Chapter 262 1544

Chapter 262 154-4

+...Is he still there? +

In the communication constructed by psychic energy, Coze's low voice could not cover up the grinding sound of his clenched teeth.

Konrad Curze was multitasking, sitting temporarily in the reception hall of Anvilarim on the Iron Fist, chatting with Fulgrim about the aesthetics of the empire's hive city, and about following Vulkan in the expedition. The camouflage battle scars painted on the faces of the mortal soldiers of the Faria Company are mixed in various colors.

As for Rogal Dorn, he had his own Phalanx - Fulgrim certainly brought the Emperor's Pride with him, but... all in all, he looked familiar with Ferrus Manus's ship of.

+Is he still confronting Vulkan? +

+Victor knows what it means to assess the situation, Curze,+Morse replied, watching how the Pied Eldar helmsman controlled the ship to navigate the webway,+To be precise, he knew it after Vulkan threw a stone at his head. It's time for him to escape. +

+ Which planet is occupied by Eldar exiles? +

+The time they lived together with humans was so long that they were able to spread sword cats all over the world. The buffoon on my side is calling them the Grass-eating Monkey Society, and Perturabo is sparring with that buffoon... oh, it's over. +

In the psychic channel, Kurtz fell into silence for a period of time.

+What do you want to do? + Morse asked.

+...Send my accompanying auxiliary troops to the vicinity of Ibson through the webway and stand by. No attacks allowed. Do not show intent to attack. +

——

During Shanadore's not too long career as a world singer, she had listened to songs of death and rebirth many times.

A handful of snow fell from the branches, revealing a few green shoots. Snowflakes fell into the sparkling clear pond under the waterfall, and the bones of a black-scaled swimming fish were melting into the mud.

Life rotates under the gaze of the soul of the world, and the exiled relics also wake up with the daily light.

Farming, weaving, letting the light dye the wheat fields yellow, feeding the mammoths, and...human beings who also live on this planet, if they like this name so much, taking care of the pterosaurs that fell into the tribe, bandaging them Injured wing membrane.

But the war broke out on the land.

Shanador touched the violent soul of the world and sang sadly in a low voice, weeping for the rage and pain coming from the soul of the world. The war has touched this desolate and peaceful land, the flow of life has been shortened, and deaths have increased abnormally. She was in unbearable panic and in great pain.

The desert has been destroyed. The trees were burned, the riders of the same race wailed under the fire of Burning Heaven, and the invaders, the war was also bringing pain to the invaders.

Ah, why do they want to inject the boiling fire in their blood into the world of Ibsen?

In every moment when water drops fall from the stalactites engraved with runes, thousands of lives are dying.

Shanadore sang in vain, squeezing out the remaining harmony and hope in her heart. The pure singing voice enveloped her spiritual energy, communicated with all things she was familiar with, and injected into the withered forest around her. The half-burned forest trees withered quickly, and the new tree buds absorbed the nutrients of the fallen trees and quickly regenerated into a lush jungle within a few minutes.

She hoped that this would be able to stop the intruders a little, but her efforts were always in vain.

From the ice fields to the wilderness, defense nodes were gradually breached. The intruders, armed with flamethrowers and wearing dark green heavy armor, were already so close.

Soon, the heavy blow of the giant hammer sounded not far away. They were approaching the World Temple, and it was impossible to resist.

For a moment, she wanted so much to jump into the deep pool, return to the gurgling river of souls deep in the World Temple, and escape from this land filled with mourning. Isha!

Shanador took a deep breath, drew out a long sword engraved with runes, and then picked up her witch staff. If she dies, the spirit of the world mourns her.

Before she left, she looked back at the door in the temple. She had only seen the Webway Door open once in the decades since she had been the World Singer.

Just a few days ago, a strange blood relative who claimed to be a Dark Eldar suddenly broke into the house. The stench of the killing of Khaine's descendants lingering on his body made her hair stand on end.

However, he did not bring blood, but only asked whether it was possible for this place to join the Midnight Court in an eternal city.

After her refusal, the Bloodkin left the World Temple and later joined the fight against the invaders. She didn't know what their current situation was.

If they do come here. she thinks. Then, she can only join the fight.

——

The air is filled with blood mist, and blazing flames are burning everywhere in the green jungle, as well as the ashes left after the flames burn out.

Highly mobile Eldar warriors riding pterosaurs rushed towards them from the side of the battlefield, while Eldar Knight mechas equipped with holographic force field shields, pulse lasers and psychic spears occupied the midfield of the battlefield, tightly Behind him are the protected obelisks and snow-white boulders.

After being dispersed among various fire units on the battlefield, Eldar wizards add additional psychic effects to the main high-intensity combat units in the front, giving them lightning-quick reflex speed, phantom-like agility to bully the enemy, and stronger firepower effects.

Energy beams intertwined in the scalding air, bypassing the bunker with long-range deflections. The firepower of this group of Eldar destroyed the troop transport vehicle in the front row. The Space Marines used this to leave the armored vehicle and avoid the vines and tree roots that suddenly sprang up from the ground. Or just crush them.

The twin dragon breaths spewed fire and roared, burning the fierce and savage scales of the Eldar lizard creatures, causing their charred wounds to spurt blood. These warriors and commanders who have been tempered by the furnace of war are injecting the will of Prometheus into the entire battle.

After this round of attack, if they can knock down the knights in the front row who attract firepower, they can open up the situation at this node that is guarded particularly tightly for some reason, creating a greater attack advantage.

In the sky, the Storm Eagle fighters shuttled through the wind, thunder and lightning that penetrated the sky and the earth. The witchcraft of the Eldar here triggered the attack of nature, and the thick electric light chased the tail smoke of the fighter cluster.

In the Salamander Legion, the Pyroclastic Squadron plays the role of the destroyer. If it were not for the extermination of the aliens, the Salamander's Primarch Vulcan would not easily mobilize this team.

Now, these warriors wearing fine armor made of obsidian crystals from the Nocturne volcano are in the Storm Eagle fighter, tidying up their salamander leathers, standing at the hatch of the Storm Bird, waiting for the fighter to approach the Eldar node in the dense forest.

According to the report of the probe, on Planet 154-4, the Eldar have mainly established three well-defended nodes, located in the desert, ice field and jungle.

After a series of judgments and choices, the Legion chose the desert as the first attack point, followed by the jungle. The battle in the jungle has not yet ended, but the Space Marines are steadily destroying the Eldar defense line bit by bit.

When the victory report was delivered to Vulkan, he knew he should be happy about it.

The giant lowered his head, sat on the ground in the makeshift tent, and looked at the photo that was taken.

In the photo, an indigenous woman was crying painfully on the dark green scales of the Flame Guard. The woman's child also nestled at the warrior's feet, with tears in his eyes. At Vulkan's signal, the Primarch's guards acquiesced to the sobbing of the native woman and gently comforted her.

The Imperial scholars believed that these natives were crying for joy at their liberation from the Eldar. But Vulkan knew that things might not be so.

Then, Vulkan stopped the mortal soldiers from secretly filming. He didn't want anyone to mistake the Emperor's warriors as saviors. No, they were just warriors.

"How many Eldar nodes did you win, brother?" A voice sounded.

The holographic image of Ferrus Manus quickly took shape, and his figure soon became clear. A steel-armored giant with black hair like shale and silver eyes like ice sat in the command chair with a helmet in his hand.

"One, I think. Soon two." Vulkan said gently, "If you were here, this victory might be easier to achieve."

"I'm on my way." Ferrus' words were as brief as ever, "I'll be where you are in twenty hours."

"You're here?" Vulkan was a little surprised, "Aren't you and Fulgrim heading to the planet Nostramo?"

Ferrus was calm. "That's why I'm here," he said, adjusting the position of the camera so that the images of the other two people present were also partially reflected in Vulkan's eyes.

The dazzling purple phoenix Fulgrim leaned against the back of Ferrus's chair, tapped his fingers and nodded slightly to Vulkan.

"Hello, Fulgrim." Vulkan said, his attention was quickly drawn to the person next to Fulgrim. The soft black hair formed a surprising gap with the extremely pale face, and the oversized black eyes created a shadow-like coldness.

His thin lips were tightly pursed, and the scrutiny he cast was almost aggressive, but even so, it did not conceal the extraordinary demeanor of the Primarch that was unique to him.

"I am Konrad Curze." The strange Primarch said, and his Gothic accent with many consonants was accompanied by an indescribable elegance and agility.

Somehow, this rare agility made Vulkan feel familiar, but he didn't like it.

"... It's nice to meet you." Curze said.

"It's also nice to see you again. Curze wants to witness a battle of the Imperial Army." Fulgrim said. "And you just happened to have half of the battle in 154-4 left to fight, Vulkan."

Although Konrad Curze didn't look very happy, it was a good start. Vulkan thought.

"It's nice to meet you, my brother." He said, his dark face smiled, and his deep voice contained enough warmth. "If you want to know, we are fighting the Eldar. Do you know them?"

"I know a little bit." Curze said, taking the projector handed to him by Ferrus and sitting down next to him, "Can you tell me a little bit? Why did they appear on this human planet?"

"We don't know." Vulkan said, "But Ibsen has rare mineral resources. We will incorporate it into the territory of the empire, and for this reason, the influence of the Eldar here must be stripped away."

"Ibsen?"

"154-4, the 154th Expedition Fleet, the fourth conquered planet." Vulkan said silently, "This world used to be called Ibsen."

"What's the difference between them in your eyes?" Curze asked.

"Hmm?" Vulkan felt a little unhappy about this question, and he soon realized that it was his own problem. The Lord of Fire Dragons exhaled and felt a burning sensation rolling over the tip of his nose.

"We use numbers to identify planets, while indigenous cultures have given this planet another name," he said. "That's the difference, I think."

Curze licked his lips, which seemed to be often bitten, and there were some small scars that had not healed.

"You care about the natives of 154-4, my brother," he said. "Why?"

Vulkan sighed. "The glory of the Empire has not yet shone on them, brother."

"That's all?" Curze asked, his expression showing that this was an unexpectedly serious question, but Vulkan was unsure how to answer. Somehow, this brother made him feel a little uneasy.

"Saving people is what we should do," Vulkan replied.

"What if they can't be integrated into the Empire? What if they are difficult to save for some reason?"

"Conrad?" Fulgrim's voice floated, as if trying to stop Curze's series of questions.

Vulkan moved closer to the projection. "There will always be a way out," he said, feeling a little numb. "We are born in flames."

——

When the Iron Hands team landed, the node established by the Eldar in the jungle on Planet 154-4 had been conquered by the Salamanders. The Space Marines carried the bodies of the Eldar for centralized processing.

Few natives were hurt, but the Emperor's warriors did terrify them. They hid in the sparse woods and watched in horror as the warriors built a new camp here. Most of these people were women and children.

When they found the Lord of Fire Dragons, the dark-skinned, red-eyed giant was talking to a mortal.

The mortal was wearing a very inconspicuous coarse cloth, squatting in a pile of dead bodies made up of the bodies of the dead scouts, trying to look up and explain to Vulkan, who was too tall even for a Primarch, why he could stand out and not die on the spot.

"I hid well, you have to believe me." The young man said. "That's how I survived."

"What's your name?"

"Fass. Believe me, there really is a fourth node on this planet..."

"My lord." A guard reminded Vulkan. "Your brothers are here."

Then, several Flame Guards knelt on one knee and greeted the three Primarchs.

Vulkan turned around, revealing a battle-worn face; the hardships left by the expedition condensed into deep compassion in his red eyes.

"My brothers." He opened his arms to the few people.

"I dare not hug you, Vulkan." Fulgrim smiled, "My back still hurts."

Vulkan retracted his hand and stroked the back of his head instead.

"Are you Konrad Curze?" he said kindly.

Curze pulled the corner of his mouth. "Hello, Vulkan."

"It looks like you don't have the right armor yet?"

"Maybe." Curze nodded and noticed the mortal behind Vulkan. The mortal met his gaze and waved his hand energetically.

"Where will the next battle take place?" Curze asked.

"I really suggest you trust me," the mortal began to wave his two hands at the same time, "There is a core node in 154-4, why not destroy it?"

"Who is that?" Curze walked towards the mortal who was currently sitting in the pile of corpses, frowning slightly.

"A survivor." The mortal shrugged, "Don't care about me... but at least care about my information, Primarchs."