This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 293 A motley crew can't possibly win.

While Frix maintained a defensive stance, Peturabo's pieces advanced more aggressively, occupying the left half of the board and allowing him to consistently lead the attack.

pat~
Frix moved the chessboard.

He picked up one of the governors that was placed at the front of the map and carefully placed it below the servant, leaving a small gap in Peturabo's attack route.

Then he took a step back, waiting for his opponent's next move.

But this is a trap. If he were to name it, he would call it the Battle of the End Wall.

Peturabo was deeply impressed by this battle because it involved two players who knew each other inside and out, as well as an overconfident fool.

He almost involuntarily laughed.

“I remember this step.”

He recalled the siege and defense of the entire Terra palace during the Great Rebellion.

South of the Wall of the End, Dorn had prepared a trap for him.

He still can't break through Dorn's defenses, even though he has seen through the Seventh Legion's plan.

Abaddon: Hahahaha, I don't laugh at others, but at Dorn's lack of strategy and Marka's lack of wisdom. Even Perturabo only discovered this defensive loophole after I reminded him. What would happen if I used troops to attack the Sanctuary from here first?

Then our Chaos Warmaster, in that self-righteous attack, gained nothing but a bunch of Gastrin Terminators encased in concrete.

"I still don't know how to break this deadlock."

Peturab spoke frankly to his descendants.

This is a difference in size.

So what if he sees through it?
Given the state of the rebels at the time, unless Horus could actually kill the Emperor in the subsequent duel, defeat was inevitable.

Hundreds of light-years away from them are Guilliman's 250,000 Ultramarines and more than 4,000 capital ships.

Reality will not give him time to act on impulse.

"grown ups."

Fricks replied somewhat nervously:
"We are invincible."

No, you don't have to say that.

Peturabo moved the pieces, his tone even carrying a hint of comfort.

“I am aware of my limitations, and my temper does not affect my judgment.”

This made Fricks even more confused.

Right, that is it.

When did the Lord of Iron become like this?

wow~
After realizing he couldn't break the deadlock, he pushed the chessboard away, and the black and white pieces rolled into the automatic card-dealing machine.

Through the observation window of the cabin, Peturabo looked once again at the massive fleet.

"He knew what reality was and what his brothers represented."

The sound traveled through the vibrations of the air into his brain, causing Fricks to subconsciously wonder if there was something wrong with his Lyman's Ear.

He had seen the Iron Lord in a vulnerable state many times, but he had never seen the Iron Lord so composed.

“Tell me, Fricks, what did you see?”

Filled with questions, Fricks followed the Iron Lord's gaze.

The massive fleet gathered, yet remained wary of each other. On those communication channels, arguments and conflicts erupted constantly due to the Chaos Faith and personal interests. Occasionally, small warships would break away from the fleet and disappear into the void.

"mob."

Frix was telling the truth.

Compared to the past during the Legion era, this is a gang of bandits who were forcibly brought together.

"Yes."

Peturabo nodded in satisfaction, then tapped a button on the edge of the table.

The scene of the capital city of the Dawn Star Sector leaps onto the holographic projection.

Fricks couldn't help but hold his breath.

The scene before me was truly magnificent.

woo-

A grand horn sounded across the sky above Dawn Star, the star rings shifted, and the spaceport was now a desolate scene.

Countless flags fluttered in the void, and the starlight stained the fleet gold.

Mortals, Mechanics, Astartes—warriors from diverse backgrounds rallied under the banner of the same regime. Amidst the cheers and blessings of countless people, they swore allegiance to the Primarch before embarking on their journey.

Warships and soldiers followed behind them, and countless logistics fleets stretched out, almost covering the entire port area, extending from the Pioneer Star System to the edge of the Dawn Sector. This was a torrent of steel, enough to overwhelm any enemy.

Even the lowest-ranking soldiers were equipped with full sets of Void Armor, were full of spirit, and were well-armed. After ten years of maintenance, this killing weapon had undoubtedly reached its best condition.

Just like a giant beast opening its eyes and setting its gaze on a new hunting ground.

"What did you see again?"

Fricks fell silent.

He didn't know how to respond.

His past experience told him that if any Iron Warrior harbored more thoughts about other Primarchs than Peturabo, then death would befall them.

"Prosperity and strength."

The voice couldn't help but sigh, even though it had been restrained, the jealousy in it was still obvious.

But Peturabo kept talking.

Fricks's gaze grew increasingly shocked.

"In good order."

"It possesses a complete industrial system, capable of independently supporting the fleet and combat equipment of an Astartes legion, establishing a stable supply line spanning two star systems, and making it impregnable within five years."

"They rule a great country."

He concluded it this way.

“One of our next opponents.” Peturabo was neither deaf, blind, nor stupid.

He will try to understand what kind of people his opponents are, observe their weaknesses, and summarize his own strengths.

He looked at the four brothers in the image with envy in his eyes, which quickly turned into jealousy.

These are four brothers who can trust each other; true brothers.

If the four who succeeded them during the Great Rebellion had such a strong bond, then Horus's so-called Great Rebellion would have been nothing but a joke, and everyone could have gone home, washed up, gone to sleep, and waited to die.

Now they have become rivals.

Perturabo stared at the warbands whose bloodlines originated from other Primarchs, and his brows furrowed unconsciously.

And his theoretical allies belong to this camp.
Angron—

slave!

They were slaves in the gladiatorial arena, then slaves of emperors, and now slaves of Khorne.

Fugrim—

waste!

A continuous period of slacking off and doing nothing, intermittent bursts of ambition, playing around and then suddenly wanting to do something, working around and then suddenly wanting to play again.

Mortarian—

Stupid!

The most beloved son of the great and loving father, who spends his days holed up in Nurgle Garden, even after ascending to demonhood, still tries to sell his numerology to those great demons, leaving them completely bewildered.

Magnus—

idiot!

He was delirious, constantly thinking about revenge, and could barely remember who had broken his body. He lived in his own world, ignoring the facts all day long. Whenever he met an acquaintance, he would say, "Don't you think I did anything wrong by rebelling against you?" Then he would ramble on about a whole bunch of his imagined past, tormenting his children to the point of death, and putting on a show for Tzeentch.

Luojia —

This is a qualified brother.

Unfortunately, this brother's ability to provide support was limited. He was targeted by another brother who embraced his own identity. Even though the other brother had a chance to get some fresh air because he was busy hunting down traitors, he was unlikely to become a significant threat.

Everyone has dreams, and each person's life is wonderful. We all have a bright future ahead of us!

"call--"

After letting out a long breath and briefly reviewing the current situation and the priorities for the next few years, Peturabo recalled the painful memories of the Great Expedition.

Thinking of this, Perturabo couldn't help but scoff at his brothers who had sided with the Chaos Gods.

If he could, he would prefer Dorn to be his colleague, or even the current four.

Yes, he was jealous of his brothers.

Jealous that they could freely paint the world he had conquered, he wanted to destroy this decaying empire.

His character flaws had always been there; he was simply jealous of his brothers.

Why should you be allowed to decorate the empire I conquered with your low taste and inefficient design?

But after jealousy and resentment comes reflection.

Given such limited resources, a head-on confrontation is definitely not an option, so we need to think of other solutions.

"Destroying the corrupt corpse of the Empire was merely a response to Abaddon's slogan, and it must be said that this slogan was indeed able to maximize the unification and unity of the Chaos Warband."

Peturabo was well aware of his limitations.

One against four, or is it the original body?

He despised these brothers from the bottom of his heart, but he wouldn't ignore reality!

Abaddon's values ​​were only meant to fool the defecting warbands; the veteran legions never believed in them.

Many of the unfortunate souls were dragged down by the Primarch, and the vast majority of them never intended to serve the Chaos Gods.

"And my warriors."

He looked at Fricks.

He looked at his son, who was already stunned by his words.

Peturabo now understands very well what his offspring want.

The shadow of the command room stretched behind his tall figure, but his eyes shone with an unprecedented clarity.

"I will give you a new meaning: fight for me, fight for my will, gather your compatriots who are still being deceived by my pathetic father, and liberate them from a pile of decaying corpses."

"I will no longer sacrifice my children for the ideals of my pathetic father. We will reunite under the same banner and create a new empire with our will."

Peturabo knew exactly what he wanted and what he wanted to gain from this war.

His gaze was sharp, penetrating the star map as he stared at the Dawn Star Region.

His brothers showed him a completely new path, one that was far more interesting to them than the path he had taken in the chaos of tearing down and rebuilding a planet.

His gaze was bright and piercing, like a bright lamp inside the simple Steelblood.

He is no longer bound by the past.

And Frix knew that their genetic father was more powerful than ever before.

"Fricks".

As the Kingslayer pieces were rearranged by the mechanical operation, Peturabo seemed to remember something.

"That Kayan from the Thousand Sons is still around, right?"

"Their fleet has been under constant surveillance."

"Fricks replied."

"Summon him."

Perturabo gave the order, his mind immediately turning to the Chaos Warmaster whom he despised.

What he wanted was not Abaddon's attitude.

What he wanted was the attitude of the Four Gods.

(End of this chapter)