The Iron Blood drifted quietly in orbit, at the outermost part of the galaxy, and the fifth patrol fleet sent to the warp was tossing in the waves of the warp.
Initially Perturabo was concerned that the distance between the Warp and the physical universe would sever his control over the Iron Warriors, but now he realized that he had been worrying too much, as so far the distance had not been able to weaken his control over his soldiers.
Millions of real-time maps were running in his mind, but they were no longer deductions and simulations, they were real things happening, and every moment, the Lord of Steel enjoyed this process; he finally didn't have to endure his failed subordinates.
In the intervals between his thoughts, the Lord of Iron would sometimes think of the Iron Warriors he had sent to the garrison. He tried to recall them, but their data did not emerge naturally - he could not control them.
This may be a good thing, or a bad thing. The Lord of Steel hopes to experiment with his abilities on his forgotten descendants, obtain information, and make everything more efficient. The only price is the erasure of personality.
To some extent, Perturabo felt pity for some of the warriors he admired, but these emotions were quickly wiped out. As the Primarch who had slashed the Legion to eleven, he would not invest too much unnecessary emotion in his offspring.
Now, within the Iron Warriors' fleet, the warriors quietly completed their work, like... like puppets of Perturabo's sister. Perturabo realized that he could spend extra energy to make them "alive", but it was unnecessary now.
He has more pressing things to do.
The Iron Warriors' fleet was colonizing the Eye of Terror at a terrifying pace, searching for resources, building infrastructure, and establishing transportation lines. Perturabo had no idea why he was doing this, but he wanted to do it, that's all -
In this brief respite, he did what he wanted to do. As an architect, he built and created instead of destroying. His newly remembered abilities also made the construction process more interesting. He "personally" participated in the stacking of every tiny detail.
Of course, for some more subtle and unnoticeable reason, Perturabo chose not to build humanistic buildings, lecture halls, bell towers, which were unnecessary because no one would enjoy them.
He chose buildings that were numbly familiar, trenches, airfields... buildings that had shaped him into a war machine.
This is to prepare for possible dangers, Perturabo thought. He confirmed again and again that he was in the real world. Before he was fully prepared, Perturabo would not easily set foot in the subspace again.
Nothing can interrupt the Iron Lord's construction except -
Perturabo stood up from his Iron Throne for the first time and walked out into the gallery.
No one notified him, and busy people passed by him in silence. Normally, he would be annoyed by their rudeness, but not now.
He walked onto the deck of the Iron Blood, and at the moment the Lord of Steel stopped, the object was simultaneously placed firmly on the deck by the elevator of the Fifth Exploration Team.
It was almost carried by the turbulence of the warp to the ship of the Fifth Exploration Team. The instrument was humming quietly and the liquid inside was gurgling.
Perturabo stared at the incubator, the curtain began to fluctuate, perhaps this was a necessary price, if he wanted him to stay here, then he would need to endure this.
He took a step forward silently, and all the people working on the deck stopped, turned their heads and stared at the smooth, docile and quiet incubator.
Perturabo felt his heartbeat quicken, speed up, pounding to an incredible frequency. He felt dizzy and incredible. As of now, he still felt that all this was fake, but the Iron Warriors' fleet had already been built in the Eye of Terror for three years.
Nothing happened, no rust, no monsters of iron and fire, not even any offspring. In these three years, Perturabo's entire world was left with only himself.
Now he is the only one left.
In disbelief, Perturabo made an impulsive decision. Instead of commanding his soldiers to go forward and operate, he walked over himself and stared at the tiny piece of squirming flesh.
With one punch he shattered the transparent protective shell, and Perturabo's hands stirred in the sticky liquid, pulling the child out with an inexplicable force, pulling him out of his protective shell.
His skin seemed to burn when he touched it. Perturabo knew it was an illusion, but his hand was still twitching. With a snap, he involuntarily loosened his hand and the baby fell heavily to the floor of the Iron Blood.
He watched him struggle, his body wet, and he opened his eyes and stared at Perturabo in horror.
The moment the baby opened his eyes, all the still people on the Iron Blood began to work again. The deck commander was shouting loudly and waving his baton, the soldiers who were taking over the guard duty bumped fists, and the crew members who had returned from the exploration were laughing and talking about something.
He stared at him.
[Your name is Perturabo.]
Perturabo spoke slowly, his voice insignificant above the noise of the deck, but something inside him was growing madly.
[Now, stand up and follow me. If you show weakness, I will kill you.]
Little Perturabo watched the giant turn away without hesitation. He thought for a moment about the possibility of escape, and finally he decided to stagger after him.
His long, wet eyelashes trembled, and the child looked around at the people on the deck in confusion and fear, who automatically ignored the two of them.
————
Little Perturabo sat on the ground in silence. There was no furniture in the entire empty room. He was only given a pen and a pile of books beside him that was taller than him.
He quietly wrote and drew on the book, formulas were written out under his pen, and time passed like this during his mostly dark days.
He once again disappointed his adoptive father.
Little Perturabo's consciousness was touched by this thought imperceptibly, and his heart trembled violently, which was enough to make his body tremble as well, but after the first time he was suffocated in the pool by his adoptive father because of his cowardice, he tried his best to suppress any movement that might reveal cowardice.
Steel inside and out.
Little Perturabo repeated these words to himself, hoping that he was ready once again and not disappointing his adoptive father, who in most cases would not physically punish him, he would simply ignore little Perturabo, ignore him, and not pay any attention to him.
How did the little Perturabo's desire for his adoptive father's attention grow and take root in his heart? He didn't know, but when he realized it, he was already trying his best to please his adoptive father.
His adoptive father was not an unreasonable man, young Perturabo thought, his pen unconsciously scribbling on the paper.
On the contrary, he absolutely loved him, little Perturabo thought.
Otherwise he would not unconsciously pat his head after the task was completed, would not promise him new formulas and books, would not teach him the skills of fighting without reservation, would not spend a lot of time and energy examining his body, and would not tell him stories of great architects.
His adoptive father hoped that he would become stronger, strong enough, with steel inside and out.
He needed to meet his adoptive father's expectations of him, so that little Perturabo would gain something, maybe a trip, or a new book, instead of disappointing his adoptive father's indifference and neglect - perhaps compared to those rewards, little Perturabo wanted his adoptive father to look at him more.
In his world, only his adoptive father would care about him. Others would always ignore little Perturabo. They were also his adoptive father's vassals. They would not change or influence anything. This world did not belong to them.
After many attempts, Perturabo Jr. gave up trying to attract the attention of those people. He didn't need them, just as they didn't need him.
He once asked his adoptive father about the reward after a successful mission, and his adoptive father replied that there was no need for him to pay attention to the weak, because this world only belonged to the strong, and the whole world revolved around the strongest person. If you cannot become the strongest - then you must at least know how to crawl under the strong.
Little Perturabo's life experience told him that this was right. No one disobeyed his adoptive father. Other people were worthless, and only his adoptive father had value.
Only the strongest has value, only the father has value.
He thought.
————
How did I become what I am today
He gave the child a tiny reward and watched him secretly rejoice over that little bit of residue for a long time.
If he was happy, he would just call the child over to chat with him, and then send the child away when he was no longer interested. If he was unhappy, he would ignore the child for several days or even months. Perturabo would turn his attention back to the infrastructure of the fleet and deliberately ignore him.
Little Perturabo needs to be steel inside and out, and his inner self also needs to be tempered.
This is what Perturabo said to himself in his heart, but he knew clearly that it was not the case. A twisted sense of satisfaction grew in his heart. He thought of the Emperor. Did the Emperor think and treat him in the same way
He would abandon his offspring in a remote place, assign him difficult tasks, force him to give up what he liked to do, and then reward him with a little leftovers when he was waiting for his attention - this was enough to deal with him.
Perturabo laughed.
He felt ridiculous, he felt absurd, but he was truly immersed in this ocean of power and domination. He felt satisfied as little Perturabo studied his every move, trying to please him, trying to get his attention, and as a reward for his hard work in wagging his tail, Perturabo looked at him.
It was strange, Perturabo thought, why had he never felt the pleasure of domination over other people? Even after he had mastered a fleet, he would only sigh that he had finally gotten rid of all the waste and gained the world.
He never knew that his desire for domination was so lush and vigorous. He wantonly watered this greedy flower with his violence against himself.
How much he despised this little guy who only lived on the rewards and words of others!
Ha… Hahahaha! Ha!
Every time, every time he spoke to his former self, rewarded him, punished him, ignored him, Perturabo's soul seemed to be torn in two, one half of him sighed with satisfaction, the other half of him was shaking and roaring, why do you do this to him? ! Why? !
Why did he do this to him?! He shouted at the figure, was that what he was thinking? To dominate his offspring, to enjoy it, to satisfy his own desire for power
He imitated the Emperor's atrocities crazily. Perturabo didn't know why. When he realized that he was walking the path of the Emperor, he had been on this path for too long! He subconsciously rewarded and punished himself with his attention. Ha, he turned out to be a cruel person in this world!
Shhh… no.
Perturabo told himself that he was not, he was far less cruel than the Emperor, at least he would not use blood or flesh to force their loyalty to him.
Perturabo laughed at himself. If he knocked out his loyalty gene, would he still bow down before him? Would he still work hard to make him look at him more and praise him more? Would he still secretly envy his praise for other brothers
Emperor, you are far from worthy of this!
He doesn't deserve it!
Perturabo thought angrily, how could a man who committed such atrocities still enjoy the tribute from his offspring and enjoy his offspring's fear of his every move... Unless this is his nature, he is greedy and cruel.
Perturabo has made up his mind, Emperor, if you are truly a noble man, then you don't have to restrict them with genes and flesh!
As he listened to the footsteps coming from outside the room, Perturabo felt mocking again. Yes, the Emperor was greedy and cruel, otherwise how could his descendants have such a cruel and absurd nature
The footsteps stopped at the door.
[Come in.]
Perturabo said lazily and hoarsely,
The door was pushed open carefully, and he saw with amusement that little Perturabo came in as properly as possible. The child looked at him in astonishment. He was already several years old, but still looked like a child. The semi-knockout of his genes by Perturabo hindered the Primarch's own growth.
Young Perturabo gave a small gasp.
His adoptive father was leaning naked on the cold inorganic backrest of a medical chair, with countless tubes inserted into his upper body. Through some of the translucent tubes, little Perturabo could clearly see the scarlet liquid.
[You can operate this, come and operate it.]
His adoptive father gave the order, and little Perturabo walked up without hesitation and began to operate the large instrument. His adoptive father had taught him that he was afraid, but he skillfully buried his cowardice deep in his heart.
What on earth is this... for
Little Perturabo listened silently to his adoptive father's panting. The strong smell of blood lingered around his nose, minced meat splattered, and beads of sweat dripped from little Perturabo's forehead.
"alright."
He said as calmly as he could, and the younger Perturabo stepped back from the instrument, hiding his hands behind his back as best he could - his hands trembling slightly as he realized he seemed to be hurting his foster father.
He turned his head to look at his adoptive father. He had never seen him like this before. His eyes were unabashedly filled with the look that only a ruler had, instead of his adoptive father's usual expressionless face.
[Good boy.]
My adoptive father said,
[Come over now.]
Little Perturabo walked over obediently, fearfully, and expectantly. He had completed the task perfectly and was expecting a reward from his adoptive father, but he was frightened by his adoptive father's strange condition and the blood splattered on the ground.
Little Perturabo's heart was beating violently as his adoptive father forced himself to sit up and extended his warm but iron-like arms to him.
His adoptive father gave him a hug.
Little Perturabo's mind went blank for a second, and he heard his adoptive father's low laugh, which was mixed with self-mockery, sadness, greed... and relief.
"…Father—"
Click.
Perturabo let go of his hand expressionlessly. He watched the body slide to the ground unconsciously, with the neck limp. The soldiers were already waiting outside the door. The semi-knockout of little Perturabo's genes had already been completed. The next step was to erase his memory, and then throw him and the incubator into the turbulence of the subspace.
Perturabo thought calmly that he would return to Olympia, he would forget everything, only remember the Eye of Terror, only remember the knowledge that Perturabo told him... He would continue to bow down to the superior, until... until this Möbius strip came to an end.
Perturabo took a deep breath, he let his thoughts touch the Emperor, he realized that he was no longer so great, he realized that he was just a king, he would no longer wag his tail at him, no, not anymore.
He is himself, he is Perturabo, he will only satisfy himself and will no longer bow to that liar and tyrant.
———
Vashtor walked silently on the corridor of the Iron Blood. The Iron Warriors had successfully colonized many planets in the Eye of Terror. By replicating the original primitive people on the planet, Perturabo had completed the expansion of the army. He didn't need to teach them anything with his abilities. He only needed to implant seeds, and Perturabo would obtain a new set of data.
Perturabo even learned some of the methods of operating Blackrock Spire on these planets without any guidance - these were supposed to be taught to him by Vashtor in the future.
How horrible... Vashtor thought, this is the monster they raised, the out-of-control person condoned by the gods.
It walked into the hall, and Vashtor saw the monster sitting on the Iron Throne. He belonged only to himself and only satisfied his own desires.
And now, it was clear that their desires were aligned.
Vashtor laughed, and fire burst from its mouth. It saluted gracefully, and the iron and fire monster whispered,
+Congratulations on your freedom, Iron Lord.+
+Now, can we discuss the actual contract? +
Vashtor was glad that it had made the right bet, the consequences of Perturabo's previous breach of the contract... it was glad that he had broken it.
5k words, no more, great!
Oh, I don't know how to properly fall the Primarch. Actually, I wrote it fast here. If I wrote it in detail, I could finish it in a week, but the pace would be too slow. So everyone just needs to roughly understand how I planned and designed Old Skin () Okay, I don't know how to fall either. I looked for the original work but couldn't understand it.
(End of this chapter)