Warhammer: Saving Humanity Begins with the Resurrection of Horus

Page 193

Whenever he thought of this name, Lysander couldn't help but smile sarcastically—War Blacksmith—what a nice-sounding name. It gave the impression that the person with this title could treat the entire war as a hammer in his hand and an ingot on an anvil, using one swing of the hammer after another to shape the "war" ingot into whatever shape he liked.

However, in reality, war is not like forging iron, and forging iron has never been that simple.

These so-called "war blacksmiths" are, in the end, just a group of traitors who have fallen into chaos. Without exception, these traitors have one thing in common in their character: they are all very good at going to extremes. Moreover, such extremes have nothing to do with so-called paranoia or stubbornness, but rather a character flaw, a defect of the soul.

Lysander himself discovered that the Iron Warriors exhibited more severe symptoms in this regard than the other traitors.

The Primarch's personality will be reflected in his offspring.

Therefore, Lysander knew that Peturabo was also a guy with serious personality and even soul defects.

So what happens when such a person sees a direct provocation directed at him?

The answer is now self-evident.

Roger Dorn's promotion of provocative actions further proved Lysander's idea, although he did not tell others casually. However, deep down, he already had a certain estimate of the future direction of this war.

"Lord Lysander, there is a message from Amigiddon."

"explain."

"There is no specific information, only this sentence... 'Prepare to execute the Alpha program.'"

Upon hearing the phrase "Alpha Project," Lysander's expression changed. He knew that the day he had been waiting for was finally approaching, but strangely, when it actually arrived, he didn't feel too nervous.

It was a strange feeling, since in the very first few days he had been anxiously and constantly inquiring about Peturab and his offspring.

"The ship immediately turns around and withdraws to this coordinate position, and then awaits the next combat order."

The order was given, and the HMS Indecisive's conventional engines spewed long blue plumes of flame as the massive ship sped toward the coordinates given to it by Lysander.

At this moment, if someone could see a holographic projection image centered on Amegidon and extending several light-years around it, they would find that Amegidon's orbit is completely empty. Not to mention the heavily guarded Imperial fleet, the fully operational orbital armed platforms, and the star fortresses, there isn't even a single escort ship or armed transport ship in sight.

In the command center of the rebuilt Hades hive, Rogue Dorn gathered representatives from various Astartes Chapters, as well as the mortal Astronauts led by Arrek. They stared at the holographic projection of the void before them, waiting in a silent and oppressive atmosphere for what was to come.

"Subspace signal detected... A violent subspace fluctuation has occurred at Mandel Point One, confirmed as the subspace engine in action."

The massive array of Thinkers compiled the results of the data analysis and, using the microphones on the servo skulls, conveyed the message to everyone present in a cold, electronic voice.

Silence remained; no one spoke, but everyone knew it had begun.

Five more long minutes passed, during which some of the Star Guard colonels began to sweat profusely, swallowing hard and feeling a strong sense of fear about what might happen next.

"The Emperor's blessing."

A colonel couldn't help but speak up.

“Don’t place all your hopes on him,” Arek said calmly, glancing at the colonel. “We must fight for ourselves, for the hope of victory, for the hope of the future.”

"We will fight for Armageddon." These were the words of Roger Dorn. His voice was soft and devoid of emotion, yet it carried clearly to everyone's ears, miraculously dispelling the tension in some of them. "We will fight for humanity."

As soon as he finished speaking, a red dot suddenly appeared on the holographic projection, and everyone turned their heads and stared intently at the small red dot.

"coming."

Someone whispered.

This sentence was like opening a floodgate, and then, a second, a third, a fourth... countless signals appeared, densely packed on the holographic projection. The sheer number even surpassed the Thinker's computing speed for a moment. These ships appeared together, even briefly obscuring the star's light.

"Communication request detected."

"Servo Skull suddenly said."

"The requester is... the fourth Primarch, Peturabo."

"accept."

Roger Dorn said that the communication was connected, and then a familiar yet unfamiliar voice, spanning ten thousand years, descended once again beside the Seventh Primarch.

"Long time no see, my brother."

"Long time no see, traitor."

Chapter 227 The Emperor's Divine Might

"Long time no see, my brother."

"Long time no see, traitor."

The moment Peturabo's voice rang out, everyone present changed their expressions. Although they were still separated by countless kilometers, the powerful sense of oppression still lingered in everyone's hearts, making it hard for them to breathe.

Only Roger Dorn maintained the same expression both before and after the voice rang out. The only change in his heart was a tiny, hidden glimpse of his overwhelming rage, a rage so profound that even the most skilled wizards could hardly fathom it.

"Traitor? Oh yes, I am indeed a traitor."

Perturabo's voice rang out once more. Compared to the voice of the stubborn rock, his voice was much richer in emotion. Although his voice was very hoarse, like an old, dilapidated piano or a worn-out engine, it still had a strange attraction, just like the stories told by the best bards in the tavern, making people involuntarily concentrate and listen carefully to the contents.

"I betrayed the Empire and joined Horus's ranks. For ten thousand years, I have had my offspring launch attacks against the Empire time and time again. Countless people have been sacrificed, their bodies tortured to death, while their souls have been tormented and unable to die."

The crimes were too numerous to list, but Peturabo's tone carried a cheerful mood, as if he were talking about things that were very happy and fulfilling.

“I have indeed betrayed the Empire, betrayed humanity. To my damned father and this damned race, I am indeed an unforgivable traitor, just like my other brothers in the Warp and my offspring.”

At this point, Peturabo's tone suddenly changed, and a wealth of emotions transformed into a thick soup of irony and sarcasm.

Perturabo picked up the bowl of soup, pried open the mouth of the person he was going to give it to, Roger Dorn, and poured it down his throat.

"Then, if I am an unforgivable traitor, what are you and the others who stood idly by for ten thousand years, watching everything unfold before us? Aren't you traitors too?"

Arek glanced discreetly at Roger Dorn's face, and breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that it remained unchanged. He had been worried that Roger Dorn might be provoked by Perturabo's words and act impulsively. Given the current situation, they couldn't afford to make a single mistake before reinforcements arrived; they couldn't afford it. A single misstep would be an irreparable loss to the entire war effort.

After all, when two Primarchs clash, whether within ten steps or a thousand miles away, what determines victory or defeat is the slightest difference in distance and location.

"Perturabo."

Roger Dorn spoke.

"I originally thought you would be much more difficult to deal with in ten thousand years, but now it seems I was overthinking it."

As soon as those words were spoken, an eerie silence fell over the other end of the channel, until a long time later when the sound resumed.

"What do you mean?"

"It means exactly what it says. No matter how well you disguise yourself, ten thousand years later, you still haven't improved at all. You're still the same... giant baby."

Giant baby.

The moment that word was uttered, several Iron Warriors following Peturabo aboard the Ironblood moved silently—these veterans of the Iron Warriors knew exactly what was about to happen. And just as they expected, the enormous, steel-covered "monster" before them lowered its head, remained silent for a long time, and then suddenly raised its hand, slapping the head of a new blacksmith who had only joined the Iron Warriors in the last few hundred years and was still unfamiliar with many aspects of the war.

Blood mixed with brain matter formed a sticky mass that clumped on Peturabo's hand. He stretched out this bloodstained hand and spoke one last time before hanging up the communication.

"You shouldn't have provoked me."

"You're in a hurry."

"............I will make you and your offspring, and this world called Amighiddon, suffer eternal torment in flames."

After speaking, Peturabo hung up the communication. Only then did the war blacksmiths who had retreated dare to step forward, their hearts pounding, waiting for their father to assign them the next combat mission.

A cable behind Perturabo's head connected to the Ironblood's soul, which had been completely corrupted by chaos. Here, he obtained information about the void ahead of Planet Amigidoton. However, even he was stunned by the information he gathered from this situation.

There was nothing in front of Amighiddund.

Yes, there was nothing there. Not even a naval fleet responsible for defense, not even a randomly floating meteorite.

The road was wide open, and ships could move forward without any obstruction.

However, the person in charge of this planet is Roger Dorn, and such an obvious empty city ploy is clearly not something he would do.

So what other methods does he have left?

Perturabo frowned, and at that moment, he noticed that as Amegidon rotated, the center of the planet's main continent was slowly aligning with the Iron Warriors' fleet.

In the center of that main continent, he inexplicably felt an intense sensation that was hard to describe.

A strong, indescribable sense of crisis.

A feeling of death, and a feeling of familiarity.

He had felt this way ten thousand years ago.

That was in Terra, when Horus, after being successfully transformed into a demon by the four gods, was engaged in his final battle with the Emperor.

The psychic aftershocks emanating from their battle instilled in him the same sense of death and crisis he felt now.

At this moment, Perturabo finally understood why Roger Dorn hadn't deployed his fleet in the void and planetary orbits in front of Amegidodon.

That's all for this moment.

"Activate the Void Shield! Fleet, disperse!"

The Lord of Steel roared, but the moment he uttered the roar, a dazzling golden lightning bolt also shot out from somewhere in Amegiddon, and from there expanded into the void ahead, forming a "golden tree" that appeared briefly in the void in a short instant.

Ten thousand years later, the emperor's divine power once again appeared in reality.

--------------------------

Emperor.

This is the most powerful psionicist in human history, and possibly the strongest psionicist in the entire material universe.

According to current official human data on psionic beings, a berserk Alpha-level psionic being can rival or even surpass a fully-fledged Astral Army armored regiment on the battlefield. Destroying the world and even tearing apart Titans are not impossible for such a psionic being.

However, Alpha level is not the highest level of psionic power. Above Alpha level, there are psionicists known as Alpha+ level. Trained Alpha+ psionicists are virtually omnipotent. They can easily tear a Titan in two and summon an entire army of demons from the warp. Throughout the history of the Imperium, and even throughout the history of all life in the galaxy, there are very few psionicists of this level who can be controlled. In human history, the most famous psionicist of this level is undoubtedly the Imperial Chancellor, the Emperor's close friend, the prototype of the Inquisition, and the creator of the Assassin's Guild.

Even among Alpha+ psionicists, Macardo is an extremely powerful individual. He can still easily kill dozens of the highest-ranking Silent Sisters even when surrounded by them. However, even so, his power is still significantly weaker than that of the Emperor. To put it bluntly, it wouldn't be difficult for the Emperor to kill Macardo.

The Emperor's psionic power has completely surpassed Alpha+, exceeding all comprehensible psionic levels in the current material universe. However, many are curious about the true extent of his power, and how much of a gap exists between him and true gods.

Now, this question has its own answer.

Located on the surface of Amegadoton, in the heart of Hades's hive, which had been reduced to ruins during the Second Amegadoton War, a towering tower now stands tall. At this moment, golden lightning shoots from the top of the tower, branching infinitely in the air, and with an unprecedentedly powerful aura, a golden "tree" blooms in the void.

Each branch of this "tree" is aimed at the incoming steel warrior warships, and each "branch" can penetrate the void shields of these ships without the slightest delay, penetrate the thick adamantite keel of the ships, pierce their hulls, and cause them to explode directly in the void, turning into one dazzling firework after another.

"By Dorn...is this...is it real?"

On the Steadfast Resolve, Lysander stared in awe at everything before him. Standing beside him was Grimadus, the hermit of the Black Templar, whose expression was exactly the same as that of the Imperial Fist's company commander. The two exchanged a glance and saw the indescribable shock and a hint of fanaticism in each other's eyes.

"The Mountain Formation actually has something like this on board..."

"We had absolutely no idea, just like you didn't know there was a replica of the Stormfang left by Father on the Eternal Expedition."

"So much happened ten thousand years ago. My father disappeared before he could finish explaining everything. Fortunately, he has returned now. But I never expected that such a powerful psionic weapon would exist... What were the battles of our ancestors ten thousand years ago like?"

"I can't imagine it."