Chapter 256 The Long Night Ends
"He really knew how to make the atmosphere scary," Morse said, pulling back two layers of black and purple gauze to make the scene of the amphitheater below clearer.
Below the distinguished box on the second floor where they were located, Konrad Curze's throne was hidden behind a thin but excessive layer of fur curtains, leaving only a hazy outline of the Primarch's huge body.
Below the throne, every stone step is covered with a layer of solidified blood stains.
The composition of these blood stains is divided into two halves. The first part comes from the sacrifices killed by Curze's followers during the midnight ritual of death three days ago; the second part comes from the behavior of the followers coming one by one to cut off their own faces.
Perturabo watched the entire process, and he actually used his anxious body language to explain what it meant to be restless.
"There's something about that..." he whispered.
"Excessively bloody?"
"It's not necessary, in my opinion." Perturabo said, and immediately added, "Only in general terms. The Dark Eldar are particularly unique and understandable."
At the end of his words, Perturabo added hesitantly again: "He probably wouldn't use this on his own Space Marine Legion."
"That's not necessarily the case," Morse put down the gauze, sat back on the Comoburn lounge chair, picked up the wine bottle, poured half a glass for himself, smelled the unique and strange fragrance of the scarlet wine, and took a sip. "The Astartes have helmets, but we don't necessarily guarantee what they look like inside the helmets... Okay, okay, I won't scare you anymore, big robot."
Below, several new remains servants belonging to Conrad who had already put on red gloves carried an empty coffin made of black crystal to the center of the field.
In the coffin, a pool of flowing black blood accumulated on the dark bottom.
"Asdubar Victor," Perturabo read out the Eldar name burned with charcoal on the coffin lid, "did he really not expect that he would die?"
Morse took another sip. Unexpectedly, he really liked the fragrant and sweet taste.
"Oh, about him, that guy came to me to verify one thing, that is, his genes seriously conflict with Conrad's blood potion, and he will die if he drinks it. Our Curze will definitely resurrect him anyway," he lowered his voice. Voice, "Pretty bad, right?"
In fact, Morse was more curious about how Conrad Coates collected Victor's blood. After all, the body of the Archon of the Black-Hearted Conspiracy was... destroyed completely.
"Eldar." Perturabo snorted, rubbing his fingers on the map of Inferno that contained the map of the Webway. He is still exploring the secrets in the drawings these days.
"Dark Eldar, now they have a new name." Morse corrected.
In the amphitheater, the colorful clowns enter the venue through various tumbles and jumps from the sky and the shadows.
Different from the splendid and flashy performances in previous performances, they put on new spring green uniforms with a relatively uniform tone this time, chose an aria symbolizing rebirth as the background, and used dance steps, songs and spiritual energy to weave a unique vitality effect. The space is filled with bright sparks of life.
This makes their dance easier to understand and watch.
If these Eldar actors had not regarded the dark brown blood stains on the ground as the soil for cultivating the foundation of life, perhaps the impression of this dance would be much better.
"Although they have always tried their best in their performances, after seeing so many gorgeous things, I still prefer this more normal dance."
Morse commented, putting down the crystal cup, opening up his perception, and his consciousness touched the psychic waves stirred up by the clown's singing and dancing in the field below.
"I always feel that they are saying that the bloody night is over. After that, it will be a happy and clean reconstruction work, with the new king ascending the throne, pardoning the ministers and so on."
"The night is indeed over," Perturabo said, not entirely focused on the amphitheater.
After the previous battle with Vastor, with the help of Mors, the Lord of Steel successfully intercepted some of the knowledge remnants of the ancient Eldar's technological peak.
As for the intercepted part of the essence of chaos, Perturabo will certainly not take it; now, Morse takes that part of power and waits to slowly purify it.
In their heyday, these Eldar tribes created many artificial life forms and automatons to assist them in reclaiming and fighting on wild planets. This leaves them free to focus on pursuing the ultimate perfection in art and a high degree of praise for extreme self-satisfaction.
Regardless of the fact that the ultimate outcome of their pursuit is to create great things, in terms of technology and architectural aesthetics, Perturabo still quite agrees with many of the designs of these aliens.
If it were in the past, he would definitely not play these alien tricks within the scope of the human empire. But looking at Konrad Coze's attitude of wanting to directly lead the Eldar auxiliary army to conquer the galaxy, Perturabo couldn't help but secretly sigh, maybe he didn't have to abide by the rules too strictly.
In addition, for a very brief moment, Perturabo also saw the unique extraordinary vision of the subspace Chaos Demigod. It is a kind of gaze that is higher than the level of time. It is a perspective that regards the future, present and past as one transmission gear after another on the same level in the huge cosmic machine.
Different characters flashing by quickly, interlocking events and causes and effects, these complex contents are mixed into vague engine power, pushing the entire universe along the sling of time, sliding in one direction towards the future.
Perhaps this is Konrad Curze's perspective. He thought. The perspective of a prophet.
Perturabo lowered his head and looked at the atlas in his hand.
In this high-level vision, there was a non-existent moment, in which he actually saw the fleeting hazy face of the cartographer, and the scene seemed to be a confrontation. But he could not see clearly.
Perturabo temporarily gave up the ineffective recollection and let his mind drive this active map to draw the webway he expected to see.
Considering the long time since the birth of this map, even if he had confirmed that this map was made by humans, the names of most of the places in it were unfortunately unrelated to the new naming rules of the current human empire.
Most of the time, he could only update these ancient place names step by step through the relationship between star clusters.
However, the naming of the Ultramar sector has not changed since ancient times, and the word "Macragge" is conspicuous.
Perhaps it would be a good choice to borrow Robert Guilliman's territory and return to his army.
Below the platform, after a song was sung by the Pied Eldar in the amphitheater, Conrad Curze, hiding behind multiple layers of fur, stretched out his slender pale fingers and gently waved them toward the center of the theater.
Although the Blood Marquis said almost nothing today, the audience and actors in the theater always kept one eye on the Bloody Marquis' every move on the throne. After the events of the Black Sun Fall and the Midnight of Death, the Blood Marquis has become the new generation of the uncrowned lord of Gomor.
The troupe received the message, changed their formation, and stood in a circle beside the empty black crystal coffin.
In the Midnight of Death, the vast spiritual energy condensed by absorbing the dark pain of the entire Nether City was gathered in this resurrection ceremony.
The twisted ropes of spiritual energy passed in front of the pitch-black sarcophagus, turning into a viscous river that even people without spiritual power could perceive; the etheric rain filled the empty coffin and merged into the residual bloodstains that were most closely related to Asdubal Victor in mysticism.
A surreal crack gradually widened, and the flowing river of rejuvenating energy rolled into a surging vortex, pulling the withered souls back.
Mors perked up, monitoring the surrounding psychic environment, checking for opportunities for the unborn in the warp to take advantage of the opportunity. Even if the Pied Eldar received the resurrection ceremony initiated by the God of Laughter, there were still many details that needed special attention in this dangerous process of connecting to the Aether Ocean.
Psychic sparks flashed around the black sarcophagus, and the noise in the amphitheater seemed to have fallen silent. Under the high throne of the Blood Lord, the sarcophagus of the newborn gradually emitted a light full of power.
The clowns held hands and focused on maintaining the stable position of psychic energy. The energy flow was injected into the blood pool, and the original matter gradually condensed.
Gradually, the blood pool surged and sank, like a receding tide, revealing a pale skeleton born from blood. Then, the blood continued to fall, and cartilage, tendons and ligaments were formed one by one. Muscle tissue flowed like molten marble, fixed into new limbs and torsos.
As the blood gradually dried up, skin began to grow, covering the almost non-existent fat layer, outlining the solid outline of the resurrected.
At the last moment of the ceremony, the released psychic waves swept across the entire theater, making everyone deeply shocked by the vigorous life force born out of pain, and even forgot to breathe. Deathly silence enveloped the entire theater.
From the throne came the sound of the curtain being moved.
The bottom of the hard boots clicked on the blood-stained long steps. The back of a scarlet cloak fell solemnly, embellishing a midnight blue dress.
Conrad Curz pushed aside the leather curtain and walked down the steps step by step to the center of the amphitheater.
Without saying a word, he stroked the black crystal cover with his palm, and looked at the body of the sleeping person in the coffin through the transparent material.
Then, the crystal cracked, and a lightning-like pattern cut through the cover. The crystal fell, exposing the body of the resurrected to the air.
The resurrected suddenly opened his eyes, and his eyes were almost pure black in the light and shadow of the black crystal. He looked at Conrad Curze and reached out to him.
The Blood Marquis pulled up the upper body of the resurrected, and the broken crystals slid down from the latter like drizzle.
"Respect our Bloody Marquis, the Lord of the Royal Court, the God of the Nether City, Conrad Curze." Asdubal Victor's voice was hoarse and firm. "Great, Lord of the Night."
All the people in the theater woke up from silence and knelt on one knee towards the center of the amphitheater.
"Hail, the true god who reverses life and death, the dark Muse who controls punishment. Please have mercy on us according to your kindness, and wash away our sins according to your abundant mercy."
"Great, Lord of the Night."
--
"I still think Macragge is more..."
"This is my request, brother." Curze said politely, if he didn't consider that he had been pestering Perturabo for more than ten minutes, "Please find me on the webway map, is there an entrance and exit close to Nostramo, okay?"
Perturabo stared at his brother who had just obtained the status of the Muse of the Underworld, and sighed in frustration.
"I know you really want to go to the theoretical home planet where you were supposed to grow up...but there, if the Emperor hadn't discovered it decades in advance, it would still be a planet that has nothing to do with the Empire. What use would it be for you to go there alone in the short term? Why don't you return to Terra with me, meet the Emperor, and then take your own army there?"
"I can bring my royal court." Curze said. "I need to take them into actual combat as well, Perturabo."
"You can return to Terra first and present your achievements to the Emperor. He will recognize your actions..."
Curze quietly raised a hand, interrupting Perturabo's statement.
"Perturabo, don't worry about me starting a midnight ritual of death on my planet. I won't do that easily."
"Yes, I can start a massacre against the planet at any time. I do not object to staining my hands with blood, but at the moment, I have no anger to vent to everyone. I... know the lowest level that life can degenerate. I They also know where their souls can spark cleansing.”
Perturabo opened his mouth, glanced at Morse who was leisurely watching a play not far away, and gave up any further debate.
He originally wanted to advise Coze to inform the Emperor of his royal court, but in a sense, the Emperor, who resolutely opposed the aliens in all national policies, was still a cold pragmatist in nature.
"Okay," he agreed with Coze's suggestion and spread out the map of Purgatory, "Let's go to your Nostramo first. I'll take a look, and you should also pay attention to where your planet appears on the map..."
Curze nodded and moved closer to Perturabo. Bright light blue lightning patterns flashed on the dark blue robe.
Perturabo's hand turning over the drawings suddenly paused, and a flash of light higher than the timeline passed through his mind.
In an instant, he finally saw the creator of this album clearly again.
It was a tall woman, wearing a skirt that reached her ankles. The dark blue fabric was dyed with various brilliant colors using batik technology. A purple-blue gauze stretched from the top of her head downwards, covering her shoulders, covering her skin as smooth as sandalwood. Her eyes flashed with sad light blue lines.
"How could you, a cunning man, deceive me like this! How could I silently accept such absurd behavior! If what you did was true as you said, I would rather abandon the webway map in an invisible place than tolerate this cruelty of yours. Held in the world!”
Perturabo pressed his forehead and immediately took out a pen and paper. Before his memory faded away again, he used precise painting skills to quickly outline the angry figure of this person and record what she said.
Morse appeared beside him at some point, staring closely at the sketch on the manuscript paper, his brows furrowed in a rare deep frown.
Tens of seconds later, Perturabo put down his pen and asked, "Do you know her?"
"Oh." Morse blinked. "That's Erda."