Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim.

Chapter 170 Peturabo has no secrets
a few days later.

Just as many Primarch Legions were preparing to set off back to Holy Terra.

During these days, a joint expeditionary fleet from the three legions sailed directly into Kiava's near-Earth orbit, terrifying the warlords who had lost their space fleet and were fighting on the surface.

The recapture of the entire Kiava was unexpectedly swift. Under the relentless bombardment of the Iron Warriors, those who dared to resist with even the slightest bit of hope were instantly reduced to ashes by Perturabo's artillery fire.

Perhaps the Iron Warriors don't always perform well, and the casualty ratio in the final battle report of the Great Expedition is never very good.

But this is largely because emperors really do use capable people to the extreme.

They relentlessly exploited Iron Warrior and Perturabo, forcing them into the toughest, most uncompromising meat grinder battles.

After being tempered by such intense firepower, winning a match against a weaker opponent is a piece of cake.

Soon, Kiarwal became part of the autonomous region designated for Corax.

Let the Primarch and the workers who raised the Primarch slowly develop the main planet and its connected satellites, and in the future, with the help of the Cult of Mechanics, gradually unlock the planet's technology tree step by step.

After all, no nesting cities are built on the current savior planet, and the population remains at the original level.

If it is used as a recruitment site for the future Raven Guards, the source of troops will be too tight.

It just so happens that there's such a large Kiava primary planet here that no one wants, so it's reasonable to do Korax a favor while we're at it.

Since the emperor is not around, they can handle the ownership issues of these planets.

—The accompanying sages of the Mechanic Church expressed their regret over this.

There are plenty of mines around Kiaval, and the main planet also has a lot of industrial infrastructure. If we could take ownership of it and bring it under the Empire's control, it could be transformed into a large forging world with just a little modification, providing a continuous source of power for the Great Crusade.

It’s a pity that it can’t be collected.

"Wait one more day."

"If there is still no news from the Emperor, let's prepare to set off."

As per the Emperor's decree, after dealing with the affairs of the Eleventh Legion Primarch, he will follow in the footsteps of the other Primarchs to Lycaea to welcome the return of the new Primarch.

Fugrim and her group were just the vanguard.

This order was specifically issued to prevent the new Primarch from being treated differently from other Primarchs and from being dissatisfied with not being greeted by the Emperor himself.

This is to ensure harmony among the Primarch brothers and sisters.

Let the three Primarchs go first; the Emperor will arrive shortly after he has finished dealing with some minor matters.

But even so, where are the people?

Where are you, Your Majesty?
Outside the still fragile atmosphere that Lycaius had just filled, the specks of starlight, along with the expeditionary fleet ships docked in near-Earth orbit, were clearly visible.

But among the swarms of ships in this near-Earth orbit, there was not a trace of the emperor.

"Logically, if an unexpected situation arises that needs to be dealt with, there should be Star Language Communication to inform us of our next move."

"But there isn't one."

"We've also sent inquiries to surrounding star systems, but they've all gone unanswered," Mortalian said helplessly.

This is what subspace is like.

You never know whether an accident or tomorrow will come first.

Or perhaps they will arrive together.

You never know if you'll ever receive your own obituary.

Having lost contact with the Emperor, they had stayed on Lyucaius for more than ten days beyond their original plan, but still had no news.

The expeditionary fleet, consisting of three Primarchs, or even four Primarchs if counted solely by Primarchs, was stuck on Lycaea, unable to move.

This made Peturabo very unhappy.

"What exactly does the Emperor mean? Regardless of our next objective, we shouldn't be stuck on this satellite doing nothing!"

"As one of the legions of the Great Crusade, why did he just abandon us and let incompetent fools like Rogdorn and his even more incompetent legions steal the limelight?"

He expressed his dissatisfaction with this.

If he hadn't previously complained about the heavy burden the emperor placed on him, then his explanation might have had some credibility.

“Petulab is right.”

Mortalian immediately chimed in, echoing his sentiment: "There's no point in us waiting any longer. We should continue our exploration and clearing operations near the Empire's borders until the Emperor assigns us a new mission."

Efficiency is paramount in the Great Expedition.

Even if they were to leave now, if it were for the sake of a better grand expedition, the Emperor would surely understand.

Of course, the key to this topic is still Kolac's opinion.

"Perhaps I really want to meet my father who created me. But since you all have limited time, it would be a good thing if we parted ways at this time."

"Then let's do it this way. If there is still no news from the Emperor or his arrival by tomorrow, we will first set sail for the nearest hub node."

Signal strength is better near transit hubs for subspace shipping.

Whether it's intelligence about the Emperor's movements or interstellar communications, you would receive them much better from that location than you do now.

Before setting off back to Holy Terra

"In that case, our three legions will officially depart and part ways tomorrow."

"Don't worry, we'll have many more opportunities to meet again soon."

Corax nodded in agreement.

He was also very curious about what kind of people his other Primarch brothers and sisters were.

In his memory, he was number nineteen in line at the laboratory.

Even if he is the last one, there are still nineteen Primarchs in total.

Of course, what he didn't know was that there were now only eighteen Primarchs left.

Yes, isn't it strange?

Why is the First Legion the Dark Angels, while the Sons of the Emperor following behind them becomes the Third Legion?

Has no one all these years had any doubts or wanted to ask the person in the middle—

boom!
The group dispersed and left the meeting room.

"By the way, since this is one of the rare vacation opportunities the Emperor has given us, how about we relax today and go see a play?"

"Forgrim suddenly said something without any apparent reason."

"Okay, okay, hehe."

Mortalian seemed to be encouraging Perturabo as well, though his lively tone was not the normal sound coming from his throat: "Why not? After fighting non-stop for so many years on the expedition, it's only natural to relax this time."

"You may go ahead. My steel warriors and I must continue building. We cannot accompany you."

"do not."

Motalian suddenly sounded anxious.

“It was the Emperor who ordered us to rest properly, Peturabo.”

"After building so much for Corax's homeworld, it's not a terrible thing to relax and enjoy yourself now."

"Didn't you always complain to me about how poorly the Emperor treated the Iron Warriors, how the Legion never got proper rest and was always being driven from one meat grinder to another?"

"These are two different things!"

Peturabo felt his past self elbowing his present self, and after a moment of silence, he persisted.

"Don't you want to see just how beautiful the grand theater you built really is?"

Fugrim pointed to the magnificent building that stood on the horizon in the distance.

Thaliakron.

In the Old Language, it means "Talia's dwelling".

Thalia is an ancient Olympian deity who, according to legend, provided fools, poets, and writers with endless creative inspiration through her remarkable poetic talent and fondness for wine.

Unfortunately, even during the height of Olympia's theological prosperity, under the iron-fisted rule of the kings on the mountaintop, the common people had very few forms of entertainment.

Peturabo wanted to correct this and envisioned a magnificent palace built of drama, comedy, love and heroism, murder and intrigue, and a bittersweet ending.

This is one of his designs from his early years at Olympia.

Although not as mature as it is now, it is majestic and imbued with a more imaginative and spirited quality.

The theater's structure was designed to be elliptical, envisioned as situated at the impact point of an extremely deep meteorite crater, and constructed according to the terrain.
Peturabo knew every detail of the building's structure intimately, from the precise routes needed to support the lower levels to the exact dimensions of the goddess statue atop the uppermost lintel. He understood every aspect of it, and as the structure of the lower levels took shape at the speed of time-lapse photography, a long-lost vitality returned to Peturabo.

He didn't initially want to build this grand theater, because it was Fugrim's request.

To spend a lot of unnecessary time and energy on something that can't achieve any results is simply a waste of time and a figment of his imagination about the future when he's still immature.

It is not a project worth implementing.

But as construction progressed, he gradually began to enjoy the opportunity to build this magnificent building, and felt incredibly excited and thrilled as a result.

This time, the right brain successfully fought back against the left brain.

Just five days later, the fantasy that had only existed in his mind became a reality—Taliakren stood on the planet of salvation, descending upon this planet lacking art and beauty amidst the heartfelt praise of countless workers.

And it just so happens that only now does he have the time to build a large theater.

Instead of defensive fortifications or destroying enemy landing sites.

Yes.

Perturabo somewhat agreed with Fugrim and Mortalian's advice.

It would be such a shame if he spent so much time building this grand theater, only to find that he himself couldn't even experience it firsthand.

"Okay, I'll go."

What specific play is it?

Peturabo, who was born in Olympia, had a talent that gave him an exceptional ability to appreciate art and a keen sense of aesthetics, despite his dislike for these things.

What kind of play could be performed?
Fugrim, Kasgar, and Mortalian exchanged glances.

Hehe, you'll find out soon enough.

In front of the towering wrought iron gates of the Grand Theatre stands the statue of the goddess Talia outside the wall.

She poured wine from a two-handled, narrow-necked bottle, the mercury acting as the liquid flowing down from the grooves in the column.

The wine was caught by the outstretched hands of her sisters, carved on the two central pillars: on the left was Harris, and on the right was Euphrosini. Both wore masks of laughter and sorrow, but each mask was cleverly tilted so that it was impossible to tell which was which.

But he knew.

Peturab enjoyed this arrogance known only to himself, and he eagerly pushed open the door first.

The oval-shaped theater extends outwards, and behind the curved audience area, there are large-scale reliefs of unimaginable proportions:
The statues of the goddess and her sisters look down with great interest from the high arches surrounding the amphitheater, watching all the drama unfold.

And the mythical heroes of Olympia:
Thespis stood naturally beside the goddess, while his formidable rival, Metrobis, stood at a distance. Alarus, the great lover of comedic poetry, stood with the slender Hercules, the most unpredictable actor of his time, the so-called hero of a thousand faces.

A masterpiece imbued with the spirit of classical Olympia!
Peturabo was proud of his achievements.

Although there is currently no one in the entire theater—not even many on the planet Salvation, and certainly not many laborers who have worked their whole lives—who would be interested in theater.

But Peturabo

Looking at everything before him, he smiled from the bottom of his heart.

But he forgot one thing.

He should never have laughed again.

click!
The moment he stepped inside the theater, Peturabo felt an unimaginable force extending from both sides of him.

It was an attack from the two Primarchs, Mortalian and Fugrim, who seemed to be smiling undisguisedly as they held down his arms.

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't we come here to see a play?"

Peturabo shouted urgently.

What are these two guys doing now?

Who cares, I still have the Iron Ring Automaton!
After the initial panic, Peturabo quickly calmed down.

Calling in the Iron Ring Automaton!

It's alright, he, Peturabo, also has Iron Ring Automaton soldiers; all he needs to do is communicate via neural data flow through the back of his head—

and many more!

He's here in casual clothes to watch the play, so where would he get any neural interface in the back of his head?
Not only did he not bring any Iron Ring Automaton soldiers, but even his trident was not with him!

Alone and caught off guard, Perturabo was captured on the spot by the other two Primarchs.

Even Corax was somewhat surprised.

What are you doing?

"Hehe, little brother. Let me show you your older brother Peturabo's acting talent first!"

As he spoke, a tremendous force came from both sides of Peturabo, lifting him directly to the center of the theater, the place where countless lights and reliefs of gods converged.

"What exactly do you want—"

With a roar, Perturabo broke free from the two Primarchs imprisoning him.

The two men seemed to release the pressure on his shoulders as they carried him onto the stage, and then scattered in the next instant.

"Abo?"

And in the next instant, just as Peturabo was about to launch his attack, he heard the voice he knew best, yet which he least wanted to hear at that moment: No.
No!!!

He froze in place, motionless, at the very center of the stage.

She was a tall woman dressed in an exquisite pure white robe, and she walked slowly forward with a smile, looking at Peturabo in the center of the stage.

Kelly Fanny, Peturabo's sister.

Why is she here?
Why would she be here?
All the questions that popped into Peturabo's mind in an instant were answered the next instant when he saw those three gloating smiling faces.

"you!"

"What are you trying to do!?"

Peturabo roared angrily at the three guys who were just watching the drama unfold.

"What?"

Fugrim looked surprised: "Perturabo, didn't you tell us to invite Kelly Fanny over to perform at the [Taliakron Grand Theatre] that you're building?"

She acted just like the real thing.

This woman's performance is even more realistic than the real thing!

Peturabo was furious again after hearing this.

So angry!

"Is that so, Abo?"

"I never expected it. I really never expected that you would still think of me after being away from this planet for so long."

But seeing the look of surprise and emotion on Kelly Fanny's face when she heard about it, Perturabo...
Damn it, Peturabo, say no to her!
You're not cut out for acting, and you're not prepared for drama.
Who knows what those bastards will do to you?
Reject her quickly, hurry up!
"Yes, that's right."

Peturabo said calmly.

[Next, please enjoy the epic performance brought to us by Peturabo, the Primarch of the Fourth Legion's Iron Warriors—]

[Talia, Grand Theatre]

(Actually, I was unwilling)
Accompanied by a series of soothing musical instruments, seemingly symbolizing the beginning of the performance, a voiceover from above began.

[A cunning ruler and his ministers fight each other for their own earthly interests.]

A bewildered boy gazes at the stars in the sky, his heart filled with doubt.

But at this moment, Peturabo was still completely bewildered—he had no idea what would happen next, or what these people wanted to do.

Judging from the narration and titles, they seem to be performing their own story on Olympia.
That's ridiculous! How could these mortals possibly understand Peturabo's thoughts, let alone perform them!

Peturabo's mind raced, his eyes landing on a section of data cable on the stage.

Data pipeline
This must be a tool used to transmit information by connecting it to the back of his brain.

Since they've appeared on this stage, right in front of me, they must be preparing for my upcoming performance.

This is malicious intent!!!
Peturabo grew angrier the more he thought about it.

If it weren't for Kelvin, he would have already opened fire on those treacherous guys!

Ugh!
He endured it for Kelly Fanny's sake.

Anyway, Nakasgar and Fugrim probably aren't very capable, and only Horus would like what they write.

All they do is play awkward games.

But after a moment of contemplation, he chose to connect the tube to an interface at the back of his brain.

Then he threw it off.

What is this thing?!

boycott!

He Peturabo is going to boycott the show!

Perturabo, his face flushed, wanted to say that, but seeing Kelly Fanny's expectant look...
Peturabo, following the narrator's description, opened his arms with difficulty.

"This starry sky, I have never touched before, yet it is so..."

Peturabo's performance was stiff.

But his stiffness doesn't mean he's unsuitable for acting; rather, it's an instinctive resistance to the content of the performance.

The reason Peturabo chose to throw the script away the moment he saw it was not because Casca's writing was so bad that Peturabo disliked it.

"My mind is denying the beauty and art in the world."

"But my heart keeps beating for this."

Peturabo read it out very reluctantly, word by word.

On the contrary, it's written too well and too bluntly.

It vividly portrays Peturabo's resentful mentality of "preserving steel and extinguishing human desires," a mentality of wanting something but not getting it, and then denying what he wanted.

Even his own left and right hemispheres unusually expressed a unified opinion on it.

Oh my god, this really is me!

But having already promised Kelly Finney, Peturabo simply couldn't bring himself to refuse.

Especially Kelly Fanny, who is now completely convinced of everything about Peturabo.

I simply couldn't refuse.

The show goes on.

From Peturabo's first ascent of Mount Olympia to his adoption by the local tyrant and his debates with various politicians and orators.

On the one hand, it shows Peturabo's vision and strength, which are difficult for ordinary people to understand, but on the other hand, it also shows his anger and confusion when he is ostracized by others because of this.

And right at this most crucial moment!
It's Kelly Fanny!
Although Peturabo would never admit it to himself, Casca knew it.

But he has a narration!

Since Peturabo is unwilling to say it aloud, let the narrator say it all!
And so, under Peturab's utterly terrified gaze, the narrator, much like Peturab's right brain, which was perpetually under attack from the left, spoke from the depths of his heart.

That feigned strength was merely a facade, a mask of steel.

I've always appreciated your support.

"Ok!"

Peturabo was even more horrified to see that Kelly Fanny, sitting in the first seat, was wiping away tears of emotion.

broken
This is completely inexplicable.
If in the future Peturabo says it's all just acting and he doesn't actually like you, Kelly Fanny...
Will Kelly Fanny believe him?
Peturabo: "."

He smiled with a sense of relief.

Fortunately, Casca gave Peturabo some face, and the entire theater was empty except for the Primarchs who had just entered and Kelifenne; there were no other audience members in the theater.

Of course, Casca was really afraid that if he saw the theater packed with people, Perturabo would go berserk and blow it up.

That would be amazing.

At this point, the only one still able to stay and watch Peturabo's performance in such a tragic state was Kelly Fanny, who was silently shedding tears.

And two Primarchs who had succeeded and were now gloating—Forgione and Mortalian.

Casca is backstage at the theater.

There's also Corax, who has absolutely no idea what's going on.

He sat there silently watching everything that was happening on the stage, without saying a word.

Who am I? Where am I? What are we doing?
He couldn't understand it, and he didn't know the reason behind it all.

Corax was deeply shocked.

[How could those fools possibly know the myriad emotions churning within me?]

[Like a high mountain and flowing water, only you can listen to my stories and understand what's in my heart.]

As the plot unfolds, the play has reached its climax.

Just like Horus and the Emperor's Centaur Ring, the encounter between the Blood Angel and Saint Gilles, and Luther and Ryan's Order of Order, this is the perfect moment for the two protagonists to reveal their true feelings, as a fan-made work derived from the Centaur Ring!
"me."

Peturabo blushed and stammered again.

This narrator is so... so blunt!

It was like a tapeworm in Peturabo's stomach, constantly repeating what Peturabo was thinking at the time.

Don't you understand that some things can be said and some things can't?
He is clearly a man of steel, both inside and out, so how could he act like a coward, looking back and forth?
But I am a master of steel, inside and out; in my eyes, emotions are nothing more than discarded waste.

Therefore, I disguised myself as a ruthless killer.

What I wanted to say, I could never bring myself to say.

Why is it that I, who should be steel inside and out, have a heart of soft flesh and blood?

Peturabo: "."

What the hell is this narrator doing, speaking so realistically?

Clearly, a straightforward approach counters arrogance.

Peturabo, through Casca's meticulous planning, was left with nothing by the Cleveland.

"me."

Peturabo's face turned red.

In this vast theater, witnessed by Thalia and the Olympian gods, Perturab blushed like an apple.

This time it really wasn't because the left brain was attacking the right brain; the left brain was innocent this time.

The left side of the brain was also too tense to speak.

"Yes!"

"Yes, okay, alright! He's right!"

"Just like that damn narrator said, is that enough?!"

Peturabo roared in despair.

“Wuhu!!!”

He admitted it!

In that final moment, a thunderous cheer erupted from the audience.

at last!

Finally!!!
Perturabo finally admitted he's a tsundere!!!

clap clap.

There was a burst of warm applause from the audience.

Moving.

It's like a rebellious kid finally growing up.

But this clearly made Peturabo unhappy.

Damn Fugrim, Mortalian, and Kasgar!
None of you will escape!
Just as everything was over and Peturabo was preparing to launch an attack, it seemed that the other side had been prepared for this all along.

"The time has come, run!"

The two Primarchs vanished like the wind, long since disappeared without a trace.

And what about Corax?

After observing Kelly Fanny and Perturabo, even though he had no idea what was going on, he still chose to disappear and flee.

At this point, you must run away.

"Fortunately, it won't spread."

Perturabo looked at the empty theater, now only occupied by Kelly Fanny, and thought to himself with a sense of helplessness.

(It has already been photographed)

(Hundreds of millions of copies will soon be made, ready for billions of people throughout the universe to enjoy at any time)
“Abo, you’re finally not so stubborn anymore.”

Kelly Fanny wiped away the tears from the corner of her eyes, as if she still had something to say.

But just then, the cast iron gate that had been closed was pushed open again, as if the brothers and sisters who wanted to see more gossip had returned.

This infuriated Peturabo even more.

"roll!!!"

"Get out of here! All of you, get out of here!!!"

With his back to the door, Peturabo let out the loudest roar he could muster in his life.

But the brightness seems a bit off?

He suddenly saw a golden giant figure, accompanied by a troop of equally golden Imperial Guards, enter the theater, looking at him with astonishment as he was still angry.

"child?"

he asked doubtfully.

Peturabo will never howl again.

(End of this chapter)