Chapter 58: Training and Treatment
To the left was the Iron Hands Legion. To the right was the Iron Warriors Legion. Both sides, who had just been locked in fierce combat, now stood still. Their fighting had ceased.
Around them lay the wreckage of countless iron giants. Once proud war machines of both factions, now scattered across the battlefield like discarded toys, silently testifying to the brutal cost of war. An indescribable sense of oppression hung in the air.
The occasional clatter of metal fragments hitting the ground sounded particularly harsh in the dead silence.
Francis and his two companions appeared in the center of the battlefield.
"Horus, why are you wearing such a strange suit of armor? It's even weirder than your last one!" Perturabo said.
Perturabo stood before them, clad in the Logos—his customized Terminator armor.
He felt that the Warmaster in front of him was somewhat odd. Coupled with the fact that the other party had made him do all the hard work before, he deliberately put on a stern face and snorted coldly.
"Am I? It's fine. But you've gotten thinner, you must have had a tough time," Francis said, patting his shoulder as he spoke.
A strange feeling stirred in Perturabo's heart.
Then hundreds of eyes appeared on Francis's armor, all glowing white.
A strange sensation of stiffness appeared in Perturabo's body. He instantly understood and roared angrily, "You're not the Warmaster! What are you trying to do!"
Hearing this, the Iron Warriors immediately reacted. All roaring and charging forward.
"Shameless villain, how dare you ambush the Primarch!" one shouted.
"Everyone, charge! Get the Primarch back!" another yelled.
"Charge!" the warriors roared.
In a short moment, Ferrus had already blocked Francis. Countless Iron Hands warriors also charged forward.
Just as Perturabo's body broke free from the stiffness, Francis grinned maliciously. He injected all three drugs into him, then covered his head with all eight of his tentacles.
A strong tingling sensation overwhelmed him. His brain began to hallucinate. Perturabo used his last ounce of strength to curse, "What did you inject me with! Who exactly are you!"
Before Francis could answer him, he gradually lost consciousness. The last thing he heard was a conversation.
"By my fist! Is it really that powerful? Didn't you test how strong these drugs were before?" Ferrus's voice said.
"I did, but I didn't use this much this time," Francis replied.
"You didn't poison him to death, did you!" Ferrus asked nervously.
"It's...Hard to say!" Francis admitted.
Perturabo's consciousness faded.
"Everyone, stop fighting! Your Primarch is in our hands. Surrender immediately if you're wise, or we'll kill him!" Francis's voice echoed across the entire battlefield.
The two legions, who had just been entangled in battle, immediately stopped. Then they saw Francis standing there, holding a foaming-at-the-mouth Perturabo.
Seeing this, the Iron Warriors were momentarily at a loss. They quickly retreated under the command of some Captains.
"If you don't release the Primarch, we'll fight to the death with you!" one Captain shouted.
"Right! To the death! If you dare to leave, we'll immediately detonate Olympia!" another threatened.
"Let's all die together! It's worth it!" a third yelled.
Seeing this, Francis turned to look at Ferrus. But the other party was also looking at him the same way.
"With your lack of initiative, what kind of Warmaster are you!" Francis grumbled, dragging Perturabo away.
Ferrus said nothing.
Inside the Interrogation Room
A stark-naked Perturabo awoke from his coma. His vision gradually cleared, and he saw Ferrus and Francis sitting in front of him.
He himself was tied to a metal torture device. His limbs felt weak and sore. Clearly, they had given him new drugs.
"Awake? Good that you're awake. Let's talk about your surrender conditions," Francis said. "Actually, you haven't done anything wrong. You massacred your homeworld, what does that have to do with our Empire?"
Hearing this, Ferrus's mouth twitched uncontrollably. He echoed insincerely, "Right!"
"Heh heh, save it. I'm not going back to any damn Empire!" Perturabo snarled. "Dirty work and hard labor, let whoever wants to do it! I'm not serving anymore! Even if the False Emperor comes, he won't be able to keep me!"
Perturabo roared in anger. From Olympia, it had always been about conquering planets for his adoptive father. In the Empire, he was still conquering the universe. He had truly had enough.
Seeing the other party so agitated, Francis also sighed.
"Don't be so hot-headed, anger hurts the liver," he said mildly.
Francis raised his hand. A pink vial of potion appeared in everyone's sight.
"Do you know what this is?"
Perturabo shook his head, somewhat bewildered. Who could tell what kind of potion it was just by its color!
"This is a miraculous drug I collected from the Dark Eldar. As for its effect? Please look here," Francis said.
He pushed the drug into a Dragon Turtle in a nearby cage. Then, the originally slow-moving Dragon Turtle suddenly became feral. It wildly crashed against the cage, rubbing itself everywhere, even tearing at its own body. It continued to roar incessantly.
Perturabo's eyes widened in horror.
"That's right, this is a Dark Eldar aphrodisiac. After injection, you'll be like this Dragon Turtle," Francis explained, his voice as gentle as a spring breeze, a smile on his face. "If I inject this into your body, and then lock you in with a few male aliens, what do you think will happen?"
Ferrus suddenly felt a chill down his spine.
"You beast! How can you do this to your own brother!" Perturabo shouted. "You are too vicious! How can the Empire allow such a heretic as you!"
Perturabo's eyes were bloodshot. Blood continuously seeped from his mouth. He stared intently at the other party, roaring.
"If you have the guts, let's fight a real battle with real weapons! In a one-on-one fight, I'm not afraid of you. In marching and formation, I'm even better than you!"
Seeing the other party unconvinced, Ferrus was about to speak but was stopped.
Francis pulled out another metal can and continued to smile.
"This is an electronic virus I conveniently took from the Adeptus Mechanicus. You understand what I mean, right!"
Perturabo fell silent.
"Hmph! Even so, I'm not afraid of you in a one-on-one fight. If you have the guts, let's have a free-for-all!" Perturabo said, still trying to regain some face.
"Alright! Untie him and inject him with the antidote. We'll both fight without armor, a true man's close-quarters combat," Francis declared.
As he spoke, Francis took off his armor. Ferrus frowned, somewhat worried.
"You just got out, are you sure you're up to it!" he said.
"Don't worry, I'm steady. I have medicine!" Francis whispered into his ear.
After the clearing, Perturabo twisted his neck comfortably.
"Even without armor, I am still invincible!" he declared. "Seeing how thin you look, I'll let you make the first move!"
Francis paused. Such a good thing?
He ate a piece of Enslaver flesh. Then his arm suddenly stretched out like a tentacle, directly attaching itself to the other party's head. Hard control achieved!
"You lost," Francis said.
Hearing this, Perturabo's face turned purple with rage. He roared, "You cheated! You took drugs!"
"This isn't medicine, it's poison. If you don't believe me, try it," Francis replied.
"Try it then!" the stubborn Perturabo said.
The stubborn Perturabo ate the Enslaver flesh. His lips instantly turned black as if poisoned. After a long while, he recovered, then looked at Francis with a dark gaze.
"Why are you fine after eating it, but I get poisoned?" he demanded.
"Alas, this is the charm of genetic technology. You wouldn't understand," Francis said, shaking his head.
Then he drank Horus's blood, transforming into Horus's likeness. He looked at the other party affectionately.
"Come! Perturabo, come and feel the Warmaster's fist of love," he said.
Perturabo and Ferrus both fell silent.
"No eating or drinking before the fight! Let's just fight like this!" Perturabo said. "If you can beat me, I'll submit!"
Perturabo's last act of defiance. He firmly believed that if the other party didn't resort to such tactics, he would surely win.
"Good! You said it, come on," Francis said, waving his hand to signal the other party to come over.
Finally, Perturabo took a deep breath. He charged over and roared, "You can't defeat me! Prepare to die!"
The moment the other party pounced, Francis decisively used the ancient boxing technique from the depths of his memory—the Golden Snake Entangling Hand. He took a bite out of the other party's ear.
"Ah ah ah ah! Why are you biting my ear!" Perturabo screamed.
Instantly, countless pieces of Perturabo's knowledge, memories, and even combat techniques and habits appeared in Francis's mind.
Originally, Perturabo threw a fierce punch as a feint, then swept out a fatal kick. But he never expected Francis to dodge it easily.
"Don't be surprised, I anticipated your anticipation!" Francis said.
What followed was Francis's merciless beating of Perturabo.
Meanwhile, Near Planet Dver
The Iron Warriors had built a huge arena.
Each wall of the arena was adorned with exquisite bas-reliefs, telling tales of the Emperor's Children's glorious victories and ancient Roman heroic legends. In the center was a large oval clearing. Originally a place where gladiators displayed their courage and skill.
And now, Mortarion stood in the center, shouting towards the high platform.
"What are you doing? We're about to leave here. What are you still doing?"
Fulgrim stood on the high platform. He turned elegantly, his eyes like silken threads.
"Mortarion, I have some good news to tell you," he said. "Before, I received information from the Dark Eldar about a terrifying weapon. If we can get it, the Warmaster will surely praise you."
Hearing this, Mortarion was somewhat moved. His previous attempt to persuade Jaghatai Khan and his White Scars Legion to join their plan had failed.
He still wanted to accomplish something for the Warmaster, so he continued, "So you built an arena just to say that?!"
Fulgrim nodded. In his opinion, such an important matter required a sense of ceremony.
Mortarion fell silent.
"Then let's go find that weapon now, what do you think?" Mortarion asked.
"Alright," Fulgrim agreed.
Just then, Typhon, the First Captain of the Death Guard, ran over, grinning.
"Heh heh, I'll go too. Let's go on my ship," he said.
[End of Chapter]