This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 292 Perturabo: If Danteok were here

Burying their bitter emotions deep inside, the quiet and massive bridge gradually revealed meticulously planned routes.

With each command accompanied by his innate authority and connection, he manipulated the servants of the real universe, making them operate as if controlled by the strings of a puppet.

As early as the tenth Black Crusade launched by Abaddon, Perturabo relied on the powerful logic engine on the Ironblood to calculate the warp route for Abaddon to break through the Eye of Terror and provided him with the necessary technical support.

Now, everything is gradually taking shape under his careful planning.

But the Lord of Iron was not in a hurry.

After releasing his pent-up emotions of a thousand years in a fit of rage, he gazed at the veins above Midgard and the fleets circling the planet.

This is a truly colossal fleet composed of Chaos traitors.

This includes battleships and cruisers of the renegade Imperial Navy, battle barges and strike cruisers carrying Space Marines, and the Dark Mechanicus's Omen Ark, carrying Legion Warbands, Renegade Chapters, Fallen Mortal Forces, and Renegade Titan Legions.

Thousands of engines pounded against the chaotic barrier like drumbeats, and countless warriors roared and fought fiercely.

In the center of the Legion Warband fleet that rushed to the scene, there was even a Glory Queen-class battleship comparable to the 'Iron Blood'.

The Conqueror, led by the Twelfth Legion's Oathbreaker, Kosolax.

A sergeant in the 3rd Assault Company during the Great Crusade, and now the leader of the 'Oathsworn' warband, he is the largest force in the 'World Eaters' Legion after its split, and seized control of the 'Conqueror's Glory Queen' during the First Battle of Amegiddon.

Peturabo quickly recalled the other party's data in his mind.

During the Siege of Terra, he single-handedly commanded the entire battlefield, especially the World Eaters, a Primarchic army that had lost its personality and reason.

So he naturally remembered this soldier who had fought under his command.

This made Peturabo sigh at his unfortunate fate.

He thought of Baben Falk.

These upstarts who rose to prominence during the post-Great Rebellion period displayed astonishing leadership skills when the Primarchs were lost and the Legion disintegrated. Even former Primarchs like Cain and Fricks, who were once the most powerful under the Primarchs, had to acknowledge their status.

They reunited the shattered legions, gathered the soldiers who had lost their Primarch, and began to lead this force with new ideas.

Now, they will submit to a more powerful authority.

Peturabo's gaze lingered on the massive fleet for a moment before he looked away.

He had no doubt that this was the culmination of the Legion's strength since the Siege of Terra.

But it's not enough.

Anger, or perhaps jealousy, did not cloud his judgment.

He knew very well that these members who had defected to Chaos should not be expected to have any discipline. Even though they were gathered here because of their authority and the reimbursement of their combat equipment, it was wishful thinking to expect them to fight against the Empire's large-scale armies.

Perturabo watched as his disciplined and honorable warhounds were transformed into a pack of butchers who knew only how to kill by the Butcher's Nail, and the gifts of the Chaos Gods were far more terrifying than the Butcher's Nail.

Therefore, Peturabo did not welcome these Chaos Warriors who had gathered at the Primarch's call as much as he appeared.

He distanced himself from his remaining loyal sons and drastically reduced the tactical objectives they could calculate.

He's already learned his lesson the hard way.

The surrounding Chaos Warlords dispersed on the spot after responding to Peturabo's call, and no one knew what they were thinking.

Peturabo didn't care and focused on the battlefield simulation.

Data flowed through the mind of the Iron Lord.

Every encounter and every large-scale conflict generates a massive amount of information, which needs to be constantly reviewed, monitored, and corrected.

Fricks stood silently to the side, gazing at the focused profile of the Father of Genetics, a look of nostalgia in his eyes—

Just like in every previous battle, Peturabo devoted himself wholeheartedly to the battle plan, neglecting to eat or sleep.

He will always remain at the strategic post until the mission is completed, never leaving it for a moment.

Right, that is it.

That's what Fricks thought.

As always, he will obey the Iron Lord's commands and bring him victory.

But at the same time, he also felt a little confused.

Fricks carefully observed Peturabo's expression.

The malice and jealousy that arose with his thoughts were undeniable, but he was now rarely bothered by them.

This made the battle-hardened blacksmith subconsciously frown.

"Come with me."

After a long silence, Peturabo suddenly turned around.

Fricks stepped forward in response.

His gaze subtly swept across the screen; his long experience assisting in combat simulations made him realize that the result of this simulation was not ideal.

He subconsciously fell into thought, hoping to use his meager strength to help the father of genetics solve his problems.

Noticing Fricks's subtle movements, Peturabo continued walking ahead indifferently.

The interior of the 'Blood of Steel' is larger than before, with increased height in all passageways and compartments, because Perturabo, after his ascension, is so tall that he resembles a Titan cast in steel and silver.

click-

The airlock released air, and Fricks followed Peturabo into the compartment.

This is a small cabin that connects to the bridge command center, with an antique chessboard placed in the center.

There are twenty chessboards in total, and at the edge of the hut, there are four stacks of chairs, each with its own unique characteristics.

"sit down."

Upon arriving at the seventh seat, Peturabo gestured for his sons to sit down.

"Yes."

His gaze lingered briefly on the extra chair before Fricks stood before the chessboard.

After all, the chessboard that an Ascended Primarch needs to sit down and manage is far too large compared to that of an Astartes.

The chessboard is round, carved from stone, and divided into equal black and white squares.

He played with the black pieces.

Frix played white.

The game on the board has progressed several moves, with the white side's minions positioned around the archon.

Clearly, this was not their first time here.

Why do I keep coming back to this place?

Standing on the other side of the Kingslayer chessboard, Frix was somewhat bewildered, his fingertips unconsciously stroking a cold chess piece.

After rediscovering the meaning of fighting, this quick-thinking and emotionally sensitive war blacksmith gradually regained his ability to think.

His gaze swept across the interlaced black and white squares on the chessboard. The unfinished games seemed like a frozen battlefield, and the Primarch would temporarily set aside his duties to come to this quiet cabin alone to play against him.

This is really unusual.

When did our own original entity become like this?

To be honest, Fricks had a feeling something was off ever since he returned.

Their Primarchs seem to have become less harsh on themselves and their offspring, and even their way of thinking has undergone a significant change.

Just like the words I said to those lords before.

Fricks thought to himself.

He could sense Perturabo's envy, jealousy, and hatred for his brothers, but he could also tell that the Iron Lord's words were more like empty slogans.

That's what the Iron Lord thinks, but he might not actually do what he says.

"To overcome something, you must understand it. I need to observe the present from the perspective of the past."

Peturabo's deep voice broke the silence.

Fricks immediately looked up and met those dark pupils that seemed particularly sharp in the cold light from the cabin ceiling, as if they could see through the doubts in his heart.

After a brief reunion, Peturabo was very satisfied with Fricks.

This offensive master never regressed; his thinking did not become rigid over the long years. His past experience as an observer, in a state of confusion, also gave him a more direct understanding of the chaotic state of affairs.

This is an excellent player.

It can only be said that pretending to be confused is not necessarily a bad thing.

Compared to those idiots whose brains are practically marinated in the blessing of chaos, and limited by their past laziness, Frix, who has now taken on his responsibilities, may lag behind those so-called veterans of the ages in terms of personal strength, but he has retained an exceptionally clear mind.

"Yes, my lord."

Fricks replied again, then picked up the chess piece.

Frix was always a skillful player, much like his attitude towards Perturabo, always able to obey, but also able to contradict him when the Primarch deemed it necessary.

But sometimes, his delicate emotions can seem a bit dull, since Fricks's voices don't truly convey personal feelings.

As the pieces moved again, Peturabo slightly curled the corners of his mouth, pushed the pieces, and looked up at his offspring.

At this moment, his brows furrowed slightly, his gaze sweeping across the chessboard as he recalled past battles and pondered the next defensive move that would satisfy the Lord of Iron.

If Danteok were here too.

Peturabo thought so.

(End of this chapter)