Chapter 154: Mortarion Enters Nurgle's Garden |
Iydris never saw Dantioch, the man he had been muttering about, even until his dying breath.
After sacrificing the lives of thirteen battle-brothers, the Sons of Dorn successfully annihilated this force of over fifteen hundred Iron Warriors who had defiled the Imperium's sacred borders.
This Warsmith, having tempered himself in Chaos for many years, successfully achieved a kill ratio of over a hundred to one upon facing his old rival once again.
He was on the losing side.
Both times.
In the future, this planet would be converted into a Shrine World. The ruins of the fortress would be rebuilt, serving not only as a stronghold with superior defensive capabilities but also as a monument to record this victory of Honor.
The Black Templars, Crimson Fists, and Executioners would all deploy their warriors to garrison it in the future.
They would eternally watch over this place, using Optus as a stronghold to respond to calls for aid from surrounding sectors, spreading the Honor of the Sons of Dorn throughout the stars.
Perturabo meticulously peered through Iydris's memories.
Moreover, the equipment and technology of the modern Adeptus Astartes seemed to have made tremendous strides. The combat effectiveness of these Sons of Dorn far exceeded that of the past.
He carefully reviewed the battlefield.
Although Iydris had still lost so hideously that it made him laugh out of sheer anger, since the opponent was also his Progeny, it did not matter.
Just like when he had received the battle reports from the Saden Campaign.
Iydris had proven with his actions just how exceptional a true Iron Warrior was. Otherwise, he would not have survived to test the Grand General Cannon.
However, Perturabo also felt that the matter could not simply end there.
He could not sense his proudest Progeny, as if some invisible barrier was isolating the two of them.
As for that piece of trash Iydris, he could not even manage to get close.
'I want him to return. To return to my side.'
Perturabo thought with absolute certainty.
If that person was still imprisoning his Progeny, then he believed it was necessary to grant them Liberation from their captivity.
Because he believed in his connection with these outstanding Progeny. He believed that as long as he gave the word, these exceptional Iron Warriors would return to his side.
The Iron Blood, the Gloriana-class battleship personally designed by Perturabo, was already his domain to some extent.
He could manipulate any part of it. He could understand those bizarre Chaos Rituals, and he could use this connection of his to trace the source.
Just like the five gods engaging in the Great Game, the so-called daemons were nothing more than their extensions.
Perturabo felt his link with the vessel. Every facility, every button, every patrolling Iron Circle automaton within it felt like an extension of himself, moving as naturally as his own limbs.
Now, no one was trying to use him anymore. Everything he had belonged solely to him, bestowed upon others entirely according to his own will.
He no longer needed to doubt himself, nor did he have to drown in the anger and hatred brought about by those dull, agonizing wars.
He could take the initiative to pursue his goals, to seek out exactly what he desired.
And so, this Primarch who had become a Greater Daemon of Chaos Undivided forcefully cast his gaze back toward the materium.
"..."
Amidst the ruins of the fortress, Dantioch, who was still diligently assisting the Sons of Dorn with the subsequent cleanup operations, suddenly froze.
Something was watching him.
Dantioch halted his steps.
He looked ahead at the wreckage belonging to the Iron Warriors. Those shattered corpses began to be influenced by some mysterious power of The Warp, breaching reality despite the suppression of the reality stabilizers.
Because the Adeptus Astartes themselves could hardly be called absolute creatures of the material universe, they could never truly isolate the influence of The Warp.
Time came to a standstill at that very moment.
Aside from the warriors returning from death and those shrouded by the reality stabilizers, all other life was imprisoned in this frozen second.
Dantioch gripped his weapon along with them, watching the unfolding changes with rapt vigilance.
The bones of these Iron Warriors began turning to metal. Metallic components surfaced from their Flesh and Blood. Bloodstained Gears turned, driving ligaments that had transformed into Steel wires to pull together a physical form from the pile of corpses.
A black-and-red knight appeared in the blink of an eye within this time-locked domain.
The Steel that had barely taken humanoid form rapidly approached the brink of collapse.
"Lord Arthur!"
Dantioch called out a warning.
He recognized who the newcomer was.
Arthur raised a hand. The Dark Angels that appeared around him swiftly carried away the Adeptus Astartes who were still frozen in time. Everyone except the Thunderforged Warriors was forcibly evacuated and withdrawn.
Under his command, the naval guns of the "Vow of Silence" simultaneously locked onto the area.
After all this was done, Arthur and Dantioch exchanged a glance.
Both sides nodded to each other, and Arthur promptly took a step back.
Steel finally descended once more.
It was a metallic colossus.
Perturabo cast a sidelong glance at the knight standing quietly not far away. He was almost banished by this invisible pressure.
From Perturabo's perspective, that blinding golden radiance was incredibly abhorrent.
Thus, he let out a cold sneer.
"Does that person believe his tools can no longer be used by him, so he has created new ones?"
Perturabo looked this "kindred spirit" up and down. He completely ignored the so-called outward appearance. Even the bodies of Primarchs were nothing more than clothing they could casually put on and take off—
But as for what exactly the Creation beneath that shell was, even he could not comprehend.
However, that did not stop him from throwing barbed remarks.
"Lion really should see you now. He should see how a brand-new tool has replaced him."
"..."
Arthur remained silent and simply stepped forward.
Perturabo immediately shut his mouth.
Arthur stopped, staring frostily at the Lord of Iron.
"That sounds like a bit of Self-Projection, Perturabo,"
Rameses, who arrived right after and analyzed the current situation, could not help but say with a smile.
"..."
Another one.
Perturabo took a deep breath.
He had no intention of arguing with these new tools. He had far more important things to do here.
Perturabo stood with his hands behind his back, looking down at the Progeny before him.
Those eyes were following his slow movements, glancing left and right.
Yes, this was indeed Dantioch, his most exceptional Progeny.
Perturabo made his judgment.
This was no illusion spun by some Chaos sorcerer, nor was it a vicious game played by the Evil Gods.
The Warp, a resonance unique to his very essence, clearly told him this truth.
But why this physical shell?
Perturabo scrutinized Dantioch's nearly three-meter-tall armored physique, his expression instantly becoming somewhat indescribable.
Why had his most outstanding Progeny been stuffed into the body of a Son of Dorn?!
Refusing to believe it, Perturabo carefully examined him once more.
He did not act rashly, because that tool replacing the Lion could sever his connection to this place at any moment.
Damn it, just where did that person find these tools?
Cursing the other party inwardly for making him feel insufficiently Steel, Perturabo finally reached a conclusion.
The result remained the same as before.
This body was a genuine Son of Dorn.
And the soul inside it was the genuine Dantioch.
"..."
At this moment, Perturabo felt exactly like Mortarion returning to Nurgle's Garden—
Actively looking for shit.