Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 505 Phoenix in the Mirror (2)

The voice in the darkness has never subsided... Do you need me to complete you and him? Phoenix, you should be glorious and flawless... What does this wind want? It is to make the splendor more brilliant...

"Ah, if you had said it two hundred years earlier, I might have been willing to listen." Fulgrim replied lightly, without haste or anger. His long sword clanged through a gap between the gears of the incoming machinery, accurately and elegantly breaking a series of precision machinery. Since Ferrus's mind was already in his arms, there was nothing outside that was worth his trouble.

Half of his mind was still hanging on the head in his arms, thinking about how to wake Ferrus... He had never seen Iron Hand so weak. In many past meetings, he had seen Ferrus's frustrations and successes, anger and pride, but he had never seen him so unconscious. Only this matter affected his mind.

He took a moment to stare at the silver head in his arms, looking at the familiar face. Thanks to the characteristics of the Primarch, Ferrus was still very similar to when they first met, with an unchanging and resolute face. He hesitated and thought - what was Ferrus lacking? What was taken away from him?

He raised his hand to block another attack from the steel machine, and a handful of blood exploded from above. Fulgrim's blood turned into a rain of fire as it fell, and then stopped like mist above Ferrus's head and dissipated harmlessly. The demonic flesh that was touched by the fire mist melted in an instant, but the floating ribbons and gems still couldn't help but pounce on it, like moths to the flames. These fallen creatures longed for Fulgrim's existence because they...

... lacked the essence that enhanced their existence.

Fulgrim held the sword horizontally in his hand, freeing one thumb, his blood flowing from his fingers, and he blessed the ears, eyes, mouth and nose of Ferrus's head with blood, like an incomplete sacrament of last rites.

"I give you my blood," he whispered, "I lend you my existence, Ferrus Manus, may our common blood fill your will, may you wake up from the loss - or at least, let me feel your existence from the loss."

He did this in the intervals between battles, those sword swings and dodges were minor trifles, the noise of the surrounding battles and the intersection of swords seemed to be isolated at a distant edge, and those sword swings and dodges became shadows in the background. At the moment, all his attention was focused on the head in his hand, on the faint pulse that might be hidden there. He waited, eager, almost holding his breath to listen to a little, a little reaction from Ferrus.

However, the features on the head began to fade again. In fact, it was quietly disappearing as a whole. Although it was still in his arms, it kept falling deeper into this unreal world. Fulgrim didn't say a word, just holding the head, trying to catch its shadow sinking deeper - he even had some thoughts, just like he wanted Ferrus's life... It was a strange thought, but it couldn't be dispelled for a long time.

When the head in his arms completely disappeared, he heard a voice again. For a moment, Fulgrim stopped breathing, and then he heard another voice coming from the other half of his face.

"...Where is this?"

Fulgrim heard his own voice say in another tone. The voice did not come from the outside world, but... from his body, from the depths of his own throat.

"Where is this?" The voice repeated again, this time clearer, with Ferrus' unique calmness and questioning.

And Fulgrim suddenly realized that Ferrus was no longer the mind sealed in the head, but integrated into his body, relying on his body.

He heard his own voice asking in Ferrus' tone, low and unfamiliar, and the strange feeling made his chest rise and fall violently.

He couldn't explain why, but he suddenly laughed again in his own way. He succeeded, he gave a part of himself, and Ferrus had awakened from nothingness.

"I don't know, Ferrus," Fulgrim said, his voice was very light, and his answer jumped out of his lips at once, as if this sentence had been prepared long ago. "I came to find you, and I don't know where this place is as well as you do."

Half of his face was colder than his own flesh and blood face, and the joints that he had long been accustomed to also became cold. And half of his shoulder finally lost the last feeling, maybe that hand knew that the iron arm had free time, and it relaxed all of a sudden.

How would Ferrus answer him? According to his character, he might regret falling into this trap, but in front of him, Fulgrim believed that Ferrus would be happy to tell him about this matter-after all, he did not blame him, but took him away all the way.

He waited optimistically, as if the rescue had already been won.

Then, darkness slowly rose like a heavy curtain, as if it had grown out of the twisted shadows. A voice came from the endless darkness, carrying some ancient malice.

"How can your body bear steel?" The voice whispered like a venomous snake in the ear, with an unsettling chill. "Look at yourself in the mirror, your heart was once corrupt, your blood was once corroded. Look in the mirror, see what you are now... See the silver mirror reflect the old face... The flaws are hidden and there is no way out..."

Alas, Fulgrim thought, why do we always have to question whether he is perfect? ​​Didn't he have enough education from the children in the garden of the corrupt?

"It just so happens that your head disappeared just in time," Fulgrim joked to Fulgrim, the flames of the flaming sword lit up a little more than before, the flames cut through a head that was sticking out at him from the wall, blood rained down like petals, the crystal mirror on the wall crackled, and the charred fragments spread out ink marks like inscriptions on the ground.

"... Free up a hand for me." He finished the second half of the sentence, waiting expectantly for Ferrus' response.

"What do you mean?" Ferrus asked with a hint of confusion. Fulgrim's heart suddenly sank, and a strange sense of strangeness passed through his spine.

Fulgrim took a deep breath, trying to suppress the uneasiness and pull himself back to their conversation. Ferrus shouldn't ask this - he was Ferrus Manus, the fearless Iron Hand, the brother who fought side by side with him and witnessed countless victories and defeats. The years they had spent together, the glory and frustration of the battles...

Fulgrim took a breath and pulled his thoughts back to their conversation: "Do you really have no sense of humor, Ferrus?"

"I am Ferrus?" Ferrus asked.

Fulgrim exhaled the breath that was stuck in his chest, and the colors in front of him almost made him dizzy for a moment.

Is it really that his body cannot bear the existence of Ferrus, so that his brother no longer remembers - no, damn it, these voices are too annoying.

He bit his lip and smiled calmly again. "You are. You are Ferrus Manus."

The compound whispers came back, laughing sharply at the edge of his consciousness... How sad you are, Fulgrim, the purple phoenix... The whispers echoed in all directions as a chorus... You once danced proudly on the edge of the sky, but now you have fallen. It's unbearable to watch you fall into despair. Watching you make mistakes and have no way out, why bother with joy at this moment...

The rose-colored light turned into a gorgeous blood-red, and suddenly fell from the infinitely high zenith, like a beam of stage lights, splashing directly at Fulgrim's feet.

"Where am I?" Ferrus continued to ask. "Who are you?"

"You asked the first question. As for the second half, I am Fulgrim, and I am going to take you out."

"Are you angry?"

Fulgrim's lips trembled, "Don't worry, I will take you out anyway."

Yes, they have encountered countless worse situations, fought more dangerous battlefields, and faced deeper darkness. No matter what kind of trouble they had experienced, they had come out of it every time. And this time should be no exception. Just give him time, give them time. But first, they will live, live well.

Fulgrim breathed a sigh of relief and found his smile again.

After a while, Ferrus said - he occupied their currently shared vocal cords and squeezed out the words Fulgrim was about to say: "Do you see the way out?"

"No, my eyes can see that this is a maze!" Fulgrim said, "Why don't you help me see how I can beat the elusive machine-"

The entire mechanical maze kept moving, and a loud clang hit the drum beat of the music that sounded at some point, and then several intertwined weapon collisions fell in the beat gaps of the background song, playing a set of exquisite differential sounds. With each sword slash, Fulgrim's peripheral vision was constantly attracted by something distributed throughout the maze - mirrors, those mirrors that should not exist in the dark depths.

In the mirror, images of the past kept emerging. That was Ferrus Manus, the indestructible, cold-blooded warrior.

Fulgrim paused for a moment, his eyes drawn to Ferrus. He turned to another mirror, and what he saw was himself - his present self. The armor was full of scratches and cracks, the ornate decorations had faded, blood and dust mixed together on his body, and the missing broken arms and damaged legs... completely different from Ferrus...

Fulgrim's thoughts surged like a tide, and the darkness wanted to overwhelm him in this way, to make him question himself, his relationship with Ferrus, and his own glory.

He gritted his teeth and beat his unwelcome mechanical dance partner back into the darkness, and found that Ferrus had not reappeared to pay attention to him.

He was about to call him when he felt the pulse, gently beating on his heart.

"I can't see," Ferrus reappeared. "I don't know how to defeat this maze."

"You are Ferrus." Fulgrim smiled crisply, "You should be better at solving this kind of problem than me."

The Phoenix's iron arm flicked off a string of gems, and the long sword swung smoothly, and a wave of fire surged out, covering a chariot with spiked wheels rolling from the other side of the maze, and the flames flickered and extinguished in an instant.

"Anyway, we have to get out together."

"Have you found a way out?"

"You'd better stop talking, Ferrus."

"I thought..." Ferrus paused, "You want to hear me talk."

"You are Iron Hands, not Iron Mouth, Ferrus, I should let you continue to sleep - forget it!"

"I am Iron Hands? But your hands are made of steel." Ferrus said quietly.

Fulgrim wanted to laugh, but a sense of frustration suddenly came to him. He forced a smile: "You gave it to me, brother."

The light and shadow around him swirled like foam, and countless pictures rolled and coiled. On each mirror, he saw half of his face, and the outline of Ferus floating on the iron surface. Like misplaced light and shadow, it obscured his steel face.

What Ferus Manus had given him was now returned to him in another form.

Those mirrors made him look in a daze for a moment, and he waved some lenses away at will.

"Are you... okay?" Ferus asked in a deep voice.

Fulgrim's temper suddenly rose, and he raised his voice: "It's pretty good -" then he calmed down his tone again, "It's just that there are a lot of things to contend with, such as the maze itself - and There's that ghostly machine that always comes out of every wall."

"He is one with the maze. Stay away from the walls and don't look directly at the mirror. Why the mirror?" Ferus said, wondering how he quickly came up with these analysis results and asked a question.

"I don't know. It can't just be convenient for me to look at myself. How did I get that level of self-admiration?"

Fulgrim said, passing a mirror out of the corner of his eye, and suddenly realized that what he saw was the face of Ferus——

"Quick!" Ferus reminded him. Fulgrim hurriedly added a sword, and part of his fire feather was torn apart, and his transparent legs and feet were broken into many fragments and fell into the crawling ground.

"You are distracted. Maintain your combat intensity. You can do it." Ferus said.

Fulgrim sighed, "Ouch!"

The endless attacks reached a climax. Pieces of glass ice crystals mixed with pink mist floated. Demons with sharp claws and long tails spit out their long tongues like jelly and were hatched from the gauze on the ground. They let out sad cries. The call seeped out of the air and seemed to belong to the native people of Cadia, but also seemed to belong to something more.

The figure of the phoenix burns like a candle in the maze, burning one by one, with a very beautiful light, jumping and floating infinitely, the sword is like rain and wind, stepping on the gap between the sword light. With delicate steps, flowers of blood bloomed under his feet.

"Stop for a second," Ferus said suddenly, and Fulgrim obeyed without hesitation. The shadow of another steel arm suddenly appeared on his vacant arm - no, that was a heavy hand cannon. A series of precisely calculated artillery fire penetrated the weak point of the mirror maze within this second. A series of broken mirrors fell down layer by layer like dominoes. A large number of gears and pistons burst apart, opening a branch road with few enemies.

"How do you know? Well, that's you." Phoenix muttered.

Fulgrim gained some breathing space along this empty path. A pool of living silver flowed under his feet, cushioning his injured feet.

The flaming sword sliced ​​through the air, bringing up a gust of hot wind. Fulgrim's movements were as swift as the wind, and Ferrus's precise fire formed an impenetrable line of fire behind him. The mirrors shattered under their attacks, and more parts of the steel maze also shattered.

"You and I are familiar," Ferus said thoughtfully. "Your fight is perfect too."

"What conclusions have been drawn?"

"You defeated me, so we know each other?" Ferus reasoned reasonably.

"What! How could such a barbaric thing come to forge our friendship? Am I that kind of person?" Fulgrim scolded with a smile, assuming an innocent posture. For a moment, he wanted to ask Ferrus if he remembered something. thing.

"No." Ferrus replied without blinking—at least Fulgrim didn't blink. "I just can't figure out why you're my friend."

"That's a little hurtful, Ferrus."

"You have an extraordinary will, superhuman skills, and perfection."

"I'm starting to wonder if you're secretly scolding me. I'm very wary of this word."

"Then why did we become friends?" Ferus asked hesitantly, while helping Fulgrim supplement his lack of long-range firepower. At some point, Fulgrim had a long-range firepack on his back, so much so that his Fire Wings had to find ways to leave room for it on their backs.

Fulgrim shrugged: "Look at those mirrors."

"The mirror is covered with witchcraft and cannot be looked directly at. The battle time is urgent. If you want me to know, you can tell me directly." Ferus said.

"Ouch!" Fulgrim sighed again, exaggerating, "You'd better not understand why."

However, the shards of mirrors continued to fly inevitably from Fulgrim's sight.

Every wall shines with cold silver light. The surface is as smooth as a mirror, but it distorts and deforms visually, as if it is constantly flowing with the pace. The metallic luster reflects the phantom deep in the maze. The interplay of light and shadow makes it difficult to distinguish between reality and illusion. The gears on the wall were running at a crazy high speed, making a low mechanical roar, as if the entire space had a life of its own.

There is an intoxicating aroma of mechanical grease floating in the air, and the fresh metallic smell of some high-tech material slightly burned. The mechanical heartbeat sounded faintly in my ears, with a deep sense of beauty and fatal attraction...

The mirror reflected Ferus's past: those most perfect battle commands, impeccable art of war and his powerful legions, siege of cities, calculations of targeted destruction, and the supreme terrifying efficiency of the legions... This is what Fulgrim said Privately, I have always been incomparable even to the War Commander.

What about his turn? The reflection in the mirror is no longer his current appearance, but brings him back to the past, to the time in his deepest memory.

He saw Chemos, an ordinary world on the verge of death. There was no conquest of behemoths, no glorious interstellar battles, only the last struggle of a planet before its death... He saw himself standing in front of the legion for the first time, and they were so lonely and weak at that time...

He painstakingly told them to pursue perfection, his words were bright and full of hope, chasing a better future, racing against life - his descendants believed him, and even he believed it himself.

Many years ago, someone once asked him, what is perfection? That was on the eve of his first foray into the depths of the Warp. He explained part of it, but hid something he didn't want to say clearly. He describes a resilient planet, Chemos—a place that constantly strives for progress and perfection. However, he left out the mirror part...

"Why can't I understand?" Ferrus asked, his voice suddenly remembering, interrupting Fulgrim's thoughts. He said not to look at the mirror, so he didn't even look at it.

"Because that's very strange," Fulgrim said in a daze, but kept talking, "If you are wondering how we became friends, I will be heartbroken."

Ferus woke him. He woke up from his memories, and his consciousness gradually emerged from the edge of chaos. But this was temporary, for the dark whispers never ceased for a moment.

Why do you resist looking directly at your shortcomings...

The darkness whispered to him softly, like a lover's whisper.

I can help you, let's see what you need, good boy, I shouldn't criticize you, let's see what's wrong with you... Let me help you find who you really are...

Fulgrim's thoughts seemed to be swallowed by the whirlpool of a metal maze, and he sank into the endless darkness and bizarre world. Ferus's existence became blurred, and the once unshakable faith was eroded in this illusion.

He understood where his fears came from, that they had once been real, but that he had put them behind him—the darkness was trying to re-trouble him, stirring up worries that had long since been quelled. But he couldn't completely control his thoughts and slipped into them uncontrollably.

He stayed too long in this maze of darkness and steel, and felt like he was being gradually eroded. His essence, his fire, was dying out.

So, does he need to continue to resist?

Yes, why should I resist?

Fulgrim seemed too dazed to resist. He relaxed his tense will and let his consciousness follow the mechanical vortex all the way down to its deepest part. His thoughts moved towards the extreme distance and depth, quickly slipping away into the old whirling thoughts...

He need not resist these thoughts.