Chapter 502 Direction
"What witchcraft is still interfering with us? Test it again, are you sure?"
Fafnir Lane asked the star again for his original body The work situation of the Whisperer was until Roger Dorn raised his hand to stop the commander of the First Assault Force from questioning.
"Medusa was watched by that eye, so it was disturbed." Roger Dorn said briefly, "There is no need to reconfirm the transmission problem of ground astrology. Let Sigismund and Jonad Lead the team to the ground, you follow, and go directly to the Iron Hand Fortress positioning point."
Lan turned around and leaned slightly towards the tall original body. A pair of heavy axes were stacked on his back. This is him. customary weapon.
"So, how do we maintain contact with the Phalanx, relying on electricity-"
"Unless you hear the words transmitted through the air with your own ears, do not trust any contact maintained through machinery. Medusa's machinery does not It is not safe, and you should know this. Assist the Iron Hands in fighting and remain vigilant about their situation; maintain a position in which you can return home; I want to hear the information you receive firsthand."
< br>Lan swallowed more questions. The interruption of the chain of command caused by the loss of communication would not hinder the speed of swinging his weapon. He easily put all unnecessary doubts behind him.
"Yes, my lord." He accepted the order and prepared to head to the surface of the Iron Hands' home planet with the troops left in the fleet by the Emperor's Children.
There was no more time for him to hesitate. The ground on Medusa was in turmoil. According to the Emperor's Children, an endless wave of witchcraft was invading the surface of the planet. Lann had no idea about these complex matters. He sneered at the turbulent and changeable things. Excessive understanding was not necessary to kill them. What he needed to confirm more was his own combat deployment and personnel arrangements under the premise of doubtful contact reliability.
And under what circumstances they can win.
When they kill enough of their enemies, creatures born of sorcery? When the filth in the Iron Hands Fortress is purged? Or some other premise?
When he actually fought the opponent soon after, he no longer thought about the way to win.
The situation was slightly different from what the Emperor's Children described, except that after a while, more members of the Iron Hands themselves began to fight against them. These warriors are being infiltrated by witchcraft faster and faster, and their aimless resistance seems to be melting at a faster pace, as if the source of their souls has been tainted by some kind of cruelty, causing their own will to be easily deflected, and This phenomenon occurs in droves.
No matter what, Lann is almost certain that they are transforming into another kind of monsters and beasts. Lann endures the terrible noise made by the friction of these armors with disgust. There is an absurd and twisted rhythm in it. In addition, their armor gained a truly life-like flexibility, with extra limbs extending outward from the deformed steel, and the expanded skin itself further filling the strangely shaped armor. Their steel and flesh grew together.
Even if the Imperial Fists and the Iron Hands were not as close as one another, Lann was not willing to see his cousin turn into such an evil appearance - it would only remind him of some of the things he had encountered during the Great Crusade. Witchcraft and technological heresy, when these two phenomena come together, are the Iron Hands he sees at this time.
"Defend on the right wing!" Lann yelled, his voice oscillating on the battlefield through the amplification of the grid. The sound of heavy bombs immediately exploded on one side of the battlefield, forcibly shattering the North Korean target in the faint darkness. They were charging Space Marines. The fire flickered everywhere, and a high-altitude catwalk collapsed due to the decay of the supports below, causing half of the obsidian room to collapse. A deafening light and a series of explosions suddenly appeared from behind, and the air wave lifted Lann away.
He fixed his position and pulled his ax from the body of another passing daemon. A cabin storing ammunition and ammunition exploded. He moved with the fire on his back and found the Emperor's Son wielding the power sword. The silver light brought by the force field approached in the corresponding direction in the chaotic battle.
More than one person did this as he did, they pierced and stabbed through the darkness like sharp knives, trying in groups to defeat those mutated metal fragments. Unorganized ceramic steel and fine gold were flying in the darkness around them. Melta and explosive bombs each responded to different materials. Every time they waved their weapons, they could find a defeated target. After a certain metal scream, they The data in the helmet became chaotic, and a large number of meaningless codes were twisted like a dance. Lann began to use his naked eyesight to catch the clues from the air to meet the enemy...
Somewhere under his feet came loose. Under the clod of soil, something seems to be breaking, disintegrating into indescribable unreal products... and the air is heating up rapidly, and the steel in the entire indoor area seems to be transforming towards some kind of melting state, and gradually blooming purple-red gloss.
Lan squinted his eyes through the damaged gap in the building and was surprised to find that the world outside the window had become brighter. The shape of the clouds was gradually recognizable, but their color was quite strange... Light-colored steam was rising, shimmering with pearlescent light. Colors, floating and chasing in the soft wind. And laughter, the laughter that gradually rose, lingered in his ears, and the sound itself seemed to be dripping with clear engine oil and the sweet smell of scented candles...
The world itself is moving forward. There must be some underlying reason for the collapse.
Suddenly, he was forced to raise his hand to block a stabbing power sword. The long sword was wrapped with some kind of strange halo and easily cut through his arm armor. Lan turned sideways and The shoulder armor withstood the sword light. At this moment, he did not have any fear that the Emperor's Son would actually attack him. He slashed the opponent's arm with the battle ax smoothly, and when a cluster of proliferated flesh and blood spurted out against the axe, , he heard a whisper deep in the other person's throat, a happy laughter, accompanied by some kind of enthusiasm that broke free from restraint.
The cold weapons collided suddenly, a series of brutal and ferocious slashes and counterattacks staggered back and forth. Along with the peeling armor paint and blood dripping along the cracks, Lann pulled out his battle ax, and the Emperor The son fell behind after breaking away from the support of the battle ax. The strange vitality dissipated like smoke in a short period of time, leaving only a residual fragrance.
He had no time to breathe, nor to ponder how this corruption had spread to the Emperor's Children. His ax was simply aimed at more foes, until a command of the Imperial Fists shattered his immersion in the battle.
A new order came from the rear: "Return to the Phalanx!" Of course, there was also a call from within the Emperor's Children themselves, calling for warriors who could still understand human speech to return to the Emperor's Pride.
Lan knew exactly how to participate in an orderly retreat, and that was to fight all the way back.
——
"That is a rift in the subspace. The radiation there is too strong, and the scars left by the real universe there are unparalleled."
Empire Fist's The Librarian reported to his Primarch, his voice shaking with the effects of weakness and overexposure. His own mind had just withdrawn from the focus of the warp, and for a man who had just looked directly at the scars of the warp, the state of his resolute soul could be described as very stable.
"We cannot simply disperse what is behind the veil," he concluded.
Rogal Dorn was watching him, looking directly into his eyes, examining the clarity of his thinking. At the same time that the two companies were conducting reconnaissance operations on the surface of Medusa, Rogal Dorn came to their meditation chamber, and they followed the primarch's orders to explore non-material means to solve the difficulties at hand.
The answer they got was not optimistic.
These monsters of the Immaterium are as closely tied to the rift in the Warp as the souls of the entire Iron Hands Legion have never been more closely intertwined with Ferrus Manus himself. Through the spirit of resonance, they confirmed that the state of the Iron Ten Legion was a direct reflection of the condition of the Primarch, and the Emperor's Children were gradually getting closer to this situation.
As for Ferrus Manus himself, unlike his absence in the real universe, his projection in the subspace can be found, but the location prohibits them. Medusa was already close to the great rift in the warp, and the traces left by the Primarch of the Iron Hands went even deeper into its interior. Even though the Imperial Fists' Librarians attempted to pursue them, their Primarch stopped them. The original body raised his head and looked towards the looming great rift in the subspace. His will was flowing in his blood, more brilliant than any subspace ether.
"As expected," said the Primarch, "the key to the problem lies with Ferrus Manus. Although you are my best think tank, and you are my chief, your power It's still far from enough to fight against the troubles born from the Primarch. Not even Azak Ahriman can guarantee this."
The think tank responded frankly: "Yes, father. The subspace curtain here is now very fragile, and Medusa has a tendency to fall to the other side, but some anchor points fix it in the real universe. It is initially speculated that this is the effect of some ancient technology possessed by the planet itself."
“How long can it last?”
“Not sure.”
"Okay." Rogal Dorn nodded, "You continue to monitor the status of the rift. Give it a formal name, considering that it cannot be closed, this will be a long-term problem. Can you contact the Iron Warriors, White Scars or Any legion of the Space Wolves?”
“Not yet. It’s not the obstruction of the subspace storm, but the problem of positioning disorder...”
Before he finished speaking, there was someone standing next to him. The other two think tanks who were trying to contact each other remotely raised their heads and squinted their eyes in the same direction.
"Report." Dorn noticed immediately.
“A golden thread appears, my lord,” replied a member of the Astropathic Choir working nearby with the Think Tank, “a... thread from the Star Torch, guiding us. The direction... we saw it, it was very blurry and full of interference, but there was a stable direction there..."
"Pointing to where?" Rogal Dorn spoke faster, and a sharp light seemed to shine in his eyes.
"We are tracing back, sir...another signal. There is another person on this line. Their direction is opposite to ours, but they are guided by the same kind. I can confirm, sir... "
Roger Dorn stared silently at the Astropath's unique face. He seemed to be waiting for something, or suppressing the emotions in his heart. No, just wait.
"A star message has been sent," the think tank said, analyzing the complex signals woven with ether energy...isn't that really ether? He felt that it seemed to be something more specious, more tenacious and indestructible than the subspace energy that ordinary people's minds could send, and its properties were also different. These thoughts pass by only briefly.
"The content is-" He paused, "I have something to tell you, Rogal Dorn. Wait at your location..."
Donne waited for a second, "What else is there?"
"No more, there is only this much..." Think Tank blinked, frowned, and raised his hand to wipe away the blood that overflowed from the corner of his eyes. Staring directly at that golden light took more energy from him than expected. The light seemed gentle, but it was actually enough to cause his retinas to burn.
Dorn nodded: "Then, continue to do what you should do. Monitor the rift and Medusa, and prepare to analyze the information brought back by your brothers."
——
< br>John Grammaticus's soliloquy in the webway seemed to never end. No, he didn't actually say any syllables aloud, but he did have a little blood flowing from his mouth from time to time, which was enough to be annoying. .
When John finally shed tears of pain on his chest, Orperson and Constantin Waldo looked at each other, and the more intimidating commander of the Imperial Army came forward to speak.
"Stop trying to spell." Waldo said coldly, tapping the side edge of the Sun Spear on John's shoulder at an angle, which was already very gentle for him.
"Oh, I didn't mean to," John replied vaguely, sounding distressed, "After all, I saw that mysterious document...it always ran back to my mind by itself, and then from my A few syllables popped out of my mouth. Damn it, I don’t know what it means, but I just can’t help but keep thinking about it.”
Ol Persson tied it around his waist. The scroll glanced subconsciously. He knew about the existence of curses and understood their dangers and possibilities, but he did not have a deep understanding of their specific use. "It is a dangerous language. The harm if you continue to think about it will only expand, not shrink..."
"You cannot correctly understand it, so you can only bring harm to yourself. This The content written on this scroll is incomplete and lacks the morphemes corresponding to the meaning," Waldo said bluntly.
"What?" Orr asked.
The commander of the Imperial Guard struck John once on the neck, knocking the misty young Eternal Agent unconscious and holding it easily in his hand.
"Prevent him from misuse." Constantine Waldo explained.
"Then...how do we navigate here? He knows the map of this section of the road..." Orr felt that he was a little clumsy and tongue-tied.
"I can sense the direction of my lord." Waldo said calmly, striding forward.
(End of this chapter)