Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim

He will continue to proclaim everything he has done for the empire, as if all the sins were on his own shoulders.

You'll never be able to satisfy Peturabo.

"If I'm not mistaken, this will be the second to last brother we've met."

Mortalian continued to persuade, "The Great Crusade has progressed to this point, and we won't have many new brothers to meet in the future."

"Since the Iron Warriors have gone through such a difficult battle not long ago, encountering the New Primarch now is a good opportunity to relax."

Although Peturabo does not believe that

"Motalian, I'll only say it once."

"My steel warrior and I weren't designed to be receptionists!"

Peturabo firmly rejected the offer.

"Alright, bro, let's put the Primarch's return on hold for now."

"Shall we play a game of wargames first?"

As he spoke, Mortalian stretched out his right hand, displaying the newly painted war game model in his hand.

Wargaming?

Peturabo's flushed face calmed down somewhat at this moment.

He stared silently at the tall, thin man in the hooded shirt in front of him for several breaths.

".bring it on."

He did not reject wargaming.

As an architectural genius, Peturabo enjoys designing and building his own wargame pieces.

His pieces were different from others—others might just be models, but the pieces in Peturabo's hands were all scaled-down real combat machines, capable of emitting corresponding lasers and moving on their own in the game!

This will undoubtedly require a significant amount of time for research and design.

Fortunately, the reclusive Peturab had plenty of time to lock himself in his room.

To have more fun, he added various units to his legion to prepare for the challenges they would face in the future.

Therefore, he fine-tuned tens of thousands of military tables in his database, waiting for the right time to take them out and fight with his friends, and then enjoy the painful and helpless scene of the opponent losing to him!

This was a good plan, but unfortunately Peturabo encountered an extremely difficult problem:

Where are my friends?

—This is a social game; it requires at least two people to play, right?

The exquisite iron ring robot model can only gather dust in his collection room.

On one occasion when Horus visited Peturabo for a discussion, he saw these dusty war game pieces.

"Impressive. Such a powerful steel torrent, combined with your absolutely precise calculations and pinpoint kills."

“Even my Shadowmoon Wolf cannot compare to you.”

"It's just a game, nothing serious."

Peturabo's lips were practically curled up to the sky.

But he still said it.

After that, the Primarchs also learned how to deal with this eccentric guy.

He might instinctively reject you.

But as long as you play a game of wargames with him and let him have his fun, that's enough.

Let him struggle with his own thoughts for a while, and Peturabo will convince himself to retract his previous rebuttal.

This trick has been tried and tested.

That's how it should have been done.

Unfortunately, Peturabo wasn't the only conflicted person present.

It seems that Peturabo's awkwardness makes Motalian appear more straightforward and approachable.

But his old problem flared up halfway through the game.

After seeing Peturabo's automatons attacking his defenses, Mortalian, who was originally prepared to surrender, hesitated.

If he loses like this, wouldn't he lose face?

But when it comes to Motalian's forte—counter-attacking defense—he has no reason to lose to anyone.

Even releasing water is not allowed.

Then came the scene where Peturabo was the desktop cleanup master at the beginning.

According to the rules, the battle can basically be declared over.

Under the poison gas of Mortalian, even a steel torrent loaded with countless Iron Ring automatons and tanks will only weaken.

What follows is simply a period of garbage time where the opponent defends and counter-attacks, gradually eroding and eliminating them.

As the most skilled defender and counter-attack unit in the entire legion, Death Guard had been relying on its strong willpower to wear down the opponent in the wargame.

"Your wargame choices are all very correct, you even chose a fully mechanized force to counter my biological weapons."

"But in terms of your tactical choices, there's really no need to keep attacking my strongest defensive point. This will only slowly erode the advantage you established at the beginning."

Mortalian's old habits have resurfaced.

He also has a sharp tongue.

"This is me testing myself."

"This is a lack of firepower, not a tactical one."

Peturabo

He's still being stubborn.

"But brother—"

"enough!"

Peturabo shouted, "I said, that's enough."

He turned around and continued picking up his chess pieces from the ground.

"Please go back. I still have some work to do. Thank you for bringing me news of the Emperor."

Mortalian returned home in frustration.

Peturabo was left alone at the table, sulking.

Why couldn't he beat Mortalian?

Why couldn't he beat Mortalian?

Why? Why is that?

Shouldn't his command abilities, his calculations, and his mathematical skills be the strongest?

Why couldn't he even beat Mortalian in the wargaming game?

Look at that kid's paint job, it's all patchy and looks like he's been soaking in shit, it's horribly ugly!

How could anyone possibly defeat someone who can paint even chess pieces like this?

Ugh!

There must be a problem with the game's balance. It's not his fault; it's that the Death Guard's rules are too strong.

Wait for the next nerf.

Peturabo consoled himself.

Right, what did he say earlier? To go and meet the new Primarch with the Emperor's Son and the Death Guard, that should be it.

The emperor's son; it seems this is the first time the two legions have worked together.

Peturabo recalled that there seemed to be a commander's think tank in this legion, and it was the only commander's think tank.

He possesses extremely strong psychic prophetic abilities, enabling him to predict future events with absolute accuracy.

What was that person's name again? Casca. Yes, Casca.

A guy who can predict the future and know what will happen in the future.

How stupid!

Peturabo thought dismissively.

Only the most ignorant and foolish theists would believe in the existence of fate and prophecy!

Should he listen to what this person predicted?

No.

He won't listen.

But he will travel to the flagship of the Emperor's Sons Legion to meet this person.

The others were there for prophecy, but Peturabo was there to expose this charlatan and to prevent the Primarchs from being deceived!

Unlike those mediocre people who are merely curious about his existence and prophecies!

He's different from them!

He wanted to see Casca, but he also didn't want to see Casca—or rather, the reason he wanted to see Casca was precisely because he didn't want to see Casca.

This was all in order to expose his tricks and fulfill my duty to prevent my brothers and sisters from being deceived by him again.

That's right, that's it.

The left brain attacks the right brain, and twisting replaces thinking.

Tell Mortalian I will go to Lycaea.

He gave orders to his trident-wielding men.

Chapter 164 Numerology, isn't it amazing?

"According to the interstellar communications we have received, the fleets of Iron Warriors and Deathguards are about to cross the warp and arrive at Mandeville Point in this system."

"it is good."

"Notify the Sons of the Emperor warriors of the First Company of Adorlu to prepare. We will meet them at the third landing zone of the spaceship."

"Yes."

"Alright, Casca, it's time to go."

Feeling a pull from beside him, Casca, who had been standing there blankly, mechanically moved a few steps forward.

"What's wrong, Casgar?"

Fugrim turned her head with some confusion to look at Kasgar, whose face was ashen. She brought her face close to Kasgar, her long eyelashes seemingly about to brush against his face.

"Nothing. Hmm!"

Under the helpless gazes of Commander Edor and many of the Emperor's Sons, who seemed to think, "Uh, these two are entangled again," Kasgar slowly pushed the other away after being ambushed.

"The other two Primarchs will be here soon. Let's prepare to receive them."

The planet where the Emperor's Son fleet is currently located is an excellent subspace hub.

Warp travel to nearby star sectors requires a jump here for safety, so this small star system, not too far from Lycaius, became the location where the Emperor's Sons Legion waited for the other two Primarch Legions.

After the previous four expeditionary fleets completed their exploration of the Dark Night Sector, Rogdorn and his Imperial Fist fleet were assigned to the area for construction and more tedious inventory and investigation work.

When it comes to beating up dust, Imperial Fist is the professional.

Although the subspace storms in the Dark Night Sector have weakened somewhat, they remain intense. If a sufficiently powerful expeditionary fleet is not dispatched to garrison them, these planets are likely to rebel again before surface defenses are established.

Incidentally, with the most powerful Mountain Formation fleet stationed here, we can also investigate the whereabouts of the four expeditionary fleets that went missing earlier.

As for the other two expeditionary fleets—the Lions seemed to have been assigned some mysterious mission by the Emperor, and after a brief farewell that revealed no useful information, they disappeared at Mandeville point above the planet.

No one knows what dark and profound missions the Lion's Dark Angels have received.