Chapter 263 The Moment of Choice

Morse waved his hand and dismissed the psychic screen in front of him.

The scene finally freezes in the motion of the mortal man calling himself Fath waving to Conrad Curze, the source of the perspective taken by Morse's psychic camera screen.

"Who is that?" asked Mechanical Perturabo. "I don't see anything unusual."

"Oh, look at my reaction, who else could it be?" Morse returned to his seat, rubbed his fingers, and reopened the perspective of psychic communication. "Isn't he very busy? Why is he everywhere?"

"Emperor?"

Morse snorted. Even if the Emperor's characteristic powerful cold golden spiritual energy did not touch his etheric body along the screen, he could still recognize that it was the Emperor who was pretending to be a young mortal boy today.

On the screen, Mortal Faas gestured to several Primarchs, describing the Eldar node located at a certain point in the center of the planet 154-4. Face was not afraid of being surrounded by the four Primarchs. If anything, he just looked a little surprised and looked at the face of Konrad Curze a little too many times.

"I'm sorry, Vulkan. I've only heard the names of a few of your big names in the expedition team. Every night we lie in the tent and praise the power of the originals!"

Face said with a smile, making Morse wonder if taking off his identity as Emperor was really worth the joy he showed.

"But I haven't heard of this one..."

"You have too many questions, Faz." Vulkan said helplessly.

"Would you smash your fist into my face?" Face asked curiously.

Conrad Coates' silent expression suddenly became more interested: "Maybe I will do it..."

He deliberately added: "Although I don't know you."

Fasi's smile faded, "Okay, I won't ask anymore. Unlike these obelisks, the node I saw is an arch. In terms of defense strength... there are more elves and a lot of beasts, but I I don’t recognize it either. I’m just saying that there is a place where you might need this information.”

To be precise, the archway that Faas mentioned is a remote webway gate that is currently guarded by the Wild Eldar and has only been opened a few times over the years.

Perhaps the exiles who left the Ancient Eldar Empire early did not retain enough Webway technology, or maybe they just threw the technology under a rock and waited for it to be eaten by some herbivorous dinodont one day. ... Objectively speaking, their understanding of the Webway is far inferior to that of the Dark Eldar who are now dependent on the Webway.

Planetary defense is another matter, and that is the responsibility of the many Arks who followed the prophecies and fled early into the utopian world they created.

This resulted in the Exiles' method of dealing with the sudden appearance of "soul-devouring dark cousins" from the Webway nodes being almost exclusively to squat at the door and send dedicated guards.

——Kuzzi relayed this content to Morse in the psychic channel. Morse then conveyed it to Perturabo after some personal summary.

"But now there are no guards left," he said.

Between the two arc-shaped milky-white spirit bones covered with moss, a layer of energy vortex suddenly swayed. From the light silver light as thin as gauze, it condensed into a thick curtain-like deep green vortex, in the curved frame of the spirit bone. Swirling and surging in the arch.

A hand wrapped in black cloth poked out of the portal, and then Morse left the webway and entered the realm of reality. Perturabo followed, and the rest of the Eldar, subject to the restraints of Konrad Curze, continued to wait on the other side of the Webway Gate.

"Ibson has good air," Morse said. “That’s the good thing about the primitive world.”

"Have you perfected your sense of smell?" asked Perturabo, who had recently taken a liking to improving the sophistication of his mechanical body's sensory system, perhaps because he had nothing else to do.

"No, so I'm analyzing the composition of the air and judging it based on human experience."

The two chatted while walking out of the core area of ​​the World Temple. Near the room where the webway door was located, a circular altar made of a large amount of fired clay appeared.

On the circular wall near the altar, a regular shrine is embedded in the earthen masonry, with rough statues of the Eldar gods placed inside. Runes and documents praising Samhan, the giant python of the universe, are written in the Eldar language. , can be seen everywhere.

A group of human aborigines are gathering here to worship the central area. On the stone platform, an Eldar who appeared to be a female witch-elven warrior was firmly trapped here. Several human priests combined their local customs with part of the Eldar culture to lead many believers in reciting a set of self-contained prayers.

Seeing two strangers entering the altar hall from the residence of the World Singer, many believers were extremely panicked, shouting and fearful voices one after another, and pairs of eyes filled with fear were extremely confused. Fortunately, no one used weapons.

"Don't be afraid." Perturabo strode to the center of the altar and comforted him in Gothic to no avail, so he switched to Eldar. "No need to be afraid, I have no intention of being your enemy."

Several humans began to look at each other, passing on their gazes and thoughts. Soon, the priest wearing the mask of the girl god Lilith pinched his robe with the runes of the soul of the world and took a step forward: "Are you Isa?"

Morse coughed into his sleeves very exaggeratedly: "It seems that you have been upgraded from an incarnation to a main god."

"No." Perturabo replied to everyone, and then reached out through the ring of fire and pinched the deathly white face of the wizard trapped on the stone pillar.

On the right side of her forehead, he found a bleeding scar newly carved with a sharp blade in recent days. The outline was exactly the spear piercing the heart of Victor's black-hearted conspiracy.

The Witch Spirit did not respond. Her consciousness had fallen into a self-protective hibernation in a half-dead state.

He let go of the wizard spirit, turned around, and faced the native people again.

"What are you doing, humans?" Perturabo's deep voice was as calm as the wind before the rain, filling the cave heavily. "Using the Dark Eldar as sacrificial materials?"

"I hope the predators... don't come again." The priest also spoke in Eldar with a strong accent, his tone trembling. "We...we don't want to."

Perturabo tore the witch spirit from the stone pillar and held it in his hands for observation.

The Witch Spirit barely moved his eyelids under all this torment, and as soon as he woke up, he spit out a mouthful of poisonous blood at Perturabo. The blood fell on a golden rune barrier that emerged out of thin air, sliding to the ground and hissing and smoking.

If Konrad Coze's alien child comes and goes, it only means that even the current Dark Eldar themselves do not want to accept this useless wizard.

"Wish the Dark Eldar not to come again?" Perturabo asked, throwing the Witch Spirit back to the center of the fire ring, and at the same time, he took out a spare short spear embedded in the metal skeleton and threw it out, nailing the Witch Spirit that was still in the air. Return to the surface of the stone pillar.

The priest witnessed this miracle and took the initiative to kneel down on one knee: "They...Isa's children protected us, and the plunderers at dusk have promised never to return, but on this land...the tall gangsters have not left yet."

——

The giant pterosaur circled rapidly in the air, breaking the smoky cloudscape into several grand areas shrouded in smoke. The riders, descendants of the ancient spirit clan who had been exiled since the empire, clung to the pterosaur like a small insect or microalgae. From their backs, chanting their complex language, they pointed their dual-wielding spears or force field staffs into the air.

From high in the sky, thunder and lightning struck horizontally and vertically, and the natural fury of Ibsen's world swelled in the heavy rain clouds. Correspondingly, the multiple grenades and fireworks launched into the high altitude by the Human Empire Expeditionary Force were like reverse thunder, splitting scars on the tough scales of the beasts and tearing apart the membrane wings of the pterosaurs.

Although the storm bolter cannot harm ferocious beasts with high defense, it can easily penetrate the defense against the lightly armored Eldar rider, causing damage and shooting down the pointed-eared aliens - as long as they fail to attack again and again. Get out of bolter range as quickly as possible during raids.

Within the transparent barrier held up by the chants of the Eldar wizards, the green grass swayed gently. Outside the barrier, the fertile earth had been burned into charred black iron. Vulkan wears dragon scale armor, and on his shoulders is the skull of the giant salamander Ur'sar, the prototype for the Legion's logo.

He and Ferrus Manus each held a legendary hammer forged from indestructible raw materials. They swung their arms downwards and smashed together on the Eldar shield. Their terrifying power and The trembling sound of the giant hammer as it fell caused the chanting wizard inside the hood to blink faster physiologically, unable to avoid its sharp edge.

Ferrus Manus rarely smiled, and a hearty battle inspired his unique personality as a Primarch on one side of the war. The hammer, forged by Fulgrim himself, perfectly matched his every rhythm in battle, polishing every attack to an impeccable degree.

"War is like forging." Vulkan noticed Ferus' expression and relaxed at his brother's high emotion. Ferus did not often show such strong positive emotions. No matter what the outcome of the battle itself was, at least at this moment, he was happy for Ferus. "We are the ones holding the war hammer."

"Similar to the ideas of those war blacksmiths?" Ferus joked. Under his attack, the shield trembled like foam, but it had not yet cracked and collapsed.

"We are all Forgers. You, me, Perturabo." Vulkan said, noticing Conrad Curze who was holding a broad-bladed sword and fighting a pterosaur swooping down from the sky.

The sword was not the weapon Curze wanted, as the Eighth Primarch had mentioned before the battle began.

Curze asked if there were claws and other weapons suitable for the original body to use. However, none of the people present liked the lightning claw or power claw blades, and the temporary forging was inevitably flawed, so he could not give him the most convenient one. weapons.

Koze didn't say much, and borrowed a ready-made wide-blade long knife from Vulkan's existing arsenal, and asked Vulkan to temporarily fuse a hook that extended to the outside of the knife head.

"Perfect Nightmare Clive," Konrad Curze called this category of weapon as he took the sword from Vulkan. "Thank you, Vulkan."

In the distance, Conrad Coze was not wearing any armor, wearing a toga and a cloak. As his clothes were flying, he used the hook at the front of Clive's broadsword to firmly hook the wings of an unmounted small pterosaur. There was a gap in the internal skeleton, and with a backhand turn, the small pterosaur was dragged to the ground in the air.

The hook was immediately pulled back, and the pterosaur was immediately thrown into the soil by the inertia of the huge force. It was fluttering in severe pain, its claws kicked wildly, and the snake-like yellow eyes were filled with hatred.

The original body turned his hands and held the long knife with both hands, slashed downwards with the blade side, and used gravity to chop down the long tail of the lizard-like creature that was tumbling in the middle. He pinned the pterosaur to the ground, which was barely out of balance, and then applied another force. , the dragon's tail is cut into two parts.

The rest of the dissection was like an extremely skilled performance. The Primarch's expression was cold and focused, and the red cloak he wore was like rain and fog, setting off his light and strange dark blue figure.

The long sword was like an extension of Konrad Curze's gauntlet, smoothly cutting along the spine into the thick skin and the first layer of flesh of the pterosaur, sliding horizontally to the right wing at a perfect angle, flipping once, accompanied by the pterosaur's extremely painful long howl, half of the dragon skin was peeled off, and a handful of hot blood flew out, splashing on the end of Curze's raised cloak.

"Fulgrim!" He shouted, unfolding the thick leather, letting the leather wings with flowing light on the surface fully open, and in the sword light of another flying flaming sword, he found the purple phoenix that was concentrating on killing its prey with a gorgeous slash.

Fulgrim turned around and smiled: "Good swordsmanship, my brother!"

Curze cut off the pterosaur's throat with a knife, ending the beast's pain.

He put the dragon skin on his shoulders and wandered around the edge of the battlefield, fighting the beasts that separated the team, and gradually approached the core node wrapped by the barrier, until he was only a few meters away from the Eldar rune reader in the node, and each of them could see every detail of each other's face.

Just as Koz was about to speak, the sky suddenly became dark, like dark clouds covering the sun, and a hurricane rolled in from behind. A long roar shook the earth, causing the earth and rocks to splash and bounce like grains.

He turned around and saw a huge monster with a wingspan of more than 20 meters passing by from a low altitude. The Space Marines reacted quickly, and their bolt guns immediately aimed at several weak points on the giant pterosaur's bones and skin, such as the abdomen, but it was extremely difficult to cause effective damage to it.

The pterosaur flapped its wings once, and the wind pressure pressed a large number of Space Marines, causing their boots to be pulled back on the ground, leaving scratches deep into the scorched earth; the ones who were really seriously injured were the weakly protected Faria mortal army. Their internal organs and flesh were ruptured in large numbers by the pterosaur's long roar and air pressure, and many relatively fragile mortal warriors died on the spot and could not be saved.

In the middle of the pterosaur, a red-haired man with a high ponytail tied near his head was standing steadily, staring at the World Singer of the Imperial Legion, holding a wizard's staff in his right hand and a sword in his left hand, and shouting in the wind in the Eldar language like singing: "For the Soul of the World!"

The other Primarchs naturally did not understand the call of the World Singer, but it was not difficult to imagine that it was some kind of war cry.

Facing this giant beast, Vulkan, Ferrus and Fulgrim approached the beast at the same time, holding their own weapons, looking for the weakness of the giant pterosaur and distracting the attention of the giant. On the back of the pterosaur, the World Singer roared, and several roots buried underground broke through the soil, rolling the earth, making the soil surge like a tidal wave.

The Primarchs easily found their own balance points. Fulgrim stepped on the ground with the power of the earth, flew over and cut the flank of the low-flying pterosaur with a sword, and the Primarch's weapon instantly cut a bloody wound on the giant. The pterosaur turned its head and swung its tail, wanting to fight back. Ferrus seized the opportunity and swung his heavy hammer, hitting the pterosaur's claws and smashing two toes.

Vulkan took a moment to stare at the pterosaur, focusing on its every move, and shouted: "Conrad, you are not wearing armor, and your weapons are not handy, so don't come over!"

After that, the Fire Dragon Lord, who was used to hunting giants on Nocturne, stepped forward and swung the iron hammer in his hand heavily at the pterosaur's outstretched wing, and swung it upward against the scales. There was a burst of flesh and blood bursting, and large pieces of dragon scales were peeled off and scattered, flying with the smelly blood mist.

The pterosaur was surrounded by enemies on both sides, and it was difficult to decide on a countermeasure. The World Singer gritted his teeth and sang, and psychic sparks shot out from the top of the force field staff. The incapacitation technique slightly weakened the original body's armor; at the same time, the light of the witch fire flickered, and within a range of 24 meters, psychic lightning struck rapidly, not seeking to cause too much fatal damage to the original body, but only to cause some interference to the original body's actions.

Vulkan analyzed the beast's combat status and knew that it could not hold out for too long under the combined siege of the three Primarchs, but the casualties of the mortals around him made him furious. He hoped to resolve the battle as soon as possible, and guessed that this unique witch was likely the leader of the remaining Eldar wizards.

In the flying dust, Vulkan suddenly saw a red and blue figure. With a strange familiarity with the pterosaur, he accurately and flexibly judged the direction and amplitude of each swing of the dragon's tail, stepped on the swinging dragon's tail, and climbed up lightly until he jumped to the back of the pterosaur.

The dragon's back, which was more than ten meters high, was severely blocked from view on the ground near the pterosaur's body. Only the blade of the broadsword was shining, and the voice of the Eldar witch was dissolved in the sound of wind pressure and weapons intersecting.

"Be careful, brother!" Vulkan couldn't help shouting. The next second, the pterosaur flapped its wings, and a strong wind suddenly rose. The giant beast flew towards the smoke-filled sky, and Vulkan's heart, which was beating steadily in his chest, suddenly rose.

"Trust him..." Fulgrim looked up at the sky, anxiously and worriedly. Ferrus said nothing, took a breath, and quickly re-entered the battle against other small pterosaurs.

In the sky, Conrad Curze stood against the wind. His tall body was as light as the World Singer. He successfully found a way to balance in the strong wind and took a step towards the World Singer.

"You dare to come over!" The World Singer changed to human Gothic, his voice trembling, and raised the long sword towards Conrad, which was not worth mentioning in front of the Primarch.

"Yes, I dare..." Curze spoke softly, and the world singer's eyes widened at the Eldar language he spoke so fluently, as if he had been born and raised among the Eldar. "Now we have a space to talk. Tell me your name, Daughter of Isa."

"Who are you!" the world singer shouted angrily.

Curze thrust his knife straight into the dragon's back, causing the pterodactyl to writhe violently in pain, and the wind direction was temporarily mixed.

The Eldar almost slipped and fell from the back of her pet; but Curze remained stable.

Coze stared at her and spoke softly.

"In the arena, many wizards prefer to train in unconventional gravity environments. They dance in low-gravity environments and train their gorgeous fighting postures to pay tribute to Hecate or Kane; they wait until they develop physical fitness At this moment, the gravity in the training room will be increased... How do you want to defeat me, world singer?"

When Curze mentioned Kain, the Eldar's eyes flashed with disgust: "A descendant of Kain?"

"No, no. A descendant of the Emperor." Curze corrected her, letting go of the Clive sword in his hand, and took another step forward, "My palm is not dripping with blood, but your soul is dripping. Blood and tears.”

His tone dropped: "How many lives have been lost here, Spirit Race?"

A line of tears immediately fell on the singer's cheek. In the howling wind, the tears were swept away and scattered deep in the clouds: "Don't ask anymore, intruder!"

"Would I defend this? Trying to make the Empire sound morally sound? No, singer. This is the Great Crusade. We conquer; and when we fail to conquer, destruction follows..."

"Then kill me! I am Shanadol, the daughter of Isha in the world of Ibsen!" the world singer replied, "You have no idea what you are destroying, what we are protecting..."

"The Webway Gate?" Curze interrupted her.

"You...you are also the soul-stealer of dusk!"

"I really don't understand why the Dark Eldar have so many nicknames." Curze said, "But listen, Xana'dor. The webway door has been opened, and our raiders are outside, just waiting for the command. Down."

Shanadol's expression almost collapsed: "No... Victor of Gemo promised that they will not come again..."

"Oh, did he make a promise on my behalf?" Coz showed a curious expression. "I don't think so."

In the blink of an eye, he suddenly appeared next to the singer who was in extreme mental pain and hesitation, snatched away her witch staff and threw it outwards. Shanador could only react, but the moment the blade was handed out, it was easily snatched away by Curze. , and turned to her own throat.

"My brothers don't trust aliens." He said, his eyes lowered. "I don't trust you either. But I know that you can be used, and... I have a way to control you. I don't like it. Waste, really, waste is bad.”

He turned the rune sword and cut off one of his fingers. Even the strong wind from high altitude could not disperse the fragrance of the blood.

Coze grinned, licked the blood from his fingertips, and stared at Shanadol with his black eyes: "Make a choice, World Singer. I ask you as the Lord of Gemo."

The world singer's expression shifts back and forth between hysterical despair and hesitation.

Coates continued: "I'll tell you good news. If you reject me, you will die. The natives of Ibsen will die. In the words of the salamander, 'reborn, the old things will be purified by fire.'" ;At the same time, a hunting team will be sent out until any wild spirit race in the virgin world...is included in the satellite domain of Gemo."

"Are you threatening me with humans?" Shanadore couldn't believe it.

"Oh, yes." Curze replied indifferently. "Furthermore, from a human perspective, I will not forgive you for your crime of killing humans. You will atone for your sins under the blood flag until you shed the last drop of your blood for the imperial expedition. How about it, world singer?"

"Why do you think I will give in?" Shanador asked stubbornly.

"Because you haven't committed suicide yet."

Shanadore knelt down on the dragon's back and cried loudly.

"It's hard," she said. "It's hard, Lord of the Dark Eldar."

"There are even more difficult things, kid." Coze knelt down, picked up the red-haired Eldar's hair with his fingers, and played with it without affection.

"What else!" She raised her head suddenly.

"Return to your people," Curze replied, his tone almost gentle amidst the strong wind, "Then, convince them to kneel to me."