"I'll introduce you."

"This is Dantiok, the new company commander of the 165th Company, who inherited the position of the former company commander who died in the last battle, and performed very well, so I allowed him to stay."

"He's a talented conductor, and he also has a tough soul that is unique to Olympia, immersed in steel, cement, rock and concrete."

"I'm considering whether to take him a step further: the 165th Company is a subordinate unit of the 16th Battalion, and the current war blacksmith of the 16th Battalion has proven to be a soft egg who does not deserve his current status and epaulettes."

"But now, it is still too early for him to experience more trials and tribulations of war, and he cannot prove whether he is worthy of the responsibilities and burdens of a war blacksmith."

"Originally, I planned to use his company as the first batch of offensive troops in the next few battles, as a test of his talent and ruthlessness to become a war blacksmith, but now, I have a better way."

"Morgan, my blood relative."

"Perhaps, you can test his abilities for me?"

"You can accept him, accept him and his 165th Company, as my envoys, and fight alongside your legion until he proves his strength, or he will be reduced to waste water in the crucible of war."

"Accept him, and drive him, without mercy, without mercy, without any special consideration for him and his company because of your friendship with me."

"After all, only the fiercest flame can forge the toughest heart of steel."

"If he doesn't hold on, it's just about him and his warriors, but that's it."

——————

For the time being, Morgan's invitation did not completely impress Peturabo: after all, she did not expect to succeed in one go.

But apparently, a rift is gradually appearing in Perturabo's heart of steel, which has been slowly corroded by the Spider Empress's poisonous silk threads, enough to be exploited and watched.

Watching Peturabo staring at her outstretched hand, falling into a long period of astonishment, silence and evasion, his eyes slightly dodging, his breathing a little rapid, from a ruthless cold machine to a burnt red honeycomb coal, under that thick lip, thick teeth squeezed each other, and the deep breath was a low roar like a dilapidated bellows, and the corners of the mouths on both sides did not know whether to grin up or down for a while, so they could only pull their lips awkwardly at each other, so that the large rough skin from the corners of the eyebrows to the chin was implicated, A variety of round, spiral, or irregular folds were revealed, making the already gray face a little too pale.

The Iron Lord maintained this twisted expression, as if his strange heart were alive in the air, and for a moment the world seemed to stand still between the two genetic primitives: Perturabo froze like this, for a moment, for a moment, for two, for three moments......

It wasn't until the last reason and glimmer of his eye saw Morgan blink that the Iron Lord woke up like a dream like a heavy cloud and the sun, and he quickly turned his face to the side, stammering in the shadows and refusing with a preface, and then giving a few reasons in fits and starts.

Even if it is a genetic prototype, his words and reasons are nothing new now: the emperor's mission has not been completed, and the strategy for several star fields has not yet been completed, which is not quite in line with the regulations of the original body and the Astarte Legion, Yunyun.

Morgan did not respond to the words that were broken at the touch of a word, and she laughed silently, a smile that would reassure the most suspicious victim: the moment he saw her expression, the Iron Lord's face like a frightened beast finally showed a trace of reason once again.

He hurriedly lowered his head and coughed heavily, before swallowing the undisguised kindness into his stomach, and when he looked up again, the former Perturabo had returned.

From shock, to panic, to regaining one's [Steel Inside and Outside], this is actually a very short process, but it can happen in a matter of seconds, and mortals, even those less astute Astarte warriors, cannot see it clearly.

But Morgan is a genetic protogen, and of course she can see it clearly, and she enjoys it in her own protected and veiled heart.

Seriously, to see the Lord of Steel show such a panic: even if only for a moment.

It's a lot of fun.

The familiar joy of being born of the doom of others was now grinning in Morgan's heart, sending out a vicious echo from the depths of his soul, and the Spider Queen could not help but indulge in it for a short time.

But she could not indulge for long: for the dictator of Olympia had returned right before her, and the storm of his return had become more violent and harsh because of his gaffe.

But in the blink of an eye, Perturabo had regained his solemn face, and he deliberately raised his head a little so that the top of Morgan's head stayed at the edge of his vision, and then let his throat be ten times more ruthless than before, so that the most serious questions could refuse invitations from blood relatives.

But when the Lord of the Second Legion nodded his head as if he knew and understood, and then turned his head, as if he didn't care about the topic at all.

The unusually solemn steel countenance cracked again at an excessive speed.

Perturabo's tense eyes and lips began to tremble slightly, and his brow began to twist slowly and stiffly like a snake awakened from hibernation, and his shriveled and heavy lips opened from time to time, as if to say something, but finally, when Morgan turned back again, and there was a confused gaze, all he could do was let out a heavy, silent sigh.

As if in revenge, Perturabo took a few quick steps and pushed open the steel door, leaving a bump of violence and indignation: he walked briskly all the way to the hallway, thought about it, opened the special communication channel in his armor, and began to make contact.

In the room, Morgan tilted her head slightly, looked at the back of the Iron Lord, who was angry and difficult to speak, and showed a sly smile, and then, briskly, humming a Terra minor tune popular in the Second Legion, began to put the finishing touches on her [handmaiden].

After taking a moment to adjust the psionic messages and hints, Morgan closed the final lid, and then snapped her fingers lightly, and her little maid got up in the next second, jumped off the workbench, and trotted all the way to her side, clutching Morgan's robe, looking more obedient and dependent.

She was in good spirits and seemed to be well-rested, and Morgan touched the melancholy little skull and the high ponytail with satisfaction, and began to think about a hundred future related to the little one in front of him at the same time.

[Any questions?] 】

"Yes, command."

"Yes, eat."

"Yes, follow."

The maid's voice sounded like an adult's sadness and indifference, in stark contrast to her fifteen-year-old age and height of less than 150 centimeters, and she reported it like a clockwork clock.

But Morgan knew very well that this indifferent habit of speaking was not the result of experiments and mechanical modifications, but the habit of the [handmaiden], or the soul named Aniah, which was already in place: the Spider Empress could clearly feel that with her soul fragment as the core, the soul of this unfortunate little girl was reunited, and her resurrected soul seemed to have some kind of connection with Morgan's soul body.

It seemed to be a fusion, an annexation in a sense: but more like a ...... than the souls she had eaten before Vassals?

The soul of the [Handmaiden] is still flickering faintly, giving her a unique personality and way of behaving, but she is absolutely controlled and controlled by Morgan, thus forming a state of soul attachment that the Spider Queen herself cannot fully interpret.

If the previous souls were all entangled by Morgan's cobwebs and then entered her stomach, then the little guy in front of him was like being hung aside by Morgan using cobwebs as a life-sustaining bandage, becoming some kind of wonderful accessory.

The Lord of the Second Legion observed the scene in silence: her little maid looked up at first, as if she had a slight resistance to the unfamiliar surroundings, but soon she was overwhelmed by an even greater uneasiness.

The little maid scratched her hands, but she could only catch air, and the absence of the electronic board and pen she had always relied on, which made her obviously fall into a certain restlessness: at last, she showed her nails of the same material as a single-molecule bayonet, cut a piece from Perturabo's work table as a recording board, and found a working pen, before squinting her eyes, her towering double ponytails shaking with ease.

From beginning to end, Morgan stood quietly to the side, watching: her soul told her that she could control the actions of those in front of her whenever she wanted to, but that when she had no time to care or wanted to, her little maid could make her own decisions, her own joys, sorrows, and preferences.

She still seems to be a soul? A soul controlled by her? A separate fragment that belongs to her?

If one day, if she had mastered certain methods, would she be able to transcend space and time, and make her little maid a figure that could be controlled by herself at any time, and let her act alone on the other side of the galaxy to do something for her?

An individual who acts freely, has her own mind and will, but is still essentially taken by Morgan, and can be exalted and degraded at will: even herself, simply a fragment of Morgan's soul, but endowed with a physical and partial self.

This seems to be the path of Morgan's little maid in the future.

【…… Hiss ......】

For some reason, when the Lord of the Second Legion thought of this, she suddenly had an extremely uneasy feeling: it was like she was experimenting with something extremely dangerous, as if she was following Magnus's back path.

Morgan touched her face and felt a slight numbness: she was not delusional, it was indeed a kind of uneasiness that was deep within her.

……

Never mind.

Be careful.

In just an instant, the Lord of the Second Legion, who had been above his heart, made up his mind to first stuff the plan he had just come up with into the treasure house in his heart, and put it together with those souls who were reluctant to swallow it.

The idea does have its most tempting aspects, but compared to its riskiness, the temptations are just that: it's not worth the risk of Morgan at the moment.

She didn't want to be the second King of Prospero.

As for her little maid, let her do some of her own work first.

Morgan blinked and looked down at Aniah.

[Aniah.] 】

"I'm here, sir."

[I remember my brother didn't seem to have any melee weapons for you at medium range: individual light spears or something, which is really unreliable. 】

Have you ever learned martial arts or any other weapon? 】

"Learned a little."

[Very good, what are you used to?] 】

"Double-sided axe, sir."

【……】

[Very good.] 】

"Pink, sir."

[Good, good. 】

——————

Perturabo came back a little later than Morgan had imagined.

When the Lord of the Second Legion had unscrupulously commanded his maids to pack all the drawings and instruments separately, the Lord of Steel, with one of his sons, pushed open the door of his workshop.

"Dantiok."

He pointed to the warrior behind him, introduced it succinctly, and hoped that his blood relatives would accept this warrior and his Dalian as proof of friendship between the two sides.

Morgan naturally had no objections, but when she saw the unfazed warrior saluting her, she sensed an inexplicable sense of disobedience.

Thinking about it, it seems that there are already quite a few elite backbones of other legions in her legion.

Abaddon, Ahriman, Luther.

They're all very nice.

But add to that Danteok......

I always feel that he and the three people above have a temperament that doesn't match well.

But that didn't stop her from having in the blink of an eye in her mind where Danteok would go: Luther really needed a young, calm, and capable companion, didn't she?

In this way, between the words of one genogen and the momentary thoughts of another, the Iron Warrior named Danteok ushered in a turning point in his life: the familiar past left him in a matter of minutes, throwing him into a completely unfamiliar unknown and future.

It could change his life: but the two genetics were unimpressed, and Perturabo waved at his heir after explaining all this, and sent him to gather his company, while Morgan only glanced at the warrior casually and stopped paying attention.

She patted the maid's little brain and motioned for her to wait outside the door: the less people knew about the thing that the two genetic prototypes were going to study, the more safe it was.

After the door closed, Morgan slowly turned around, casually cut open a spatial crack bound to his side, and began to rummage inside.

At the same time, she did not forget to chat with her blood relatives.

[I find that you always seem to like to send envoys to my legions: Magnus, Johnson, and Horus. 】

"Because it's a normal thing."

Perturabo leaned against the workbench and stroked the notch strangely.

"It is very common for legions to send envoys to each other, or to send people to learn from each other, especially when two legions fight side by side, and the friendship between those legionnaires will promote a wave of mutual exchange."

"What's really strange is that, like the Iron Hand and the Emperor's Son, Fogham's second company is basically already a warrior of Ferus, and the only difference between them and the Medusa is their appearance and taste for food."

At the mention of Ferus, the corners of Perturabo's mouth curled into a sympathetic smile, and when he spoke of Fogham, the Iron Lord snorted, without much malice, but also with no more respect.

So, is this a kind of mutual exchange and learning? Do I need to send a company to the Fourth Legion as well? 】

Morgan caught a distant glimpse of the golden apple, which was permanently half-focused, and looked to the other side.

"Your legion is still in the initial stage, it is better not to carry out any long-term division of troops for the time being, after all, since ancient times, the only core of war is [more to attack less], different tactics are just different concepts of [more] and [less]."

"What's more, I sent these soldiers for another purpose."

[Let's talk about it.] 】

The Spider Empress picked up the crown given to her by Magnus, hesitated for a moment, but gestured twice to her forehead, and put it down with some reluctance.

"I want you to take them on a trip to the Five Hundred Worlds: Killiman will invite you to his Otlama, and if that guy doesn't come well, he can know that he is not dealing with a legion."

"And I'm worried about what he's going to do after all."

[You all say that, as if Killiman is some kind of demon king, I am a little afraid to go. 】

Morgan chuckled, and with her quips, she finally pulled out the extraordinarily expensive metal trap box, and when she turned her head, she saw that Perturabo was already standing upright.

"The Demon King isn't really, but Killiman is a misfit, he doesn't have any friends in the Primordial Body, and he never initiates contact with us, as if he wasn't our brother, but an indifferent colleague."

The Lord of Steel gasped heavily, as a sign of the reliability of his words.

Morgan, on the other hand, touched his chin as if he had realized it as if he had been aware of it after placing the box on the workbench.

[It sounds like a very serious and formal meeting, completely different from your meeting with Perturabo.] 】

"After all, Killiman, he's always been like this, his eyes are all politics."

[Since it's so official......]

Morgan muttered in a low voice, but still heard by Perturabo.

[So should I bring any gifts as a welcome gift and an expression of attitude?] 】

“……”

Perturabo snorted: this one was especially noticeable.

"When you came here, you didn't bring anything with you."

He spat out the words, but then he regretted them a little, and involuntarily turned his gaze to the side, but at the edge of the field of vision, Perturabo could still see clearly: Morgan seemed to be stunned for a moment by the words, and instead of being angry, he smiled thoughtlessly and opened his arms.

[Late hugs, how's that?] 】

“…… Ahem. ”

"Forget it, it's child's play."

The Iron Lord grinned, his thick lips turned downward, revealing his gums, as if the roots of his teeth were aching: against this somewhat distorted countenance, Perturabo's refusal squeezed out little by little, and then he threw himself at the sumptuous cabinet, and began to examine the delicate patterns and combination locks on it.

Morgan stood next to him, pouting, seemingly a little unwilling, and a little weak-hearted.

[I can't help ......]

[You know, Peturabo, I'm not a sociable person, I don't know much about pretty scenes, and I can't do as well as you and the other brothers, gifts, etc., so much so that I don't expect it. 】

This is not surprising.

The Iron Lord replied inwardly as he studied the combination lock.

After all, your learning process is to follow Johnson, how can he teach this.

Thinking of this, Peturabo's mood even brightened for a moment: the shortcomings of other primordial beings made him feel a short period of happiness and joy.

In this way, the Iron Lord unfastened the intricate combination lock with a nonchalant look, and at the same time turned his back to Morgan, suppressing the arrogant smile on his face.

He waited deliberately for a while before he spoke slowly with the attitude of a condescending savior.

"I've built a bell tower, but it's not a perfect piece of work from before, but it's worthy of the great council halls of Otlama."

"If you really can't help it, then I'll give it to you, it's not important anyway."

Without looking back, Perturabo could feel the colors of joy and consternation flash in the turquoise pupils behind him, which couldn't help but make the corners of his mouth hook again, and then he slowly opened the box.

Then......

“……”

【……】

“……”

"I remember you told me it was a spear?"

[The emperor also told me the same, he said that it was a spear. 】

Perturabo was silent as he looked at the perfect, shiny, flawless metal cube in the box, was silent for a few seconds, and then patted his blood relative on the shoulder.

"Father must have his ...... Profound. ”

"It's okay, I'm here to explore this gift with you."

——————

The first time Perturabo looked at the so-called [Spear of Eros], he was genuinely shocked and curious, but the second time, he couldn't leave it anymore.

"Perfect ......"

After formally looking at the completely untouched weapon, the Iron Lord's lips trembled unconsciously, and he leaned forward, his solemn countenance glowing like an unusually weak sick man: he didn't care at all.

Perturabo's eyes were fixed on the metal in the box, and he stared at it for several minutes before he regained his stance slightly, but his mouth was still amazed.

"Perfect metal."

"It's absolutely perfect, it's unique."

"Oh my God, where did Father get this metal: it was enough to dwarf any alloy of steel, and the blacksmiths and forgers who saw it would never desire anything more, for nothing could beat it."

"It's like ...... Like those ridiculous mythical gods of metal, like our father who became a legendary hero, walked into those shoddy scrolls, defeated the pathetic gods that symbolized metal, weapons and forging, and then cut off its most sacred heart and right hand and smelted it into this piece of metal. ”

"Yes, it has not been forged: it does not need to be forged at all, and it is placed here to be more sacred and noble than in fact most weapons, after all, weapons are only consumables in war, and it ...... It can be the cause of a war. ”

Peturabo's eyes were direct, there was no greed, no jealousy, only a pure feeling, only a praise that bordered on sighing, only the excitement of being a forger, and the immersion of being a scientist.

He caressed the metal gently, a gentleness that prevailed over even the most loving mother incubating her child, and in the soft gaze that would make any Iron Warrior jealous to the point of suicide, he looked at it from beginning to end, and again with relish.

Eventually, he shook his head.

"I can only be sure that it is not any metal known to us: like the species, civilizations and empires that have long since disappeared into the river of time, it belongs to history, to mysterious glorious times, to the projection of the will of time before us."

"However, I can guarantee that this piece of metal will be one of the most terrible deaths in the galaxy, and I have seen the Bacchus Spear in the hands of Riemanlus, and I have seen the Sun God's Spear in the custody of the Chief Praetorian Army, they are definitely not so perfect and powerful."

"But there is one thing in front of us, the things in front of us are the same as those two spears: they are definitely not purely physical creations of the universe, but are beings mixed with subspace forces, and they are killers of will and soul."

"I think that's why Father gave it to you."

Finally, Perturabo's gaze reluctantly left the perfect metal that had fascinated him and came to Morgan's body, where the genogen saw his blood relative head slightly bowed, one hand against his chin, as if he was thinking.

Morgan's gaze at the piece of metal was so bland that Perturabo even felt a kind of blasphemy.

Then, he heard Morgan's question.

[That...... Can you forge it? 】

"Forging?!"

"You're kidding!"

The Iron Lord was stunned for a moment, then let out a hoarse laugh, and he shook his head helplessly, and then focused his gaze on the metal again, looking at it greedily, as if he were estimating all his skills.

But eventually, he shook his head.

"I'm not absolutely sure, if I am allowed to come, there is a possibility of failure."

"For such a creature, even the slightest possibility of failure is an intolerable blasphemy: perhaps you can go to Vulcan to do this, and let him see if he can forge this piece of metal, but not Ferrus, who is about the same as me in this respect."

"Whoever you look for, though, I'll warn you."

The genogen turned around, his gaze serious as Morgan had never seen before.

"Father's gift to you, this perfect piece of metal: as I said before, it is definitely not a piece of mortal iron, but is the product of subspace forces, because it is no more obvious that there will be no creation related to perfection in the real universe."

"So, whether you can find a master forging it or not, you have to remember, Morgan, the main forging of this weapon is still up to you: the furnace and flame in the real universe can only forge its form, but its true connotation and power need to be forged by the soul."

【Soul?】 】

"Yes, soul."

"Forge with your soul."

"Use the soul to form an invisible forge, raise a silent flame, throw its soul into this forge, and forge ahead until it is conquered, tamed, and found its power, and let it willingly recognize you as Lord for your use."

"With your skills, you can do all this over time, but the only problem is that these psionic flames require a large number of souls as fires, and they can't be extinguished even for a moment."

【…… How much do you need? 】

"You've thought of a way to get your soul?"

[Rest assured, Perturabo, I am the genetic protogenone of the Human Empire and the master of an Astarte Legion, and I know as well as you what we cannot do. 】

[But I think that this galaxy is full of alien civilizations and worlds, and they will definitely give generously for this great cause.] 】

The Iron Lord laughed, stroking the piece of steel, and there was a rare hint of unconfidence in his words.

"I have read the corresponding words in an ancient book...... In my own calculations, Morgan, if you want to forge this weapon. ”

“…… Let's put it this way. ”

"In front of you, there is a bucket that is the length of a mortal's arm and reaches the waist of a mortal, and in your hand there is a bowl that a mortal can hold on to with one hand."

"All you have to do is use this bowl to scoop water until the bucket is filled."

"Every bowl of water is an alien of a world, and it is all their souls."

"Every time you destroy an alien world, it's like scooping up a bowl of water: and so on until you've completely filled the bucket, which is about the number of souls needed to forge this weapon."

[And then...... I'll be able to get this weapon? 】

"It should be so, I am not a researcher in this area after all, and the words just now can only be used as a reference, and you still need to consider it yourself in terms of specific figures and practical actions."

"I see. 】

[In any case, thank you for your sincerity and help, Peturabo. 】

"It's a small thing."

The Iron Lord smiled, the kind of smile he would have for his friends.

"Like I said before, Morgan."

"You can always expect the power from Olympia."

Perturabo's words were the most sincere of ambitions, and Morgan responded with a smile while calculating inwardly.

That's a ...... That's a number that would make anyone feel hopeless.

……

Wait a minute.

In an instant, the Lord of the Second Legion seemed to have something in mind.

She thought of the idea she had just sealed, the idea that was born because of her maid.

An individual who can act in her interests across thousands of stars......

She had an idea, and even a prototype.

But if ...... Is it the Legion?

A legion that honors her will, is bound to her soul, and can appear in various places in the galaxy through the passages and conveniences of subspace?

It doesn't matter if it's weaker, after all, not all aliens are as terrifying as Ran Dan or Greenskin.

With such a force, it no longer seems that the soul she needs to forge is no longer an impossible number.

……

……

It's worth considering......

Be careful, though.

(End of chapter)