Warhammer 40: Doom

Chapter 273 Appropriate Price
Ferrus led the group out of the shuttle, taking the lead as he stepped onto the red carpet, a symbol of honor and triumph, and walked toward his brothers standing at the end.

He kept his eyes straight ahead, nodded, and displayed the proper demeanor expected of the original body, restraining his usual unconventional behavior on such a solemn occasion.

The sight of the brothers' entourage surprised Feralas. The Imperial Guard, needless to say, were the Emperor's personal bodyguards, the ultimate beings at the pinnacle of the universe.

The Doom Slayer has always been shrouded in mystery, but the majesty and power he displayed at this moment were in no way inferior to the Golden Armor Guard.

On the other side of the red carpet, warriors clad in special power armor proudly raised their heads, displaying their majesty with an air of authority, and were in no way inferior to Astartes.

Those were the Night Guardians, noble warriors whom Felus had heard of, who upheld their oath to protect Nur through the long night.

They deserve to be proud and remembered.

The Night Watchers have no loyalty ingrained in their genes, nor an innate hatred for aliens; they are loyal to their promises and possess an immortal will and noble character.

With a solemn expression, Felus strode across the carpet, leading his honor guard—Morlock.

In the competitive environment following the rise of steel, the most powerful warriors emerged—the warriors of the Avignon clan, clad in Terminator power armor.

The Morlock Terminator displayed excellent military skills, his steps perfectly synchronized without a single misstep.

If it weren't for the loud clanging of the power armor boots against the steel as they walked, it would be hard to imagine that these hundred warriors were like one person.

Doom suppressed his smile, straightened his expression to respond to his brother's seriousness, and gave the Primarch Guard an approving look.

The Steel Hand Legion's slightly bronze-colored power armor reflected a subtle gleam under the lights, showcasing the Legion's power through its inherent strength.

Several soldiers wore standard power armor, with steel hand reliefs engraved inside their waist buckles, and white legion insignia painted on their bronze shoulder armor.

Holding battle flags, they marched with solemn and majestic steps, escorting the Father of Gene on both sides of the Primarch.

Felus strode across the distance and stood before Doom, his eyes filled with deep joy.

Doom also walked forward, opening his arms to reveal his broad chest, and strode toward his brother.

Felus, clad in armor and as tall as Doom, also spread out his two large, silver-gray steel hands and embraced his brother warmly.

The two giants embraced, patting each other's backs with their hands, expressing their deep longing through physical gestures rather than words.

"Let's go." After the hug, Doom grasped Feralus's iron arm and warmly invited him to lead the way, displaying the demeanor of a host.

Ferrus nodded silently, letting his brother pull him by the arm and lead him into the depths of the magnificent warship.

Along the way, the two brothers chatted and recounted what had happened to Terra since their separation.

Doom spoke wittily and engagingly, occasionally throwing in jokes to liven up the conversation; Feralus, on the other hand, displayed his tough-guy nature, recounting various data about the path to conquest, which seemed a bit too formal.

Doom didn't seem to mind, listening attentively and frequently asking for key information, sometimes expressing his deep agreement.

He learned from the conversation that Feralas meticulously planned his wars, calculating the resources and manpower required for each battle, and thus conquering the stars.

Along the Iron Hand Conquest route, the Legion clans split up, each choosing a path to advance and fighting in their own way.

Feralus fully utilizes his Primarch's command abilities, calculating each battle perfectly and rarely having excess troops.

It is precisely because of this conquest model that the Iron Hand Legion conquers at a very fast pace and is currently the legion that has conquered the most world records.

As Doom listened, he greatly admired Feralas's boldness and his incredibly precise control.

His brother's strategic thinking was completely opposite to his own. When dealing with war, Doom would make thorough preparations and then execute a grand strategy, using a major battle to lay the foundation for victory.

Ferrus, on the other hand, preferred a full-scale attack, gradually achieving total victory through a large number of small victories.

As they talked, their voices gradually grew softer.

Doom noticed that Felus's attention was completely drawn to the Royal Majesty warship.

His eyes were incredibly sharp as he scanned every technological creation he encountered, a thoughtful expression frequently appearing on his face. Ferrus was an expert in forging and naturally interested in technological creations, possessing an innate love for mechanics.

Seeing that he was not interested in talking, Doom smiled and did not disturb Feralas's thoughts. He silently slowed down his pace so that his brother could see more clearly.

We walked and looked around, stopping and starting along the way, and it took us quite a while to reach the garden deck.

The Honor Guard was allowed to enter the banquet, but the two Primarchs left, going straight to the warship's bridge to discuss important matters.

Feralus was accompanied by ten Morlock Terminators and nine clan leaders, who represented their respective clans at the Primarch Strategic Conference.

"I feel very uncomfortable in this outfit."

The bridge doors opened, and a huge figure walked onto the bridge. Ferrus lightly tugged at the collar of his robe; long combat experience had made him somewhat uncomfortable in civilian clothes.

“You should get used to relaxing.” Doom pressed his broad shoulders, affectionately massaging his brother’s shoulders to signal him to relax.

The two arrived one after the other at the porthole of the warship and sat facing each other at the "small table." Outside the window was the brightly lit world of the Shapeshifters.

On the table were exquisite plates laden with various delicacies, and glasses were filled with fine wine, to welcome Ferrus.

“I envy your life,” Felus sighed, taking a sip of his drink, savoring its sweetness with his mouth closed. After a while, his eyes lit up as he said, “It is indeed an excellent drink; no wonder it’s so expensive.”

Doom shook his head and smiled wryly, clearly understanding that his brother was teasing him.

Fine wines and spirits produced by Nur, marketed as originating from the Primarch homeworld, fetched exorbitant prices on Terra.

Ferrus put down his wine glass and tried to use a knife and fork to cook the delicacies on the plate, but his stiff movements made a mess of things. Finally, slightly annoyed, he squeezed the knife and fork together and reshaped them into chopsticks.

He was delighted and picked up the food, putting it in his mouth and squinting his eyes to enjoy it.

“I’ve never eaten these before.” Ferrus picked up the dessert fruit; it was sweet and sour, refreshing and delicious.

"You can eat as much as you want." Doom felt a pang of sadness and pushed the food in front of him toward his brother.

Ferrus waved his hand, refusing his brother's offer, and wiped the juice from the corner of his mouth: "That's enough, just a small taste of the food is fine, we have serious business to discuss."

But out of respect for his brother, he picked up a plate of fruit, placed it on his lap, and prepared to enjoy it slowly.

Doom raised his hand to signal the servants to remove the tableware, then lightly tapped the warship's porthole with his finger, and an intelligence model appeared on the projection.

"All the intelligence we currently possess has clear sources and is authentic and valid."

After introducing his brother, he leaned back on the soft sofa, waiting for him to finish reading the intelligence and give his valuable advice.

Ferrus's eyes lit up. The intelligence model on the porthole displayed a comprehensive and three-dimensional view of various data, representing an excellent intelligence management model.

He secretly made a mental note that the Iron Hand would also need to have such intelligence models in the future, as they would be extremely beneficial to the war effort.

The Primarch raised his hand, summoning the clan leaders to gather and allowing them to observe the strategic arrangements of the two Primarchs.

"Doom, what do you plan to do?" Feralus sat up straight, his brow no longer relaxed, but serious and earnest. "How do you plan to wage war?"

Doom sat up straight, pointed to the porthole, and pulled out the still-being-refined battle plan: "This is my plan. Now that you're here, you can also offer suggestions and refine it."

“I have no mercy for those aliens; they must be eradicated in one fell swoop.”

Felus nodded in agreement, his already serious face becoming even more solemn. He had learned about the alien ecology from intelligence reports and was well aware of the threat that the Ghana worms posed to humanity.

As he casually fiddled with the plan devised by his brother, Felus nodded repeatedly, his eyes full of admiration.

The nine clan leaders stood rooted to the spot, their hearts surging with awe and their two hearts trembling slightly as they felt reverence for the Primarch's methods.

The King of Warriors, Lord of the Stars of Nur, he was willing to destroy hundreds of worlds in order to completely annihilate the alien race!
The world, which has evolved over billions of years, is, in the eyes of the Primarch, merely a reasonable price to pay for the extermination of the Xenomorphs.

(Brothers, time's up, I haven't rested for 24 hours, and I've written two chapters while drooling and sweating.)
(Thanks to "煲啫啫" for the donation, I had completely forgotten.)
(End of this chapter)