Chapter 301 St. George

Morse leaned against the window, and through the tilted glass window of the sanatorium in the third inner sector of the Iron Wing, he could see the silhouette of half of Olympia. Green, harmonious, surrounded by steel strips like a pearl necklace, floating in the quiet universe.

He was not sure whether the temporary protective layer he added to the surface of Olympia played its due role, or whether the particularly dirty and corrupt one among the dark gods did not project its power into this lush, garden-like beautiful world. In any case, Olympia was not destroyed in this sudden crisis.

This made the Lord of Iron really relieved.

The craftsman turned around and looked at Fulgrim, who was leaning against the headboard of the bed, and Perturabo, who pulled a chair over and sat beside him.

On a bed next to them, Akurduna, the second captain of the Emperor's Children, was lying in the middle of the bed - all the furnishings in this room were designed according to the size required by the Primarch, so Akurduna, who was still in a coma, was indeed lying in the middle of the bed, with his head, feet and sides of his body all a long distance away from the edge of the bed.

Fulgrim's left half of his face was wrapped in gauze, and his left hand was now under the snow-white quilt, but it was not difficult to see that it was missing from the wrist.

However, his spirit was unexpectedly good. At this time, he was smiling and talking to his brother about his strange experiences before waking up, as well as some of his current thoughts. His tone was not dull, but it was indeed full of emotion.

Morse had no intention of eavesdropping on the brothers' heartfelt confession. His mind had already wandered thousands of miles away, and he kept thinking of Fulgrim's half-intact face in his mind.

If there was any other obvious change in the Purple Phoenix, it was his eyes.

Once, since birth, it was a pair of purple crystals, with infinite brilliance inside. Now, that radiant color has become restrained, no longer flashing dazzling light all the time, but a little golden fire is burning in the center of the pupil.

"Morse?" Perturabo suddenly called him in the middle of the conversation.

"What's the matter?" He came back to his senses and turned half of his face from the window. If it weren't for the huge furniture in this Primarch-sized room, he would definitely find a chair to sit down.

"Has the Emperor given an order to allow Fulgrim to know more about what we are doing now?"

Morse laughed. "Your respected and almighty golden father did not give permission for language, but if he wanted to hide it from Fulgrim, you would not have the opportunity to discuss it here now. You can talk about it, I believe the Emperor will not mind."

To be honest, in terms of the way to deal with confidential matters, I don't know if the existence of acquaintances has affected his judgment, he still trusts the Iron Lord more.

"Okay," Perturabo nodded, "My brother, I hope you can keep my words to yourself..."

"Wait a minute," Morse interrupted, "Doesn't anyone think Akurduna's breathing is noisy?"

He immediately erected a barrier, causing the golden runes to float in the air, showing different sides at different angles, unified as a component of a complex sound-proof rune.

The sound transmission between the Primarchs and the swordmaster who was still unconscious and had no consciousness was completely isolated.

"How can the breathing of a warrior be considered noise?" Fulgrim said in a playful and slightly condemning tone, "I am proud of their existence."

"You are good at discovering the strengths of others, Fulgrim, while Morse tends to focus on the shortcomings of others." Perturabo said with a stern face.

"Oh, Ferrus also said the first half of the sentence." Phoenix blinked, "I'm not sure how to tell him about this. I also want to ask him to get me an Iron Hand."

"And an Iron Eye." Morse said, "I think the next time you meet a new Primarch, you can ask him to guess who is the Primarch of the Iron Hands."

——

Sitting in the front row of the Golden Theater, Iskandar Khayon returned to the seat where he sat when he watched the play last time, and suddenly felt a little empty around him.

After falling three times while walking a long distance of ten meters, Telemanon Lyras was carried back to the bed by the Iron Warriors' pharmacist, so he missed the Emperor's performance.

On his side, Nefertari was nowhere to be seen in the team of the Sons of Muses, and no one knew where she was at this time.

Before the curtain opened, he could only look at the Primarch Magnus who was chatting happily with other brothers in the front row to relieve the boredom of sitting alone.

He should learn from Azak Ahriman, the chief of the Black Crow School, and master the state of mind that can go deep into his heart at any time, hold his breath and meditate peacefully in the noise and disturbance around him.

Khayon was the first audience to arrive in the theater, and then Astartes and local residents took their seats one after another. Gradually, the etheric aura lingering around him seemed to touch some particularly pure and clear soul power, spreading in the air.

He turned his head and found that it was a son of the Muse he had never seen before. A crown of green leaves from behind her head covered her ears. Her hair was tied up in a high bun and was as red as wild flowers in spring. Even her clothes were not as black as the night like other members of the Eighth Legion, but she was wearing a pure white robe with local characteristics of Olympia.

She did not look like a mortal warrior, but a dancer or singer who was about to go on stage.

Kayon swore that he just looked her over, but her extraordinary keen perception had already responded to this, "Excuse me, is there anything wrong with my clothes?"

She asked curiously, pulling her crown down to cover her ears more tightly.

"Oh, no." Kayon replied, "I haven't seen you."

"No one but our Master has seen all the Children of the Muses, I suppose," she said, her voice clear and beautiful.

"I've seen more than others, and I know a few of them, such as Nefertari. Well, do you know her?" Kayon asked casually.

"Are you her friend?" This aroused the curiosity of the son of the Muse.

"No, I have no way to contact her."

"Hmm..." She thought for a while, "If you can contact our 21st Team, you can find her. May fate favor you, human warrior. I'm going to go backstage to prepare. Goodbye, Iskandar ·Kayon.”

——

Under the desolate twilight, the swamp spreads out to the softened edge of the stage. The phantom of the wasteland spreads outward along the swamp until it fills the entire venue.

Inside the theater, the sky is like a huge lead plate, creating a depressing atmosphere; the wind is cold and humid, with the rotten smell unique to the swamp.

Between the two rows of auditoriums, a muddy road stretched like a passage to the abyss of despair, leading directly to the stage that had turned into a swamp—the forbidden land occupied by the evil dragon. In order to take care of the audience's feelings, the grass like knives only grows extremely lush, as if it wants to devour all the lives that pass by.

Deep inside the stage, the entrance to the backstage has become a looming nest built of darkness and fear. The ground around the lair was corroded by the dragon's venom, revealing a strange disease-like dark brown color, and puffs of smoke occasionally emitted, just like the gate of a hell garden.

In the set, many city residents played by Iron Warriors put on simple cloth robes and held torches. The light of the fire swayed in the wind. From time to time, the cries of children were dubbed in advance, intertwined with the comfort of their parents, forming a beautiful scene. A sad whisper.

"Alas, there is no cure for the pain in my heart! The sons of this country will fall under the dragon's mouth. How sad! My people, our hopes disappear like the morning dew."

The narrator, played by Califon, was responsible for dubbing behind the scenes. In front of the stage, since the original bodies were all male, Morse simply changed the princess chosen as a sacrifice in the story to a prince, and then used his psychic powers to create a Horu The image of S. Lupekar leads him from the back of the theater to the center of the stage along the road.

As for dubbing, this task was handed over to Horus himself, who was far away in the galaxy and had been waiting for it for a long time.

"My lord, my subjects, even though I have traveled to death's door, I have no regrets. If I die here today, I can exchange for peace in the universe under the blue sky, then I will dedicate my heart to My soul and destiny are presented together, let the blood flow from my body!"

The sincere voice of Horus Luperkar was spoken by his phantom through some small spell.

He successfully touched the minds of the audience, and they all worriedly speculated whether the prince would be the deceased in this drama - after all, in every drama that Morse had made up before, a leading actor had to die.

At exactly this moment, the sound of horse hooves came from outside.

The golden light suddenly appeared, and a majestic and lofty pressure descended from the sky, like the rain in a drought or the sun in the long night, bringing endless dawn-like omens. This majestic power filled the entire theater in an instant, like a boundless sea of ​​light, causing the surrounding shadows to instantly recede, turning all kinds of light and dark colors infinitely into the brilliant golden light, and the cold dawn melted into the air. It drips on the surface and penetrates deep into the skin and soul, calming the restless and making the thirsty cry.

A figure appeared from behind the theater, leading a golden, real horse. He held a golden flame sword engraved with runes in his right hand, and an immortal bird with fire feathers perched on his left shoulder. He walked out of the bright light. . His long hair is as black as late night, hanging down his shoulders, and he wears a golden crown like a sun wheel. The white light on the back of his head is bright, like the rising sun, marking the visitor's extraordinary identity and mission, or symbolizing that he is the eternal sun itself.

That armor has gone beyond the simplest symbol of protection. It is forged from a shining gold-like metal. The craftsmanship has already surpassed the limits of ordinary people. It is like it itself is the holy word of battle and protection, shining with enough light to blind. The blinding light of all evil. His arrival cleansed the souls of all those who witnessed this moment, and many even shed tears and knelt down even if no one asked.

No need to ask. This is undoubtedly the main character of this play, Saint George, the legendary dragon-slaying hero.

St. George led his horse and walked silently through the crowd of spectators. The firebird on his shoulder sang loudly and clearly, and without the need for St. George himself to speak, the emperor's voice penetrated directly through the defenses of space and soul, spreading throughout everyone's hearts.

+Where is the desolate sound? Who is lamenting here? I walk on the road of light, willing to thwart evil and sin, and help those in need and danger. +

"Alas, warrior, ahead is the dragon soul that devours the world. Our prince, the selfless wolf god, is about to sacrifice to this monster." Kalifon continued.

+Stop this sorrow and collect your tears. I swear to use my own strength to cut off the head of this evil dragon and give you eternal peace. +

The Firebird carries the Emperor's orders.

+If your hearts turn towards the light, this dragon will definitely kill you with one sword. +

After the rehearsal, the Iron Warriors all spoke together: "Saint George, we are willing to follow you, believe in the light, and abandon the darkness forever!"

The Emperor released his steed, causing his mount to dissipate into the air. He held Horus Lupercal behind him and stepped onto the stage. The sky became even darker as a result, as if the world was holding its breath for the upcoming showdown.

Deep in the dark stage, in that terrible lair, darkness kept surging like a whirlpool in the vast deep sea.

As the Emperor's light waded into the swamp and approached the lair, an extremely huge dragon finally gradually emerged from the darkness. Under the cover and cover of the black fog, it was still possible to see that there were four heads on its neck, biting each other, and at the same time spying on the saint of light. The ugly eyes flashed with evil light, and it could grab the life and wisdom of all beings just by breathing.

Saint George stood in front of this behemoth, his figure was tiny. The flaming sword in his hand burned more fiercely, and the golden armor gleamed in the gray sky.

The dragon heads showed terrifying power, and the power of each head was enough to easily destroy the world. The first one spewed out blazing flames, expressing a furious fighting spirit; the second one spewed out smoldering will-o'-the-wisp, with a sharp and sinister smile; the third one exhaled deadly poison gas, corroding everything; the fourth one was particularly twisted and strange, dripping sticky and fragrant poisonous blood.

Under the cover of black fog, the audience did not react too much to this illusory enemy, but they were still horrified and looked at St. George, hoping to get the blessing of light from him.

When the battle broke out, the four evil dragons attacked at the same time, and their evil power gathered into a storm that swallowed everything, with fire and ice intertwined, and poison gas and darkness spreading.

St. George drew his sword and stepped forward, his golden armor shining with the light of dawn, and every swing of the sharp blade cut off a dark chronic disease. The four forces collided fiercely against the gray background, and various ancient powers intertwined in the air, creating a magnificent scene. The fire bird soared into the sky, singing around the field, spreading a trace of bright hope.

After slashing again and again, his sword first penetrated the first dragon head, and the violent flames of war and the light of the saint miraculously merged, emitting a unified light. Then, the other two dragon heads were cut off, and the power in them was decomposed and reconstructed, and finally became part of the blazing fire on the long sword, which was seized, transformed and used by the saint. Every successful attack was like a lit candle, swallowing up the darkness with light.

Finally, when the last head of the evil dragon was cut off, the dark and blasphemous power completely collapsed under the impact of light. The last trace of darkness was dispelled, the swamp was covered with unprecedented brilliance, and the world was reborn.

Saint George raised his long sword, and thousands of light bands broke away from the sword, turning into eternal chains, dragging the dragon's corpse into the ground, imprisoned forever in the abyss of silence and emptiness, with no possibility of appearing in the world again.

The firebird flew back to Saint George's shoulder, and the illusion of the swamp and weeds also faded softly, revealing the original appearance of the theater. The Emperor sheathed his sword, still in his golden armor, and faced the crowd.

The phantom of Horus walked toward the Emperor and knelt on one knee before him.

The Emperor bowed his head and spoke to Horus.

+ Do not be afraid, for I am with you. I will strengthen you and help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. +

+ I wipe every tear from your eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. My thoughts toward you are thoughts of peace, to give you a future and a hope. +

He reached out his hand to Horus and lifted up the phantom of the Firstborn Son and placed him beside him.

Then the Emperor raised his head and looked at the silent theater, and the sound was like thunder.

"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. But you who are the called according to my purpose, to be my own special people among all nations, you will find rest for your souls."