This is a jungle of steel and iron bones.

Black, gray, silver, as they walked, bright points of light streaked across the metal plane, cool, hard.

The only thing that broke the oppressive whole was the Iron Warrior Banner hanging from the walls of the corridor, the blinding yellow and black stripes interlaced to warn visitors.

The sound of the censer touching the armor sounded loudly, but it was so small in the dull footsteps.

The servants opened the door for them.

Without hesitation, Motarian strode in, and behind him, Death Shroud silently followed their original form.

The tall room, as far as the eye can see, is made of steel, there is not a single useless pattern and decoration, the minimalist and cold lines are straight, countless pitch-black screens are embedded in the walls, and dense information is rushing through.

In the center of the room, under the great banner, the Lord of Steel stood.

Peturabo.

Motarian silently read the name in his mind, looking at his brother.

Heavy silver-gray armor enveloped the Lord of Steel, metal like an extension of his body, shimmering in the white light of the room.

Countless cables reached out of his brain, slid into his armor, and exploded violently.

The brother's first impression of Motarian was very similar to that of Fernus Manus, they both had the texture of metal, rational and cold.

However, given that Motarian had not gotten along well with Fenus before, Motarian decided to lower his expectations once again.

Previously, Machado had mentioned Perturabo to Motarian, but the cunning mortal psyker didn't say much about it.

"I'm very in the world of accidents, and I care about myself very much."

That's the only thing Macado has to say.

Motarian felt that this sentence was like not saying it, and Macado always liked to say something ambiguous, and then let people think freely and finally believe the politician's words.

As for Perturabo and his legion, Motarian had learned some information in advance from Hades, who had previously been in contact with these warriors who liked to compare themselves to steel on Mars.

Motarian remembered Hades' hesitant expression,

"As far as I know, Iron Warriors. They were in awe of their father, but every time they spoke of him, there was a bit of exhaustion and fatigue in their awe. ”

Motarian blinked, of course the heirs needed to be in awe of their father, but tired?

Motarian never deliberately wears out his children, they need to fear Motarian, or they can fear Motarian, but they don't get tired.

Death Guard is not a place to feel tired.

Neither is he.

Motarian thought to himself.

Then his brother must not care so much about his heirs, Motarian felt a hint of dissatisfaction, but these emotions were quickly blown away.

He didn't care about the affairs of the other Legions, and as long as they didn't bother the Death Guards, Motarion's eyes wouldn't be lifted from his own world.

Seeing Motarian enter the house, his brother also greeted him from the strategic stage.

"Hello."

Motarian's hoarse voice rang out, and he was the first to raise his hand, wanting to show his sincerity.

He just wanted to fight any alien, get out of the trivial government documents, and which legion to work with, and Motarian didn't care.

As long as he didn't work with Fernus or Vulcan, Mortarian tolerated subtle and unintentional malice towards others.

Perturabo looked at Motarian as he entered the room, and he deliberately chose a strategy room that he admired the most to receive his brother from the agricultural planet.

This strategy room allows an entire star field to display information at the same time, and Perturabo himself has set up a program to make this information appear on the screen in the most efficient way.

Few other fraternities have been as efficient as he was.

Perturabo looked at Motarian, who had just entered the door, and he hoped that the brother would understand all this.

But Perturabo soon realized that he couldn't see his brother clearly.

Motarian covered everything about himself.

When the previous assumptions disappeared from the brother's body, Perturabo found that compared to the other Primordials he knew, Motarian was the same. So different.

Motarian was tall, and Perturabo was sure that only Vulcan and Magnus could reach that height.

But it wasn't Motarian's height that mattered to Perturabo.

This brother of his, the breathing mask covered the lower half of his face, and the extremely low hood was pulled down, and the shadow covered the upper half of his face.

Countless incense burners were tied to Motarian's armor, and the pungent poisonous gas slowly rose, and the white smoke mixed, further obscuring Motarian's already hidden face.

This made Perturabo unable to read Motarian's expression at all.

Perturabo was momentarily puzzled, and the foul and pungent poisonous gas made him subconsciously dissatisfied.

But Motarian interrupted Perturabo with an active greeting, and Perturabo naturally reached out and shook hands.

"Commander of the Fourth Legion, Lord of Olympia, Perturabo."

"Commander of the Fourteenth Legion, Lord of Barbarus, Motarian."

The two tacitly let go of their hands and shook hands briefly, it seemed that neither side liked this way of welcome.

"The Fourteenth Legion received a distress signal from the Greier Forge World, so it hastened."

Motarian spoke, his gaze shifting to the pieces on the strategy table.

"But it looks like you've already started."

The voice of the Lord of Death was soft, like a breeze blowing through the fields, and Perturabo could not discern any emotion from it.

But he expressed satisfaction with Motarian's diction, yes, "casting the world", not "Iron Warriors".

"Yes, the Iron Warriors have already started this battle."

Perturabo tried to make his voice sound nonchalant, in fact, he really didn't care about this little war, and if it wasn't for Motarian's request to meet, then Peturabo wouldn't have stayed here too much.

He turned sideways and led Motarian to the strategy table, where the battlefield of Planet 106 was reproduced in real time by these small chess pieces.

Iron Warriors' long-range heavy weapons units have been pushed to Mine 02, which provides ample fire support for Iron Warriors fighting on the front lines in Sector 03.

The Storm Bird swept through the enemy air defense zone with the cooperation of ground forces, and vented its artillery fire on the heavy fire equipment on the opposite side.

On the front line of the battle with the Space Necro Infantry, the Predator Tank is advancing in a staggered manner with the footsteps of the Iron Warriors, and the fire support from the rear makes the advance of the battle line as silky smooth as a loaded bullet.

To Peturabo's regret, there are still no high-powered aircraft on the other side, and their air forces are only scarab swarms, which makes the sky area on this three-dimensional map a little empty.

Nor can he better demonstrate his own masterful ability to manipulate the battlefield.

Perturabo looked at the strategy table, but his mind was not there, beside him, the pungent poison gas displeased him, but he still stood patiently and waited.

Look at this exquisite battle situation, the three-dimensional mobile battlefield is far from what only people who fight land battles on agricultural planets can do.

Yet Motarian stood there like a dead log, unresponsive.

Compared to Perturabo, Motarian stared at the map, regretting that it seemed that this war did not require the participation of the death guards.

Seeing that Motarian was still silent, Perturabo folded his arms.

Motarian is still trying to find a war zone where the Death Guard can intervene.

Perturabo took a few steps along the strategic table.

Mortarian remained staring at the strategy table in thought.

Perturabo stopped again.

Mortarian still stood motionless.

In the room, Hades, who was standing in the death shroud, saw this scene, and his hair was about to explode.

This wave is going to be sent.

Unlike Fernus and Vulcan, this guy probably can't tolerate a "low-level" person interfering in his "high-level" conversations.

Although Hades had tactfully scolded Peturabo several times before this, intending to lower Motarian's previous imagination of Peturabo, so that Motarian could prepare in advance.

As long as the expectations are not high, the reality will not be too cruel.

But apparently, Motarian, who was obsessed with "finally not having to approve official documents", did not listen much.

The Tridents on the other side were also uncomfortable, they were Perturabo's military advisers in the Legion, often with the Primordials, and some of them had already realized that something was wrong.

For a moment, there was no sound in the room except for the sound of Perturabo in action, or the hissing of Motarian through his breathing mask.

With the exception of Motarian, everyone felt a great sense of oppression.

Motarian blinked, maybe he could have the Death Guard descend to the back of Mine 03, and then form a flank attack with the Iron Warriors in front of him, tearing apart the opposite line on both sides.

The premise is that Iron Warriors provide the Death Guard with temporary air supremacy in this area to suppress enemy rear fire, otherwise the landing of the Death Guard will become difficult.

Mortarian gave a brief estimate of the Iron Warriors' forces, and was relieved to find that they could provide air supremacy to the Death Guard.

While it was displeasing for another legion to provide air supremacy for themselves, Motarian knew that if the Death Guard had come first, the Death Guard would have easily taken air supremacy over the area, and it would take less time than his brother.

His brother spent part of his time repairing the trenches, which was clearly unnecessary.

"Can the Iron Warriors gain air supremacy over this place?"

Motarian stretched out his hand to the position on the strategic table,

Peturabo was stunned for a moment, but in a blink of an eye, he raised his voice and said loudly,

Motarian is questioning his abilities, a man who has only commanded a campaign, to question him?

"Can't you see what the Iron Warriors are doing here? Air supremacy is clearly already in the bag, or is it impossible to understand the definition of air supremacy? ”

As Perturabo began to roar, Motarian frowned, not understanding why his brother had suddenly become angry.

He even deliberately avoided bringing up the topic of keeping the Death Guard down, knowing that "offering to help" was not widely accepted among the Legions.

But when Perturabo finished the second half of his sentence, Motarian's confusion instantly turned to anger.

"What do you mean?"

Motarian's words hissed like the core of a viper, and he clenched his scythe and died.

"Maybe the three-dimensional battlefield is still a little difficult for you to understand."

Perturabo stared at Motarian indifferently, he shouldn't have expected a man from the agrarian world to understand his wisdom,

Hearing Perturabo's taunt, Motarian laughed dryly, but his laughter sounded more like a leper's cough to outsiders,

Motarian didn't understand why Perturabo suddenly started attacking him, but Motarian accepted it quickly, rather that Motarian acquiesced that everyone could attack him.

"It seems that my wise brother obviously wants to show off his cumbersome knowledge, but I can't understand your complicated vocabulary."

Motarian deliberately tinted his words with a Barbaros accent, which made his voice more muffled, fast, and vulgar.

"But if you understand the battlefield so well, why didn't you follow him?"

"Instead, it's here, next to a brother who 'doesn't understand the three-dimensional battlefield'."

They all know who that "he" is.

Motarian hoped that his attack hit the point, as in his dealings with Machado, Machado often commented that the original was too important for the emperor's attitude.

Motarian didn't care what the liar said, but he realized that his brothers weren't.

Peturabo roared angrily,

"What do you know when you just joined the Empire? Each of his battles is nothing more than a random selection of nearby legions, and the Iron Warriors are given other more difficult and glorious tasks by him than you people can comprehend. ”

Motarian realizes that his attack has worked, ha, another child who cares too much about his father.

He decided to continue the attack, using his meagre knowledge of the other primordials and legions.

"Really? Was it that every time Horus Lupecal's legion happened to be in the vicinity of the imperial army? ”

Before Motarian could finish speaking, Perturabo across from him suddenly became like a piece of metal again,

"Get out."

Peturabo said categorically,

"Hillbilly."

Motari settled, glancing at his scythe.

Hades, who had seen Motarian's actions, was completely insane, and he hoped that something would end this ridiculous dispute quickly, or could he say something-

The alarm went off.

On the map, from the back of Planet 106, a fleet of shimmering green spaceships appeared in the void, and a group of scythe-shaped black ships was flying towards the Iron Warrior fleet moored near the asteroid belt of 106!

The above-ground crypt system recognizes the scale of the Iron Warriors and Death Guards, further activating the sleeping necromantic army.

Perturabo glanced at the ships, which were far smaller in number than the Iron Warriors' and were not worth mentioning.

[Motarian? 】

Taking advantage of the brief silence between the two, Hades quickly turned on the private call channel.

[Go back and let the Death Guard ships evacuate to the rear of the Iron Warrior ships!] 】

Let the Iron Warriors' fleet attract a wave of firepower first, it seems that Peturabo doesn't realize the superiority of the Necro fleet!

A sudden alarm, and Hades' nervous words interrupted Motarien's anger.

Motarian was silent for a moment.

The ships of the Death Guard had indeed been replenished recently, and in Galaspa they had already lost some of them.

Motarian was also unwilling to lose his ship in this situation, in front of Perturabo.

[Go.] 】

Motarian glanced at Perturabo and turned to leave.

They have nothing more to talk about.

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(End of chapter)