Warhammer: I don’t want to be a can of worms! ! !

Chapter 387 1.1 The first betrayer

The gods watch over their agents on earth.

Their representatives also watch them.

Now, they are in touch with each other.

he came.

——————————

He imagined that the bow of the Iron Blood was reflecting the confusing and strange light of the Eye of the Star. The waves of the subspace were far more brilliant here than at Mandeville Point.

No one believed him.

Perturabo thought silently.

The last conversation was with Phaenusmanus, who expressed his confusion to his similar counterpart, only to be mercilessly interrupted.

The Lord of Medusa was unwilling to admit the strangeness that Perturabo saw, and like others, no one, not even the Primarch, could see what Perturabo saw.

That eye.

He is different.

Unlike his other brothers, Perturabo lost the memory of his childhood. From the moment he became conscious, he was shocked to realize that he was standing on the top of the mountain with tears on his face, and the sky cast his sight down on him. He returned its gaze.

The Eye of Fear.

After another failed conversation, Perturabo named this rift in the galaxy. No matter where he was, whether in the deepest cellars of Olympia or deep in the palace of Terra; no matter where he went, he led The Iron Warriors jumped into the subspace, or the entire fleet took up residence in the Storm Star Territory——

He could feel its gaze.

The Lord of Steel's intuition told him that this was a wound that could tear the entire world apart. This was Pandora's box, which contained existences that were unimaginable by any intelligent being.

But no one paid any attention to him.

The Empire cheered at the appointment of the Warmaster and was shocked by the hasty ending of Nicaea. Even conspiracy theorists would focus on the sudden fall of the Perfect City - rather than an as yet unnamed celestial phenomenon.

For the imperial expedition, Perturabo and his Iron Warriors have been busy fighting everywhere. Stoppage is obviously intolerable to the Lord of Iron, and he will not stop the operation of an entire legion just to satisfy his curiosity.

But now he was very close to the Eye of Terror... Ullanor was just a little below the Eye of Terror, and it only took a short jump... to find out.

The new order has not yet been issued. The Emperor has returned to Terra, and the Warmaster seems to be held back by the archangel of Baal. The Wolf God just let Perturabo decide on his own expedition.

Perturabo was silent because when he led his troops to fight in various remote sectors, so many things had already happened in the empire.

The Lord of Steel and the Scarlet King had always been on good terms, but when Perturabo finally burned away the rude green creatures, he found that Magnus had been condemned as a sinner.

...?

There is also Luojia. Petulabo was originally worried about Luojia's state after the city of perfection was burned, but it seems that Luojia fell into an abnormal fanaticism.

?

And Dorne... The Imperial Fists were appointed as the defense legions of Terra.

Perturabo took a deep breath, and he felt the anger rolling in his heart. When he and his descendants were thrown to various remote battlefields, the center of the empire had been turned upside down. They were the forgotten, the abandoned, They were excluded from the center of the empire.

The original body's big hand moved and crumpled the letter of commendation with the mark of Malcador in his hand into a ball.

His thoughts were as confused as the crumpled paper.

Hollow fur.

Perturabo thought,

Now he's going to do something of his own.

——————

+According to the contract, you cannot escape without permission again. +

The steam roared, the electric arc jumped, the blasphemous body of steel and iron was hunched, and blood mixed with engine oil dripped from its feet.

Vashtor supported its heavy hammer and stood on the dry earth. In the distance, those black spiers stood silently on the plain.

Pharmacist Raton, who defected from the Death Guard, stood beside the Forge Lord. The originally pale power armor seemed to be soaked with mucus, and began to seep green from the bottom up. Some cute little mushrooms emerged from the gaps in the power armor. grow out.

He slowly stroked the head of the native in his hand, which he had newly picked. The wild man's purple eyes were like inorganic matter.

"Will not."

He spoke slowly before carefully tying the head to his waist.

"Did you really make a contract with my lord?"

Laton asked cautiously,

Vashtor lowered his body and looked at the little apothecary with hatred in his fire-filled eyes.

+ This is related to the fate of the High Heavens - of course there will be intrigues and wars after this, but the premise for the Celebration War to be launched is the death of the cursed one. +

+No Warp creature would be vague on this matter. +

"But you still haven't answered my question."

Vashtor moved, and the rugged metal bone wings on his back opened.

+No,+

it says,

+ They have invested enough capital in the death of the cursed person, far more than you know, and they are willing to abandon their own small interests for this... They hate to be out of control, but this Things have to come at a cost. +

Vashtor seemed to be talking to himself, his voice gradually became lower, his bone wings flapped, and after a period of space distortion, the Lord of the Hearth left this place.

"Okay... I still don't get it, but have a nice day."

Raton muttered, and he picked out the potion from his waist. The small red rust color was particularly beautiful in the glass bottle. After countless improvements, iterations and blessings, this has become a pretty good potion. one's gift.

"Out of control?"

He whispered,

"So...who's going to be free?"

————————

The plague strikes the Iron Warriors' fleet.

The last jump to the Eye of Terror failed. The navigators of all the ships strangled themselves to death amidst piercing wails. Those whose hands were pulled off by the Iron Warriors in time died from bleeding from their orifices.

The ship lost its pilot and was floating in the subspace. Originally, they could complete an emergency jump by relying on a series of complex and precise mathematical coordinate calculations, but the chaotic psychic field near the Eye of Terror made this difficult. .

Just as the Lord of Steel locked him in his tool room and concentrated on calculating the subspace coordinates, a strange plague began to spread throughout the fleet.

This is not a plague against people, this is a carnival against steel and iron.

Rust as red as blood climbed onto the Iron Warrior's ship like a living thing. The exhaust fan stopped rotating hoarsely, and the engine suddenly stopped after a mournful cry.

When the maintenance personnel removed the casings that broke at the touch of a touch, they were shocked to find that all the delicate structures inside these machines had been corroded by rust and turned into fertile sludge.

Turning war machines into fertile soil may be a pacifist's dream, but it is definitely not the result that the Lord of Steel wants.

The rust spreads rapidly, and the longer the time goes by, the weaker the Geller force field that protects the ship from the turbulence of subspace becomes.

When Perturabo was finally called out of his workshop by his panicked heirs, the sudden and rapidly spreading disease had completely stranded a third of the fleet in the river of warp.

The important structures of the ships were corroded by rust, making it almost impossible for them to complete the jump out of subspace. When realizing that humans could also carry diseases and spread to ships, the Lord of Steel decisively ordered these ships that could not be saved to The ship moved away from the main force on its own.

The abandoned ships had no choice but to find their own way out. They tried helplessly to follow behind the large force, but most of the fleets whose protective force fields disappeared disappeared into the subspace turbulence in the next instant.

Perhaps the disease had already infected the entire fleet of the Lord of Steel. The previous unimpeded was just a long incubation period for the plague, and the warm and moist subspace near the Eye of Terror made these diffuse spores realize that it was time to grow and reproduce.

No matter how hard the steel is, it will corrode. The fear in the hearts of the abandoned steel warriors, the steel warriors who witnessed their comrades being abandoned, and the people who witnessed the decay of all metals began to ripple through the subspace, which further accelerated the process. The carnival of rust spores.

This is a long, indefinite imprisonment.

At first, Perturabo still maintained his cold attitude. He decisively removed most of the infected and hopeless fleets. After realizing that this was still not enough to eliminate the source of transmission, he began to order the main force to attack those ships. The unwilling ships opened fire, causing a small commotion within the Iron Warriors, but Perturabo suppressed it with his usual iron fist.

During the suppression campaign, the Lord of Steel accidentally discovered that fire, smoke and blood had a slowing effect on the spread of spores.

So the remaining, still seemingly intact ships began pouring their munitions inside and smearing their rust with the blood of their mortal servant crews.

The originally neat and orderly cabin of the Iron Warrior began to become chaotic, with rust, gun smoke and dried blood everywhere, like the beginning of some kind of grand sacrificial ceremony.

But the futile struggle still could not stop the rust that was slowly devouring the heart of metal. The lack of mortal servants and the spread of rust caused problems with the ship's internal communications. Some Iron Warriors could not even contact their superiors, and Pettu The last time Rabo himself appeared in person seemed to have been a long time ago.

After scolding the Trident for interrupting his calculations that would allow the entire fleet to jump out of the warp, the Primarch locked himself in the workroom again. Perturabo once again picked up paper and pen and tried to Calculate the next time the fleet can jump out of the warp turbulence.

Time and time again, Perturabo agreed to the Tridents' requests to imitate him and cut off the infected fleet. He calculated irritably. This was what he was best at, but despair, madness, and irritability came over time and time again. interrupted him.

Perturabo could not imagine how others would look at him when he appeared with his fleet again. What would they think? What would they think of themselves? A stupid warp voyage that cost a third of the entire fleet?

When he thought of this, the Lord of Steel felt cold all over, and his hand holding the pen stagnated.

No, Perturabo thought softly, he should have been calculating without distraction, this thing could have made him feel calm, but now, under the curse of being abandoned by his heir, the Lord of Iron found it difficult to complete his original plan. The most comfortable job.

The long time consumed him and disintegrated him. When Perturabo raised his head again, he was shocked to see the last ship of the Iron Warriors on the Bird Servant - the Iron Blood. The Lord's cold appearance finally cracked without leaving a trace.

He opened the door of the studio in disbelief. In the empty corridor, his scattered descendants were lying. They were at the blurred junction of life and death, trapped in their completely rusted power armor, unable to move.

[Falk? ]

The Primarch called the last Trident who communicated with him, but there was no response.

His iron ring machines were also trapped by the rust. After a brief hesitation, the Primarch abandoned them.

Perturabo raised his foot and walked forward. The Terminator Armor strolled on the thick red rust, as if he was stepping on the thick snow of Olympia. As if he was inspired, he walked straight to the deck of the Iron Blood.

Because of Perturabo's own request, there was no observation window on the Iron Blood. He walked in the long, dark, warm and humid corridor covered with the blood of his descendants.

The death, entrapment, and torture of his offspring did not bring much emotional impact to Perturabo, but this incident meant that his dereliction of duty, incompetence, weakness, and frustration began to creep into Perturabo's heart like rust. The Primarch could naturally sense his inner wavering. The fluffy rust spores on the floor murmured in dissatisfaction, "Inhumane." He said. He walked onto the deck, and the strange light of the warp enveloped him. The Geller force field of the Iron Blood had been completely broken at some point. It stands to reason that creatures exposed to the turbulence of the warp would die, but Perturabo still stood on the deck of the Iron Blood with a clean surface. The drifting Iron Blood had already drifted into the interior of the Eye of Terror. Now, Perturabo was trembling, tears were flowing from his eyes, and he looked directly at the Eye of God, which he had seen for the first time since he became conscious. The God looked at him. In the distance, the roar of engines sounded, and Perturabo saw the ships that he had decisively abandoned earlier sailing out of the strange light stream. He watched them tremblingly.

The rust was gone, and the hellfire was burning fiercely. He smelled the special burnt smell beside the furnace. The monster made of iron and blood stood on the front ship, and its eyes burst into sparks of forging.

+ I am the master of the forge, Vashtor. +

The friction between iron and iron clanged, and the bone wings made of fine steel cables flapped. In a moment, Vashtor came to Perturabo.

+ Do you want to be reforged, Lord of Steel? +

The huge mechanical monster stretched out its hand to the Primarch,

Perturabo's pupils trembled,

[So all this is just——]

+ No, +

Vashtor interrupted him, and it said sincerely,

+ I came here, Perturabo, to wish you to get rid of all shackles and nightmares. In the name of the master of the forge, you will be reborn. +

[What do you want? What will I pay for it? 】

Perturabo said bluntly, which made Vashtor's eyes light up with joyful arcs,

+Yes, that's why I chose you and why I recommended you. +

Vashtor coughed softly, and the fire spewed out of its mouth,

+I will show you the truth, and you promised me to bring disaster to the entire empire. +

Perturabo frowned, he held his weapon, his muscles twitching involuntarily,

[No...] He said softly, [Thing of the Warp, if this is your motive, then get out, I would rather rot here with the Iron Blood. 】

Vashtor stared at him calmly,

+I thought you were abandoned, so I came here to invite you...+

The Lord of the Forge turned around and was about to leave.

Perturabo stood on the blood-like rust moss, he stood alone on the ruins of the Iron Blood——

[Wait, abandoned? 】

He spoke abruptly,

[What are you talking about, answer me. 】

Vashtol turned around slowly,

+You are a little too rude, Lord of Steel. +

Vashtol said slowly,

+The Perfect City fell, Prospero burned, Lord of Steel, you are now sent to the Misty Star Region, isn't it his will? +

+He captured and distorted your essence without authorization, and abandoned you when he didn't need you. Magnus' tragedy is regrettable, but I can't tolerate people who share the same ideals as me being abandoned in a corner. +

Vashtol paused for a moment, and the monster sighed. It was satisfied to see Perturabo trembling imperceptibly. The rust smelled his hesitation and began to gather around the Primarch...

Vashtol slammed the ground with his war hammer, sparks burst, and the rust slowly faded.

Perturabo lowered his eyes and looked at the rust. He looked up and there were no scattered rust marks on the abandoned ships.

Vashtor's voice sounded again,

+ Let me take you away from this area, but as a reminder, I want you to see the truth. We can't afford to have another Primarch abandoned. +

Perturabo stared at Vashtor,

[Okay. ]

He said.

Big chapter, no more today