Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

About ten years had passed since Perturabo reunited with his father and joined the great crusade to reclaim the galaxy.

If you had to use one word to sum up the ten years since the Lord of Steel entered the galaxy, it would be "confused".

Perturabo was always confused.

When he was in his hometown of Olympia, looking up at the lonely starry sky and that terrifying eyeball, he would be confused and lament the unfairness of fate. Why should he be given such wisdom, but then abandoned among a group of mediocre people? .

When he reunited with his heirs, he suddenly discovered that his legion was so unbearable: they would lose almost half of their combat strength in a simple battle. In his opinion, the Fourth Legion's Soldiers are far from being good warriors.

As a result, the phrase "11 kills" gently floated out from his mouth. He watched with cold eyes as the unfortunate ones who were singled out were beaten to death by his comrades, and he soon fell into new confusion.

Why, after such warning, were his offspring still inferior to the Luna Wolves or the Dark Angels?

In this confusion, Perturabo commanded his own legion. The doubts in his heart continued to expand as the war continued. This would inevitably affect his mood and work efficiency, but he just couldn't help it. , that is, becoming more and more confused by more disappointing realities.

Just like now, a new confusion was forming in Perturabo's mind, growing and expanding, irritating the Primarch.

Why, why was his heir, the trident he carefully selected, not as good as a mortal under Magnus?

Why do these guys always disappoint him so much?

——————

Are they dissatisfied? Are they resisting his rule in this way?

And his brother, Magnus, why would he leave a mortal here?

Is this a demonstration? A show off? Does he really not know the excellence of this mortal? Was it really just an unintentional move when he arranged for this mortal to stay here?

Was Magnus laughing? To mock his heirs? Laughing at his legions? Or... mocking him, the Primarch of the Iron Warriors?

——————

As his thoughts brewed, the Iron Lord's face was darkening at a speed visible to the naked eye, his ensemble was unknowingly becoming darker again, and Perturabo began to treat his work harshly, as if They are his life and death enemies.

When his descendants who were doing repair work on the Steadfast Light sent him the results of the first phase of the project, Perturabo almost forced himself to find a problem, and he did not hesitate to He drew this tiny flaw again and again, angrily scolding his disappointing children through the screen. Their roughness and inferiority made him feel sick.

idiot!

He used this crude sarcasm as the end of his assessment of the project results, then turned off the communication and allowed them to argue and solve the problem on their own.

It was then that he caught the cessation of the sounds of mortal work around him.

Morgan had already finished organizing the last data file in front of her. According to the logical order and priority of various tasks, she sent all the information one by one to the Primarch who never rested.

Although she was born with the most exquisite use of data and logic, she still felt exhausted when dealing with such a huge amount for the first time, not to mention carefully concealing her identity in front of a similar person. This matter was even more consuming than The work itself was even more taxing.

But just when she was about to close her eyes and let herself rest for a while, Perturabo's cold tone came from the side.

"The data in the seventh summary table is lost. Make a new copy and complete it within fifteen minutes."

Morgan's almost squinted blue eyes suddenly opened. She was convinced that just before she closed her eyes, the seventh summary table was still on Perturabo's electronic screen, waiting for him. inspection.

[…Yes, Your Excellency. 】

She deliberately let her voice turn into firm execution after a brief hesitation. After all, this file that disappeared for no reason contained thousands of pieces of data, enough to make a mortal feel painful.

And just when her fingers returned to the working keyboard, Perturabo's voice came again, and this time there was a subtle tremor in his accent.

"No... no need."

"Leave it to me, you can go... rest."

The Lord of Steel raised his head high, as if he deliberately did not want mortals to see it.

——————

You idiot, what are you doing!

On his raised face, Perturabo's steely visage was twisted together by him.

Venting one's anger against a mortal, a mere mortal, what is the difference between this behavior and those vulgar cowards on Olympia!

The natural arrogance and artistic sentiments took over Perturabo's heart again at this time. When he was swallowed up by the anger of jealousy and self-doubt, he was a tyrant eager to destroy, so he naturally destroyed the share of things that might cost him. The result was achieved after spending countless energy and time, just like he had destroyed his own heirs and countless kingdoms without any pressure.

But when he witnessed the destruction of the results with his own eyes and heard the slow but firm execution with his own ears, the heart containing the love for art and logic once again occupied the kingdom of thought, and Perturabo's heart was torn apart. The other half of him questioned him, a soul made of burden, silence and unimaginable arrogance.

This has always been the case: whenever things don't go as Perturabo expected, he will get angry, furious, and will destroy and vent at all costs, until he sees what he has done, and he I will feel guilty and regret again, so I will repair it silently, and be moved by my silent dedication.

But this kind of complete self-movement can neither bring applause from the outside world nor relieve his emotions, so his anger will accumulate again, waiting for the next explosion, over and over again, until those calmness and sensibility are worn away. All that is left is a tyrant who is always angry and resentful.

But now, it was too early, the Emperor's expedition had just begun, and the fierce battles and trials that belonged to Perturabo were not enough to weaken his calmness.

Perturabo was silent. He started this extra job, this job that he added by himself. He suppressed the anger and emotions in his heart and allowed them to burn his heart.

Steel is not afraid of flames, he always believed that.

The data was processed at an extremely fast speed. Out of some idea that only he could find, Perturabo carefully examined the results of Morgan's work, and the final fact forced him to admit that this mortal's His working ability is indeed as outstanding as Magnus said.

She is a character worth admiring.

At the same time, the instinctive perception of the original gene was also wandering in the secret room. He could hear Morgan, who had been ordered to rest, first stretch his body, and then carefully look around the entire room behind him. Her eyes seemed to be immediately attracted by Attracted by the huge colonial mothership [Steadfast Light] in the center of the city, Perturabo could hear her reasoning in a low voice.

This reasoning lasted for a short time, and then he heard the sound of high-heeled boots stepping on the marble floor. His superhuman perception loyally fed back to him the movements of the owner of the sound, and when he realized where she was going At that moment, the hair on Perturabo's neck moved involuntarily.

As if attracted by their specialness, Morgan involuntarily walked towards the depths of the secret room, where row after row of long tables made of steel and about half a person's height were displayed, with various items placed on them. All kinds of exquisite models and handmade products, even in the depths of this dimly lit secret room, they are still shining with the brilliance of art and skill.

She could see those weird works of art: for example, a model of a large theater. It was obviously a semi-finished product, and the top of the theater was not an area for ventilation and walking, but a battlement that played a defensive role.

[Talia Clone], this name was written on the manuscript paper pressed by the model.

Next to it are more finished products: a model of a giant lighthouse, with murals of heroes killing sea monsters carved on it; a temple-like building, but inside it can be vaguely seen layers of bookshelves and debates. There were more drawings, which were rolled up and placed in the corner of the table. One of them was spread out and depicted a golden statue of a lion. At the feet of this mighty beast, something like this was written in Terran. Gift logo.

Morgan blinked.

She could feel that when her footsteps and eyes circled around these works of art and semi-finished products, the working rhythm of the Primarch standing in front of the workbench was slightly disturbed, just like a real lion, After witnessing the ignorant little beast stepping into his own country.

——————

Perturabo observed this offended mortal out of the corner of his eye. She was walking unconsciously in a place that the Lord of Steel did not want others to know.

As he watched her walking there, he felt something familiar, which reminded him of something.

Decades ago, when he was a genius child and general adopted by the city-state's lord on Olympia, his adoptive father also walked like this among the works of art he created.

He remembered what he asked his adoptive father at that time and the answer he got. He always remembered it.

So, after the last piece of data was compiled in an absolutely correct way, he spoke.

"What are you looking at."

——————

"I'm looking at waste, useless and extravagant waste. My child, my Perturabo, you have the mind and strength given by God, why should you waste your life on these useless things."

"I can easily own these so-called arts. Countless sculptors and painters have gained superiority because of my patronage. With a snap of their fingers, their so-called arts will become my praises, even if those achievements never existed. "

"But you are different, my child. Your abilities should not be limited to these useless things. Look at your deadly inventions, tanks, artillery and explosives. This is what you should use. They can easily Be victorious, dominate the war, and even conquer the world!”

——————

[I am looking at art, Sir, I am looking at a fiery soul that is buried and misunderstood. 】

The moment his adoptive father's voice faded from his mind, Morgan's answers came one after another.

Diametrically opposed.

——————

Perturabo laughed.

He turned around and left his electronic screen for the first time. Behind him, enough orders to keep the entire world busy for the rest of the day were being sent out on their own in an orderly manner.

"Art?"

"It's just some entertainment, ma'am."

"You have to know that I am a general. I don't need so-called arts. No one will need them. You should understand that what you serve is the empire, a place composed of emperors, generals and troops."

Perturabo spoke, telling his unbelievable self-evaluation and the reality that he had to believe.

Then he saw Morgan's smile.

[Do you like death, Your Excellency? 】

This was almost an offense, and these few words successfully made the Lord of Steel's expression gloomy again.

"If this is your poor metaphor, then I will tell you very clearly, no one in the galaxy really likes death unless it is smashed on the head of his enemy."

[Yes, no one likes death, and no one wants death. Whether it is an individual, a legion, or an empire, death is resisted. 】

The silver-haired female officer crossed her fingers and placed them on her chin.

[Death is an ominous tranquility, a dark silence, and a sad future without dreams, passions, changes and surprises. 】

[But isn’t that exactly what a world without art and aesthetics is like? 】

Perturabo was silent, his eyes were covered in shadows, his lips trembled, but he did not speak.

[Is it possible that when the galaxy is plunged into eternal war, soldiers and bloodthirsty war machines advance in the endless wasteland, and everyone in every world has no mission except to provide supplies for the cannibal war? Paintings and songs It is regarded as a useless waste, the statues of gods occupy the theater, and the scriptures cover up the academic world... How is this world different from death? 】

[And we are fighting here, our journey spans the Milky Way and the galaxy, and we are devoting everything we have to a better future. Isn’t it just to prevent the future of mankind from happening like this? 】

"..."

Heavy breathing.

It was only then that Morgan seemed to wake up from a dream. She lowered her head and realized that she had offended a Primarch.

[Excuse me, Your Excellency, I just...]

"No!"

Perturabo interrupted her, and he was quiet for a while, until the final electronic sound came, which meant the end of today's work - and a short break.

Then, he pointed to the seat next to him and spoke in a commanding tone.

"sit down."

He said.

"go on."