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

Chapter 388 1.2 The critical hit comes from your father

Countless eyes were staring at the two people in the middle of the stage, and sparks flew up irritably, as if someone was whispering in a monster's ear.

The steel cables around Vashtor hung down without a trace. It took a step forward and chanted a blasphemous spell in Perturabo's eyes.

The original body narrowed his eyes slightly, his hands shook and dropped to his waist.

Steam and flames rose, and the rust faded away, as if they had never existed. Perturabo glanced thoughtfully in the direction of the rust, and before the fire and electricity arrived, they receded in fear. .

[Is this also your sincerity? 】

The Primarch spoke suddenly, staring at Vashtor, who bowed slightly gracefully and exaggeratedly, the cables around it hiding behind the steel bars as it moved.

Vashtor abides by the contract, knowing that this is not included in the tentative contract.

But... this is a necessary step, a sacrifice for a great feat, for the greater long-term benefit.

+ I'm glad you can accept my temporary kindness. Rust creeps up on steel and gold turns to sand. This is unbearable for me. +

Perturabo was not interested in Vashtor's words. The original body's attention seemed to still be on the rust stains. Vashtor looked at Perturabo and nodded, motioning sideways for it to be taken away from the fleet.

[If you really have good intentions towards me, then take the Iron-Blooded out of the subspace - of course, other areas are also possible. 】

Perturabo's words were blurred behind layers of steam, and Vashtor ignored the primarch's words that seemed to mean something else.

The contract is made, and if one party fulfills it, the other party must abide by it, and it will be the first to complete its part - so that the difficulty is not on its side.

It raised its war hammer high, its bone wings spread out, and flames wrapped around it.

The turbulence in the highest sky began to accelerate, the fog quickly faded like rust, the electric arc rolled, and the sharp thunderbolt hit the huge waves. The Iron-Blooded Horn seemed to let out a dying groan, and the steel sighed.

When Perturabo tried to blink again, he found that the Iron Blood and himself were between the Milky Way. The ripples of the subspace were still oppressing him, but they were no longer stormy waves.

He turned his head and saw the eyes of fear staring at him among the dim stars.

The subspace here is still distorted from the real world, but the proportion of the real side is obviously greater.

Pertura frowned vaguely.

...This is different from what he imagined...What do they want?

The Lord of Steel walked silently on the deck, as if checking whether he and the Iron-Blooded had escaped from the warp. This was a reasonable request. Vash'tor held his Craftsman's Hammer and waited patiently.

It needs to demonstrate its sincerity, even if its rewards are not now.

Perturabo looked thoughtfully at the Iron Warriors fleet behind the Iron Blood. The rust on it had indeed been removed, but it was replaced by other useless decorations, exposed cables, and sparks popping up out of nowhere. .

Perturabo seemed to be thinking about something, and his pause seemed to be a little too long. Vashtor walked to his side, and the Lord of the Hearth raised one of his hands, as if negotiating. said,

+They belong to you, of course you can——+

Perturabo turned around suddenly, and in the flash of lightning, Vashtor saw the light of the sword and the fire on the armor of the original Terminator.

Another breach of contract.

【You are dismissed! 】

Amidst the overwhelming rain of bullets, Vashtor ignored the surprise attack of the original body. Its huge body rushed towards Perturabo, who was also rushing towards it with a hammer. Its skeleton opened, and the cables screamed out, spreading like a spider web.

Realizing that the opponent was not afraid of his attack, Perturabo changed his strength in time and hoped to dodge, but it was too late——

"boom!"

Perturabo crashed straight into the metal jungle. Vashtor's last words went away with a heart-wrenching sound of metal falling. After Perturabo regained his balance and stood up, he found that he had Standing in the dark.

Vashtor's words faded in his ears,

+You were the one who broke the contract first! In the name of the Lord of the Hearth, I will demand a price! +

Perturabo remained silent and said nothing. He had nothing to lose anyway. They were all in the same group, he thought. Those rusts and this monster that had come over to show him kindness inexplicably were all in the same group. .

They were anxious, or rather, the monster who called himself Vashtor was anxious, but since... Perturabo's thoughts were once again immersed in the mire, now that he had nothing left - it was difficult to admit this, very difficult , Perturabo could not imagine this... He once thought he would suffocate,

But under extreme circumstances, the rational and calm part of him still said this.

They wanted him to do something, but Perturabo thought of the monster's words, no, impossible, and its innocence almost made Perturabo laugh.

Fight, or see what they want to do, and then fight. Perturabo chose the latter, but he still...

Just as Perturabo would not admit that Vashtor's words about the perfect city and Prospero had shaken him for a moment, he would not admit that his choice had failed again.

Perturabo took a deep breath. He was supposed to be rational, cold, and make the best decision based on the facts. He would do this, and he always did.

Faced with the failure of reality, he closed himself off again.

As if to divert his attention, Perturabo began to shift the focus of his thoughts to the current situation. Is this the punishment for violating the contract? Or is it the truth in its mouth?

Perturabo laughed loudly in his heart, the truth, do they really think that the original body is so easily deceived?

Perturabo lowered his eyes, and the cables at his feet were neatly arranged. No, Perturabo frowned and recognized, these were not Vashtor's cables.

The instruments in the room were humming steadily, and the smell of disinfectant on the tip of his nose told Perturabo the answer. He was in a laboratory, perhaps behind some large instrument.

Perturabo frowned again, the truth? He had expected it to be something... more mysterious. Magnus had shown him a corner of the warp, and Perturabo certainly knew about them.

But the floor beneath his feet told him that this didn't seem to be as simple as an illusion.

Perturabo sighed lowly. It was time to end. He should have fulfilled the so-called obligation to look directly at the truth, but since he had broken the contract, of course he could not play boring subspace house with them. .

The original body was about to stride out of the shadows, and he would tear the first living creature he saw to pieces with a hail of bullets. He could already feel the muscles in his legs beginning to exert force, and then he heard a voice——

A voice that he knew all too well and had missed countless times.

The Emperor's voice.

"They need to be loyal to me, first and foremost."

the voice said calmly.

Perturabo's pupils trembled violently. No, this was an illusion, he thought, but the blood of the Primarch and the... that voice he could never identify told him that it was the Emperor.

His heart was beating violently, and Perturabo wanted to call out the Emperor's name, hurry out of the darkness, and tell him...

Tell him what?

Perturabo suddenly thought, he had lost the Iron Warriors, what would the Emperor think of him? Will he scold him? He would look at failure in terms of—

Failure.

Perturabo stopped breathing, and his mind slid uncontrollably to the conversation he had just had with Vashtor. What did it say? He captured Prospero and the Immaculate City, the abandoned Primarch, who had twisted their essence.

Contrary to his nature, Perturabo was silent. He didn't know how to face the emperor in this "illusion". He had...failed. Perturabo's brain was tingling.

But in some hidden corner, wouldn't he really have the slightest curiosity about what the emperor just said and those words?

Listen a little more, he thought, the decision-making power is still on his side.

"Madam, what I want is for them to be absolutely loyal to me. They will fear me, but at the same time they will be uncontrollably eager for my rewards. They will become generals who expand the territory of the empire, so loyalty is a must."

"They must be absolutely loyal. This will be the deepest code engraved in their physical genes, encoded on the double helix and flowing in their blood."

Perturabo looked tremblingly at his hands. The Emperor, he thought, is loyal.

General... Perturabo had a clear sense of who the Emperor was referring to. He was referring to the Primarchs, Perturabo thought with a shudder.

When he longed for the Emperor's reward, when he was annoyed at the rewards of others, when the results of his victory were presented to him again and again, when he hoped in his heart... Perturabo was ashamed to admit it. , but... but... this should come from the heart. This is the admiration of a son for his father, the loyalty of a general to the emperor, not... not...

The Emperor designed it on purpose.

And, Perturabo thought, the Emperor...his father, what pronoun was he using to address his children?

it?

it? !

Perturabo seemed to be frozen in place, and there was still a weak voice in his heart telling him that all this was an illusion, a lie from the subspace creatures - but there was no way Perturabo could mistake the Emperor!

He waited countless times for the Emperor's eyes to move towards him from among the many primarchs. He shed blood countless times, just for the dream he spoke of. He picked up knives and swords instead of pens and drawings, just for him! For the Emperor!

And he didn't even look at him twice!

Perturabo had been able to deceive himself into believing that the Emperor trusted him, and he trusted him enough to trust him with tasks again and again.

But now... now... he doesn't know.

Perturabo was silent. At this moment, he no longer had a heartbeat or a breath, as if he was only waiting for the emperor's words, those words that were like a verdict.

"They are all dangerous in nature, so I need to use physical genes to restrict them so that they can better serve the empire. Genes are the top priority, and this step cannot be slacked off."

Nature,

Perturabo thought dully, remembering the words of Vashtor, who had captured and twisted their essence.

So what exactly are we? What am I?

Perturabo's brain was trembling, he was the fourth son of the Emperor, he was the general of the Empire, he was the Iron Warrior... His thoughts paused for a moment, he was... he was what he called "it" , a thing bound by the body, a thing programmed by genes to demand loyalty and filial piety.

Perturabo suddenly realized that the roar of the instruments he heard was very similar to the sound of the Geller force field operating.

He slid irresistibly toward the abyss, but he did not fall.

The Emperor's voice faded away, and the sound of boots hitting the ground calmly faded away. The Emperor seemed to have gone to check other experimental areas. Instead of striding out as he had initially thought, Perturabo carefully stepped out of the instrument. Stick your head out.

With just one glance, he saw the subspace thing imprisoned in the giant nutrient tube that vaguely resonated with him.

Perturabo's vision went dark, his body fell backwards uncontrollably, and he fell into the dark pool——

When Perturabo opened his eyes again, he found himself lying on the deck of the Ironblood.

He stood up blankly. He saw that the entire fleet of Iron Warriors was intact. There was no rust, no cables and unknown metals with an exhibitionist aesthetic. They were intact, neat and shiny, as if nothing had happened.

The first thing Perturabo did was to check the ammunition level of his Terminator Armor. There were indeed fewer bullets fired at Vashtor. This was like the only evidence to prove that all the chaos had happened.

But then Perturabo realized that it had indeed happened.

He looked at the Iron Warrior on the deck who seemed to be standing guard on a routine basis. He was about to open his mouth to call the soldiers over, but the moment the idea came up, the soldier had already turned around and walked towards him.

Perturabo watched in amazement as his heir walked over. The moment he turned his attention to the soldier, he already knew all his data, including height, weight, muscle density, and proficiency in using various weapons— —But there is no name.

Perturabo asked him to take off his helmet. The Primarch tried to touch the idea. The Iron Warrior took off his helmet obediently. Perturabo did not recognize this heir.

But he named it A00001. Next, Perturabo lowered his head, and through the deck, the data came to him like a sea.

Perturabo gasped, he didn't know how to react, this... unbelievable... unbelievable... but Perturabo was convinced that he was the only owner of these soldiers, and the data tube inserted into his skull was on his scalp. The buzzing reminded him of fantasy, no, those instruments in reality, that trance-like glimpse.

This is...this is his original ability.

This is the ability that the thing called "Perturabo" had from the very beginning.

The Warp washed away their souls - or rather, weakened them enough for Perturabo to take over.

Perturabo chuckled in disbelief. Is the subspace really kind? Is what Magnus said true?

impossible.

After realizing that he had gained this new ability, Perturabo spent a day adapting to it, while controlling the Iron Warriors to inspect every corner of the fleet. The Iron Warriors' ships still looked like they had not entered the warp. , brand new and clean.

The fleet was anchored at the place where Vashtor originally brought them. After some reflection, Perturabo chose to lead the fleet to find a stable place in the physical world in this space - he did not plan to do subspace for the time being. jump.

This new ability greatly diluted Perturabo's previous frustration. These fools would never make mistakes again, they would never tell him hesitantly that the plague was spreading, they would not quarrel privately about insignificant things, they would never make mistakes again. They resisted for some petty gain, and they obeyed him completely.

Perturabo confirmed again and again, and finally he accepted the fact, and now the entire fleet was completely at his command.

However, the Iron Lord's sense of crisis did not subside, and the entire fleet entered a state of preparation for war. Perturabo hesitated again and again, and finally did not choose to call for help from the nearby Imperial fleet. The Iron Warriors began to try to maintain the highest alert state of the main fleet. Colonize nearby star fields.

Silently, the completely efficient soldiers were busy like real war machines, but Perturabo himself did not show up. In the laboratory, Perturabo raised his bare arms, and he stared at this perfect The arm... seems to be able to see through the skin, pick through the blood, and see things that are tiny enough and subtle enough.

Impossible, Pertura thought. Whole-body gene editing needs to be done at an early age. Even if he realizes this now, it will not help in the end.

But he still pricked the skin with the needle, and he watched the bright red ooze out.

Perturabo put his own blood under the instrument, but he still took the futile step, as if only by seeing it would he give up and accept reality.

He may have spent a long time, but no one bothered him. Maybe the time flow rate near the Eye of Terror was wrong, or maybe it was because he was the one who was forgotten...and abandoned.

Finally, he unlocked the last genetic lock.

No... Perturabo thought, you will just give up. You are an adult now, and gene editing can only take effect when you are young.

But he still looked at the screen.

…

Perturabo swallowed silently.

He saw the half-knocked out loyalty gene, as if it was about to fall off.

He could just knock it out now.

That gene roughly interfered with the expression of several genes near it, and the corners of Perturabo's eyes twitched.

He suddenly remembered... that he had no memory of his childhood.

Perturabo looked up and saw the Eye of Terror staring back at him through the deck.

There is no time in the warp... Perturabo slowly thought that he had lost the memory of his childhood, but he remembered the Eye of Terror...

After a long period of silence, the Iron Warriors' fleet once again opened the Mandeville Point to jump into the subspace.

Chapter, 4.9k, no more today!

Oooo!