Chapter 154: Perturabo: Please—
"If this is that man's revenge for his son's betrayal, then he has indeed succeeded."
The voice, laced with a sour note, echoed through the chamber, making Dantioch, who had been about to raise his weapon in counter-attack, freeze.
His own Primarch didn't just fly into a rage and try to punch him?
He subconsciously looked at Arthur and Ramesses, who were still in the area.
"Don't look at me. It was the Emperor," Ramesses shrugged. He had indeed picked and chosen Sarpedon and the others later, but not the first batch of "Stormcast." It was purely the Emperor's wicked sense of humor. He wasn't taking the fall for this.
"Oh, Perturabo, who else do you want to see? Forrix or Iolkos? I can ask your dad over here."
Countless deadly weapons emerged from the surface of the iron giant.
Ramesses immediately pushed Arthur forward two steps.
The weapons began to melt away at a visible rate.
Perturabo was furious, but he himself was not here. To continue to pour power into this would only be to prolong the time before he was expelled. It was troublesome to enter the real universe after ascending to daemonhood, especially for a self-employed boss like him. He had to be careful with his calculations. Even Be'lakor would occasionally have to borrow from the Four Gods to expand his schemes in the real universe, but Perturabo didn't want to.
Ever since he had seen the fate of his four brothers, he didn't want to have anything to do with the Four Gods—he then glared at the two "brothers" who were annoying him.
Including the Emperor!
This made Dantioch even more surprised.
The current Lord of Iron was actually willing to humble himself like this?
No, he had been willing in the past. In order to win the praise of the Emperor and the envy of his brothers, he had chosen to lead the Iron Warriors to the most brutal battlefields.
And now, to achieve his own goals, he was also willing to restrain his temper.
"You wish for me to return to your command?" Dantioch asked and answered himself. "I refuse."
"Why refuse? You should know what that man is, and what you are. I am not Mortarion, to be tricked by his sons. I am not Angron, to be passed from one slave master to another."
With a single glance, Perturabo had seen through his son's thoughts. The soul that was marked with his sigil held no secrets from him now. And it was for this very reason that he found it unacceptable.
"I belong to myself. From now on, you will only need to serve me. You will no longer need to die for that man's ambition or for my own wishful thinking."
"Time is truly a sharp blade. Even a stubborn man can take on such an attitude," Ramesses muttered. "'Dantioch, come back and be my Trident. Please.'"
Perturabo immediately turned and glared at Ramesses.
"No, this is different," Dantioch continued after patiently waiting for Perturabo to finish his explanation. "You have forsaken a trust that should not have been betrayed, believed in a brother who should not have been believed, and trampled on a bottom line that should not have been trampled. The paths between us have already split."
Dantioch looked at Perturabo.
If it had been at the beginning of the Great Betrayal, as long as it was Perturabo's request, he would have answered the Primarch's call. Even after the Great Betrayal, he had been worried about the future of his Primarch and the Legion.
But after witnessing the truth of Chaos, after learning what the traitors had really done, he no longer had such thoughts.
"So you are willing to serve another, even more evil and paranoid Warp-creation?" Perturabo asked, pointing at the shattered statue of the Emperor.
"This is different," Dantioch shook his head, repeating himself. "I will be loyal to the Imperium, loyal to humanity."
"I am your father," Perturabo said in a low voice, the steel of his constructed body grinding against itself.
"You were," Dantioch said, looking up at his Primarch.
Ah, so tall, so great. He has recognized himself, has found his place in the Warp.
"I am still a warrior of humanity. Clad in strong armor, iron within and without."
"And you are not, Perturabo."
He was happy for Perturabo's change. He had thought his father would become a paranoid madman like the other Space Marines who had turned to Chaos. He had not expected him to be even more rational than in the past.
But they were, after all, no longer on the same path.
Guilt would not be erased by a person's change, nor would it disappear with a person's remorse.
Perturabo had chosen to turn away from humanity. And he, as a warrior born to protect humanity, would, as always, fulfill his duty.
They were enemies.
Past, present, and future.
It would always be so.
'I thought they were going to fight,' Ramesses said to Arthur on the internal channel. 'Looks like the Chaos medicine is pretty good.'
"..."
Perturabo wanted to say more, but he saw his son shake his head.
Arthur chose to approach. A powerful, irresistible repulsive force began to push him out of this temporarily created body. And Perturabo didn't even have time to pour his power into these inferior materials.
His vision changed.
Perturabo was back on his cold, iron throne. The conduits were still processing the cold data. The Lord of Iron was still closing his eyes, continuing to sense his son's location.
The connection was shielded. Even with the link between them, he could no longer be sensed.
Perturabo recalled Dantioch's calm demeanor...
Calm. Pure calm.
The meeting was expected. The refusal was also prepared for.
The cruelest choice in this world was for a person to recognize reality and then make their own choice.
And in Dantioch's choice, there was no longer a place for him, his Primarch!
Inhale~ Exhale~
The Daemon Primarch thought continuously. The entire warship seemed to be breathing with his mood.
"Emperor!"
In the Warp, within the Iron Blood, a soul-shaking low roar was transmitted.
The other warbands received the message at the same time.
Their orders had been delayed again.
The war entered its final phase.
The sons of Dorn were excavating the ruins of the fortress, carrying out the bodies of the fallen soldiers, and executing the traitors who were not yet dead.
The sons of Guilliman were a bit envious, secretly hoping that they would encounter the Word Bearers in a future battle.
The sons of the Angel were, along with the Sisters of the Ecclesiarchy, rescuing the wounded, and at the same time, promoting the new Angelic Imperial Cult.
The current Imperial worlds, in essence, could not leave the Emperor. The group had not tried any radical operations—but this did not stop the restless transmigrators from doing something else.
Baal was a planet where the Emperor had explicitly allowed the Angelic religious faith to be preserved. Since the Emperor had said it, then the legal basis was there, right?
And since there was a legal basis, then I can surely spread it?
The current Ecclesiarchy, at most, could trace its history back to the end of the War of the Beast. There was no reason that you could, and I couldn't.
"Are you sure that the power of faith will not interfere with us, and that it really won't create some strange things in the Warp?" Romulus asked Ramesses, holding a report, after listening to the Iron Warriors joke that had just happened on the planet's surface.
They had been studying the modification of religion for a long time. The philosophy of the Order of the Sacred Rose was a very good foundation. At the very least, it was relatively moderate internally.
But before this, no one had ever tried to direct the power of faith to an existence other than the Emperor.
One, reality did not permit it. Two, there were examples in the Warp. It was easy to create a new "daddy."
"Relax. The faith directed at us will ultimately just be converted into psychic energy. It won't let other Warp-entities take advantage of it," Ramesses said, still studying the soul circuit that the Iron Warriors had so kindly offered up.
The main mission of the four of them for now was still to earn their initial capital along the crusade's route, and then go to Macragge to annihilate the Hive Fleet Behemoth.
Finally, after all the favors had been earned, and they had become familiar faces everywhere, they would go to the area near Baal, that is, the Imperium Nihilus after the Great Rift opened, and stake out a piece of land to do all this other stuff.
"The faith of those Eldar is all directed at me. I can directly intercept and convert it," he explained, indicating the safety of this practice.
And this was the reason the transmigrators were secretly adding things to the doctrine.
As for controlling the direction of faith, this operation was not difficult. Sanguinius was already dead, his soul shattered into pieces. The fragments in the hands of the Four Gods had not nurtured a new Warp-entity even after ten thousand years.
And the Sanguinor, whose origin was unknown, was exceptionally cooperative and did not absorb that faith power at all.
Modifying the doctrine, guiding the flow of faith—there were many cases of this in the Warp. Not just one Greater Daemon of Tzeentch had tricked the devout followers of the Imperial Cult into worshipping them. Including Vashtorr, they were also secretly intercepting the faith of the Omnissiah.
"Then that's fine."
Since the current state of the Imperium could not be separated from faith, then it wasn't a bad thing to hold one of the blades in their own hands.
Romulus shrugged and picked up a new piece of work to deal with.
Macragge, having received the warning from the crusade fleet, had long since organized a stable defensive line to deal with the Hive Fleet.
The pressure on them, who were on their way, was not great. They could take the opportunity to sort out a lot of problems.
He casually opened the channel for managing the fleet's communications and uploaded the completed work. Romulus suddenly found that there was a red, urgent message in the astropathic communications.
Romulus sat up straight, then quickly opened it.
"???"
What do you mean, the Imperial Navy has been completely wiped out, and the Macragge defensive line is in a critical situation?