Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim.

Chapter 168 The Mortalians' Sky Has Fallen
The silence was deafening.

An indescribable silence, accompanied by a violent tremor in the pupils, paused between the two.

"I"

Mortalian wanted to say something, but it seemed that saying anything more at this moment would not make much sense.

They were caught perfectly legitimately, with absolutely no room for explanation.

He...he regrets it!

Now I regret it.

Very sorry.

Ugh!
After being transferred from Barbaross to the Emperor's Voidship, he remarked on how refreshing and comfortable the air was without Barbaross's poisonous miasma.

But soon, Mortalian found the air, filled with the smell of disinfectant, to be unpleasant no matter how he smelled it.

The taste is off!

It was a colorless, odorless gas without any toxins. Although Mortalian knew in his heart that this was what fresh air should taste like, he still felt uncomfortable whenever he was in it for a long time.

I feel uncomfortable all over.

He felt a deep longing for Barbarossa's aversion to poison gas.

bah bah bah!
How could he possibly miss that disgusting and painful gas?

he.
Mortalian was constantly struggling internally.

Does that mean he'll never be able to survive in the air above Barbarossa?
No, that's not right, it shouldn't be like this.

He can endure it!
Tenacity!

Mortalian! Remember that you are the most resilient Primarch!
You must never succumb to such a ridiculous and pathetic desire!

Of all the Primarch brothers, his situation was the most tragic. He was immediately imprisoned in a tower by a damned alien creation and soaked in extremely concentrated poison gas!
But it was he, so resilient and indomitable Mortalian, who was able to withstand the corrosive effects of the poison gas and lead the people of Barbarossa to complete the uprising!
He can endure it!
"Huhu."

I felt the long-lost, foul-smelling air through the respirator.
His body is now completely dependent on the poison gas from Barbalus (a certain fat, evil god).
But these wonderful times are always incredibly short-lived.

That's all.

After finishing a whole bottle of e-cigarette cartridges, Mortalian fell into a state of deep introspection, akin to a period of profound reflection.

What on earth is he doing?
Is he really that weak and incompetent?
What happened to the most resilient Primarch? Was his perseverance and endurance all a lie, something that never existed at all?
Is it really true that he can't even tolerate such a minor case of acclimatization?
impossible!
That's absolutely not true!
I'm so terrible.

Mortalian clutched his head in anguish as he thought this.

Since things have come to this, let's take one more sip.

"Ah~"

Thoughts brought back to the present.

"Motalian, what are you doing here?"

But after a moment's thought, and after the Primarch had already performed millions of calculations in his mind, Perturabo finally asked.

Peturab understood that Motalian might indeed have developed a certain dependence on the toxic gases on Barbaros due to his childhood experiences.

But his frantic inhalation of air from the exhaust vents of the workshop where the nutritional paste was produced was something Peturabo couldn't understand.

"I'm exercising!"

Mortalian's eyes were also spinning rapidly.

"That's right! To strengthen my resilience!"

"Being able to withstand highly toxic environments is part of the Deathguard's resilient character, but poison alone is not enough!"

"It's not just highly toxic air; we also need to strengthen our resistance to air with unpleasant odors!"

"I realized that I lacked the necessary training opportunities, which is why I'm here practicing to resist the stench."

Motalian became more and more agitated as he spoke.

It seems that, just as he himself said, he appeared at the exhaust port simply to hone his skills!

It's not because I've been on Lycaus for too long and can't breathe the stale air of Barbarus, but because I have no other choice but to sneak here and take a few sips!
What a genius he is!
Motalia thought to herself.

How could she find such a good excuse to absolve herself!
This kid is an idiot.

Do you really think he's blind and couldn't see the blissful look on his face just now?

Peturabo's lips were still twitching slowly.

He didn't understand Mortalian's actions.

After all, there is still a significant difference between toxic gas and foul odor.

But he was indeed very knowledgeable.

He had seen this kind of fetish many times before.

—On second thought, since there were even Rogdorath and his Imperial Fist among their brothers, Mortalian's actions weren't as shocking as they had been at first.

After all, Mortalian could only sniff around quietly at best, but what about Rogdorn?

He's not going to act anymore!

Not only do they invite new recruits to a members-only restaurant for their thesis defense after their surgeries, but they also prepare unique Ace Adoration items for some of their underperforming offspring.

—Pain gloves!
A garment made of electrofiber mesh that can cover the entire body except the head. When worn, it stimulates the nerves and causes excruciating pain throughout the body without causing physical harm.

The device also suppresses stun reflexes to ensure the user remains conscious throughout the process.

No matter how tough a Space Marine is, they'll look amazing in this!

Not only will Emperor Fist wear it, but even Roguedon himself will wear it.

Ugh, disgusting!
nausea!

Peturabo felt a surge of disgust.

Why not just kill off any offspring you don't like, like he did with Peturabo? Why torture them like this?

He even pretended to be a suffering saint.
Who knows, that guy Rogdorn might be secretly gloating somewhere while wearing the Gauntlets of Pain! Those Imperial Fist fighters probably think their Gene Father is suffering, huh!
Thinking of Rogdorn's disgraceful behavior, Perturabo felt better and his mood improved. He was no longer surprised by Mortalian's actions.

The only remaining moment without conflict.

"Okay, bro."

"But now is not the time for you to hone your skills. Especially since we are all pretending to be ordinary businessmen, it's best to avoid this kind of behavior."

Although he didn't believe Mortalian's nonsense at all.

But at this point, you have to play dumb.

"I understand. I'll try to be patient. I mean, I'll try not to choose this time to train my patience."

Mortalian nodded, then with a speed that a Death Guard should never possess, like some kind of cockroach-like creature from Hallowed Terra, he scurried out of the ventilation duct.

The mysterious ghost incident in the food production workshop has been resolved, hasn't it?

Although he didn't want to admit that this shameful guy was his brother, the workshop was just too disgusting to look at.
However, given that the greatest threat to Lycaus currently comes from the main star's fleet, it seems that the work of modifying their production workshops should be put on hold after building defensive fortifications.

Why do they need him to do everything for them?
Is it possible that on this planet Lyukaius, there isn't even a single normal person who is even slightly intelligent?
Ugh.

But the thought that their prison cells and the junk food they ate (literally) allowed them to survive until now fills Peturabo with disbelief.

It's like someone living in the 30K era hearing about life in the 40K era for the first time.

How could someone survive in this condition?

Even those who conquered countless hive worlds during the Great Crusade
It was too dirty, too smelly, too chaotic. Peturabo wouldn't even want to watch these guys suffer. Anyway, nothing good could grow up in such a dark and gloomy environment.

He ordered his Iron Warriors to thoroughly purify these poor souls born in the bottom hive, and to clean them all up as the new hive city was built.

Master Pei was kind-hearted and couldn't bear to see the poor suffer.

This was also the first time that Peturabo was able to experience the lives of these ordinary people at such close range.

Previously, his views on the bottom nest or slaves were no different from those of other upper-class people.

They were all stupid, clumsy, and unimaginable non-human beings.

But after these days of contact, Peturabo's impression has indeed changed significantly.

Although these people weren't exactly smart, they were far more pleasing to the eye than the stupid and wicked guys on Olympia.

At least they can understand human speech and will do whatever they are told.

These two points alone make him more useful than 99% of the politicians and sages on Olympia.

The value is revealed in comparison.

It was this group of people who raised Corrax. His brother, Peturabo, didn't particularly like him, but he didn't hate him either.

Peturabo thought helplessly.

I'll help with the modifications when I have some free time later, as a way of repaying your kindness.
bah bah bah!
What repayment! What have these guys done for him that deserves a reward?

Alas, Peturabo, you just aren't hard-hearted enough!
He would feel grateful and want to repay the other person if they acted even slightly like a half-human.

Don't do that again!
Peturab held his tools, thinking sullenly.

"Phew, it's finally finished."

Peturabo looked at the neat row of giant fortress facilities in front of him and smiled with satisfaction.

He smiled like an honest and kind Horus.

But with the help of Fugrim and Kasgar, who put aside their past grievances, the construction of the fortress went very smoothly.

With the assistance of two top craftsmen, Peturabo had never felt things go so smoothly.

But it seemed a little strange that Fugrim and Kasgar would sometimes look at him and smirk.

They seemed to be plotting something, with ill intentions.

However, they never cut corners on their work, since they had accepted the other party's help and Peturabo couldn't say anything.

Mortalian and Corax weren't exactly of much help.

Mortalian's biological tactics were immediately rejected by Corax in horror as soon as they were proposed.

However, as Primarchs, they could still help them with some physical labor, which was enough for Peturabo.

Looking at the rows of quadruple laser cannons forged by the Primarchs, a heartfelt joy welled up within him.

But he didn't do it for the sake of these workers.

"This was not done for you."

Peturabo persisted.

"It's just that I want to practice a little during this time so as not to waste my building skills."

Looking at the many curious workers waiting expectantly behind him, ready to get started, Peturabo sighed helplessly: "Remember to use it properly."

"If you dare to break it, I'll be the first to crush your heads!"

"do you understand?"

"clear--!"

As the workers saluted with excitement, they stepped forward, curiously trying to touch these new gadgets according to the operating instructions in the Corax manual.

Wow, that's amazing! Really amazing!
The mechanic's ability to build and put into service these rows of surface-to-air weapons in just a few days is likely far beyond Corax's imagination.

too strong.

"Thank you, my friend. You've done so much for us, I can't think of a better way to repay you."

After Peturabo finished building the imposing fortress that stood outside the factory, Corax looked at the rows of laser cannons in front of him and stepped forward to express his gratitude.

Corax's original plan was actually somewhat reckless.

They planned to detonate the last remaining large nuclear bomb on Lycaus by dropping it directly onto the ground via the space elevator before the Kiava people noticed, causing even greater chaos.

Although nuclear weapons would cause irreversible environmental damage to the Earth's surface and kill many more innocent people, Corax had no other choice at this moment.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Corax could use his assassination skills to silence the nobles of Kiava, preventing them from mentioning attacking Lycaeus again.

But deep down, Corax didn't like using fear to achieve his goals.

He could sense that if one day he truly relied on instilling fear in others, rather than the salvation that his name, Corax, implied.
Abuse of this power will turn him into a monster.

Fortunately, Peturab's fortifications prevented him from going down an extreme path.

"No need for formalities. What new intelligence did you gather on Kiava?"

"How long are these guys going to take to send out their troops? Why haven't I heard a single word about their fleet after I've been here for so long?"

If he painstakingly builds a fortress only to find no one comes to attack it, that would be too much like the fist of the empire.

Peturabo could not tolerate such an insult.

"There's about one more day." "One more day?"

"Are the Kivars somehow affected by time slowing down, or what? Why do they need so much time to prepare a fleet?"

"No. Actually, the preparation time for the fleet was not long—but it seems that the officials were still arguing and bickering about how large a fleet to send for Lucius's uprising and how much budget to approve."

"So much so that they just finished discussing everything and are preparing to officially send troops tomorrow."

"This is classic. So much precious time wasted on such a stupid question."

Those self-proclaimed politicians are always like this, hindering and disgusting each other over trivial matters.

Peturabo thought impatiently.

This seems to have given him some PTSD from Olympia.

"By the way, Corax."

"Will you be unhappy because I disturbed your private time—I mean, will you feel uncomfortable about my behavior being too outrageous?"

Although Mortalian had specifically emphasized before we came not to mess around and steal the New Primarch's kill.

But once construction began, Peturabo seemed unable to stop building.

When he came to his senses, he had already built an entire surface-to-air fortress.

“Huh?” Corax looked extremely surprised, as if he had never thought of this before. “I am already very grateful for your help, my friend.”

"I am just a rescuer for the workers, not their leader. I am satisfied as long as I can save more people."

"They are all good people and should not live as slaves to others for the rest of their lives."

"Hmph, whether it's good or bad, only my own judgment can tell."

Peturabo snorted and walked away into the distance.

"I'm leaving now. If you don't understand something, ask Fugrim and Kasgar. They will help you figure out how to use these laser cannons."

As he walked, he was still thinking about the construction.

Perfect, we have an extra day.

Should we build something else?
Just build a few more, it'll be fine.
wrong!

Peturabo's left hand grasped his right.

Peturabo, stop!
How can you act like a lapdog, expecting to pour your heart and soul into building for someone without complaint just because they praised you a couple of times?
You deserve far better treatment than this. You don't need to always silently sacrifice and dedicate yourself to others; it's not worth it.
But his hands wouldn't obey him.

after one day.

The Kiava space fleet officially set off for Lycaius.

Although it was nothing compared to the Empire's expeditionary fleet, it was not even a merchant ship accompanying the expeditionary force. However, since the Kiava was not an intergalactic empire, their fleet was sufficient to maintain the orbits of their planets and surrounding satellites.

In a battle of wits, as long as it can be started, that's fine.

Not to mention that the planet where these rebellious workers lived didn't even have an atmosphere.

Even the rebels were a bunch of brainless slave workers!
Using anti-aircraft guns to shoot down primitive people is a rare mission that doesn't happen every day.

Especially given that the fleet has not had the opportunity to be deployed for a long time, this mission is of great importance.

Officials, eager to place their own people in positions of power and gain military merit, had long been fiercely vying for control of the suppression operation.

They stalled and argued for a long time, but in the end, they managed to cram in almost everything they could.

At the command of the fleet commander, more than a dozen ships marched in a grand procession toward the rebel satellite.

Soon, the barren planet came into view through the fleet's portholes.

Lükes.

Looking at the scene before them, even the fleet commander revealed a cruel smile.

Haha, you pathetic slaves, are you scared?
When you dared to use your filthy hands to smash machines and harm nobles, did you ever imagine that this day would come?

Let me show you our most advanced technology—

"Wait, what are those dark things?"

On the atmosphereless surface, there seemed to be rows of black, unidentified objects, but their exact appearance was impossible to discern from such a distance.

I've never seen this before!

"Bird fortune teller? Scan—"

boom! ! !
Countless white lights instantly engulfed the entire fleet.

[Notify Corax to return to base immediately; he is no longer needed for the decapitation strike!]

Our firepower has far exceeded theirs! The enemy fleet has been completely obliterated!

The battle ended quickly.

Or rather, it ended before it even began.

After the dilapidated ships entered the range of the surface-to-air laser cannons, the surface forces under Peturabo's command successfully fired countless high-energy beams at these brazen, unsuspecting ships.

They literally turned the Kivar space fleet into a sieve.

Kiawar is merely a planetary government; the fact that they possess a space fleet only demonstrates their strong archaeological capabilities.

Technology relies entirely on archaeology; whatever we dig up, we use it for.

Since there were no other threats, these ships didn't even know how to deploy their void shields.

Void Shield? What is Void Shield?
Is it a Gellér force field?
—I was wondering what kind of void shield this ship could deploy?
And what about the Kiarvars' opponents?

The industrial automated machine production line, built by Peturabo, produces laser cannons and ammunition comparable to those that can only be manufactured in the Great Foundry World.

In addition, he constructed far more anti-aircraft firepower than the target required.
The result was a swift sell-out.

An instant kill without any chance of resistance.

Under the excessive firepower of the laser cannons, these ancient artifacts were quickly reduced to floating debris in space.

"They fought smarter than the Iron Warriors."

"At least they weren't stupid enough to charge without using their artillery platforms."

Watching the massive fireworks explode in the distance, Peturabo made a nonchalant comment.

Is it over?

That's it?

This was the final assessment that Peturabo came to in his mind.

I want to laugh a little bit.

How wonderful it would be if all the enemies I encounter on future expeditions were idiots like this!
He couldn't help but think.

With the instantaneous explosion of the space fleet, the morale of the Kiarvars had completely collapsed.

After witnessing their once-invincible fleet being bombarded by countless cannon fire from those pitiful slave laborers, the entire planet fell into a state of absolute panic.

The planetary government, which had previously controlled everything on the planet, collapsed completely, and various forces around the world began to fight and claim territory from each other. Civil war, power struggles, and rebellions erupted on Kiava after their invincible fleet was completely annihilated.

However, the people on Lycaus can enjoy a period of happiness and peace during this time.

An incredible victory.

If we could go back ten days and tell any worker in Lycaeus that a ship from outer space would land here, and that the alien passengers on board looked similar to Corax, and were all their fellow countrymen and brothers.

They will help the Lycaenians achieve salvation, allowing them to live in a world free from enslavement.
Anyone would think you're dreaming.

—The victory felt so unreal.

They won before they even realized they had won.

That night.

The workers built a large bonfire using discarded metal pipes and promethium fuel.

After the victory, the extraterrestrials took out some food from their reserves, which were sealed in tin boxes, and distributed it to each worker.

This is the best food they've ever seen, really.

It was so delicious that it would make them dance around the campfire.

"Thank you for your help, friend."

At the bonfire party, Corax kept chasing after Peturabo to express his gratitude.

"Although we cannot provide you with more of the supplies you need, you can take these ores with you as long as you need them."

"If you have the opportunity to come to Lycaus again in the future, we will always welcome you."

—This kid doesn't know yet that they actually came to take him away.

"Ah, in that case—"

Just as Peturabo was about to reveal his identity, a series of exclamations like waves suddenly came from behind them, interrupting him.

"what happens?"

Looking back, there was Casca, holding a wine glass high, and Mortalian standing beside him, looking completely dumbfounded.

"WTF?"

"That's it?"

Is this the poisoned wine that Mortalian is so proud of?

As a ritual that Mortalian was proud of, he would always ask his most valued warrior to bestow poisoned wine upon him during banquets.

Only those brave enough to survive such deadly poison can be considered the resilient warriors valued by Mortalian.

Seeing the joyful atmosphere, he chose to use materials from the spaceship to concoct a poisoned wine that even a mortal could barely drink, in order to promote his ritual to Lycaeus.

Then Casca snatched it away.

This wine has no flavor.
Kaska wiped the corner of his mouth.

He thought he was so amazing!

"You really didn't use your spiritual power to cure my poison?"

Mortalian glanced at the empty wine glass in his hand.

Even though he's a Space Marine, surely he shouldn't have no reaction after drinking a whole glass?

"Pale King, you are so close to me, you should be able to sense the psionic fluctuations within me—the answer is obvious, no."

"Casgar said confidently."

"Okay! This is what you asked for!"

Mortalian's rebellious nature was thus provoked by Kasgar.

If we don't take him down, he's not the Death Lord of Barbaros!

"Excuse me."

He gave the leisurely Casca a deep look before running towards the back room.

Like an alchemist's collection of poisons, there was a dazzling array of them, all collected during his great expedition.

Now is the time to use them!

Fill it with whatever poison it is!
"Hey hey hey"

"Ha ha ha ha!!!"

Finally, he walked out holding that cup of his absolutely confident creation.

"This is."

Kasgar looked at the glass of venom in the other man's hand, and before Mortalian could boast or threaten, he took it and drank it down in one gulp amidst the gasps of the crowd.

"Uh, so-so."

Kasgar shrugged under Mortalian's incredulous gaze.

"It doesn't feel as powerful as what Aqua Duna did."

he said helplessly.

That's it?

It's not flavorful enough at all.

What.
What does it mean?
Mortalian's hands trembled as he clutched his head.

Not as good as?
The poison he painstakingly concocted was no match for the casual dish made by a second-ranking Space Marine, the son of the Emperor.
The sky over Mortalian has fallen.

(End of this chapter)