Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"How long are you going to stay in this corner, Magnus?" Perturabo folded his arms in front of his chest. The sunlight shining from behind drew a shadow as tall as an adult at the feet of the child's body.

Magnus sat at the table and gently put down the book in his hand. There was a loss of vitality hidden in his gentle movements.

Perturabo looked up at his brother.

All the gold and blue jewelry he once wore were gone. His thick red hair was braided into three long braids and tied tightly with a brown cloth rope. His usual rosy complexion now only contained hesitant hesitation.

"I..." The fifteenth Primarch took a breath, "What else can I do out there?"

The pads of his thick fingers brushed against the gilded edge of the book in his hand, like stroking a miniature toy: "They are not willing to listen to anything I say now. I have told them many times about the sinister trap hidden in the ether, They say the other way around..."

Magnus' words slipped from his lips and back into the back of his throat.

"What?" asked Perturabo.

"That I was deceived by you." Magnus finished these words quickly, as if he was afraid that they would stick to his mouth, "But I know not. You are my brother, I can feel it. We can always trust each other.”

The red giant's melancholy eyes were filled with pleading. Perturabo's expression did not change at all.

When Mors brought Magnus back from the warp, he admitted that his brother's tears had softened his heart and will, but Magnus's recent decadence could not help but make Perturabo upset.

"There is no shortage of crimes left by brotherly hostility in the long history, Magnus. Genes and blood are not reasons to trust each other. Your choice to believe in us is as hasty as choosing to believe in the vast ocean." Perturabo warned. said in a harsh tone.

"But can't you be trusted?" Magnus whispered.

"Prove it," said Perturabo. "Tell me why you trust us."

Magnus's huge red body was like a dim fire that was dying out. He shuddered at Perturabo's cold words. He turned his head and no longer looked directly into his brother's eyes.

"No," he said.

"Is this the answer of a wise man?" Perturabo pressed forward step by step. Although Magnus was condescending, he only felt that he had become small.

When Perturabo got close enough, the young giant finally recalled a trace of irritation to protect his dignity at the other's offense. He had shown such submission before Perturabo's eyes, why did Perturabo still want to intimidate him?

"Then who else can I trust?" He suddenly turned back, his eyes like burning dark green fire, reminding Perturabo of the cold trees deep in the distant mountains of Olympia in winter, "Am I going to believe in other psychic beings?" User?"

"Yourself," Perturabo said without hesitation. "Where is your pride, Magnus?" "

"I'm not proud!"

"Who forced you to believe in psychic powers?" Perturabo asked. "Who forced you to give up! You made your own choices and didn't listen to other people's advice. Now you tell me that you are not proud?"

These words were like a diamond carving knife, easily piercing Magnus' shell. The silent weakness hidden behind his struggle was exposed, embodied by his trembling lips that were unable to utter a word of rebuttal.

The giant buried his cheeks in his two broad palms. The books placed too close to the table were knocked to the ground by his elbows. He simply folded his forearms on the empty table and lay half of his body on the table. On the table, a frame made of arms covered his face that was weeping.

Perturabo helped him pick up the fallen book. This is a collection of poems, the one Morse pulled out of the Great Library of Tizka at that time. He could still remember Magnus happily taking over Morse's sentences, showing off the beauty of his knowledge with little joy.

“Think about it/She gives when we’re not paying attention/And she gives it in a charming and charming way/The more she gives, the more we crave it.”

His memory helped him easily turn back to the page where several people had taken turns chanting, and repeat Magnus's selection. Now that he looked back on that day, he suddenly understood the judgment hidden in the passages Morse chose for each of them.

Magnus heard Perturabo's recitation, and his head buried in his arms turned, letting the tied red hair slide from one side of his back to the other.

A muffled voice came from the semi-enclosed space formed by the back of the head and the tabletop: "What Morse wants to refer to is the deception of subspace, right?"

"And none of us heard it." Perturabo continued to focus on the poem, lest his heart be softened by Magnus's nasally thin words. "But why did you take this book out of the library?"

"I, I went to the big library yesterday." Magnus said painfully, "I wanted to see what items needed to be destroyed."

"You sound calmer, Magnus," Perturabo said. "At least you're not trying to burn down the entire library like you burned down your last room."

"I...I was..."

"Abandoned your rational thinking, thinking about the subspace and filling your mind with your garden trip, naively trying to persuade others with a few words in exchange for moral support, and using this to comfort yourself that you have tried your best to make up for your mistakes."

Magnus gasped, "You are cruel, Perturabo."

"Otherwise you won't remember anything." Perturabo's tone did not contain any sense of victory after defeating others with words. He stood up on tiptoes and threw the poetry book back on the stage, patting Magnus on the back. Back, in exchange for a pitiful trembling.

Magnus breathed quietly for a while, lifted his tear-stained face from his arms, and wiped his face casually, wiping away the blurry barrier formed by the tears in front of his eyes.

He put the hay cushion on the chair to the ground and moved to the floor to sit and talk to Perturabo.

"They were once my students, and before that, my teachers. I once thought they were willing to follow me and do anything."

"But most scholars ignored my words." Magnus said confusedly, the heavy atmosphere pressed on his slumped shoulders, and the colors swirled in his eyes, revealing the complex changes in his inner emotions. .

"Actually, if Morse hadn't taken me there, I wouldn't have had even the shortest time to consider giving up borrowing the power of the ether wind."

"I cannot enlighten them as Morse showed me the truth. The horror of looking into the void is enough to destroy the mortal mind, and the debate of words is too weak."

"The way you're trying to persuade others is weak enough. It doesn't look like you're arguing with them, but more like you're looking for an opportunity to be noisy and distract yourself from thinking," Perturabo said.

He'd been waiting for Magnus to calm down again these days.

Morse's blow to Magnus and the resistance of the scholars almost formed a cycle of negative effects, trapping Magnus in a terrible cycle, consuming the young Primarch's excessive arrogance and indifference. Strong will.

Perturabo would almost pity Magnus if he had begun to examine himself before he hit rock bottom.

This reminded Perturabo of his upbringing at that time. He couldn't tell whether it was more unfortunate to have his knowledge of everything in the past suddenly broken, or whether it was more unfortunate to be defeated by Morse once a day.

Magnus made no reply to Perturabo's words. His fingers twitched.

"I later thought, I can't convince anyone..." He tried hard to pick up some connectable words from the broken logic and thinking, and put them together into sentences.

In recent days, it seemed as if a storm was raging in his brain, bringing up countless fragmented memories of things he had done with his psychic powers every moment, causing him great pain.

His concentration and emotional stability dropped again and again, and his intense anxiety and fear made it almost impossible for him to step out of the room and do what he knew he should do. The only emotional gain he could get from any little thing was a series of frustrations.

"Perhaps I can only make some compensation that I can by destroying the psychic works that I brought back to Tizca or created in Tizca."

Magnus glanced at the direction of the table, wanting to use the book of poems he brought back from the Great Library to prove that he was not incompetent.

"But I haven't heard of any recent library or museum fires in Tizca," Perturabo said.

"Psychic protection," Magnus whispered. "In order to protect the crystallization and incarnation of knowledge and wisdom," the corner of his mouth twitched bitterly, "I set up a psychic shield outside all collections and precious books. Only my students and I can unlock it. open."

"Are you still afraid of psychic powers?" Perturabo asked.

"Better." Magnus' voice was laced with trembling melancholy. He thought of the Emperor's glory, and for the past two days he had been forced to choose between believing that his father was also using disgusting energy that was extremely foul in nature, and believing that the warm pure light showed that psychic energy was not all stagnant decay.

In the end, he chose to believe the latter, and with this thought, he climbed three steps and slid two steps up from the abyss where everything looked like Nurglings.

"I know - I know that what Morse showed me was the worst side of the vast ocean..." His face began to turn pale, and he held his breath to suppress the physiological reaction of retching. Perhaps his heart was beating violently and rapidly. beat.

"Since you have been able to face the traces of psychic energy in the entire city of Tizca, why don't you muster up the courage to use psychic energy to unlock the shield?" Perturabo asked calmly.

His overly calm tone actually gave Magnus a sense of comfort, just like amidst all the earth-shaking changes, there was a steel fortress that was always firmly rooted in the soil, unchanging.

"I can't," Magnus said.

He closed his eyes and slowly found a small piece of peace in his heart, and then the torrent of anxiety dragged him into the uncertain waves again. He sighed.

"To control the power of ether, one needs to rise into a peaceful state of mind, perceive the reverberations and waves of ether, push aside complex obstacles, and obey or force the vast ocean to obey the will of the caster."

What he had to admit next should have been absolutely painful and humiliating for Magnus, but when the words rose to his throat, the only thing he could feel was empty numbness.

"I can no longer use my powers." Magnus said, his voice echoing like the wind in the huge cave.

"You need rest," Perturabo blurted, only to realize that the coolness he maintained was penetrated by his brother's grief. He hoped rather chagrined that Magnus hadn't noticed his wavering.

"You must regain your abilities, Magnus." Perturabo said forcefully, not like an order, but like a confident promise, "Mors is returning to Terra to bring your The army brings Prospero. If you are still so resistant to psychic powers, I will have to find a suitable excuse to let Morse and the Emperor know that Prospero does not yet welcome her future warriors."

"My army?"

"Your uniquely psychically gifted Fifteenth Legion, Magnus." Perturabo persuaded, thinking of his own few small iron hulls. He put them aside for the moment, lest the anguish of strange rumors should appear on the face of the shell here at an untimely moment. "The children who will always be loyal to you, support you, and love you. I once thought I would not love them."

A subtle light flashed in Magnus's eyes, and the new expectation allowed his nerves that had been tortured these days to find soothing calmness and a little peace. His soul recalled the feeling when he first received care in Tizca. There was a burst of excitement and pride, but it was immediately extinguished in the pain of hesitation by his own situation.

"I'm not ready yet," he muttered.

"Magnus." Perturabo said in a deep voice, unable to describe his own mood, "Tell me, are you still willing to use psychic powers?"

It's part of who he is. This, Magnus thought, was why he despaired when he learned how terrifying psychic powers were. Psionics are not only the cornerstone of Tizka, but also the source of his soul's soar.

The moment he realized that he could not overcome his psychological shadow and call upon his spiritual energy, it was as if he was thrown into the vast and desolate darkness, and all calls sank into the depths of the dead water without any echo. At that moment, many things in his heart shattered, but new light had not yet emerged. He wanted to grab anything that could fill the void, like a spell, like a success in facing other people, but he found nothing.

"I'm not ready yet," he repeated, wanting to rest for a while longer.

Perturabo touched his brow, manually smoothing out the wrinkles that had appeared there at some point.

Psychology was simply not his area of ​​expertise.

Steel will not be blurry, buildings will not have unclear structure, no matter how abstract art is, it will be drawn with actual paints and brushes, and the words written on white paper will have a final shape.

But solving his brother's psychological disorder was completely beyond his professional boundaries. He had no way to help Magnus carve an intact mind again like he could carve stone.

From Morse, he learned a few ways to break down other people's defenses, but treatment was another matter.

"Don't think too much." He walked up to Magnus and put his hand on the other man's shoulder, hoping to convey strength to him. "Admit your mistakes and accept your responsibility. That's all you have to do."

"But the psychic research here..." Magnus struggled to spit out a few words. "How do I stop them? I can't even solve the research manuscript I left behind."

"Well, I believe another way to defeat psychic protection is to provide sufficient kinetic energy," Perturabo said. "When my construction team - I mean the legion - lands, remember to take us to find the manuscripts and collections you want to destroy."

He thought for a while, "Perhaps I can show you now my architectural plans for rebuilding the city outside of Tizca. There is already a large theater in Olympia, and I think there can be a second one here."

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