Chapter 509: Shadow Crossing the Sky (6)
Roger Dorn briefly stared at Constantine Waldo, without concealing his negative emotions.
It’s just that his emotions were not directed at Waldo, who came to the Phalanx according to the instructions like a machine, but at himself.
"I understand the situation you described. However, at present, this matter will not be notified to anyone except us." Dorn said, arms folded around his chest. Hanging from his waist is a silent golden skull.
He stood, his eyes carrying the map of the planet Medusa on the drawing board near the house, and the gathering point of the subspace storm that was marked nearby, like an eye. It was like two deep shadows connected to each other.
Around them, the Astropathic Chorus had just been ordered to disband, leaving only many geographical signs posted on the wall, connected by short nails and strings, and some atlases recording the Astropathic runes: some were abstract and complicated Symbols, some representations of birds and animals, like Turkish monograms, were transcribed on heavy parchment.
On some of the translated draft records, there are also written messages that need to be sent to other organizations, including the Imperial Ministry of the Interior, the Ministry of Justice, the Ultramarines Fleet, the World Eaters Fleet, etc. These are all letters that failed to reach the designated place across the stars in the past month.
Only the last few astrological messages were successfully sent. After Waldo glanced at them, he judged that they were narratives about Medusa's condition, and that the recipients were the Iron Warriors fleet.
Yes, Waldo found that he could understand the meaning of the astrological patterns, and interpreting this symbolic language with infinite subtle changes was something he had never learned before.
“Is this a rejection?” Waldo asked, with an edge in his words, “You are not a liar, nor a tactful person. I arrived here at the same time as Star Language, not to be with you. Confirm the content conveyed by Star Language, and then help you send the ambiguous information back to Perturabo’s ears.”
Donne's gaze shifted slightly, and during this moment of unhappy pause, an invisible pressure seemed to condense in the air.
"Reject? You assumed what I thought, Constantine. Constantine." He took a step forward, folding his hands behind his back, as if he had locked himself into some invisible bondage. "Before you arrived here, more preparations were made than you thought. A small interception battle with the Twentieth Legion has ended. According to it, the Fifteenth Legion has been destroyed due to betrayal."< br>
"Then, you give up your duties as a guard of Terra?"
Rogal Dorn strode away from the drawing board, and suddenly lifted the panel covering the porthole upwards, revealing the outer side of the spiral. of variegated stars.
Waldo noticed that the baffle should be controlled by an automatic motor rather than by human hands.
The blue-purple cosmic storm rolled like an angry wave, rolling up red clouds, as if the stars in the distance were being swallowed by endless whirlpools - the stars where Fulgrim was.
The original body turned sideways and stood with hands behind his back: "This is not the most important thing now. The question of whether I give up or not is not imminent. Even whether what you and Perturabo said is true, we need to wait for a while. Let’s discuss again. I won’t ignore your warning just because I’m a Terran Guard.” He glanced at Waldo, “Similarly, I won’t believe his seduction just because I’m on good terms with Perturabo. . ”
His statement seemed to be tinged with emotion because of the content of his words.
“What must be resolved immediately is the issue between Fulgrim and Ferrus Manus.” He continued, “I cannot see the specific things happening on that satellite, but The mutations on their bodies have begun to radiate to their descendants. Since you have been given the mission to become a god-killing spear by the emperor, you may be about to put your first use to use. Later, I will take you to the United States. The Dusha Satellite will execute the fallen primarch when necessary."
Waldo looked at him, unable to confirm Rogal Dorn's situation for a moment.
The views of the leader of the Imperial Fist Legion are always so direct, even too direct, that one cannot help but follow common sense and guess that there is a hidden meaning behind his words.
Donne frowned and said softly: "Stop your speculations, Constantine Waldo. I am in a very bad mood right now. I don't want to kill my brother. This makes me feel especially Oops. So I don't need you to annoy me further."
"I already encountered the possibility of corruption among my brothers a hundred years ago, and have been prepared to kill a traitor ever since. Do it well." Donne continued, hiding the subject of the second half of his sentence, "I don't need more hesitation to maliciously show my reluctance."
Waldo's eyes changed. Donn's face moved away, his heart calm as water. "Then, we will find your two brothers. When do we leave?"
Dorn stretched out his hand to Waldo, his fingers fell on Waldo's pale spear tip, and then exerted a slight force.
In an instant, a transcendent connection formed between Valdor's spear and Dorne, and indescribable power flowed between them.
A stream of blood quickly overflowed from his punctured skin, solidifying into a cinnabar-like trace in an instant.
Dorn withdrew his fingers and stared at his wounds, while Waldo emerged from the phantom of a tower. The knowledge brought to him by the Sun Spear was like rain falling on his heart, briefly causing ripples and then returning to a long-lasting calm.
"You do have the ability to kill us," Dorn said with a solemn tone. At the moment of being stabbed, he undoubtedly felt some unusual factors-a kind of thing that transcended ordinary physics. Injury losses. Waldo recalled that Perturabo had performed the exact same test.
"So?" Waldo asked, tilting his spear toward the open porthole, pointing at the planet surrounded by polluted clouds and mist.
"Let's go." Dorn nodded.
They walked quickly through the spacious corridor, and Waldo calmly greeted and ignored the glances directed at him. He knew that his iconic armor and unconventional appearance were enough to attract the attention of any mortal or Astartes, but these were not the current focus.
Rogal Dorn was striding away in front, almost running. His cloak was raised high, and his back drew a sharp golden afterimage in the air. Constantine Valdor chased after him, following Rogal Dorn's running speed, towards the deck of the Phalanx. Their armor made a constant clanking sound, like ice dissolving in hot iron.
A series of questions flashed through Waldo's mind, including whether the Astartes in the Imperial Fists army, like Rogal Dorn, were at least willing to ignore the Iron Warriors' invitation for the time being; including Whether they have to face two Primarchs who may have fallen, and why does Rogal Dorn believe that he can fight one against two - let alone Fulgrim and Ferrus Manus; and more There were so many doubts, for example, he didn't even have a member of the guard with him, no Sigismund, no Acammus. Which end point does this belong to between the two poles of confidence and pessimism?
But all he did was run, and hold on to his spear.
——
"I don't think this is a good idea, Ferrus," Fulgrim said silently to Ferrus. Although his tone was gentle in his mind, he knew that he was getting nervous.
"What's not a good idea?" Ferrus asked, his voice coming from the steel ribs that enveloped Fulgrim - like an invisible cage, Fulgrim thought.
"Trust... this Emperor," Fulgrim said, bitterness welling up in his consciousness. The silver lake they were currently in looked so much like the mercury-like eyes of Ferrus Manus... What a cold luster, what an indestructible loyalty.
He raised his head and felt that he was being watched by his brother, and then he saw the reflection of his consciousness in Ferus's eyes... not a real entity, but a flowing, fiery red The mood is full of hesitation, exploring the swaying tongue of fire.
"I don't understand, Fulgrim," Ferrus answered him lowly, his voice hushed. "I am infinitely grateful that you came to find me, but what are you saying? My brother. Are you saying that we should not trust the Emperor? Should not fulfill our oath and mission?"
< br>On the back of the silver lake, the hallucinatory light and shadow are being eaten away bit by bit by a deep black mist, gradually approaching with an unsettling sense of oppression.
This progress is very slow, giving Fulgrim a feeling that the black mist does not seem to be able to completely compete with the gorgeous wandering clouds... it is not strong enough, not indestructible enough - it has not been truly born yet .
However, if the two of them approach actively, then the power of the black mist will be enough to take them away...
They all heard the whisper of Chaos screaming angrily and cursing " Interference from "The Cursed"...
So, is the Black Mist the power of the Emperor?
It is similar to but contrary to his father, and completely different from the dazzling light in Fulgrim's memory... But other than this feeling, what evidence does he have? Or perhaps, was the Emperor's power changing over the centuries, or was his own faith beginning to crumble?
Fulgrim's heart wavered. He took a deep breath, unable to stop the distracting thoughts rolling in his mind. In this ocean constructed by the soul, all emotions are embodied, and the silver lake around him boils uneasily in bleeding red colors.
"I feel your emotions," Ferrus' voice showed a hint of tenderness, his silver lake gently embracing Fulgrim's body, soothing his nerves. "In order to rescue me, you were in the Uncertain Demon Realm - let's call it that for the time being," he said with disgust. "You expended too much energy, which made you full of doubts. We will not doubt the Emperor, we neither There is no reason and no power." Fulgrim remained silent. Ferrus's words were reasonable and his words were calm and clear, but the fire in Fulgrim's heart could not be extinguished.
His intuition told him that things were far from simple.
"Maybe you are right..." He murmured hesitantly, "But..."
"What?" Ferus said quietly, "At least give me a reason , Fulgrim."
His voice trembled slightly, and Fulgrim immediately realized that the reason for the trembling was not suspicion, but pain.
Through their tightly connected spirits, Fulgrim quickly sensed Ferus's existence—his broken and missing soul.
His will slipped through Ferus and touched every gap that was injured by this realm. Every hole was connected to the greedy abyss deep inside. Every scar could not be healed. The moist and hot liquid metal came from Overflowing from these defects, it was dyed with a thrilling purple-red color, and then dispersed into the dim hazy nothingness.
This process is silent, and Fulgrim deeply doubts that this is irreversible.
The decision must be made as soon as possible.
"You have grown weak, Ferrus," Fulgrim said, almost fondly. "Too much of your strength has been taken away from you, and you are being torn apart. I snatched you away from the chaos, but you are being snatched away by subspace again... We can't go on like this, my brother."
"What are you doing?" Ferus shouted nervously. .
The flames of the phoenix erupted from the steel fence. The red flames penetrated the seal of mercury and ignited on the rippled surface of Silver Lake in an instant, sealing the liquid metal inside the fire.
"I'm worried about you leaving." Fulgrim said ambiguously.
In this way, Ferus does not have to continue to be exposed to the erosion of Chaos.
At the same time, he also eliminated the possibility of his brother surrendering to the Emperor's Black Mist.
He is much more skillful in controlling his own mystical power than Ferrus Manus... Yes, although there is no think tank among the Emperor's Children, the one who does have a think tank is the Iron Hands , but that's because no Emperor's Children think tank cultivated after the Nikaea Conference has the ability to surpass the brilliant purple phoenix.
However, few people know this.
"Fulgrim!" Ferus yelled, "Stop!"
Phoenix watched as the source of its body slowly floated into the turbulent warp environment around it. middle.
He was also unable to stop this process, he could only delay it reluctantly.
There was a crackling sound in his head, which seemed to be invisible firewood, or something that was breaking. Bones...
Throughout the process of escaping and struggling, they were so deeply involved with the environment here that they almost reached an inseparable level - just like dyed ink, which will eventually dissolve into water again.
And deep in the strange clouds, it seems that a brand new shadow is slowly condensing and taking shape.
He closed his eyes and no longer looked at the kaleidoscopically changing subspace brilliance. Instead, he focused on the flame in his heart, urging it to continue burning, cutting off the involvement of Chaos and Ferus, and barely burning. With the connection between them and this space...
Just like using fire to burn off a waterfall, there will eventually be a moment of futility.
Unless——they give up their contaminated power.
But that is no longer possible.
With just a moment of wavering, the unprotected will will inevitably evaporate under the erosion, and the boiling filthy subspace power will replace their thoughts, surge in their remaining bodies, and turn them into An unrecognizable product, an imitation of themselves.
His mind screamed at him to avoid this outcome.
"Stop? No, believe me," Fulgrim said bitterly, "Or, at least give me a reason, Ferrus."
The response was There was silence, and the silver lake was boiling hotly, stirring up different emotions between trust, reluctance, and hesitation.
Fulgrim was heartbroken by Ferrus's suspicion of his actions, and he would never be able to prove that the Emperor was not the Emperor - as he had come to believe.
——
“According to calculations, we are about to reach the bottom floor of the secret chamber.”
Roger Dorn gasped, they had just picked up a pile of unborn people. The formed army rushed out, and the corpses of the attached Iron Hands continued to pile up in the tunnel...
No, they were already dead, relying on the low-temperature ice in the secret room and relying on the Iron Hands themselves. Their technology repaired and fell asleep until their primarch awakened them.
At least Ferrus did provide a way for Rogal Dorn to expel these things quickly. His Stormfang blade lived up to its name and tore these corpses apart. Roll back to where they came from.
As for Constantine Waldo, the thing killed by his spear did not even make a dying guttural sound. It was directly transformed into a stream of pure energy in the flickering pure white light. thread.
And his killings of former Astartes were sometimes cleaner than Rogal Dorn himself. It was only at these times that Donne discovered that there were still things he refused to accept.
He adjusted his mentality, felt the golden skull on his waist brushing against the edge of the plastron, and tried his best to cancel any hesitation he had.
Maybe others will think that these are things that should not appear on Rogal Dorn - maybe this is just unknown.
"You heard me," Waldo said, and that wasn't a question.
Rogal Dorn paused, put the weapon at his waist, and began to open the last door that was ajar. The door was not locked, but its axle was completely stuck, preventing outsiders from entering.
Well, yes.
He heard it.
(End of this chapter)