Chapter 469 Return to Reality
Constantin Waldo withdrew the Sun Spear, and a drop of blood fell from the tip of the spear, dripping into the shallow pool accumulated between the rock walls deep in the cave, and was mixed with the blood that was already flying. The dust and the murky water in the mud merged and became invisible.
His spear was hung smoothly and naturally by his side, the tip of the spear still pointing faintly at the dead man on the ground.
Or dying, the commander of the Imperial Army thought. The reason why he has not yet laid down his arms is because of this hidden possibility.
Wrong details will lead to death. An immortal can die countless times until her strength and soul collapse in the torture of life and death, but Waldo does not know if he has such an opportunity.
He waited, waiting in the silence, for any slight echo in response to his defenses, or the bone-scratching whisper of a breeze that shouldn't be there as it blew through the armor. Just one ripple is enough to break the solid air in the cave.
No. Nothing.
He plunged the spear into Erda's abdominal cavity, pressed it against the spine, and fixed the possibly dead Eternal to the ground, and continued to listen.
There are no more new fragments of memories, and the Sun Spear stops revealing the truth from flesh and soul to him, just like what he pierces is just a bag of thick soil.
Has the power that brought her back from the dead stopped flowing back? Or does this resurrection take too long?
Constantin Waldo could not tell. He adjusted his stance, letting the armor support his body, half resting and half alert in the golden armor, waiting for his body that had been trained and transformed for a long time to bring him back to the peak of his condition.
Unexpected by his calculations, when the protracted close battle ended, his mind and body were not tired - there was a time when he realized that his His physical strength has reached a certain limit, and is about to exceed the peak that he was originally designed to possess; however, when he really takes the last step on the limitless boundary and throws an extra blow, he knows that something, something is being What was sealed by the shackles and the curtain was pouring out of him.
From that moment on, his fighting became more and more impeccable. Humanity's thousands of years of martial arts were condensed in his every move, and the waves of attacks connected with each other and eventually converged into a huge tsunami-like wave that swept away Erda was killed on the ground.
He lowered his head and stared at Erda's limp body and the final blow that cut her throat. She looked desperate as she was dying, not for herself, but for what she felt.
What they feel.
"His wrath," Erda said, her voice filled with fear and blood, "His hatred - you feel it too, Commander, and He is still here -"
He did not listen to her Without finishing her words, she sent a spear, ending the time she had in the real universe.
What Erda said before she died was accurate, Constantine thought. That tremor comes from the other side of the world.
The first is a subversive tremor, like the earth's crust rising and falling with the waves on some kind of floating object, everything is in danger. There is a brief lull. Then, darkness and fear became overwhelming, and even a moment full of hatred and curse was enough to dig an eternal hole of fear in the hearts of ordinary mortals who were frightened.
Just like the possibility that the Emperor told him before he left.
The Emperor left.
Temporarily. permanent. Never see you again. It will never be returned.
His master has left. He stayed.
Constantine put this group of words in his mouth and tasted it gently and repeatedly. A sharp sourness climbed up the edge of his tongue and became vague in his heart.
The commander of the Forbidden Army will take a short rest, and then he will take Erda's body back closer to the entrance of the cave. He would wait for his next visitor and the end of his duties.
——
“The energy flow has changed,” Morse said with a lot of surprise, although this surprise did not detract from his dignity.
"Positive or negative?" asked the Iron Lord, focusing on the huge pit that appeared in the center of his planet.
The former earth's crust and the metal structure covering the earth's crust have melted and turned into some kind of translucent glass material with an ink-like color. There are many crimson threads running through it, winding like hair. Bright red like blood beads.
Not long ago, a large-scale explosion suddenly occurred at the Webway Gate deep in the earth. The strong energy aftermath directly opened up a large area of the continental plate. If Morse hadn't shown an unexpected reaction to this, With such an appearance, it was impossible for Perturabo's heart to remain within a relatively reasonable range.
Morse told him that Magnus made a bold and correct decision. At that point the craftsman looked only slightly disappointed.
He told Perturabo the last part of the Emperor's plan, including the Realm of Silence, the original name of the circle before the Thutmons Rune was born, and all the nodes. How will be destroyed, how will the Lord of Darkness be imprisoned back into his cage.
A game with time. Morse said it was a bet whether the Dark King would absorb enough destruction and descend first, or whether it would be locked into a cage by the death of the Primarch directly related to it in blood.
Yes, the connection between blood and blood in occult concepts, as well as a unique skill that was incorporated into the body of the Primarch at the point of creation, undeniably made the Primarch the only one. choose. The opening of the Webway was also a last resort. If Magnus had not made this choice, Morse would have done it.
But as the process of exploring and confirming the current status of the Webway gradually progressed, the surprise on Morse's face made Perturabo's heart lift.
What happened? He asked in a deep voice, his voice dry. Tell me, what's wrong?
I am looking for Magnus. According to time calculation, he should not have time to leave the webway. But I can't reach him. There is no echo from him, and his psychic traces... thousands, or tens of thousands, of contact points are everywhere, and the pattern of each trace point is different... This is not the only way to destroy the node, Perturabo.
What does this mean? tell me! Perturabo asked, hearing absurd rage burning in his own voice. The long-lost anxiety surged in his heart, knocking on his nerves over and over again.
Morse devoted himself to the investigation, and the anger waited in the Iron Lord's heart, gradually turning into an ember-like depression and an indelible confusion.
I can't find him, said Morse, looking directly at him. The slight hint of confusion hidden behind the mask-like calmness on the craftsman's face directly penetrated Perturabo. The craftsman paused. He was one of my best students, even though I only taught him a few runes. This means that he may be able to do more than any of us imagined - more than the Emperor could ever hope to demand from him. For example... changes in energy flow.
"It's hard to judge the effectiveness yet," Morse mused. "The energy tide is no longer moving towards the Throne of Terra, but is pointing to...a place I don't know. I'm not sure where he chose the site. method, but I can assume - you know him, Perturabo, I can assume that if he decides to remove the source of the Dark Lord's power and throw it into another unknown... I will use the black hole analogy for now, then he must. There is a process of direct confrontation with the Tyrant Star..."
"He did not survive the invisible battle," Perturabo said, his mind was burning, and every tongue of fire rose upward. , biting at the edge of his sanity. The black pit in front of him spiraled into a spiral between his eyes, and every crimson thread reminded him of blood.
"Judging from the results, he succeeded-"
The second half of Morse's words fell into silence, and Perturabo saw his own reflection in his eyes, A sullen shadow, still reeling from the murder of one of his brothers, until he receives a second tragic news on the same day. He saw that his eyes were like a sky in flames, and this dark cloudy sky was only supported by falling lightning pillars.
"He sees further than we do," Perturabo answered, as the molten iron poured out of the forge, coursed through his veins, and steamed his inner being. He smelled the blood of iron.
Morse looked at him. Perturabo could guess that this craftsman had experienced life and death thousands of times. If a person lives for thirty thousand years, then this is a challenge that must be passed.
The Primarch also lived for two centuries, which was more than all the birth, old age, sickness and death that a mortal would have in his lifetime.
But he still felt...
Something was over forever. It came out of the blue, as if it had been expected.
Like a fire, it suddenly went out when he turned his head. The world suddenly lost its color.
He stood up and felt his soul penetrating the body he had thrown on the ground and entering a new standing body. His vision was blurry, and after a blink, his vision returned to clarity.
"Let's go!" he shouted angrily, clenching his hands into trembling fists, "Didn't you say we were going to Moro! We still have things to do - ha, let the Iron Blood come over, damn it! "
Damn, his shouts echoed in his heart again and again, damn, he thought, damn, damn! Damn it!
——
Kaidomo Frix squinted his eyes to deal with the bright sunlight.
When he set foot on the land of the real universe, he felt a long-lost dizziness - just like a sailor breaking away from a seemingly endless voyage and stepping onto the land with trembling legs. He felt that the world was spinning. For a moment, I missed the peace and tranquility on the ship.
He resisted the desire to find a wall for support, because they were located in the endless flat countryside of Tizca, and if he decided to rely on external objects to support himself, then he would have to lie on the ground.
Or find another Iron Warrior to support you in pairs. No, this is not what a warsmith is supposed to do.
He calmly watched tens of thousands of warriors line up, counting their numbers, wishing with hope that everyone who was alive before the darkness fell would survive successfully, while trying to communicate with Prospero. Tower...comm room...whatever to get in touch.
Thanks to Magnus, they returned to the light along the way from the darkness and terror that suddenly enveloped the Webway, although no one knew what that terrible darkness was and why their steel hearts could not offset the long terror it brought. But the Crimson King undoubtedly saved all of their lives once again. Just like countless cases in previous construction.
Now there is a problem here, that is, they have been isolated from the world for too long, and their contact with the outside world is limited to the Imperial Palace Guards, the Glory Queen of the Iron Warriors, and the Space Fortress.
They tried their best to keep up with the updates of various technologies in the Great Crusade, kept up with the adjusted sound array channels and communication secrets, accepted the new messenger angels, the new mortal auxiliaries who identified each legion, and got used to being near the sand table Changes in the settings of the projection screen, as well as changes in the relationship between the regiments that seemed to them like smoke and mirrors; however, the moment Frix actually returned to reality, he knew that these preparations were still not sufficient. It’s never enough.
They have not fallen behind the times, but they are indeed out of the forefront of the world.
"Tizca responded," said Bill Perrin, their temporary messenger, his gentle voice adding confusion, "Prospero always welcomes the visit of the Iron Warriors, but they want to know about us From which camp, and when did we arrive in Prospero to confirm our identity. What happened outside recently?"
If the war blacksmith Perandu spoke frankly about the other party's nervousness, it meant that the air in today's environment could be ignited by just rubbing steel against a flint.
Fricks did not answer his question directly. Their understanding of the outside world was limited to the Nicaea meeting and the unexpected return letter that came earlier than the response.
"I give you thirty minutes to line up and adapt to the environment here." Fricks ordered to his group of warriors. Their numbering method is not in the Iron Warriors' regular camp sequence, but in a new set, numbered by some ancient but still commonly used Terran runes. Putting aside the letters Alpha and Omega... "Eta Camp, move quickly."
"I hope they will know our number..." Perrin sighed slightly.
"After all, we didn't get here through regular means," Frix turned his head. "It seems that the existence of the Webway has not yet been made public in the galaxy, and they are rightly confused. Maybe we should ask for permission. Did they help contact Jagged Number?”
"Cheorwon," Perlan reminded, then shook his head slightly, "The Tizka people also said that the recent subspace storm has blocked large areas of shipping routes and normal communications, so they are confused about our sudden appearance...new news."
He listened for a few seconds and relayed: "Out of trust and permanent friendship with the Iron Warriors, they still agreed to let us find a place to live first: many empty residential areas have been built on the outskirts of Tizca. The population growth cannot keep up with the number of houses. Even if everyone is given a house, they will not be able to use up the existing houses.”
“Sounds amazing,” Fricks commented. Looking towards the white city in the distance under the blazing sun.
Bright brilliance dotted the geometric edges of the city, and the glimmering light of the force field shield shrouded the main city of Tizca in a dream-like transparent semi-arc. A beautiful place independent of the imperial style, an ideal capital that is not available in this world, and a city of light.
"It seems so." He added.
(End of this chapter)