Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim

Amar was extremely grateful for this.

And shortly after the Gadinar assassination, he attempted to contact the Primarch of the Thousand Sons, Magnus the Red, via psionic communications.

He needed to tell the other party as soon as possible how the Blood Curse could be suppressed!

He succeeded.

Without breaking into the internet, they contacted his father.

Magnus was very excited about the message he was conveying.

The Legion's Blood Curse has been his most troublesome problem since his return.

You mean this Space Marine from the Emperor's Sons can remove the Curse of Flesh?

[Absolutely true! My lord, after being burned by his psionic flames, my body has now fully recovered!]

[Quickly! Get him to Prospero!!!!]

An extremely urgent shout came through the psionic communication.

Perhaps due to excessive excitement, Amar felt that the other party was so excited that they were about to jump out of the psionic communication.

It almost shattered Amar's soul.

I'll give him anything he wants, as long as it breaks our blood curse!

I'll do anything! I'd even kneel down for you!

Magnus, one of only four Primarchs to kneel before his offspring.

Angel/Foun/Vulcan (kneeling before his offspring): I will lead you to glory!

Magnus (kneeling before his offspring): Waaaaah, Cayan, I beg you, please, if you curse me again, I'll kneel before you! bang bang bang—

Is this all you're asking for?

Following Amal, we arrived at his private room, which was almost overflowing with books he had collected from all over the galaxy, filling entire bookshelves.

“That’s right. On behalf of Primarch Magnus of the Thousand Sons, I extend to you my sincerest invitation.”

"The Primarch has suddenly encountered an extremely serious academic problem, and the flame in your hand happens to provide him with a feasible solution to the problem."

"If the desired effect is achieved, the Primarch promised to meet all your needs."

Of course, even if Qianzi were completely clueless, she wouldn't go around telling everyone that her genes had undergone a mutation.

They used an extremely roundabout way to subtly express their expectations.

Unfortunately, Casca had already read the script.

It's just that too much witchcraft caused his flesh and blood to mutate, really.

They even said they would satisfy all needs.

Are you kidding? If I asked you to turn Guilliman into a little girl, could you do that too?

However, this is indeed a good thing for Casca.

Magnus is currently still troubled by the Curse of Flesh, indicating that he has not yet been deceived by the blue sprites of the warp and is currently Oglin with red eyes.

There is still a possibility of saving the entire Legion and Primarch.

If Qianzi is protected from betrayal and Xiao Ma stops making harassing phone calls, the internet won't explode.

As long as the internet doesn't explode, there is still hope for humanity's future!

"I accept your invitation."

Kasgar said the words that Amal had been waiting for.

"But I must say that there are more urgent matters that await our attention."

"Something urgent?"

What could be more urgent than lifting the Blood Curse of the Thousand Sons?

Of course, Amar couldn't directly mention the Curse of Flesh.

Even if Casca knew everything, he wouldn't dare to say anything.

"It's the Hand of Steel."

“I’m asking you, Amal. When you met Phyllis, did anything strange happen to you?”

"strange things?"

"It's something that goes beyond common sense and logic. Witchcraft, psionic energy, warp influence, anything goes."

"In short, has Philus encountered anything that doesn't quite align with the truth of the Empire?"

What Casca said was somewhat dangerous.

But for the Thousand Sons Think Tank, they are essentially no different from treating Imperial Truth as toilet paper.

Phyllis is not the kind of person who likes excessive mechanical modifications.

No one would be more eager to turn everything into a machine than those self-hating iron hands.

She has changed, most likely due to some unknown influence!

"It seems we really have encountered something very strange."

After a moment of contemplation, Amar seemed to realize something.

"That was when I was still searching for reinforcements for the 413th Expeditionary Fleet."

After the Ultramarines Chapter Commander Cicero suffered a defeat in the surface war, Amal, as a powerful psionic in the fleet, decided to lead a small voidship into the warp to seek support from other expeditionary fleets.

"In the process, we found Philus's Fifty-Second Expeditionary Fleet."

"That's normal, isn't it?"

"That's right, but the problem arose after I boarded Expeditionary Fleet No. 52."

"When I reported the situation at Gadinar to him and finally decided to pass the information on to the Son of the Emperor's fleet, that is, to you."

"We encountered a wrecked spaceship during our subspace journey."

A derelict spaceship?!

Casca sensed something was wrong.

Ferrus, the Iron Hand, encounters a derelict spaceship.

Not every ship can successfully traverse the turbulent subspace.

Some wrecked ships remain forever in subspace, becoming drifting space wrecks.

Due to the uncertainty of time in subspace, voyagers sometimes encounter ships from the past or future.

"and then?"

Casca felt that he was getting closer and closer to the answer to the question.

“We wouldn’t normally get involved in this kind of thing, but the Iron Hand Legion’s emblem was on that wrecked spaceship.”

"This is a ship from the Hand of Steel."

Driven by curiosity, we boarded the wrecked ship with Phyllis and her guards.

She also wanted to see what the Steel Hand would look like in the future.

"I understand."

Casca's tone was low.

It was probably around this time that she was possessed by a demon from the future.

In Casca's mind, a name he was reluctant to mention but was most likely to come to mind was emerging.

An eternal nightmare that is always haunted by the hand of steel.

A demon that leads all Iron Hands to hate their own flesh and blood and yearn to endlessly embrace their mechanical bodies.

The King of Sapphires

Chapter 98 The King of Sapphires (Part 2)

Weeks ago, when Expeditionary Fleet 52 was still sailing through the stars.

"Lady Philus, the ground forces of Expeditionary Fleet 413 are dying every moment. We need your help! As soon as possible!"

“We understand your urgency, wizard.”

"But before we met you, we encountered a special guest during our subspace journey."

"It was one of the Terminator bodyguards standing next to Iron Hand," said one of them.

"A ship from the Hand of Steel. I personally oversee the construction of all the warships, but this one... I have never seen before."

"Could I have misread it?"

"That's not possible, but I believe I can still recognize the Iron Hand insignia on that ship."

The concept of time is not continuous in the subspace, but whether it is the past, present, or future, Philus will not stand idly by and watch her offspring perish.

"Enough talk. Get ready to board the gunship. Santo, Moen, Zance, you're with me."

Sitting on the enormous steel throne, Phyllis said impatiently.

"Wizard, you can come along if you wish."

The massive, rusty iron gate was pushed open by the immense force of Astartes.

Countless millennia later, the light from the flashlight shone into the dim room once again.

The ship is very well sealed, and even after losing the protection of the external force field, the internal facilities remain as clean and tidy as ever.

Various maintenance tools are still hanging on the steel hatch, and the precautions written in Gothic are still visible.

All kinds of weapons and equipment lay quietly in the cabinet.

Everything was intact, as if their owner had just left.

Several Legion warriors and Amar from the Thousand Sons Think Tank walked together to the final location of the derelict spaceship—the front hall of the main bridge.

In front of the bridge gate stands a withered identification machine.

It's not necessary to do that.

Phyllis thought to herself.

Like offering steel on an altar, the ship's control system is exaggerated and bizarre, like the product of some kind of mad mechanical worship, rather than driven by reason.

No one is operating the machine.

It is the machines that are manipulating people.

“Father Zantien, please help us resolve this matter.”

"Yes, my lord."

From beneath his bright red mechanical robes, a cluster of mechanical synapses emerged.

The mechanical gate was opened smoothly, revealing the main bridge to be completely empty, except for more mechanical symbols and language; there was nothing there.

"it's here."

Following the direction Philus pointed, an Astartes corpse lay in front of the control center on the bridge.

He was indeed a man of steel, and the emblem on his shoulder represented his clan.

But he seemed to have died a very gruesome death—all the "flesh and blood" or rather the machinery on his body had been sharply cut open and then reassembled.

A murder method full of morbid humor.

Although he still retained his human form, little flesh remained. Countless layers of steel modifications covered his entire body, which was also engraved with unknown symbols and totems.

"That's too extreme."

Phyllis was silent for a while before speaking.

If this is the future, then the Steel Hand will undoubtedly face an ugly and unbearable future.

"!"