Warhammer, I'm a nanny, not your father!

Perturabo looked back at Wop. "Why did you seek me?"

"You, as a mortal, slew the Epidaeus who ravaged Cardice and the nine-headed dragon Hydraka. Word of this feat has spread throughout the twelve cities of Olympia. My Lord has commanded us to meet you, hoping to see the legendary hero."

Miltiades remained respectfully patient, but Perturabo was keenly aware that four warriors had surrounded them.

Perturabo had no memories before today, and he didn't remember slaying any monsters.

But if that was him, how dare they threaten him?

Maybe it was because of the legend that he had a good reputation and had never hurt anyone?

Perturabo really didn't want to hurt anyone, but he hated these people.

He also hated Wop.

But those were two different kinds of dislike. He hated Wop's stubbornness, but at least Wop still had a concern as rough as a grain of salt.

But these warriors seemed determined to win. Although they were also uneasy and cautious, they seemed to have already regarded Perturabo as a sure thing.

At this distance, Perturabo was fully capable of killing them all in an instant.

Perturabo's icy blue eyes stared at Wop, "Why aren't you talking?"

Wop: "What do you want me to say?"

"They want to take me away."

"Then follow them."

"You don't care at all?" The boy's voice was filled with complex emotions that even he himself could not understand.

"I'll just go with you, why do you care?"

The warriors' tense postures relaxed slightly; at least Wop didn't show any intention of fighting with them for Perturabo.

But their wary eyes still shifted between Wop and the boy, speculating about their relationship.

Perturabo: "How far is your city from here?"

Although he had no memory, the knowledge was engraved in his mind as clearly as a brand.

When he heard the word tyrant, he realized that a tyrant was one of the rulers of Olympia.

Miltiades: "If you leave now, we will return to Locus by dawn. My lord has prepared a feast and laurel wreaths for you."

Perturabo suddenly raised his arm, his index finger pointed at Wop like a sword. "I can go with you, but he must go with me."

"As you wish." Miltiades bowed slightly and breathed a sigh of relief.

Although Perturabo looked like a six-year-old child, he had an otherworldly aura, and his manners and speech revealed the composure of a long-time high-ranking official.

They were fully armed and maintained the dignity of adults on the surface, but in their hearts no one dared to truly regard this legendary dragon-slaying hero as a child.

The extraordinary grace displayed by Perturabo in his every move made these warriors who were sent here on orders pale in comparison.

However, military orders are as heavy as a mountain. Even though they are in awe, they still have to complete their mission and bring this extraordinary being back to the city-state.

……

The rugged mountain road winds forward. After countless generations of herdsmen's trampling, the rocks embedded in the ground have long been worn smooth.

The thorny plants by the roadside scratched his shins, and he would observe them briefly as he passed, curious about them even though their basic nature was already imprinted in his cognition.

The air after the rain was moist and fresh. He took a deep breath, and the scent of soil and grass made him inexplicably excited.

At the same time, various theories about the "formation of rain" and "its impact on the world" automatically emerged in his mind.

He didn't need to think about it; the truth flowed into his mind naturally.

He is a newborn, but he carries wisdom far beyond his years.

Everything was new to him, and everything was familiar to him.

Because of his familiarity, he began to get bored.

He won't waste time on things he already knows.

Perturabo's voice was filled with a suppressed anxiety. "Say something, Wop!"

His tone was almost commanding, yet it held a hint of urgency that he himself was not even aware of.

Those ice-blue eyes shone brightly in the twilight, like a young animal trapped and lost, unwilling to admit its helplessness, yet unable to hide its desire for guidance.

Wop deliberately dragged out his tone, "Oh? What do you want to hear me say?"

"Whatever! Just don't act like a dumbass. That's not you!"

Miltiades observed the interaction between the two men calmly and became convinced that they were definitely not father and son. No father and son would get along in this way.

A faint smile curved the corners of Wop's mouth. "The famous Battle of Marathon once took place in the Athens region of ancient Terra. Miltiades led the battle. However, the most famous figure in the battle wasn't the commander, but an ordinary soldier named Pheidippides."

"In order to convey the news of victory to his fellow Athenians, he ran from Marathon to Athens in one breath, a distance of more than 40 kilometers. He died of exhaustion after delivering the news of victory to his fellow Athenians."

"His name is therefore immortalized in history and revered by future generations."

"In his honor, the marathon event was added to the first Athens Olympic Games."

Miltiades frowned slightly. Was this story made up in his name?

Perturabo: "Where is Gutera?"

"Ancient Terra is history. Now there is only Holy Terra."

"Where is Holy Terra?"

"In the center of the Solar System. Don't ask me where I am in space. I don't know either."

"Where are you from?"

"Yes."

Perturabo looked up. The stars in the night sky were sparse and dim, but the vortex of stars still emitted an eerie light.

The baleful stare of Star Swirl made him look away.

Perturabo: "It's watching us!"

Miltiades: What?

"In the sky, the stars are swirling!"

"what is that?"

"It's in the sky, can't you see it?"

Confused, Miltiades looked up and followed his gaze, but saw only rolling dark clouds.

Perturabo turned sharply to Wop, grasping at straws. "You can see that, right?"

Wop slowly raised his head. "It's never been so clear."

That malicious gaze always stuck to him like a shadow, never moving away.

Chapter 181 Perturabo wants to understand the meaning of life (5K)

Blade-like mountains tear through the horizon, and between the rugged peaks, the magnificent city of Rocks stands tall.

The towering city walls and fortresses are like silent giants, guarding this city-state forged of steel and glory.

The golden dome is faintly visible in the morning mist, like a giant helmet, protecting the people in the city from foreign invasion.

The barrels of the weapons protruded from the firing holes in the city walls, like dormant beasts, ready to tear apart the invading enemies at any time.

When Rocks appeared in his sight, Miltiades straightened his back, and his armor shone with a cold metallic luster in the morning light.

He raised his armored arm and traced his fingertips across the mist-shrouded city walls. "That is Locus, the most magnificent, grandest, and greatest city-state in Olympia!"

Perturabo remained noncommittal, saying that the Roxburgh was indeed magnificent and majestic.

However, its magnificence cannot conceal its essence: a city-state born for war, its beautiful appearance cannot hide its warlike nature.

Olympia was a barren and desolate world, while the city-state of Locus was like a pearl, ruling over a narrow strip of fertile land between the valleys.

Without war, Rocks would neither be able to seize this fertile land nor protect its abundance.

This magnificent city is both a symbol of power and a hotbed of war.

Perturabo did not deny the necessity of war, but war would bring death and destruction.

Perturabo climbed the steep ridge in silence, looking back every now and then to make sure Wop was still there.

The world before dawn was shrouded in a strange silence, with only the clanking sound of metal armor colliding.

Houses are scattered like eagle's nests on the rugged rock walls and steep cliffs, and are stacked on the slopes of the valley, forming a network of villages, towns and farms.

On the barren land, people have carefully built boundary stones with rocks that meander like snakes, dividing the high mountain plateau into countless regular ridges.

They depict humanity's almost obsessive possessiveness of land, and their persistent use of strict boundaries to divide every inch of it.

Perturabo: "It's getting smaller."

At dawn, the light from the sky was like melted gold foil, gradually dyeing the originally lead-gray sky into a light golden color.

The stars quietly retreated under the gradually brightening curtain, and even the star vortex lost its ferocity and turned into a blue bruise.

As the sun slowly rose, the gaze from the vortex of stars gradually dissipated like morning mist.

The boy's tense shoulders finally relaxed, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his soul.

Wop slowly raised his head, his gaze piercing through the thin clouds and silently confronting the Eye of Fear hanging high in the sky.

"not at all."

The distorted star field was reflected in his pupils, and the hideous star field was also staring at him.

The more powerful the psychic, the more he can feel the twisted evil thoughts.

It clings to the surface of the soul like a substance, like some kind of cosmic parasite.

Miltiades turned back to look at the two men, his voice filled with unparalleled pride: "This is the wall of Locus, indestructible and unbreakable!"

The walls of Rocks burst out of the rock from the mountain ridge like a giant's arm.

The walls made of sandstone slabs are seamlessly integrated and fit perfectly with the rock strata of the mountain that supports them, as if this fortress is the continuation of the mountain's bloodline.

Although the city wall and the mountain are of the same nature and origin, the difference in their temperaments is like that between a child and a veteran soldier.

In artistry and majesty, these man-made fortifications eclipse the naturally formed peaks.

Perturabo whispered, "Nothing lasts forever."

……

The city of Rocks is built on the mountain, with buildings stacked layer upon layer, like a carefully stacked honeycomb.

The palace proudly sits on the platform at the top of the mountain, like a golden crown, reflecting a dazzling light in the morning light.

There is a vast square around the palace wall, guarded by a triple-domed tower.

The gold and silver relief patterns on the palace gates are dazzlingly complex, and every detail reveals the craftsmen's exquisite skills.

Perturabo's gaze swept across the magnificent palace. The building's structural proportions, load-bearing capacity, material stress distribution, and even the visual effects the architect wanted to create—all this knowledge flowed through his mind as if it were innate.

There were so many strange and new things for him to see, but he knew everything.

New things always evoke a fleeting sense of surprise in him at first, but this surprise is quickly dispelled by the detailed knowledge that automatically emerges in his mind, and the momentary joy is like self-deception.

When they were reflected in his pupils, they were no longer new.

All that remains is a lingering sense of emptiness and weariness.

"You don't like it here?"

Wop's voice was like an invisible thread, pulling Perturabo out of the quagmire of cognition.

A trace of fatigue flashed across Perturabo's icy blue eyes. "I just know too much."

Exploration was meaningless to him. The known knowledge in his mind deprived him of the most precious surprise and curiosity as an observer.

Although Wop could always ignite his anger with just a few words, this annoying man was the only existence outside his cognitive cage and the only companion who could understand his predicament without explanation.

This realization brought a strange warmth to Perturabo's heart, like suddenly catching a glimpse of another lonely light in the eternal night.

Wop: "Then don't dismantle it, try to feel it."

“The end of deconstructionism is the abyss of nothingness. If you insist on it, you will be swallowed up by nothingness.”