Chapter 478 The Art of Pain
Of course Soshyan asked Talos what that scream was.
To this day, he still remembers the prophet's smile and answer at that time, and planted a seed of regret in his heart.
"By combining it with the pure art of torture, Dietrian created a scream song loud enough to be heard and felt by souls on several planets but not yet Not enough, the slaughter and sacrifice of mortals is not uncommon at all, how many Legionnaires have done the same thing over the thousands of years I don't even need to guess, the Raiders have been using this trick to cover their tracks since ages ago? , so is there a better way than stirring up the subspace to thicken the silt to slow down the pursuers? Even if there is a risk of being infected by demons, its effect is enough to make it worth taking the risk."< br>
“So you killed all the slaves on your ship?”
"Mortal souls are meaningless. You won't understand. Power and pain are at our fingertips. It's not a weapon that can level a city, nor a warship that can break the blockade of an entire fleet. These things will last forever. There is no point in the battle. We can leave scars on steel, but so can any old pirate ship equipped with big cannons, but we are the Eighth Legion. We cut flesh, steel and soul, we wound Memory, we tear our hearts apart, our actions must be meaningful, otherwise we should be forgotten and rot in ancient myths."
Taros took a breath at that time, his voice suddenly soft. down.
“So we sing, this music is absolutely meaningful. It is a more real weapon than a laser cannon or a bombardment cannon, but how best to turn this song of silence into —A sharp blade that might bleed the empire?”
Soshyan didn’t answer, but he had already guessed it.
“Sing louder.”
Talos' lips had the same sickly smile as before.
“Just chant louder, so we turned the singers into a screaming choir, distilled week after week of pain and fear into pure absolute agony, and then put torture on torture , constantly increasing their intensity. The slaughter of thousands of people is nothing - a drop in the ocean, but the Astropaths are different! They have no choice but to listen, see, and feel what is happening. When the psykers finally died, they were like husks bloated by the suffering caused by the massacre, blinded by the ghosts of the dead around them."
Soshyan was horrified by such atrocity.
“We made them feel pain and fear night after night, they screamed that it was mental anguish, they screamed at the moment of death, world after world after entering the psychic channel All will listen, and the astropaths on those planets or battleships will amplify it with their own suffering, adding verses and choruses to the song, and sharing it with others. "
After listening to this, Sosh. Yang kept telling himself that he would never use such depraved power until the last moment.
However, what he didn't expect was that such a moment would come so quickly -
"How sad."
One by one, Valier tortured them in various ways.
Each of them looked into his eyes, and although he didn't know what they saw, he knew what was going to happen.
The first man howled, grabbing him with invisible hands and hitting him in the face with his severed wrist.
Not all Astartes are psykers, but in essence, their structure and genes are tainted with some psychic power.
Under torture, their hearts revealed fear outside the warp, and their flesh and blood were broken and beyond control.
Some people fainted directly, their spirits finally falling from the bodies that tortured them.
Others squirmed and struggled against their restraints, with an energy they had never known before, struggling with painful organ failure.
A few people bloomed in front of him, making the pharmacist's white nails soaked with rancid entrails.
When the torture here was over, Valiel would watch as the servitors carried out the remaining bodies, down to the last one.
He is usually not very interested in the things of the Mechanicus, but this time was an exception. He cleaned his body and then came to Dietrian's secret cabin.
In the minds of many Chaos Space Marines, a person can only be called a person in the most indulgent and physiological sense.
He had no idea he had ever had a name, and he had no real ability to feel and express the same painful emotions over and over again.
His existence is divided into two levels of experience, his strangled mind interpreted as numbness and torture.
During the long hours between each disaster he lay in a state of torpor, doing nothing, seeing nothing, knowing nothing but a perpetual state of weightlessness and saltiness in his lungs and throat. chemical substances.
The only things that can be generously interpreted as thoughts are the faint and distant echoes of anger.
What he felt was not the anger itself, but the memory of it: the memory of an anger he had known without knowing why.
When the whip of torture is drawn, it will bring a storm of pain.
The anger rose again, sparking in the veins of his brain like a malfunctioning wire.
He would feel his jaw drop open, his tongueless mouth screaming silently into the cold void that surrounded him. After a while, the pain fades and is replaced by false anger.
It's happening.
The captain of the red pirate team, once known as Tedley, breathed cold liquid in the gray.
Inhaling liquids and excreting filth, his battered body finally rested.
As Valere stood before the vat containing the tortured man, something called for closer investigation.
After that, he tapped the glass with his hand.
"Hey, hello, my good brother."
He whispered with a smile,
The body in the pod was dragged by the mechanical claws, The legs were severed below the knees and the hands were amputated at the wrists.
Valier looked at the figure tumbling in the liquid, and was deeply immersed in the pain of his ecstasy.
"Don't touch the glass, thank you."
Dietrian's calm voice still expressed his dissatisfaction,
Valier turned his head.
“I won’t break anything.”
"I didn't ask you to break anything, I told you not to touch that piece of glass."
Valier snorted and looked back at the torture needle being pulled out of the prisoner's temple.
"Is this how you make screams?"
"Yes."
With Dietrian's chrome face hidden in his cloak, he Efforts are underway to shut down the pain engine going into the suspension tank.
"This batch of prisoners is of good quality. Although they are not psykers, they have been in the subspace for too long and have strong psychic qualities. They are excellent mediums."
Valley I'm no tech sergeant, but he can guess the details easily.
In fact, the scream fascinated him.
He could not imagine that such a device could render the scanning and communication equipment of many enemy ships dull and useless, as well as the astropaths and navigators, thus drowning them in a single In a long article full of painful cut-and-paste code
Such technology is very rare, it must have the right genius and the right materials, and only one of countless methods is possible to succeed, and it has to be experienced countless times. fail.
Generating electronic interference from the pain of one's soul, filtering organic pain through the ship's systems, and using it to harm the enemy - it's a poetry that Valiel can truly appreciate.
After that, he knocked on the glass again and let out a low growl, but it was not a laugh.
"Bishop, how much of your brain is still human?"
Dietrian paused, his gnarled fingers lingering over the console keys.
“I don’t have the inclination or motivation to discuss this issue, why do you ask?”
Valler tilted his head toward the amniotic cistern.
“Because of this, this is not a cold, logical creation, this is a work of art that understands the pain and fear of the soul.”
Dietrian hesitated again, not knowing Should the pharmacist's words be taken as a compliment?
This guy can't always figure it out.
Suddenly, the door opened and the hydraulic device made a harsh sound. Dietrian felt that there was no need to answer because he saw several figures reflected in the red emergency lights in the distance.
(End of this chapter)