Chapter 264 That’s a Hammer

Whenever he had time to think and could not do anything else, he would think about another question he could not answer.

As he lurked in the shadows, his eyes fixed on the body reflected on the curtains, slowly raised his claws, and waited for the best opportunity, he often wondered what justice was.

In an ambush, a raid, in the act of killing the guilty, must his actions be within the scope of justice? What kind of structure will create a just society? What laws and principles need to be formulated?

When the cultures of two societies are absolutely in conflict, will justice still prevail?

If justice can be easily eliminated simply because of the bifurcation of civilizational ideas, and only exists in a single position and is illusory, then how can such a fragile concept that breaks at the slightest touch be successfully pursued?

As he listened to the bubbles of boiling liquid in the long experiment, waiting for the Haemonculus flask to give an answer, he would also wonder what morality was.

Everyone should get what he deserves. Is there a kind of moral randomness in this? Should the gift of the Primarch be attributed to himself? Are the special abilities that an alien has that are superior to humans what it should have?

No, this is the same as all origins, wealth, opportunities, and power, which are inherently unequal and different. What kind of order will these inevitable differences create?

Conrad Curze explored the answers to all this.

——

"What's going on there?" Fulgrim took the time to shout to his brothers on the ground, "That beast flew too high!"

After the giant pterosaur was led into the sky by Conrad Curze, the only enemies left in the field were the pterosaur riders whose aggressiveness and overall threat strength had suddenly decreased, and the Eldar witches who occasionally managed to withdraw their spirits from the protective shield and launch some psychic attacks.

The battle quickly returned to normal, with the Iron Hands and the Salamanders each doing their own thing. The former could not imitate the latter's tactics, and the two cooperated well, except that they had to fight in the smoke and flames. The Primarchs' unique fighting postures showed a storm of purple, gold, silver and dark green in the scorched earth, and no one could stop them wherever they went. The balance of the war gradually tilted towards the Imperial Expeditionary Force.

Vulkan now only wanted to end the battle as soon as possible, whether it was out of his concern for his Primarch brothers whose situation in the sky was unknown, or out of his grief for the casualties on the ground. The Great Crusade was not short of sacrifice, but there was no need to let too many unnecessary casualties occur on or off the battlefield.

"He is descending." Ferrus answered Fulgrim.

As the Primarch of the Iron Hands said, the membrane wings of the giant pterosaur in the air were flattened on both sides, shrinking towards its body core; the black spots circling rapidly in the high-altitude clouds expanded within a few seconds to the extent that mortals could also see the outline.

The singing was ethereal and light, like a fine drizzle, washing the air from the heavy clouds and rippling in the battle zone outside the protective shield; this caused the experienced imperials to stabilize their own centers of gravity, but they were surprised to find that no dark green evil vines protruded from the ground, and the dead trees did not suddenly stretch their branches to launch a whip.

The pterosaur dived down, but did not aim at the core of this battle zone, but rushed down quickly to the open space in the distance like a boulder in accordance with gravity; in contrast, the small pterosaur group that was still fighting hard with the Space Marines before, within a few moments of hearing the singing, they all rolled up into the sky like falling leaves flying in reverse, and left the battlefield regardless of conditions. Everything was falling into silence.

Hundreds of meters away, the pterosaur stumbled and rolled to the ground. The damage caused by Ferrus to its claws before could not be ignored; when the wind pressure was transmitted to the Space Marines and the Faria mortal army, only a gust of wind was left, and there was no previous impact that broke bones.

"What did he do?" Ferrus asked in a deep voice, "to win the battle in this area?"

Vulkan temporarily propped up his heavy weapon on the ground, his eyes following the pterosaur knights who were withdrawing and flying out of the war zone.

"It's not easy to imagine," he said, "The Eldar are arrogant and cunning, and their retreat is like a precursor to deception."

Then he retracted his gaze and turned his head to wait for the answer that Curze himself would give.

This small distance, for the speed of the Primarch's movement, only took a few seconds that could be easily calculated. Almost in an instant, Konrad Curze appeared in front of them with something in his hand. And the thing that was obediently grasped was confirmed to be the Eldar witch who had stood proudly on the dragon's back and glared at everyone.

"Are you injured?" Fulgrim asked first, and then he smiled, "No, this is a stupid question."

Curze's expression remained unchanged, frozen in a rare calm and seriousness. His walking posture was also very different from the lightness or weirdness he had shown before.

In fact, he straightened his back and strode forward. His blood-red cape expanded greatly in the airflow driven by his steps, like the rise and fall of blood tides. Every step he took showed a kind of wanton majesty and unique coldness.

"I appreciate your concern, brother." Curze nodded slightly to Fulgrim, using a personal word to accurately locate his attitude towards the Primarchs. "I am not injured by this."

He walked straight past several Primarchs who were confused, cautious, or alert, and approached the transparent barrier shield constructed by the Eldar wizards. He retracted his footsteps outside the barrier and threw the World Singer to the shield, as casually as throwing a roll of waste cloth.

The barrier dissolved around the singer's body, and after taking the leader of the Eldar under his protection, it quickly re-closed and returned to its original indestructible state.

"What is he doing?" Fulgrim said to himself, resting his fingers on the hilt of the flaming sword in confusion.

He thought Curze would propose some exchange, or take the opportunity to attack the Eldar's shields. But Curze just stood before the Eldar, waiting.

In addition, the coldness contained in Curze's nod also made him a little uneasy, just like the eccentric Primarch he knew before who had a yearning for the Empire, and the real Konrad Curze. Not like a person.

Then, from Koz's mouth, came a sentence that was obviously the same as the Eldar language, and might even be the Eldar language.

This made Vulkan immediately recall the strangeness in Coze's tone when they first met. Dusk ghost, a term flashed through his mind, and his blood seemed to suddenly become hot. The Eldar's harassment and attacks on Nocturne, as well as the crimes they committed, once again flew through his heart one after another.

These scum cannot be forgiven. he thought, blinking hard to clear the haze from his eyes. His hammer felt slightly hot in his hand.

After hearing what Koz said, the Eldar witch immediately got up from the soil and spoke eagerly to the other Eldar. The Eldar within the shield stared at their witch in shock, their expressions full of resistance.

"You are within the gunner's range, Curze," Ferus prompted.

Curze ignored it. Fulgrim wanted to step forward, but Ferus stopped him. The latter's caster sinks slightly, and the movement is slighter than the flapping insect wings, but it cannot be ignored.

"Wait, my brothers." Curze switched back to Gothic and did not look back. This time, he was as Gothic as he was born in the heart of the Empire. "They are coming..."

"Throne, who is here?" Fulgrim's voice trembled, "Is there anything you don't want to tell us?"

In the center of the barrier, a new noise came, as if cracks were opening in the ground. Soon, at the end of the field of vision, there was the sound of blades cutting the air.

Vulkan immediately recognized the leader of the Eldar. He had almost smashed the head of the bastard in black armor, and watched helplessly on the ground as he fled in a speedboat. Now he dares to return again!

The original spirit tribes in the barrier retreated in front of the new spirit tribes. They were caught between the barrier and the two forces inside the barrier, and were in a dilemma.

The three Primarchs could not see the front of Koz, but they could hear the familiarity conveyed in Koz's Gothic language.

"Have you recovered from your serious injury, Victor?" Curze asked.

The black-armored Eldar named Viktor majestically cast his eyes on the three Primarchs behind Curze. He also used the Gothic language of the Human Empire: "Blood Marquis, I am asking the innocent Shanadol I swear to Asuryan that the Dark Eldar will not invade Ibsen."

Curze smiled. "Don't we lack secondary planes and satellite worlds?"

Victor glanced critically at his cousin, who grew up in a wild world and lived among humans, and snorted. "I will treat them well for you."

But Fulgrim's tone had changed.

"Who are you calling 'us' with, Curze? When did you meet the Eldar, my brother!"

Curze finally turned sideways, revealing half of his side to his primarch brother.

"Twenty years ago," he said airily, "since I was born into this world, Fulgrim. From the moment I opened my eyes."

"You! Didn't you mean...? I only saw how much you decorated that building!"

"You deceived us," Ferrus said.

"I admit it, Fulgrim, Ferrus Manus." Curze lowered his eyes, "I plead guilty to my deception."

"How could you say that?" Fulgrim shouted, "How could you just..." He was so angry that he twisted into a smile with his upper lip close to his teeth, "Admit that you told such an important lie?"

"Lies, any lies, are not beautiful." Coates said, tilting his head. "Any lie violates the law of moral truth, whether it is for good or evil, otherwise morality will fall into a vicious circle of consequentialism. So. , I admit this guilt.”

Even if the Primarch thought of Rogal Dorn, no one was interested in mentioning him at this time.

Vulkan took a deep breath and felt anger accumulating in his chest, getting stronger and stronger. He grasped the hammer, letting its weight tug at his hand and at the same time the reins of his sanity.

He has already understood a lot of hidden information from this conversation.

"You deceived your brothers, concealed your collusion with aliens, and insulted their trust and feelings..." Unconsciously, his words gradually became more serious, "You made excuses to come to this planet just to save Your fellow aliens, instead of making your preparations to join the Empire!"

When he finished speaking this sentence in one breath, Vulkan found that his heart was curling up in pain because of his rebuke to Curze. Not every word in these words was what he wanted to say, but he had to speak, letting the pain of the flames burn his tongue.

"How do you want us to forgive you, Konrad Curze?" Vulkan said weakly. "Do you know how many crimes the Eldar have committed and how many humans they have killed?"

Curze stood sideways, half facing the Primarch and half facing the Eldar. Every word he said was clear: "I confess my lies, Vulkan. And only for this. I deny that I came here only to rescue the Eldar from your hammer, and at the same time reiterate that I am making all the preparations I need to join the Empire."

Beside Curze, within the barrier, more dark Eldar were lining up, like black chess pieces, forming a square array ready to go.

They wore faceless pale helmets and dark armor; except for a few Eldar holding guns and spears, most warriors held a broad blade of more than two meters in their hands, with runes engraved on the blade and a curved hook at the tip.

Vulkan immediately saw that this was the prototype of the broadsword Curze was holding. His fists were clenched because of this, and he found himself walking within ten meters of Curze without knowing when.

"You... this is already with the Eldar..." Tears hotter than fire rolled down Vulkan's face.

"Don't cry for me, Vulkan." Curze said softly. "Am I touching a path to rediscover justice?"

He shook his head on his own initiative, "No, this is an interesting topic, about where justice should be born in different cultural environments..."

"Stop!" Vulkan murmured tremblingly, then amplified his voice and roared angrily: "Stop your reasoning, Conrad Curz! Tell me whose side you are on, who is your blood relative! Give me an answer!"

Curz pursed his lips, loosened his hand, threw away the big knife that Vulkan borrowed but actually gave him, and let it fall to the ground with a clang.

"This is not a question of position." He said, "Although I can tell you that I stand on the side of mankind."

"Then come over!" Vulkan roared loudly.

"You are too angry, Vulkan." Curze looked at the face of the black giant, "and this anger has nowhere to go... Ferrus Manus, please tell me, when you had a conflict with Rogal Dorn, what advice did Horus offer?"

"Power and truth," Ferrus said, "Sigismund and Soth, representing the Seventh Legion and the Tenth Legion respectively, had a duel."

"Then, come on." Curze turned completely to Vulkan and faced the Imperial Expeditionary Force. "Wait for our respective notaries to arrive, and then we fight."

"You are just bare-handed?" Vulkan asked involuntarily, "And I..."

"Take it." Curze said, "I know it's a hammer."

He listened attentively, and suddenly said: "My notary is here, and yours is here too."

Inside the barrier, a figure who was highly similar to the Primarchs strode in, and his appearance was particularly amazing, half of his body was mechanical, and half of his body was skin.

If that were the only thing, it would not be enough to surprise the Primarchs who had experienced many battles. What really made it difficult for them to understand was the face outlined by the half-body skin.

"Perturabo...?" Fulgrim couldn't believe that the appearance of the 4th Legion's Primarch - or the machine closely related to him, made the situation even more chaotic. He couldn't understand why Perturabo, who had been theoretically on Terra recently, was involved in this matter.

Mechanical Perturabo nodded slightly. "Hello." He said, and the familiar voice once again proved his identity. "I am Perturabo."

"Hello, Perturabo." A brisk voice came from below. "I'm here. I heard that you need a duel notary here, right?"

Fulgrim turned his head to look.

The mortal Fas appeared here at some point, waving his hand and running towards them from behind. The tattered clothes made of coarse cloth seemed to be faintly shining with a layer of golden light.