The Emperor's voice carried a exhaustion and helplessness—a sensation he had not experienced in a very long time.
Perturabo, however, remained unbothered by the collective astonishment, treading through his Demon Forge with unhurried steps. The massive forms and echoing clatter of Vashtorr and the Undying Demon Dragon failed to dispel the gloom settling over the group's hearts.
The deeper their understanding of this facility grew, the clearer it became that every endeavor Perturabo oversaw was steeped in absolute sacrilege.
His experiments here had abandoned standard ethics and morality entirely, repeatedly grinding their fundamental boundaries into the dust before their eyes.
The Emperor in particular wore an expression dark as iron; every project here landed squarely below his acceptable threshold, each a thousand times more severe than the creation of a female Space Marine.
Yet surveying the fruits of his years of labor, Perturabo felt no sense of deviation or guilt for touching forbidden ground.
"Honestly, I don't see how these experiments qualify as heinous," Perturabo stated coolly.
"The black tech and experiments you ran beneath the Himalayas back then were hardly any milder than what I have here. At most, you lacked Necron technology; otherwise, your work was essentially identical."
"If anything, your projects were likely far more sacrilegious than mine. I have merely stood on the shoulders of my predecessors and pushed those experiments a step further."
"Of course, I admit these projects cannot be made public. They are undeniably profane, and they carry a high risk of inviting catastrophe."
Perturabo neither offered to destroy the research nor denied the inherent dangers of preserving it; he simply maintained it as a high-risk contingency.
"It is not the same!" the Emperor ground out through clenched teeth. "Everything we did back then was a pioneering effort—a desperate struggle for the survival and continuity of mankind! But why are you doing this? For your cursed curiosity?!"
"Your father is correct, Perturabo," Malcador added from the side. "What you have done here is far more severe than when you imprisoned him. That action could at least be justified as serving the Great Crusade and the re-emergence of humanity. But this?"
Guilliman and Angron remained silent. Angron felt little outrage—what was the big deal about breaking a few Imperial decrees?
No matter how severe the infraction, could they realistically strip his brother of the title of Warmaster? That was a joke.
Thus, Angron remained largely indifferent to the ethical breach, feeling only a lingering shock that such experiments could be brought to fruition.
Guilliman, on the other hand, felt a cold dread creep up his spine. He was no longer certain how much illicit hardware had been quietly funneled into Ultramar. He had a growing suspicion that it wasn't limited to his realm either; any notable or obscure corner of the galaxy likely harbored hidden caches of dark technology.
If his guess proved correct, the node cities currently under construction within the Webway certainly held similar stockpiles.
The experiments displayed here were merely the most deeply hidden or profane among Perturabo's repertoire. Other advance tech had undoubtedly been distributed outward, starting with the Iron Warriors' own Chapter arsenals.
No one knew how many assets Perturabo had distributed across the galaxy using his authority as Warmaster, but Guilliman was certain the accumulated shadow-inventory had reached a scale beyond anyone's imagination.
"What else was I supposed to do?" Perturabo replied. "They are sealed here, aren't they? I'm not actively deploying them. These are strictly reserve contingencies—I would prefer if we never faced a scenario where they were needed."
"Besides, curiosity is the primary driver of scientific advancement. I am merely contributing to the foundation required for the Imperium to reclaim a Golden Age."
"Furthermore, when you created us and engineered the Perpetuals, did you not harbor similar ambitions? My current restraint is mild by comparison."
Perturabo's arguments carried a deceptive logic, yet no one present was easily swayed. The Emperor might lack refined social tact, but he was far from naive.
"Fine. Stop looking at me like that," Perturabo waved a hand, leading the group further into the interior. "I'll take you to see the non-profane projects next. Though I should mention, these experiments remain incomplete—delayed due to various circumstances."
---
"You have even more of these profane technologies?"
"These don't count as profane," Perturabo clarified. "They are simply unfinished, which is why I transferred the core data here."
In truth, these projects belonged in the Iron Citadel on Olympia. However, ever since Trazyn the Infinite had managed to slip past his security during a previous incident, Perturabo had relocated his most critical experimental data directly into the Demon Forge.
This was the Warp—the Necrons lacked the capacity to breach it, and the facility was guarded by a concentration of high-tier enforcers.
If an intruder managed to strike here, Perturabo might as well forfeit his title as Master of Iron.
"What are all these?"
Angron lost count of how many times he had been stunned during the walkthrough, yet the sight before him caused him to freeze once more.
"Where did you acquire so many C'tan shards?!"
The Emperor recognized the thrashing entities instantly; their distinct aura was etched into his memory.
He had personally sealed a massive fragment beneath the surface of Mars, barely securing victory in a duel that had left him severely wounded.
"The Necron dynasties weren't excavated for nothing," Perturabo explained. "To them, these C'tan shards are little more than infinite power cells and emergency weapons. Since they're reduced to silent metal skeletons, handing these assets over to me is a far better use of resources. It gave me the opportunity to study how to harness these power sources."
The C'tan shards suppressed by Perturabo's massive warp strength deep inside the Demon Forge were largely salvaged from Necron tomb worlds, with others excavated from adjacent galaxies.
Aside from their home galaxy and the Segmentum Solar of the reality inhabited by 'Lord Regent Roboute,' the Void Dragons of Mars across three other galaxies had all been subdued and anchored here by Perturabo.
They were contained within Evernight Labyrinths and dimensional pocket-realms of Necron design. While Perturabo lacked the underlying theory to construct such hyper-advanced containment units from scratch, years of reverse-engineering had rendered him proficient in operating them, keeping the C'tan shards locked in total isolation.
The shards actually brought out for experimental trials were strictly the smaller, splintered fragments.
"I cannot yet weaponize or harness them as infinite power sources to the extent the Necrons do," Perturabo noted. "Although I've made progress deciphering Necron technology over the years, my practical breakthroughs have been limited to their lower-tier systems."
"If I can master their primary control frameworks, our energy constraints will be permanently eliminated. At that point, we can dispatch Chapters across the galaxy to harvest every lingering C'tan fragment."
"With a bit more effort, you and I could take a trip beyond the galactic rim and capture the Outsider. A fully intact, ancient C'tan of that scale would possess immense energy density—it alone could power the entire Imperium indefinitely."
As Perturabo outlined his objectives regarding the captured C'tan shards, the surrounding group was visibly swayed.
Having been briefed on ancient galactic history, Guilliman and the others were no longer ignorant of the broader reality and fully understood the immense strategic value of the C'tan shards.
"If you were conducting these trials, why didn't you enlist the Mechanicum to assist?" the Emperor asked. "Are you hoarding the research?"
"Who said I didn't?" Perturabo countered. "However, a C'tan shard containment breach carries unacceptable risks. I chose to fracture select minor fragments down to the smallest manageable thresholds, and those tech-priests are currently conducting classified trials at the galactic core."
"Additionally, the Squat leagues possess remarkable manufacturing techniques. I adapted several of their fabrication processes—the power weapons currently standardized across the Astartes drew inspiration from their Darkstar weaponry."
"Have the core trials yielded actionable results?" the Emperor pressed.
"If they had, I would have commenced full-scale deployment already. It is precisely because a breakthrough remains elusive that they are kept locked away here."
"How long have you been running these trials?"
"A considerable time—roughly three hundred years. Progress has been slow."
"You should have involved me earlier," the Emperor said, a note of dissatisfaction in his voice. "With my assistance, you would have reached a breakthrough long ago."
He felt a slight annoyance that Perturabo had withheld such a project rather than consulting a scientist who had lived since ancient Terra.
"You should focus your efforts on retrieving the Second and Eleventh Primarchs first," Perturabo replied. "We've made solid progress on that front, and the Second should be ready for retrieval soon. Pushing that forward is your primary objective for now."
Having already learned of their missing brothers from the Emperor and Perturabo, Guilliman and Angron showed no surprise at the mention.
"Warmaster," Guilliman interjected, "can these fragments only be utilized as power sources? Are there other applications?"
"Naturally," Perturabo answered. "The Necrons used them as disposable heavy ordnance—albeit reusable ones. Though deploying them often inflicted severe collateral damage on their own forces, given that any entity bound and used as a battery for eons tends to harbor extreme rage."
"Notice how certain fragments appear structurally unstable? Those are products of Necron engineering—they fused distinct shards together to construct what they termed 'Transcendent C'tan,' scaling their power output exponentially."
"Once I master that fusion process, I intend to fabricate my own variants."
"My ultimate objective extends beyond what the Necrons achieved. C'tan originated as pure energetic entities. As long as a system is fundamentally energetic, I can engineer a method to mass-produce synthetic iterations."
"Even if those physical deities possess vast power, we will hold absolute counter-weapons in our hands."
Perturabo's concept was staggering in scope—creating artificial C'tan was an ambition so audacious that the Silent King would likely have viewed it with utter disbelief.
Yet those present expressed little surprise. Perturabo's mind had always operated on an unconstrained scale; no concept he produced seemed entirely out of character.
Lacking a complete conceptual grasp of what a C'tan truly represented—and with even the Emperor only understanding them as formidable physical entities—they accepted that Perturabo might eventually realize a functional, if degraded, replica.
Of course, the initiative remained theoretical; Perturabo had yet to execute practical trials, as current infrastructure remained insufficient for the task.
Still, Perturabo was committed to the path. Though an artificial C'tan sounded improbable, he held to a core premise: anything operating within the material universe adhered to physical laws.
So long as physical laws applied, the concept of an artificial C'tan was no mere fantasy.
---
"What about Perpetuals?" the Emperor asked suddenly, his gaze sharp. "Don't tell me you haven't touched that field. I know you tracked down those Cabal remnants."
The Emperor recalled the instance when he and Malcador had denied Perturabo's request for Perpetual conversion technology. Decades had passed since, and he refused to believe his son had simply dropped the matter. He suspected Perturabo might have even achieved a working process, withholding it only due to exorbitant resource costs.
"After you and Malcador refused to share the data," Perturabo stated matter-of-factly, "I tasked Alpharius and his network with tracking down surviving Perpetuals and Cabal operatives."
"I studied several live Perpetuals, dismantled a number of Cabal cells alongside Alpharius, and eventually secured the incomplete conversion framework. From there, I refined the process."
"Did you succeed?" The Emperor's voice carried a mixture of intense curiosity and complex tension.
Perturabo shook his head—a gesture that brought the Emperor a brief sense of relief, followed by quiet disappointment.
"It cannot be classified as a total success. I achieved only one stable instance of a full Perpetual comparable to yourselves. The vast majority yielded results similar to the Cabal's unstable agents."
"Furthermore, the conversion procedure remains highly erratic and demands immense energy and material resources. The technological flaws are too severe, and refining it will require substantial time, so I placed the project on hold."
Perturabo felt a tinge of regret regarding the outcome. He had hoped to apply a perfected conversion to his sister, Andos, and select members of his lineage. However, given the instability and ruinous resource requirements, he had been forced to pause the initiative.
Fortunately, having upgraded life-extension surgical procedures multiple times, enabling baseline humans to exceed two thousand years of life was entirely feasible. He still had time.
Guilliman and Angron, however, focused on a different aspect, immediately inquiring about the mortality rate of the conversion process and whether the subject's safety could be guaranteed.
Neither was devoid of personal attachments. Though Guilliman had not yet restored his mother, he had never abandoned the goal; saving her remained a priority.
A viable Perpetual conversion process was of monumental importance.
"The process is unrefined at present—do not jump ahead," Perturabo advised. "When I achieve a stable outcome, I will inform you directly. As brothers, I have no reason to withhold it from you."
Perturabo's answer did not discourage Guilliman or Angron; on the contrary, it offered a clear promise that those they cared for might remain at their side indefinitely.
"Do not push this too far," the Emperor warned, the instinct to intervene rising within him.
Yet that familiar sense of deep exhaustion returned, choking back the reprimand before it could be voiced.
He could feel the trajectory of events drifting steadily into increasingly unpredictable territory.