Warhammer: Don't Call Me the God of All Machines

Chapter 714 Interlude: This is the Iron Cage (asking for monthly tickets)

"Dantioch is right."

"He said you don't understand what it means to be strong both inside and out. Your abilities and talents are completely unmatched by your ambition."

"You demand your offspring to be strong both inside and out, but you yourself can't even do it."

"The saying 'high aspirations but low skills' refers to people like you."

In the blurry and difficult-to-see-the-truth turbulence of space and time, Dorn held little Perturabo's arm and spoke slowly.

There were flickering lights and shadows all around, and some fragments of them flashed by. Dawn understood that they were different timelines.

Although they seem very close, they are actually separated by a huge distance. Even he himself does not know which timeline he will go to next.

Listening to his brother's heartbreaking words, little Perturabo, who had regained consciousness, closed his eyes and gritted his teeth to endure the humiliation.

He never thought that he would see Dantioch again in this life, the offspring he loved and hated.

The abilities of this veteran war smith are absolutely unquestionable.

The fact that he can sit on the Trident, a dangerous position comparable to the crater of a volcano, is enough to show that his ability is impeccable.

But while he is capable, he also has too much personality.

The disastrous defeat of the Hrud Crusade even made Dantioch dare to angrily rebuke the Primarch for his stupidity and stubbornness in front of Perturabo.

This would be unthinkable even in other legions.

Not to mention that the legion has a very strict hierarchy and the primarch has a very bad temper.

It was a miracle that a Primarch like Perturabo, whose mind was smaller than a needle tip, could simply order Dantioch to be stripped of his power armor, dismissed from his position as Trident, and exiled to the Little Daman Court.

However, Dorn felt much better after having Dantioch help him convey information to the Imperial Fists.

He knew his sons, especially the Templars led by Sigismund.

Their personalities are exactly like his own, stubborn and tough, with no room for compromise.

Even if there is no hope, they will fight to the death to create a hope.

"Why, were you beaten by Dantioch and lost your ability to speak?"

"Maybe next time we show up at some point, we can get a doctor to check on you."

Amidst the turbulence of time and space, Perturabo was so angry that he said nothing, his childish face turning ashen.

It's hard to imagine that the young Primarch actually looks cuter than most human children.

But even this delicate and pretty child has an extremely miserable face.

And Dorn was still chattering on. His mouth was the most terrifying weapon. Perturabo felt that his defense was about to be completely broken.

Ever since they were swept away by the turbulence of time and space in the Imperial Palace on Terra, the two Primarchs have been drifting on the timeline.

Or jump to different points in the meta-timeline, and sometimes even drift to certain parallel timelines.

Even as wise as the Primarchs, they didn't know how to get out of this embarrassing situation and return to a normal flow of time.

Perturabo believed that as long as the time entropy in his body could be completely consumed, or this balance was broken, their time travel would stagnate.

But Dorn doesn't think so.

"That time just now should have been our most promising one, but unfortunately, we stayed too short." Dorn sighed.

"If we could stay longer, we might be able to contact the Mechanicus or the sages of the Advanced Technology Community through Dantioch's channels."

"In this regard, we still need more professional advice."

Perturabo suddenly spoke, still unable to break his habit of contradicting others.

"So you're saying I'm unprofessional? Then why did you even ask for my opinion? Are you trying to humiliate me?"

"My intelligence far surpasses those mediocre people. Even in the galaxy, there are only a dozen people who can stand shoulder to shoulder with me."

Perturabo has a shell of steel, but an extremely fragile and sensitive heart.

Looking at his brother whose injuries had not yet completely healed and whose eyes were burning with hatred and anger, Dorn couldn't help but adjust his breathing rate.

The joints of his power armor made a slight friction sound, which was particularly harsh in the turbulence of time and space.

"That's not what I meant." Dorn said in a gentler tone.

"I just hope to be able to escape this helpless state as soon as possible and return to the empire."

"The Imperium needs us. I cannot watch Guilliman alone preside over such a heavy situation."

"Haha, why are you so nice to Guilliman?" Perturabo taunted.

"Yes, in your eyes, even the ambitious Macragge is your beloved brother, that's why you care about him so much."

"You are all like this, and so is the Emperor."

The atmosphere suddenly became a little strange when Perturabo said these words without realizing it.

He was angry that Dorn was so good to Guilliman, but wasn't that just jealous that he wasn't good enough to himself?
The Lord of Iron also subconsciously spoke out his inner thoughts in anger.

But as soon as the words left his mouth, Perturabo felt a wave of regret wash over him.

Damn it, how could he say something so fragile, so un-steelable?
This is simply... as ridiculous as a neglected child complaining to his older brother about the injustice done to him by his brothers and father.

Perturabo turned his head away, breaking his gaze from Dorn.

He always felt that there was a strange sense of incongruity when he was with Dawn, especially like now.

They looked like a father taking care of his children who were only a few years old.

Perturabo's mind screamed, they were brothers, they were enemies, they were victors and losers, but they could never be father and son.

Dorn saw everything. He and Perturabo were brothers, but also enemies. He knew Perturabo better than anyone else.

Perturabo was so proud of himself, he was born extraordinary, both in Olympia and after returning to the Empire.

Even to his brothers, although the Lord of Iron did not express it openly, in his heart he still believed that he was the best.

Whether it was Horus, Sanguinius or Guilliman, he could always find a way to surpass the other.

He liked to portray himself as a kind of Olympian philosopher-king: capable yet humble and reserved, morally perfect like a flawless gem.

But unfortunately, although this Primarch is good enough, he is not as good as imagined.

He expressed his moral humility by lowering his own presence and not striving for fame and fortune;
He demonstrated his extraordinary abilities by working hard, letting his own descendants bleed and sacrifice, and taking on the quagmire of war that other legions were unwilling to accept.

His offspring's exceptionally poor performance made him lose all face, and his heart was filled with entanglement, confusion and self-doubt.

But his arrogance made it impossible for him to doubt himself, so the only problem was that his offspring were too incompetent.

Dorn didn't say anything, because he knew that if he opened his mouth, it would only lead to a more intense argument.

"You think I value Guilliman more?" Dorn asked, his rough hand stroking Perturabo's head.

The latter was resisting instinctively, but to no avail.

The size difference between the two was so huge that Dorn could only gently rub the other's scalp with his fingertips.

"I don't need your pity, Dawn!"

“Never!”

Little Perturabo's tears welled up in his gray irises, but were blocked in his eye sockets by the stubborn dam.

"No, I swear by my loyalty to the Emperor that I have never treated one of my brothers any differently."

"You, Guilliman, Horus, are all the same in my eyes. You are all my brothers, and you are all more outstanding than me."

Dorn whispered, and Perturabo froze.

He knew Dorne too well; the stone would never lie.

Even if a white lie could avoid a quarrel between brothers, he would not choose the lie.

There was no reason, just because he was Rogal Dorn.

"Even if I betray you, will it still be like this?" Perturabo's tone carried an inexplicable hope.

"Yes, it still is," Dawn confirmed.

"My hatred for you does not conflict with the fact that you have the same status as my other brothers in my eyes."

"On the contrary, because I treat you all equally, I am even more angry at your self-degradation."

"If I don't care about you at all, how can I be angry for you?"

"In fact, my father is the same. He may prefer a certain Primarch because that Primarch is more useful to his plans."

"In many cases, the Emperor actually views us from a completely utilitarian perspective. Even the Primarch is nothing more than a handy tool."

"Don't be impatient. I know you're unhappy that the Emperor treats you as a tool, but you must first understand that even to himself, the Emperor treats you completely as a tool."

Little Perturabo took Dorn's advice to heart, and he closed his mouth, which was biting Dorn's gauntlet, and it hurt a little when his tender teeth broke.

"In our father's eyes, only Horus is special, as you should be able to see."

Little Perturabo curled his lips and snorted coldly as an acknowledgment.

It was precisely because of the Emperor's special love for him that Horus also developed a morbid fanaticism towards the Emperor.

"Although Father didn't forgive you, nor did he continue to punish you, he asked me to supervise you. This is very telling."

Dorn said slowly, piquing Perturabo's curiosity.

"He hopes that I can guide you back on the right path. After all, you are a Primarch, and there are only a dozen or so in the galaxy."

"And the reason I'm here to guide you isn't because I'm better than you, but simply because I understand you well enough."

"You and I are the two most similar of all brothers, but our duties are different, and you are resentful of this."

"Actually, all of this is meaningless, because you and I have different roles, there's nothing to compare."

"A kitchen knife and a spoon have two different uses. Why do we have to compare them?"

Dorn spoke with unusual sincerity, and Perturabo tilted his head, hiding his facial reaction.

He knew Dorn was right, and he envied Dorn the chance to receive more of the Emperor's attention while his Legion defended Holy Terra.

Perturabo murmured, took a deep breath, and finally spoke.

"We've been fighting for so many years, and only now do we have the chance to lay everything out and speak our minds."

"I'm tired, and I don't want to fight anymore."

"You win, Dawn."

"Dorn, in fact, when I joined Horus's camp and began to attack my former comrades and brothers, I didn't feel much joy in my heart. Instead, I felt even more empty and meaningless."

"Those who use the filthy warp sorcery, I hate them from the bottom of my heart, but I have to use them for the sake of victory."

"I have only one thought: to defeat you, to defeat you in front of my father, and to prove that I can do it."

In the loneliest place in the world, the two Primarchs who were enemies finally opened their hearts and expressed their true feelings to each other.

None of them knows which timeline they will appear in the next moment, or whether they will face a real death threat in the next moment.

"I have a way to break this unsolvable time and space travel." Perturabo suddenly said.

He seemed to have made up his mind.

"Because time flows in opposite directions in our bodies, you are aging faster and faster, while I am getting younger and younger.

The two neutralize each other, but also react to each other, allowing us to travel back and forth in time."

"If we could separate, then these two opposing time streams wouldn't react."

"You are the Primarch. When Father shaped us, he gave us almost infinite life."

"When I was hit by those Hrud entropic weapons, I only gained a wrinkle, but Dantioch is almost dead from old age."

"It's strange, why does the Dantioch we see seem less aged?"

"I originally thought he was about to die of old age. Was my feeling wrong?"

Perturabo suddenly remembered a small detail.

He only remembered that Dantioch rebelled against Tiangang and beat his genetic father severely, but he did not realize why he became younger.

Dorn directly rejected Perturabo's proposal.

"Yes, even if time speeds up, I won't die of old age, but what about you?"

"How much time do you have left? When your time goes back to the beginning of creation, no one knows what will happen."

Dorn knew exactly what Perturabo meant. He just wanted the two of them to separate and see what their fate would be.

Perturabo is courting death.

His heartfelt words were inevitably intended as his last words.

The Emperor did not punish him, but his twisted heart was punishing himself.

His philosopher-king morality was killing him.

Just as Dorn was about to continue persuading Perturabo, he suddenly felt a painful heartache in his heart.

The time turbulence in the two of them suddenly surged again, and they were thrown out of the chaotic timeline.

"Damn it, here we go again," Dorn cursed.

"Come on, come on, let's see where you are going to take us this time."

"I want to see what else can shock us!"

Dorn grabbed little Perturabo and held him against his chest, using his shoulder and arm armor to block any possible attacks.

Although the latter resisted, he was also very sincere. He was really too fragile now.

The Warp rift flashed by, and when Dorn opened his eyes again, he appeared on a cruel battlefield full of corpses and blood.

A battlefield, a battlefield of at least apocalyptic intensity.

The damaged Mark IV Extreme Power Armor was still covered with shocking bullet holes and cracks, and the charred marks left by the promethium flames emitted an unbearable stench.

The familiar yellow armor paint schemes made Dorn's heart skip a beat.

"Have I arrived in the future? No, these armor patterns are all original Mark-type power armor, which has been almost eliminated in my timeline."

"This is an alternate timeline, a battle in which my descendants suffered devastating losses."

……

"To prevent another tragedy of the magnitude and far-reaching consequences of the Horus Heresy, I have decided to reform the present-day Legiones Astartes."

"All Imperial Legions will be reorganized from Legions to Chapters. I have compiled a Codex Astartes detailing the specifics of this process."

"I know this is difficult for you to accept, but this is also to prevent the rebellion from happening again."

"Please support me, Dawn."

Sebastus World IV.

Inside the Eternal Fortress, a massive fortress painstakingly built by the Iron Warriors, Rogal Dorn, the Primarch of the Imperial Fists, is leading his warriors forward.

His Stormfang was like a violent meat grinder, standing at the forefront of the Imperial Fists Astartes, tearing all the blocking bunkers, watchtowers, barbed wire, trenches and Iron Warriors into pieces.

Dorn's golden power armor was covered in the blood of the enemies. The black and sticky blood exuded an ominous smell, which was the inevitable phenomenon caused by excessive contact with the warp.

His silver hair, standing like steel needles, was still stubborn, but also covered with dust.

The Stormfang's monomolecular teeth bit into the ceramite, shredding the adamantium, and transforming the hardened flesh and bone into a cloud of fleshy flakes. Promethium was injected into the chainsaw sword's engine, stimulating its machine spirit to unleash even more violent power.

Dorn slaughtered the enemies with an expressionless face, but the conversation between him and Guilliman kept replaying in his mind.

The Lord of the Thirteenth Legion wanted to split the Legion, but the Lord of the Imperial Fist opposed this decision.

The Imperial Fists have always been a united whole. Even though the VII Legion suffered heavy losses during the Horus Heresy, as long as time and resources are invested, they can always be restored to their peak.

But if they were split up, with each standard chapter having only a mere thousand men, the Imperial Fists would truly be disbanded.

Dorn was rarely angry and wanted to argue with Guilliman, but his reason told him that the other party's opinion was correct.

The Imperium could no longer withstand a second great rebellion. The Emperor had already ascended the Golden Throne, and no one could reverse the situation again.

"It's all because of me. My reaction was too slow. I couldn't reach the battlefield in time when I boarded the Vengeful Spirit."

"My father was mortally wounded, Sanguinius met a tragic end, and Horus was slain by the Emperor."

"This is all my fault. I messed up everything, and this is the best punishment for me."

Dorn's heart was aching and twitching. Even the pain caused by a torture device he specially made called the "Pain Glove" was not even one percent of its pain.

"Guilliman and I are destined to have to give in. Let me and my Legion atone for this, paying for our mistakes with pain and blood."

The Eternal Fortress is a massive battlefield meticulously crafted by Perturabo, resembling the Octagram of Chaos.

It is even large enough to be seen directly with the naked eye from low-Earth orbit.

This was Perturabo's worship of Chaos and a ruthless mockery of the Empire. Dorn vowed to destroy it completely and took Perturabo back to Terra in a dog cage.

Orbital bombardments and anti-ship defense arrays were bombarding each other every moment, and Dorn was leading his warriors towards the center of the Eternal Fortress.

He understood that the only way to end this war was to behead Perturabo directly and end the war of attrition quickly and efficiently.

The enemy is in a panic, their nuclear silos are spewing out deadly nuclear weapons crazily.

Those dazzling and terrifying clouds of nuclear radiation rose into the sky in every corner of the planet.

The power armor of Dorn and the Imperial Fists was able to resist radiation, but the rapidly soaring radiation levels in the surrounding environment had caused the Geiger counter to scream wildly.

The auspicious instrument was affected by the radiation and began to show a little snow noise.

"My Lord, a gap has appeared in Perturabo's defenses. We can march straight through and reach the core of this eternal fortress."

Beside Dorn, a group of Imperial Fists Primarch Guards named Husar Guards, wearing black and gold Terminator armor, were guarding the Father of Genes as he moved forward.

Their captain, Akamus, expressed his doubts to Dorn.

"My Lord, with all due respect, this is not the level Perturabo should be at. They collapsed too quickly. It was like a carefully prepared trap..."

Akams was an extremely cautious man and he smelled a conspiracy.

However, it was Dorn's scarlet eyes that answered him.

The Primarch seemed to have committed too much bloodshed, and the bloody aura on his body was so strong that it was almost impossible to dissipate.

"Don't pay attention to these things, just follow me and keep charging!" Dorn's will could not be changed, and Akams could only obey.

But when the Primarch's guard turned around, Dorn's eyes revealed a deep sadness.

If even Akamus can see the trap, how could a strategic master like Dorn not be able to see it?

But he was in so much pain inside that he needed death and bloodshed to relieve his guilt.

Dorn also understood that if Guilliman wanted to implement his Chapter reforms, he would have to convince a large group of opponents.

But trying to convince the diehards of the Imperial Fists with words is simply wishful thinking.

Even Dorne couldn't force them to split the legion.

Their only fate is to be buried in this eternal fortress, or in other words, the iron cage!
Dorn led the Imperial Fists to break through the outer defense line. They advanced steadily, leaving space for their retreat, while frantically charging inward.

However, the Imperial Fists did not notice that their weapons and ammunition were rapidly depleting.

At the same time, their dense formation was divided and cut by the constant emergence of forks and trenches.

The Imperial Fists are falling apart, forced to fight the enemy in small groups.

After a series of bloody battles, Dorn finally stepped into the core of the iron cage, which was also the location of the enemy's command center as he calculated.

Even the Primarch's power armor was scarred, with numerous tiny craters scattered across the armor.

The Storm Fang broke more than a dozen single-molecule saw teeth in the bloody battle, and it made noticeably more noise when rotating.

"Perturabo!"

"Get out of here!"

Dorn was not wearing a helmet, and his furious roar echoed in the empty space before him.

However, what came into view was not any command center, but only one cold city wall after another and densely packed gun barrels and cannon muzzles.

This is a trap.

A complete trap.

Dorne showed an expression of understanding, and the Husar guard beside him had already realized the seriousness of the problem.

Akams frantically pushed the Father of Genes backwards, while the other Husar guards stood in front, using their storm shields and bodies to block the deafening sound of artillery fire as much as possible.

A torrential downpour of shells, plasma, and molten metal instantly vaporized the Imperial Fists in front.

They had no shelter at all and could only build walls with the corpses of their fallen brothers to protect the rear as much as possible.

Even the stalwart Imperial Fists felt unspeakable sadness and devastation when they built the wall with the corpses of their brothers.

The power armor was shattered, the flesh and blood evaporated and burned in the high-temperature shells, and even the reinforced bones were shattered into tiny bone fragments.

The Imperial Fists assault force's casualties skyrocketed, and Dorn suddenly felt a long-awaited peace in his heart.

Perhaps death is also a good ending.

A fierce explosion separated Dorn and Akams, and the guard leader roared madly to protect his gene-father.

"Lord Dorne!"

"Where are you?!"

In the dust, Akamus finally caught sight of a figure much taller than himself.

Who else but Rogal Dorn has such a majestic figure?
But after getting closer, Akams' brain suddenly froze. Although the person in front of him was also Dorn, his armor was slightly different from what he remembered.

Although the opponent's body was also covered in dust and looked miserable, compared with Dorn's power armor after the bloody battle, it seemed more gorgeous and complete.

"grown ups……"

Akamus's brain was working so fast that it even drowned out the noise from the overwhelming artillery fire.

Could it be that in just a few seconds, Lord Dorn had completed the repair and polishing of the power armor?

"Arkhams." Dorn, who had traveled through time, shouted with a complicated expression. He missed his son very much.

"Arkhams! I'm here!" Another damaged version of Dorn rushed out from the flames and smoke and reunited with his guards.

The two Dornes looked at each other in unison.

The battle-damaged Dorn looked at himself in disbelief, wondering if he had been struck by some vicious Warp curse or hallucination.

Without much hesitation, he raised the equally broken Storm Fang and slashed at the demon disguised as himself.

Even if it was a bloodthirsty demon of the Blood God, facing Dorne now, the only possible outcome would be to have his head chopped off.

The Lord of the Imperial Fist even gave up defense and put all his strength into attack.

In fact, many people don’t know that between the Imperial Fists and the Iron Warriors, the former is better at attacking, while the latter is better at defending.

Dorn's scalp suddenly went numb. This was all too absurd.

He was now being chased and hacked by himself with the Storm Fang, and he had no suitable weapon except a combat knife.

Dorn and Perturabo were caught in the rift in time and space while in the Terran Palace, and thus had been stripped of their weapons and equipment, save for a ceremonial combat blade.

"Wait, let's talk."

"I'm not a demon sent by Perturabo. Look at this Perturabo!"

Dorn simply grabbed little Perturabo's robe and lifted it up to block the way forward.

Little Perturabo, whose relationship with Dorn had just eased a little, suddenly lost his composure and started cursing again.

"Your motherf*cking Dorne, are you using me as a shield?"

"********"

The battle-damaged Dorn looked at little Perturabo in disbelief.

From the induction between the Primarchs, he was sure that this was his brother, the one who set up the iron cage trap.

"We are from another timeline. Give me a weapon and let's fight our way out first."

"Believe me!"

Dorn shouted to himself in front of him, and the battle-damaged Dorn hesitated for only a moment before grabbing Akamus's chainsword.

He believed in the guy in front of him who looked exactly like him. This was Dorne's intuition.

Dorn took the finely crafted chainsword, tried the feel of it, and found it to be usable enough.

"Hold on to me!"

Dorn stuffed little Perturabo into the gap of his shoulder armor, then let him hold on tight, and then the two Dorns rushed towards Perturabo in tacit understanding.

Thanks to the Iron Lord's trash talk, the two Dorn were able to find the direction of Perturabo as quickly as possible.

"Don, I am the victor. You have fallen into my trap and there is no chance of escape..."

"If you are willing to submit to me, perhaps I can consider sparing you and your offspring's lives..."

"The situation is currently in my favor. You have no chance."

Perturabo, clad in heavy armor and resembling a humanoid super-heavy tank, spoke slowly in a drawn-out tone.

Since the end of the Heresy, he and his legion have fled into the Eye of Terror.

For the first time in his life, the Lord of Iron no longer had someone giving him orders.

Without the Emperor and Horus, his mood miraculously improved and he became a seemingly normal person.

He was savoring the moment of victory, savoring his victory over Dorne, a fact that was heart-stirring to hear.

However, the auspicious instrument on his power armor began to scream, showing two semi-threatening scarlet spots of light.

"Hmm? Two and a half? What do you mean?"

Even Perturabo couldn't figure it out for a moment. Why were there two and a half enemies who could threaten him in the steel cage he carefully arranged?
Besides one Dorn? Are there other Primarchs? Guilliman?

Yes, he is that half, Guilliman is not good at fighting at all.

However, amidst the fierce artillery fire, the two Dorn used their adamantine shields to withstand the bombardment and rushed to Perturabo.

Perturabo was not worried about the close combat with Dorn. He was in full condition now, while Dorn was already covered in wounds and out of ammunition and food. If he lost to him, he would just commit suicide.

However, when the Dornes really appeared before him, the confident Iron Lord was completely stunned.

"Dorn…and Dorne?"

His brain, which was comparable to a supercomputer, was frantically calculating the current situation.

"You idiot!"

A small Perturabo suddenly crawled out of one of the brighter-looking Dornes and started cursing at him.

"You almost killed me with a cannonball, and you killed yourself?"

"I should dig your eyes out and donate them to someone in need!"

The Lord of Iron's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. He couldn't understand why there was a mini version of himself.

But he was also certain that it was himself.

Although Perturabo had no memories even of his childhood, it was a fog.

"Are you from other parallel timelines?" he said with realization.

"You guessed right." Dorn praised politely and immediately launched a charge.

His physical strength and condition are much better than his own in this timeline.

When he launched the charge, the iron ring robots guarding him didn't even react.

"Taste this, damn traitor!" The injured Dorn also roared and rushed out dragging Stormfang.

The Iron Lord wielded the Furnace Breaker in a panic, using this powerful hammer to block attacks everywhere.

"What the hell is going on?!"

"The script isn't like this, it's not like this!"

The other Iron Warriors tried to gather around, but they were unable to interfere with the battle between the three half-Primarchs.

Moreover, they did not dare to use lethal weapons for fear of hurting their father.

"How can there be two Dornes? Besides Alpharius being a twin, is Rogal Dorn also a twin?"

Some well-informed Iron Warriors shouted immediately.

"They are beating our father!" someone asked anxiously.

But when these people wanted to rescue their father, someone secretly tripped them up, slowing down the pace of these diehard Iron Warriors.

Not all of Perturabo's sons love their father.

The fact that they didn't shoot the Primarch in the back was a sign of their loyalty.

When the Lord of Iron wanted to summon his iron ring robots to fight against the two Dornes, he suddenly noticed a hint of abnormal interference.

Although the interference was small, it was a critical moment when they were besieged by two Dornes, and any interference would be fatal.

"You are me, and I am you. Naturally, your iron hoop robot must also give me a share!"

"Fuck, it feels so good to divide my own stuff!"

Little Perturabo, who was lying on Dorn's shoulder, laughed heartily. Ever since he became smaller, his mental strength had declined significantly.

Although it is not possible to micro-manipulate the iron ring robot as perfectly as before, it is still possible to interfere with it.

Help Dorn fight his other self...

Hiss, so exciting!
He was furious. Dantioch had really gone too far, and now was the perfect time to vent his anger.

Little Perturabo had a smirk on his face, and even controlled some iron ring robots to fire at Perturabo himself.

Two furious Dornes versus a bewildered Perturabo, the outcome is obvious.

Perturabo, who had intended to completely annihilate Dorn in the iron cage and defeat his old enemy, was strangled by the battle-wounded Dorn and pinned to the ground with his knees.

"surrender!"

"Surrender everyone! Or you'll be collecting Perturabo's corpse!"

The two Dornes spoke in unison. The Iron Warriors, who had long been confused about the situation, hesitated for a few seconds and put down their weapons helplessly.

"Oh Most High, oh Emperor, what the hell is going on?!"

(End of this chapter)