Warhammer: Saving Humanity Begins with the Resurrection of Horus

Page 191

In the subspace, a massive fleet is advancing toward its goal with unparalleled momentum.

This is a powerful fleet. Its size is unmatched even in the Warp. In fact, in the current Warp, apart from the complete armies of the Four Gods, only Abaddon the Chaos Warmaster could assemble a fleet of this size.

Moreover, the fleet's strength lies not only in its size, but also in its quality, which is even more attractive than its size. In addition to the countless frigates, small warships, and transport ships, the fleet also has a considerable number of mixed formations of heavy cruisers and battleships. Not to mention its mothership, the Glorious Queen battleship, which is now one of the few in the entire galaxy.

Having said that, and considering that these warships still look no different from normal warships even without activating the Geller force field, as well as the skull and crossbones symbols on the bows that exude a cold, metallic aura, then the identity of this fleet is self-evident.

The Lord of Steel, the Demon Prince of Chaos, the former Primarch of the Empire, Lord of Olympia, Perturabo, and his steed, the Glory Queen Ironblood, along with his tens of thousands of offspring, millions of cultists, mortal rebels, demon engines, the Chaos Knights, and an army comprised of the Chaos Titans.

This army is incredibly terrifying. If it were to appear in the real universe, it would be an absolute catastrophe for the entire galaxy. In fact, even the Imperial Fortress World of Cadia, which had faced Abaddon's twelve Dark Expeditions over a period of ten thousand years, would face a considerable risk of destruction when confronting this army.

However, this time the army's target was not Kadia. For the army's commander-in-chief, Peturabo, that place was just a mental block for his poor nephew. It was indeed extremely important in terms of strategic location, but for him now, as long as it didn't block his way, Kadia could do whatever it wanted.

For him now, his current goals are the most important thing.

Amigidoton.

In the Ironblood's steel hall, Perturabo's bloated body sat on the throne. Behind his head were steel cables resembling braids, but these were not the instruments of torture used by his poor brother to amplify his rage and torment his body. Instead, they were links, tools that allowed Perturabo to connect to the entire Ironblood, and even, with the use of warp abilities, directly to the entire fleet.

The doors of the Steel Hall opened, and a mortal rebel, led by a steel warrior, approached the throne. At first glance, the mortal rebel's body appeared no different from that of a normal mortal, but upon closer inspection, numerous recently healed scars were visible on his body.

Clearly, in order to make this audience more polite and leave a better impression on the Lord of Steel, this traitorous Imperial Colonel even went so far as to personally remove all the mutated tissues from his body.

"Keep your head up."

The calm voice made Colonel Mortal's brain tremble. He slowly raised his head, his body trembling slightly at a rapid pace. He kept swallowing his saliva, trying to suppress the tension in his heart.

His head was fully raised, but the mortal colonel still dared not look directly at the Iron Lord who had summoned him. This allowed him to see the situation on both sides of the throne. To the mortal colonel's surprise, the guards on both sides of the throne were not the Terminator squad composed of the most elite Iron Warrior veterans that the colonel had thought. Instead, there were four incredibly tall robots, each holding a large shield in one hand and a long spear in the other, with storm bomb guns mounted on both hands.

They look like the guard of a great sage of the Cult of Mechanics.

The colonel couldn't help but think, and just then, Peturabo's voice rang out once again.

"You were once a member of the Armageddon Steel Legion?"

“Yes, Lord Peturabo, my name is Jimmy…”

"I'm not interested in your name."

Perturabo spoke impatiently, and then, before Jimmy could react, a steel cable shot out and pierced straight through his brain.

"Now, tell me everything you know."

Peturabo spoke without a word, and before Jimmy could even scream, he was abruptly hoisted from the ground by cables inserted into his body. Blood began to flow from the colonel's seven orifices, and eerie lights appeared on his body. The blood pooled on the ground, but soon, a mutated servo skull appeared, opened its mouth, and extended a long tongue, licking away all the blood and filth on the ground.

Perturabo narrowed his eyes. He had successfully obtained information about Amighiddon. He looked up, and the Iron Warrior beneath the throne bowed respectfully before turning and leaving the hall where the throne was located.

The hall fell silent, and after the bodies were removed, only Peturabo and his robotic guards remained—Peturabo's private bodyguard team, known ten thousand years ago as the Iron Ring Robots.

Peturabo tapped rhythmically on the armrest of the throne with one of his fingers, which was covered with a layer of steel armor, so that it produced a clear tapping sound when it struck the armrest, which was made of the same material.

"Dantioch."

Peturabo suddenly spoke, calling out a name in this deserted place.

The name of one of his rebellious offspring, a man who died ten thousand years ago.

No one answered, for the dead do not answer Peturab, and the soul is ashamed to speak to him.

So why did Peturabo speak up? Wasn't he aware of the situation? Or was he deliberately trying to humiliate himself?

No, not at all.

As it turns out, this Iron Primarch, who always puts reason first (though this is questionable), does not engage in activities like talking to himself.

That's what Abaddon did.

A robot with an iron ring next to the throne started to move. It slowly moved to the throne, knelt down, and then emitted a cold electronic voice from its body.

"Sir, I'm here."

Do you think this intelligence is meaningful?

"It makes no sense, sir."

The program programmed into the iron ring robot answered that the answer was not beyond Peturabo's expectations, but he did not choose to stop, but instead chose to continue asking questions.

"why?"

"Because their commander is Roger Dorn."

Peturabo remained silent.

Yes, what's the use of thinking so much? Any intelligence gathered now will be worthless once we arrive in Amegidon.

Because the one in charge there is Rog Dorn, who is not only the Empire's strongest shield, but also like another version of himself in Perturabo's eyes, another true, forever calm, forever powerful, and forever unstoppable hero and legend.

He knew Peturabo as well as Peturabo knew him.

Therefore, once the other side knows that they are the ones who are going to destroy Amegidodon, they will inevitably turn the entire Amegidodon into an unprecedented fortress, a tombstone built specifically for Perturabo, constructed from planets and the void.

what.

Perturabo chuckled self-deprecatingly as he stood up, his massive body moving through the steel hall. Since successfully becoming a Demon Prince, his body had swelled up. If the Ironblood hadn't undergone incredible changes after being exposed to the warp, Perturabo would be practically unable to move an inch inside it.

He walked to the throne and activated a mechanism, which revealed a secret door. After entering the door, an elevator took him directly to a hidden room located between mezzanine levels beneath the steel hall.

Probably no one would have imagined that a room could exist in this place. Peturabo pushed open the door and entered the room. He reached out and pressed a button, and white light immediately filled every corner of the room.

It was a small room, at least for someone of Peturabo's size. Inside, there was only a table, a chair, a display case, a few carving knives, chisels, and hammers on the table, as well as some cheap stone and wood.

Some completed works are displayed on the showcase. If someone observes them closely, they will find that each of these works has very unique characteristics. For example, the first one is two little lions snuggling together on the base. Not only do they look lifelike, but they also exude an immature kingly aura.

Without a doubt, this is a work by a true master, and the person to whom this work is to be given, or rather, the person who should be given it, is also a king who looks down upon the world like a lion.

So, who in the Milky Way best fits this characteristic?

The First Legion Commander, "The Lion" Leon El-Jonson.

This refers to one of Peturabo's brothers, whose whereabouts are now unknown.

Following the first piece are other works, including stone carvings, wood carvings, hand-forged weapons, and some iron handicrafts.

However, if we were to say which of these works is the most unique, then without a doubt it would be the work ranked seventh.

Compared to other works, this thing looks so rudimentary that it can't even be called a work of art; it's more like a completely unpolished raw material.

No.

That was a piece of raw material, and Peturabo deliberately placed it there.

after all……

Pairing one stone with another is arguably the best choice.

Perturabo sat in the chair, the wooden chair miraculously supporting his weight. He looked at the unfinished things in front of him, things that hadn't been given away even after the betrayal, sneered, and then picked up the stone on the display stand.

In an instant, a strong impulse filled his heart, driving him to crush the stone and turn it into a speck of dust that slipped through his fingers.

Perturabo was moved, just as he had imagined. He exerted a little force with his fingers, causing numerous cracks to appear on the surface of the stone, allowing tiny fragments to slowly emanate from them. But in the end, he suddenly stopped his destructive act. He took a deep breath, placed the stone on the table, and looked at it without saying a word for a long time.

Since becoming the Demon Prince, this feeling has rarely appeared in him.

After all, becoming the Demon Prince means that he has taken control of his own destiny. He is no longer the one who lived only for others. Now he is a person who can control himself and live for himself.

If Rogdorn hadn't appeared, and if that accident hadn't happened...

But it doesn't matter. At worst, the war that was never truly resolved 1 years ago can at least be escalated to the next stage in the upcoming battles.

With that thought in mind, Peturabo turned and left the dark room. As the door closed, the stone that had been on the table suddenly trembled and then, under the force of gravity, fell violently to the ground.

So, was it shattered by this accident?

No, not really.

Even though his body was ravaged and covered in wounds, even though he had suffered an unprecedented impact, a stubborn rock is a stubborn rock. He was still so strong and so whole, and looked no different from his original self.

Beside the stubborn stone, the iron nail used to fix the wooden table had developed some slight rust at some point.

Perturabo returned to his throne, where he sat upright with the cables behind his head connecting upwards to the ship's cables. He connected his consciousness to the Queen of Glory and linked his thoughts to every ship in the fleet.

The fleet continued its advance through the warp, while in distant Amegiddon, Rogdorath looked up at the dark starry sky.

He clearly sensed, or rather, after such a period of fortification repairs and troop deployments, and combined with the intelligence information Lynch had managed to obtain from the subspace, that Peturabo should be arriving here in the next few Terra days.

Chapter 225 The Laughing God's Personal Appearance

It's raining in Amighiddton.

This rain was not a natural phenomenon, but rather a rain generated by the local Mechanicus members using technology. The rain lasted for three days and three nights, its flow completely filling a basin on the planet's main continent, forcing the creatures living within to migrate or face the floodwaters, becoming unknown souls adrift at the bottom of the water.

Over the past few days, as an ordinary soldier in the Steel Legion, von Erik carried out three patrol and guard duties on the walls of the Hellsridge hive, each lasting eight hours. During these three eight-hour missions, totaling twenty-four hours, he would occasionally take advantage of his superiors' inattention to shift his gaze to the scenery around him, that is, outside the hive.

Amegidon originally experienced rain. As a fortress world, its planetary surface is dotted with numerous military factories operating day and night. These factories' towering chimneys reach into the sky, releasing black industrial fumes daily at a rate exceeding the planet's self-purification capacity. After accumulating to a certain level, these fumes, combined with other elements, form acid rain that is highly toxic to normal people, and even to Oglins.

The most distinctive feature of acid rain is its black color and its extremely viscous consistency, resembling black fuel oil.

It's completely different from the rain that's been falling these past few days.

Eric thought back to the rain of the past few days, and also remembered that the day before the rain, his brother's unit had mysteriously approached him and secretly told him that a portion of the troops would be withdrawn to Hades's Hive, led by Rogue Dorn, the Primarch, the Son of God, to carry out a massive construction project there.

Eric and his friends didn't know exactly what was being built. All they knew was that the rain in Amighadoon was closely related to the fortification. On the first day of the rain, the air was filled with a rotten smell. If you didn't wear a gas mask to breathe it, it was like swallowing a dozen razor blades at once, with those sharp things cutting into your throat.

However, on the second day, as all the air forces were mobilized, the mortal army's own transport planes and fighters, along with Astartes' Thunderhawks and Stormbirds, and even the navy's Void fighters, all flew together in the sky, spewing a white powder into the atmosphere. Then, after thirteen Terra hours, the rotten smell and the throat-scratching air disappeared, replaced by a pungent smell, similar to the disinfectant in the medical kits in a field hospital.

Eric didn't know what "atmospheric purification agent" was, nor did he know what the necessary procedures of the "ritual" were. However, when he looked up at the blue sky and white clouds that he had never seen in his short life, he felt an unprecedented sense of joy.

Perhaps this isn't so bad?

he thought.

The rain continued for several days. During this time, Eric watched as things he had never seen before grew in the corners of the hive. He heard from people who had come from other planets that these things were called "grass." A rugged-looking angel, after drinking, shouted loudly to those around him, putting his arm around another angel whose armor was covered in fur, saying that in his homeland, a planet called "Jogris," such things grew everywhere, and that there were always blue skies and white clouds all year round.

That might be a wonderful world.

Eric couldn't help but think about it, and a sense of longing arose in his heart. In the high-pressure life of a soldier for more than ten years, he never expected that so many positive emotions would arise in his heart for the first time.

The war machine was still running, and the factories were still operating day and night. The rumbling of the engines and assembly lines could be heard even two streets away. Boxes of ammunition, batteries, towed or self-propelled artillery, armored vehicles, and troop carriers were being produced, transported, and delivered to the troops that needed them.

Everything seems unchanged, but in some hidden places, places that even the gods cannot see, some things have subtly changed.

Meanwhile, outside Halsridge, in Hades's hive, Roger Dorn stood on a newly repaired platform. Below him, a series of bustling construction sites were being built, with countless materials being transported from all over the planet to support the construction. This allowed Roger Dorn's designs to take shape in the shortest possible time.

Behind Rogue Dorne stood many people, all of whom were Astartes. Their power armor colors and chapter insignia on their shoulder armor varied, and they were not all sons of Dorne; there were also offspring of other chapters and other Primarchs.

However, even in such a chaotic group, there was one thing in common among everyone present.