Chapter 340: He is Not Worthy to Listen
"My lord," Drakus said.
"You are here, preparing for battle. We have been instructed to guard your physical form. My question is—who will command this war in the time to come?"
"You, my comrades," Romulus replied.
"In times past, I was always with you, never leaving your side. But this time, I will relinquish part of my duties."
"Like me, the Emperor's Custodians possess the ability to handle multiple tasks and sway the tide of battle. The naval command led by Polux has also gained sufficient authority through long coordination."
"The think tank gathered by the War Council has always provided rigorous strategic support. Therefore, I believe you are capable of handling these affairs and fully qualified to stand on your own."
But it was far from enough.
Romulus was constantly linked to countless psykers, remotely controlling endless affairs. This continuous pressure constantly divided his attention.
Drakus stepped forward, pressing further:
"Although I hope it does not happen, if you fall in battle—"
"I will not," Romulus responded calmly.
"Brother..."
Thiel patted Drakus on the shoulder, interjecting at the right moment.
"Drakus seems to be questioning your combat prowess, my lord."
A low chuckle rippled through the ranks.
Even Romulus couldn't help but smile.
If even the warriors who spent day and night with him couldn't help but question his combat ability at this moment, what would Perturabo think?
"But his concern is very practical," Thiel said, his tone tinged with a hint of sorrow, seemingly recalling the past.
"You are the axis around which we revolve, determining our fate. Yet at this moment, you choose to put yourself in danger. Is this truly wise?"
"Indeed," Custodian Navradaran agreed.
Romulus indeed had the ability to project and manipulate bodies, as seen in the first battle to reclaim the Primarchs, but this did not mean safety.
"That is the Lord of Iron. Embracing the power of Chaos, the area he is in will surely attract the fiercest attacks. Even so, you still wish to face him?"
"Before this, I have tried my best to maneuver with the wisdom I possess, avoiding frontal conflict as much as possible. I trust my partners and entrust the battlefields that have engulfed them to their care."
His voice paused slightly, as if recounting the past.
"I started from the basics, winning your recognition and trust step by step with calm decision-making and a peaceful nature, but this was not my innate wish."
"I do not wish to see lives vanish reduced to cold numbers. My original intention has always been to save humanity. And now, my enemy uses every means to force me into a duel by expanding these numbers that are still rolling."
Finally, a hint of long-suppressed anger appeared in his words, not uncontrolled rage.
"I admit he succeeded."
The surrounding air seemed to solidify with his emotions. Everyone felt Romulus's anger.
It was anger at witnessing the passing of countless lives, directed at the culprit who caused all this.
"I am full of fury, but fury has not burned away my reason. With your help, I have been understanding my enemy, while my enemy still treats me with stereotypes."
"At this moment, when only I can stand out, I must personally block these most dangerous areas, analyze him, understand him, and then, resolve him with flesh and blood and full of rage."
Romulus continued, then looked around.
"And on this point, none of you surpass me."
It was supposed to be an operation to establish supply lines, but it turned into such a scene.
Romulus would not fear challenges, would not give up efforts, and would not spare those who caused all this.
Partners were in danger again, lives were devastated again, the fate of thousands of planets was tied to them.
He wanted to make the guy who dared to do all this pay the price.
The price of life!
A chill climbed up everyone's spine, goosebumps rising on their skin.
Outside the viewport, an ancient Gloriana-class battleship was tearing through the star curtain, slowly approaching.
BOOM!
Countless artillery fire poured out.
Dawnlight, 5km linear distance from the bridge, Mid-level Reception Hall
Perturabo advanced cautiously.
His hand gripping Forgebreaker tightened due to tension.
"My brother!"
He shouted, looking at the splendid path ahead.
It was empty. The master here seemed to have anticipated the guest's arrival early and evacuated the personnel from this area.
He advanced along the grand avenue. The lights were still brilliant, illuminating the entire hall, but no living thing jumped out to confront him.
The Iron Circle automata followed behind him. Except for the low friction of ancient armor and the stamping of iron-shod heavy boots, nothing made any sound.
Perturabo did not relax his vigilance.
The machine spirit of this ship was very powerful, accepting the protection of his brothers, making it difficult for him to control the situation inside the warship.
Buzz—
Passing through the empty reception area, the display screens of many Iron Circle robots suddenly showed a series of errors.
Inside this hall, a void shield began to deploy. Invisible light enveloped the area, preventing any externally applied teleportation lock.
After a brief shake, the Iron Circle automata acted immediately, squeezing away the Iron Warriors, forming an unbreakable circle around the Primarch.
Other boarding squads composed of Iron Warriors raised their weapons, searching every area where enemies might hide, then pointed their weapons forward in unison.
Right in front of the hall, on the path leading here.
One hundred and thirty people lined up. The power weapons at the tips of their guardian spears lit up, surging blue waves rising.
One hundred and thirty storm shields slammed into the ground.
One hundred and thirty voices began to advance in unison.
A cold, machine-like team came from the edge of the platform. Bolter rounds whistled out, deflected by refractor fields, smashing those luxurious and exquisite pillars.
One hundred and thirty people, Custodians and Astartes.
Perturabo strode forward to face them. Below him, the sound of a plasma engine running made him understand what had been activated.
This area was surrounded by void shields to prevent him from evacuating via teleportation.
"Destroy the generators of these shields."
He ordered Kroeger through the comms device.
Then he rushed into the battlefield. The Iron Circle automata fired in volley.
Soon, unexpectedly, several people were melted on the spot in Perturabo's vision.
There were still one hundred and thirty people.
The scorched carpet began to burn. The huge Dawnbreaker emblem hanging above the hall crashed onto the deck.
Both sides advanced slowly, shooting at each other, consuming each other, without retreating half a step.
Those one hundred and thirty people seemed to be like the Iron Circle machines, ignoring injuries that should have defeated them, cold and firm towards the equally cold Iron Circle robots.
In front of them was a Custodian, wielding a guardian spear with both hands.
Perturabo couldn't see their souls. These bodies didn't have souls.
Behind him followed other warriors, equally cold, without any emotions.
They faced a powerful enemy with no chance of winning, but their charge never wavered. Iron Circle robots cut them in two, power weapons splashing trails of blood on the deck.
But they acted as if they hadn't heard.
Still one hundred and thirty people.
These soulless shells seemed to be constructed around him suddenly, silent, neither increasing nor decreasing.
He even saw the same face on different corpses.
This made Perturabo feel strangely uncomfortable.
Compared to him, a Daemon Primarch using the power of Chaos, the opponent seemed even more eerie.
"What exactly are you?"
Perturabo suddenly felt a nameless anger rise.
He walked angrily into the formation pushing in front of him. Forgebreaker swung, killing four Custodians who surrounded him in one blow. Their corpses were torn apart as the Iron Circle advanced.
"Puppets? Is this the cage you use to control my sons?"
He swung the hammer again, shattering a chest. This time it was an instant slower than killing those four.
Just an instant.
An instant slower due to the specific adjustment of muscle neural reflex speed and force angle.
Perturabo didn't care.
He had only one person in his eyes.
In the splendid hall, he looked out, striding towards the figure surrounded by the crowd, the person he had fought for years but never met.
As he approached, the giant also revealed his true face.
Tall, majestic, skin the color of bronze representing strength, a figure exceptionally dazzling.
Surrounded by countless expectations, admiration, and awe, the brilliance left on him by the Emperor, though not blinding, still stung the eyes of the beholder.
Perturabo could sense the emotions surrounding this brother, feel that person's regard for this brother. It was like a rich man showing off his wealth to a homeless man who had been swept out the door and was destitute.
He suppressed the surging anger, unwillingness, and jealousy in his heart, emotions that would interfere with his thoughts, and finally said calmly.
"A pleasure to meet you, Lord Regent."
"Words are useless."
Romulus raised his weapon, too lazy to say anything to Perturabo.
He was not worthy to listen.
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