Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"So you know about the greenskins," Mors said, changing back into the black robes he wore most often. "Then why should I rely on conventional interstellar travel methods to take a ship and bring you samples all the way from Invite?"

His potted green plants are placed on the table next to the canvas, and some small green plants are dazedly leaning against the glass jar, swaying drowsily. This was caused by Morse punching a psychic vibration through the bottle wall.

"You didn't ask me." The emperor, wearing a linen robe, closed his eyes and remained calm. "You haven't been concerned about worldly affairs for too long."

"It seems that I am ignorant." Morse stood farther away and observed his canvas. Then he took off the drawing board and laid it flat on the table. "What do you think of these things?"

"Alien," the Emperor answered in one word.

"Do not emphasize your human supremacy in discussions of technological issues, my Emperor of Mankind."

The emperor lowered his head slightly and thought for a while: "Their technological level will grow out of thin air just like it is rooted deep in the individual consciousness of this race. They have insights beyond human cognition for many technologies, but this also leads to human It is destined to be difficult to use green-skinned technology.”

"Because humans don't dare to use technology with unknown principles?" Morse asked, "They don't use it less either. There are too many examples of experiments taking precedence over theory."

"No," the Emperor said, "Greenskin technology is closely related to the race itself. After losing its power similar to the psychic aura, their technology will quickly become ineffective and of little value to humanity - so Rogge Do You made the right choice by burning the orcs."

Morse took out two new pens and knocked down the green glass jar at the same time. The green stuff inside was jumping up and down on the inner wall of the glass jar in vain.

"Okay, okay." As the painting was almost finished, Morse decided to get to the point. "I'm thinking about some issues related to the core truth of the Empire."

Morse dipped a brush into some white paint, placed it on the barrel of another pen and tapped it evenly until the white highlights sprinkled from the brush regularly covered the entire dark painting.

Opposite him, the Emperor asked nonchalantly: "What's the problem?"

"Look." Morse put down the brush and put the flat drawing board back on the easel to show the deep dark starry sky he painted and the eye-catching blazing sun in the center of the dark blue universe.

"This is the brilliance seen by the navigator's third eye, the immortal star to be found in countless nebulae of light and dark. Across a terrifying distance of seventy thousand light years, through the warp star gates and man-made channels of our dark age At the limit of the distance it can reach, this bright light across the Milky Way still hangs high on the backside of day and night, allowing navigators to chart routes for beacons in turn and guide mankind on the way forward. "

"Yes," the Emperor said, a little confused, "What does this have to do with Imperial Truth?"

"In Imperial Truth, you write: 'The universe is rational, and in the same Imperium of Terra and Man, souls, sorcery, and gods do not exist.'"

"Do you expect me to admit that this is a lie, Morse?" Although the Emperor's answer was not violent, it was far from sincere.

"You know what the truth of the empire is, my emperor." Morse stretched out his hand to hold the frame, and the stars in the picture began to flash in a fixed number of frames. "A deliberate spiritual reliance, an application and incitement The consistent approach of both the country and the pope to destroy religion through the language of religion and to characterize rationalism as a big lie of religious dogma will only make the foundation of the empire fragile."

"Imperial Truth is at work," the Emperor said.

"If people discover that the construction of the Star Torch is nothing more than a ruse in the name of restoring ancient technology, and that its function is only to help you complete your psychic focus, your truth will not continue to work."

The psychic radiance in the painting became brighter, and a sword-holding golden figure with a sky eagle and a flaming eagle claw carved on the shoulder armor emerged from the white light.

"No human being - no one, not even the original body, will believe that the one who can single-handedly support the entire galaxy is not ranked among the gods." Morse lowered his voice, " What you have done has long been in line with the common sense definition of god.”

"If they discover this," the emperor tilted his head slightly, his gaze becoming more distant and profound, "they will still panic, because if one day I am disabled or die, the turmoil of the Star Torch will bring about a new era of strife."

"At the same time, this will also cause great consumption to you." As the light of the star torch in the picture expands, the color of the Emperor in Golden Armor becomes lighter, like a figure made of embers remaining after burning, always affected by the slightest wave. Brokenness occurs.

"The expedition beyond Terra can also support the burning of the Star Torch across the galaxy. What a powerful force!" His tone suddenly changed, "Is there really no day that is exhausted?"

The Emperor avoided Morse's gaze.

"You've guessed it." He used the shortest answer to cover up his reluctance and awkwardness. "You already have the answer in your heart."

"The Webway," Morse said. "Retiring the Star Torch in favor of a new network, allowing better roads to reconnect the entire empire, and naturally sweeping the Star Torch and the secrets behind it into the dusty scrap heap."

"Very accurate," the Emperor said, "your style of analysis."

"Isn't my analysis accurate because your nature is hard to change?" Morse shook his head, leaving the frame with his hand, and the painting returned to the ordinary still picture, "Currently, the fleets of Perturabo and Rogal Dorn have been Set sail, we all have time to take a look at the webway before the next accident happens, right?"

"This is the ultimate purpose of your return, Morse." The Emperor stood up and found his gray sandals. He didn't always wear gold.

"Another original purpose was to meet your second Primarch. I can guess that you returned to Terra to get him to take the oath on the Tower of Astartes. It seems that I did not catch up with him when he was present. Morse said, "His name?"

"Duncan Aho," the Emperor said. "A cautious and quiet swordsman."

"I hope I have a chance to meet him in the future." Morse nodded, picked up the green can in his hand, and turned the wall of the bottle into opaque black.

Considering the palace's bad history of throwing things away, he did not want an unexpected fungal leak to occur in the Imperial Palace during his short absence.

Malcador was busy enough working for the Emperor, and now he began to suspect that the regent of the Laurel Crown Empire, whose soul was extremely young, took on the appearance of a skinny old man in the real universe just to let human beings show their natural respect for the elderly and love the young. Be kind to him in conscience and cause less trouble.