40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 196 21. Regret of Steel

Frix never imagined that the war would end like this - the Midnight Blades surrendered unconditionally the day after they launched an attack on the fortress on Coldibo.

This incident made the Iron Warriors very confused. They didn't understand why this group of people who relied on the fortress and could even fight them back and forth surrendered directly under the attack of only 6,000 people.

Discussions about this were particularly intense among senior military officers, and in fact, the results of the discussions were already born. And not so long ago, by Barabas Dantioch.

"Because those Cordibo people have only the fortress to rely on." Dantioch said to his colleagues, his face serious.

"They have nothing else to protect themselves, so when faced with the Midnight Blade who sneaked into the fortress and dealt a substantial life-and-death blow to them, they will surrender immediately. Most people are like this, far from having the iron will to transcend fear. Weaknesses.”

He said this with strong confidence in his eyes, as if he didn't think he was one of the losers. That confidence stems from his urge to adopt the Night Blades' tactics as his own, as well as the vitality that comes with youth.

But Fricks didn't actually think his impulse would come true. Perturabo was known to be a very stubborn Primarch.

It was impossible for him to adapt the tactics of other Legions to his own - Frix could even guess how his Primarch would react to this.

Doesn’t appropriating it for my own use mean that I am learning from them? It has always been the case that only the weak learn from the strong, and there is no reason for the strong to learn from the weak.

He would most likely rebuke Dantioch with fierce words. If the situation intensified a little more, it would be possible to lower his military rank or send him to an expeditionary fleet to stay away from the legion's main force.

Thinking of this, Fricks couldn't help but pursed his lips. He pondered and returned to his room all the way from the training ground, even still wearing the heavy training armor.

He had just fought two of the highest danger level fighter servitors. Normally, Frix would have used a sword or other weapon to touch their emergency stop buttons. There were three of them, all located at vital points. But this time, he tore them all down.

The surge of emotions caused him to violate his creed to some extent and make irrational actions. This feeling of depression was mixed with the suffocation caused by heavy thinking, making him even feel a strong sense of trance when he walked into his room.

Because of this, he failed to notice the figure standing in front of his workbench.

Fricks tossed his training helmet aside nonchalantly and turned on the light. He is an old-school person, and he still prefers to manually trigger his own light strips than automated sensor light strips.

The pale light turned on immediately, and the iron-gray, cage-like room was illuminated by the light. All the things in it were clearly visible, including the person sitting in front of the workbench with his back to him.

Fricks was astonished.

"Primarch——!"

"You don't have to shout so loudly," Perturabo replied sternly, still turning his back to him. "What's going on with this computing model of yours, Fricks? Why can't I see anything you're good at in it? There are even cables exposed at the corners."

He turned around, holding a model that was somewhat small for a Primarch. It was wrapped in a blue-gray exterior, with a display flashing in the center.

It was an idea of ​​Fricks which, when completed, could be used to calculate before the start of each war the amount of artillery shells that might be expended in light of existing conditions. And it is just as Perturabo said at this moment, the corners are not completely wrapped, and the workmanship is very rough.

This is not the level Fricks should be at all.

The Captain of the Iron Warriors lowered his head in shame: "I was a little distracted when I was doing it last night. Sorry, Primarch."

"."

"Primary body?" Frix asked with his head lowered. He didn't dare to look up, not out of fear, but simply because he didn't want to see the disappointed look in Perturabo's eyes. To his surprise, his original body remained silent for a long time before speaking again.

"You have no need to apologize to me," Perturabo said stiffly. "Anyway, this creation is your idea, and it only belongs to you. Therefore, whether you complete it beautifully, or just do it casually to fool it, it's up to you."

Frix raised his head in surprise, only to find his primarch studying the calculation model. His fingers were still wrapped in bandages, and the palm of his left hand was even burnt, with blood oozing out.

This tragic situation naturally made Frix find it difficult to accept, but Perturabo did not seem to take it seriously. He twirled the model on his bandaged fingers, his knuckles rattling. After half a minute, he raised his head.

"Its shape needs to be more rounded to fit the human hand better." Steel said coldly. "It doesn't matter if you only plan to use it for officers, but I hope you can improve it and make it more suitable for mortal hands."

"Are you planning to distribute it to the auxiliary troops for use?" Frix was even more shocked - Perturabo's appearance and way of speaking were still familiar to him, but for some reason, Frix felt A profound strangeness.

"Why not?" Perturabo frowned and looked over.

Frix was silent for a moment, and finally gave an explanation: "The number of our auxiliary armies is not large, the original body. In fact, it can be said to be very small. There are not many organizations in the imperial army willing to cooperate with us for a long time. We style of."

He paused for a moment, originally wanting to use a more euphemistic way of describing the matter, so as not to hurt his original body's heart. However, a cold smile appeared on Perturabo's face.

"They will suffer heavy casualties," Perturabo said. "And calling us body grinders behind our backs, I know."

".You know?"

"I've known it all along." Perturabo turned around and put the calculation model back on the table. I started looking around for the design drawings and picked up some things such as a wrench or a tool hammer.

Frix wanted to step forward to help, but Perturabo stopped him in his tracks with just a sideways glance.

After a while, the original body began to reach for the steel, pipes and cables placed aside, and during this period, he spoke in a deeper voice.

This voice was not the voice of ‘Perturabo’ that Frix was familiar with. The Captain blinked blankly, not understanding what was going on, and could only passively listen to his primarch's words.

"Other legions think that we are a labor legion and make fun of us. The Imperial Fists think that the fortress they built is impossible for us to capture. Others say that we will only use a long time and casualties to pile up and gain by doing so. victory."

Fricks took a deep and soft breath.

"They don't know what they are talking about, Primarch," said the First Captain. "They're all just-"

"—It's just describing the truth." Perturabo interrupted him mercilessly. "They are right, except for the second point. We are indeed a labor corps. We do only spend a long time in the enemy's city, and our casualties are indeed very huge."

"."

Frix was silent.

He had thought about the image of his original body admitting his mistake many times, although as the years they got together gradually increased, this imagination had long been abandoned by him. However, when it really became real, Frix suddenly discovered that he was completely unable to adapt.

He couldn't understand.

Why now, Primarch? Why would you admit your mistake at this time? No, no, why do you admit your mistake?

The long teeth began to grind against each other, like razors rubbing against each other. He remained silent, trying to find a rational reason for his primarch's transformation - a rational reason that did not involve the interference of Khalil Lohars.

But he couldn't find it.

His thoughts began to rub against each other and become knotted, like ropes that had been deliberately knotted together after being soaked in water and could not be untied. But Perturabo spoke again at this time.

"That's going to change starting today."

He turned around, and there was already a calculation model in his hand. It was not Fricks's work, nor was it something modified based on his work. Rather, it is a completely new computing model.

Its surface is rough and unpolished. All the traces on the surface of the steel remain stubbornly on its square shell.

It also has a display screen, but what is displayed on the screen is not calculation formulas or input keyboards, but an extremely huge number.

Perturabo held it in his hand and rubbed its surface little by little with his bandaged, bent fingers, gently.

"What is this, the original?" Frix asked, staring at the number attentively. He was so focused that he couldn't even notice the tremor in his voice.

"A simple calculation model." Perturabo replied stiffly. “There are no added features, only reduced features.”

"What is this number?"

"Them," said Perturabo. "Everyone."

Frix raised his head, as if he had been hit in the face by a bomb, his expression was distorted, and all kinds of emotions were mixed together, trying to explode, but he was tightly controlled by himself.

Steel inside and out.

And steel will not have any unnecessary emotions.

Perturabo did not comment on his performance. He lowered his head and continued to observe the model. He was very focused, as if no one else existed in his world.

Much later, Frix heard his primarch's last words of the night.

"I named it the Eltros number." He said majestically and coldly. "That's it, pay attention to the time, Frix. Tomorrow we will set off back to Olympia for supplies. Don't lose your bearings then."

The doors closed, and behind him, the Iron Warrior Frix began to melt away.

This chapter is only 3k, the reason is that I found that if I write another 3k, I will not be able to publish it before twelve o'clock. I will continue writing the remaining 7k.