Chapter 243 Conrad's Little Invention

Perturabo believed that Gabiad was the first legitimate Haemonculus he had met in Gomor—Conrad Curze certainly didn't count as one of them, as he was the Emperor's son, his blood relative.

The Haemonculus' body was covered by a complex interference field, which, compared to the misleading grid and fake refraction that matched optical physics, continuously radiated neurotoxins that were enough to sting the soul and mind, silently tampering with the other Eldar's understanding of him.

Unfortunately, all his efforts to hide his face and body collapsed under Perturabo's mechanical body powered by the fragments of the Star God.

The Iron Lord could clearly see the haggard and deathly pale face, the wrinkled body and the nightmarish ugly smile. He looked hungry and nervous, and between the cheekbones and brow bones wrapped in inelastic skin, his strange eyes, like black stones surrounded by thick smoke, reflected a sharp light.

+I am here. +Morse said to Perturabo, carefully manipulating the energy of the warp, preparing to do something beyond the standard, while not touching any warning devices that might exist.

Well, Perturabo thought, be prepared to play tricks. He allowed a bright yellow light to light up in his empty mechanical eye sockets, taking the more eye-catching color of the two-color stripes commonly used by the Iron Warriors.

His metal structure began to work, and the living illusion of flesh and blood skin appeared for a period of time on the half-body without the outer skin, and disappeared after the observer blinked, and so on.

The fragments of the star god, which had been more and more closely integrated with his mechanical body in recent days, injected flowing luminous arcs between the movement of his joints and the breathing of his ribs, making the electric light appear and disappear with his every move.

Gabiad and his remains servants waited anxiously in the hall of the church.

He never believed the rumors about the incarnation of Vaal.

Putting aside the fact that the legend of the Pantheon had long since disappeared, it was obviously completely unreasonable for the craftsman god Vaul, who was famous for pursuing aesthetics rather than morality, and spirituality rather than the secular world, to suddenly throw an avatar into the eternal city of Gomorrah decades after the Great Fall.

Considering the tradition of the church actively creating gods to consolidate its position, he would rather believe that this was another shameful and absurd trick of a small church.

His beliefs fell apart at the first sight of Perturabo.

The dark mind of the Haemonculus was suddenly held in the empty palm of a huge and cold intellectual consciousness, controlling and evaluating it.

This cold existence did not only come from the place where the machine was located, it was lodged in the entire dim space, and the frost brought by its breath rolled into a torrent of numbers and symbols, penetrating directly from his chest and neck, bringing strong distortion and dislocation, and constantly extending the vibration in the cavity.

For a moment, he compared this ominous and terrible premonition with the gaze of the hungry enemy when he went outside of Gomor, and was horrified to find that there was a commonality between the two, that is, the resonance of the warp that was beyond the reach of the Eldar.

"Stop." The iron giant said. The bright yellow light in his eyes dissipated, and the pressure in the room gradually dissipated like smoke and breeze. Gabiad tried to move the two appendages extending from his tailbone - they were frozen to the ground by frost.

Bang. The Haemonculus didn't look, but he knew it was the crash caused by one of his cadaver servants falling to the ground. Unable to resist the mental pressure, the servant had just broken his larynx.

"I heard," the robot puppet said slowly, in a flat tone and deliberate grammar, as if it was still adapting to the current Eldar language, "you want to offer me a gift."

Gabiad tried his best to move his eyes away from the golden rune illusion floating near the robot, and stopped thinking about what kind of profound and mysterious secrets those Eldar words arranged in a seemingly irregular way at first glance meant.

"Yes, Lord Avatar," the Haemonculus humbly bent his already bent body and twisted his expression into a respectful look, knowing that the robot puppet would be able to see his true face through the interference position. "I hope to show you my latest scientific research results..."

"Stop." The robot puppet's half face with skin was not interested, "You, in whose name, come to me?"

Gabiad concentrated his mind, estimating what kind of punishment the robot puppet would give him if he gave an inappropriate response.

He could not see any mercy for Isha's descendants in this machine, even though Val was the god who forged Isha's tears into soul stones and gave them to the children of the goddess of life in the myth.

"Your servant, Konrad Curze, praised you to us," Gabiad said carefully. "Lord Incarnation."

"Lie, Konrad Curze is not a servant. His pure heart is in his body." The robot was calm, "And I have my name. Spread it, my name, Perturabo."

Gabiad's fake smile disappeared for a moment. He did not expect the other party to give the high evaluation of the Blood Lord. He did not understand why the outlier among the Blood Orcs could so easily win the favor of Val's incarnation - or any other existence that was equivalent to the incarnation of the gods.

How long have Konrad Curze and Perturabo known each other? What kind of conversations have they had with each other?

"Yes, Lord Perturabo." Gabiad obediently changed the address, letting the fear of facing the unknown sink in his heart as he thought quickly. "I will keep your orders in mind."

Perturabo looked at him quietly, the yellow light in his eye sockets flickering faintly and steadily.

"You," he said, "when did you hear about me from Conrad?"

The signal capture device behind Gabiad's ear told him that there was no monitoring device installed here. He hoped there really was none.

"At our gathering, Conrad said that we must respect you." Gabiad uttered the word gathering carefully.

"Your gathering..." Perturabo repeated it once, with the emphasis on the gathering. "The gathering of allies."

"Yes."

"Very good." Perturabo did not ask further questions and moved the topic away from Conrad Curze. "Now, show your gift."

In the robot puppet's statement, Gabiad keenly caught a hint of doubt, and his withered heart beat in his failing chest for the first time in a long time. Combining the previous and subsequent questions, he suddenly came up with a guess that made him alert.

"I dare to ask, my lord," Gabiad raised his head, "what noble position do you hold in Konrad's assembly?"

"It has nothing to do with you, Haemonculus." Perturabo said indifferently, and the shadow of the forging fire ignited under his fingerless palm, burning Gabiad's ability to speak, making the Haemonculus feel that his lips were being sewn with irons, "Now, show the gift."

--

Perturabo did not know about the Haemonculus secret meeting that Konrad Curze was establishing.

Gabiad thought excitedly, subconsciously moving his normal mouth: the important helper mentioned by Konrad knew nothing about his Night Demon King's Court.

Konrad Curze was deceiving them with a fictitious covenant and exaggerating the description of the crisis with the trap of language. His connection with the incarnation of Vaal was not as close as he implied.

In the best case, the praise of "Perturabo", who undoubtedly has superhuman power, to Konrad Curze is just a casual courtesy, and the connection between them is not even deep enough to share an important covenant.

Then, the authenticity of the incarnation of Val has been proven, and the time has come for the bloody marquis's bluff to be exposed in front of the right object - the extraordinary power is beyond doubt, and those who are bullying others can be exposed.

Conrad was right about one thing. The blood orcs also made their own preparations for the changes in the situation in Gomor.

The portrait of Gomor is painted by the black blood flowing from the subversion and cycle of conspiracy, regime and family, and the story of betrayal is repeated year after year. Living in the blood nest at the bottom of the city, the dust suddenly floating in the air in the trembling of the upper level is certainly enough to attract attention.

In addition to Konrad Curze, another bet that Gabiad made early happened to be the Church of the Sun.

A few days ago, the bloody massacre that broke out at the church-organized dinner party seriously damaged the church's reputation; Gabiad therefore weighed the pros and cons of the church and Koz.

He complained in his heart more than once that if the Night Ghost King's Court was just a loosely structured mutual aid association rather than an ambitious rebel, he could even choose both sides.

But now, the church's hard power has not been damaged, and the power claimed by Koz has the suspicion of the incarnation of the craftsman god using his name, and the remaining Laughing God Troupe is also likely to be such a fraud. Comparing the two, Gabiad has already made a preference in his heart.

He boarded the gravity ship and set the course to the Church of the Sun. On the deck, he looked down at the dark city that slid under his feet.

Spires, antennas, and long bridges across the dark canal divide the lower urban area. Above, the minaret approaches the captured black sun, and in the eternal night below, the rugged areas grow layer by layer in the gap, piling up and stretching like stalactites.

In the distant harbor, ships shuttled between docking claws, and the dark mirror-like webway portals occasionally opened to capture food for the great city to feed its gluttony.

A scream suddenly broke out on the side of the ship, and Gabiad dodged an attack with agility that did not match his appearance. The hooked blade passed through his chest where he was originally, and a group of skateboard thugs were attacking him without reason.

He cursed in his heart and hid in the cabin. These looters are so bold!

The thugs' aircraft pulled out light in the dive, and together with the wings of the Scourge, they covered the dark sky around him, rushing towards him like a swarm of bats. The bladed skateboards scratched the outside of his airship, and dim light and poisonous fragments flew everywhere, and flashes burst around the airship.

His servants shot down a few with firepower, and a Scourge's wing was accidentally cut by the razor of the skateboard's reflective light, and fell from the sky in pain. Scourges with their carbines and blasters were out in the open, tearing at the armor of the ship, while more thugs managed to jump aboard, brandishing hellish blades, with seemingly endless double ammunition in their poison crystal mace guns, and the sound of grenades and hand grenades exploding continuously.

Those wild faces cheered in atrocities, and the patchwork armor obtained from scavenging and looting proved their status as low-level scum.

Gabiad walked quickly in the cabin, commanding his servants to resist the annoying raids and urging the helmsman to get out of the siege as soon as possible. He had no interest in getting entangled with these things, but now he was in a great trend of being besieged. The Haemonculus didn't understand why he was favored by them.

During the fight, another larger anti-gravity airship approached this side, and a series of disintegration cannons exploded in the air, causing the attackers' flesh and blood to fall down.

The hunting chains and long hooks pulled his airship and pulled the two close together. A group of warriors jumped from the airship to his deck, looking for him.

Gabiad did not go out rashly. Even though the airship looked like a group of rescuers, the timely arrival of this spaceship had proved that the previous attacks by the Scourge and the skateboard thugs were not accidental. This was a murder against him.

The Haemonculus hoped to find an opportunity to escape from this predicament.

In addition, he noticed that the guns held by these new warriors seemed to have been modified in some way. Different from conventional blasters or poison crystal guns, their weapons were loaded with some kind of alternative ammunition. This aroused Gabiad's vigilance.

Separated from him by a wall, the footsteps of the warriors first approached, then moved away, and gradually disappeared in his wide range of perception.

Gabiad considered self-destruction in advance as a way of escape. In the nest, one of his ears was lying in an empty crystal coffin. This means that he can enter the process of absorbing pain to revive his flesh and blood body at any time. Even if it will take longer, he will enjoy the bone-eroding pain because it is equivalent to safety.

"There are thirteen rules for revenge." A familiar voice suddenly sounded outside the wall, and Gabiad mobilized his observation equipment.

He saw a warrior in ordinary clothes, wearing segmented armor with a lot of sharp blades, animal skins and iron hooks hanging around his waist, and a red tassel on the top of the full-coverage helmet that has no color in the observation imaging, but is very likely to be as red as blood.

"One of the mottos is that if you want something to be in your favor, you must handle it yourself." The voice said, with a proud and cold accent. The warrior fired a shot at the wall and turned to retreat.

Gabiad was nervous for a moment and dodged away from the wall. There was no sudden explosion, no phase shattering, knowing that the conspiracy had not yet ended, his tense heart did not relax. The Haemo-Orc wanted to continue moving, and his legs suddenly became weak.

No, he had not lost his strength, his consciousness was still clear, the commands he gave to his muscles and implants were still clear, but something heavy and external was peeling away from his body, the warm protection was leaving him, and the cold touch was piercing his exposed muscles.

His skin was cracking, peeling off completely and uninvolved from his cheeks, arms, torso and atrophied legs and feet, turning into a pile of pale overlapping soft material, piling up under his two metal appendages.

Gabiad screamed, slowly and painfully dragging his body, which was only muscle, internal organs and bones, out of his shed pile of skin, moving the dark brown blood and bloated flesh closer to the door.

Behind the skin, the erosion he suffered penetrated deep into the muscles, and the fibers were breaking one by one, like twisted worms, falling into a pool of dripping blood. The collapse of muscles was not as neat and quick as skin, but more slow and chaotic, without retaining enough integrity.

This is more like an insignificant side effect, or an additional damage that the creator of this skinning flesh virus accidentally created.

"Victor..." Gabiad's wailing ended after his vocal cords broke. He had recalled the voice of the warrior, Asdubal Victor. He personally found him and used this virus that was enough to penetrate any defense, and the inventor of the virus could only be--

"Conrad Curz, this guy..." A shadow fell behind him, and his words were light and hard, with a unique ironic effect.

Behind him came the sound of the shadow picking up his shed skin, and then the skin was thrown away.

Gabiad fell to the ground, and his remaining internal organs and bones could not support him to make further movements. The shadow stepped over his head and walked out, and the door was opened from the outside at this moment. The warrior's combat boots stepped into the room.

"Well, this is our first formal meeting, Asdubal Victor." The shadow said lightly.

"Indeed." The archon of the conspiracy said directly, "I don't even know your name. In addition, your performance is impressive."