that had already rotted. And its palm, even after breaking, still held Akulduna's ankle tightly and refused to let go.
Behind the swordsman, dozens of life-saving capsules were shattered at the same time.
Akulduna had no intention of opening these ancient, decayed, moldy, sealed samples covered with coagulated dirty blood and unknown bacteria without protection, but at this time they were all destroyed by unknown bacteria. Power breaks.
The filthy filth poured out, and the pale skin fragments and curled creatures were like withered bark, splashing out chaotically, inevitably pouring on Akulduna's back.
The swordsman tried in vain to stop some thick juice with two thin swords. The usually sharp sword moves were unable to deal with the rotten water that could not be cut off.
"This is...my first...research on blight." Fabius said slowly, like an aging tape recorder, mechanically playing back the words he had said.
His eyes suddenly widened, and vitality briefly returned to his face, which was lit with anger. Fabius Bayer made his last effort and yelled in pain with a hoarse voice that was completely different from his usual calmness: "No! Get out! I don't need..."
His own The sound suddenly paused. Fabius's rickety body bent over, spitting out a mouthful of brown-black blood, mixed with tangled internal organ fragments. The degree of decay was exactly the same as the blood in the body of his long-tested servant.
Then the pharmacist resumed his tolerant smile. The skin on his face gradually withered and shrank, crumbling and falling like dust from scale wings.
Akulduna couldn't help coughing. He suppressed the sticky feeling in his throat, hearing that every breath he took would bring about a thin and sharp wheezing in his lungs, and he pursed his mouth.
The rotten things on the ground turned into deep swamps, and insects swam in and out of the mire. The door to the laboratory was still open, but it would obviously lead to the depths of another mire where the stench was surging.
He held his breath and looked at the walking corpse standing up from the ground with a shaky head. He gripped the long sword and cut it into two pieces with smooth sword skills. Sorry, Lycaon. he thought.
The walking corpse fell, Akulduna looked around, and saw festering scenes everywhere, and the leaves were whirling like endless moths.
There is no escape in all directions, Fabius Bayer has disappeared.
(End of this chapter)