Eroking
patreon
Chapter 153: Mortarion Goes to Nurgle's Garden—
🕑 Added 2025-09-16 14:19:59 +0000 UTCChapter 153: Mortarion Goes to Nurgle's Garden—
Idriss never saw the "Dantioch" he had been muttering about until the moment of his death.
The sons of Dorn, at the cost of thirteen battle-brothers' lives, had successfully annihilated this force of over 1,500 Iron Warriors who had defiled the holy soil of the Imperium.
This Warsmith, who had been tempered by Chaos for many years, upon once again facing his old rival, had successfully achieved an exchange ratio of over one hundred to one.
He was the losing side.
Both times.
This planet would, in the future, be converted into a Shrine World. The ruins of the fortress would be rebuilt, and while serving as a more effective defensive fortress, it would also be a monument to this glorious victory. In the future, the Black Templars, the Crimson Fists, and the Executioners would all dispatch their warriors to garrison it. They would eternally watch over this place, using Optus as a base of operations, responding to the calls for aid from the surrounding star systems, and singing the glory of the sons of Dorn among the stars.
Perturabo carefully peered into Idriss's memories.
A textbook-perfect offense. Even he himself could not have done it better if he had been in command. And it was filled with the command style of the Iron Warriors. It was indeed Dantioch's.
And the equipment technology of the modern Astartes also seemed to have made considerable progress. The combat effectiveness of those sons of Dorn was indeed far greater than in the past.
He carefully reviewed the battlefield.
Although Idriss had lost ugly, and it had made him laugh with rage, since his opponent was also his son, it didn't matter. Just as it had been when he had received the battle report of the Schadvermund campaign. Idriss had proven with his own actions just how outstanding a true Iron Warrior was. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been alive to test the Ordinatus Majoris.
But Perturabo also believed that things couldn't just be left at that.
He could not sense his most prized son, as if some invisible barrier were separating them. And that waste Idriss, he couldn't even get close.
"I will have him back. Back by my side," Perturabo thought with certainty.
If that person was still imprisoning his son, then he believed it was necessary to liberate him from that imprisonment. Because he believed in the connection he had with these outstanding sons. He believed that as long as he spoke, these outstanding Iron Warriors would return to his side.
The Iron Blood, this Gloriana-class battleship personally designed by Perturabo, was, to a certain extent, already his domain. He could operate any part of it, he could understand those strange Chaos rituals, and he could, based on his own connection, trace the source.
Just like the five gods who were playing the Great Game, the so-called daemons were merely their extensions.
Perturabo felt the connection between himself and the warship. Every facility, every button, every patrolling Iron Circle robot, was like an extension of himself, moving as he willed.
Now, no one was trying to use him anymore. Everything he had was his own, to be given to others as he willed. He no longer needed to doubt himself, no longer needed to be mired in the anger and hatred brought by those dull and unbearable wars. He could proactively pursue his goals, to seek what he wanted.
And so, this Primarch, who had already become a Greater Daemon of Chaos Undivided, once again forcibly cast his gaze into the real universe.
"..."
In the ruins of the fortress, Dantioch, who was still dutifully assisting the sons of Dorn with the subsequent cleanup work, froze.
Something was watching him.
Dantioch stopped in his tracks.
He looked at the remains of the Iron Warriors in front of him. The shattered bodies began to be influenced by some mysterious Warp-power, breaking through the suppression of the reality-stabilizing device and entering reality. Because the Astartes themselves were not purely real-space beings, they could never completely insulate themselves from the influence of the Warp.
Time was frozen for a moment.
Except for those who had returned from death, the warriors who were enveloped in the reality-stabilizing device, all other life was imprisoned in that moment.
Dantioch and the others held their weapons, vigilantly watching the changes before them.
The bones of these Iron Warriors began to turn to metal. One metal component after another emerged from their flesh and blood. The blood-stained gears turned, pulling on the ligaments that had turned to steel wire, and began to pull a form from the pile of corpses.
A black and red knight appeared in the blink of an eye in this time-frozen domain.
The nascent humanoid steel quickly reached the brink of collapse.
"Lord Arthur!" Dantioch reminded him. He recognized who it was.
Arthur raised his hand. The Dark Angels who had appeared around them quickly took away the Astartes who were still in a state of time-lock. Everyone except the "Stormcast" was also forcibly evacuated. The cannons of the Silent Vow were simultaneously aimed at this place under orders.
After all this, Arthur and Dantioch exchanged a look.
They nodded to each other, and Arthur then took a step back.
Iron had once again descended.
It was a metallic giant.
Perturabo glanced at the knight who was standing quietly not far away. He was almost driven out by this invisible pressure. In Perturabo's perspective, that dazzling golden light was so disgusting.
So he sneered. "Does that person think his tools can no longer be used by him, and has created new tools?"
Perturabo looked this "kin" of his up and down. He directly ignored the so-called appearance. Even the body of a Primarch was just a piece of clothing they could put on and take off at will—
And what the creation beneath that shell was, even he could not understand.
But this did not stop him from being sarcastic.
"Lion should really see you now. See how a new tool has replaced him."
"..."
Arthur was silent and directly strode forward.
Perturabo immediately fell silent.
Arthur stopped and looked coldly at the Lord of Iron.
"It seems you are judging others by your own standards, Perturabo," the newly arrived Ramesses said with a smile, analyzing the current situation.
"..."
Another one.
Perturabo took a deep breath.
He wasn't going to argue with these new tools. He had more important things to do here.
Perturabo stood with his hands behind his back, looking down at his son before him. His eyes were moving with his slow steps, looking east and west.
Yes, this was indeed Dantioch, his most outstanding son. Perturabo judged so. This was not the illusion of some Chaos sorcerer, nor was it the vicious game of some Chaos God.
The Warp, the feeling that was unique to his essence, clearly told him this result.
But, why this shell...
Perturabo scrutinized this body of Dantioch, which was nearly three meters tall after being armored. His expression immediately became indescribable.
Why was his most outstanding son in the body of a son of Dorn?!
Perturabo, not believing it, carefully checked again. He did not act rashly, because that tool that had replaced Lion could sever his connection with this place at any time.
Damn it, where did that person find this tool?
Cursing the other for making him not-so-iron, Perturabo came to a conclusion.
The result was still the same as before.
This body was a genuine son of Dorn.
And the soul within it was also the genuine Dantioch.
"..."
In that moment, Perturabo felt like Mortarion returning to Nurgle's Garden—
Walking right into a pile of shit.
(End of Chapter)
