If there was a choice, Peturabo would not have done it, but he didn't. It's a pity he didn't have a choice.

The huge fleet of the Iron Blood and more than seventy other ships rushed out of subspace in one go, and there was a scream from inside the hull, and the excessive speed and wrong gravitational traction caused the bridge of Steel Blood to even shake, and even Perturabo himself was forced to grab the handrail on the side by the bump.

His face was gloomy, and his captain, Katis from the Terragartha family, stood beside him with a steely face. She was one of the few of all the officers and crew who did not tremble, and even had the strength to persuade the Iron Lord to remain calm.

"My lord, you should issue an order for the follow-up fleet to suspend engine output, or we may cause a series of accidents."

"I don't need you to teach me what I should do, Garza." Perturabo lowered his head, his eyes swept over her with a cold look. "But you're right, pass on this order, I don't want any ships to be damaged."

"Yes." The female captain bowed slightly and ran to the command platform.

It was a noisy place that was almost unacceptable, as was the case with all the command stations. Officers and crew members mingled and talked constantly. Data debriefings come out of the mouths of the contemplatives, buzzing, mechanical to the point of being dull.

It's daunting to stand in such a place to work, and Katis Garza is used to it. She spent seventeen years on Peturabo's ship, a term that shocked her predecessors.

Perturabo lowered his head and tapped his hand on the data display board in front of him.

The large, specially improved data board he had far surpassed the other models, enough for him to stand here and command everyone else on the Steelblood. The blue light shone brightly, shining on the face of the original body, and it also revealed his almost crazy gnashing of teeth.

His hands were trembling, and gloomy anger surged over every detail of the demigod's body. But, somehow, he actually held back this anger stubbornly.

"Frix." Perturabo called out to the datapad. "Tell everyone to get ready, and if I don't get the response I want, you're going to parachute straight into Olympia."

"Understood, Primordial." The City Breaker said. "But are you sure we're going to be fully armed?"

"Just do what I say!" Perturabo roared. "You know what it all means!"

"Yes, my lord." Frix said, his voice sounding almost like a sigh.

Perturabo clenched his fist and released it after a few seconds.

He began to continue to manipulate the databoard, mobilizing satellites around Olympia, and his privileges were so high that he could directly enter their data centers without even being verified.

Fifteen satellites' data streams swept wildly across the board, and Perturabo ignored their chaos and held each one in his hands.

He mobilized them in an orderly manner, not letting the anger in his heart affect anything. Soon, the monitoring of the ground from the satellite appeared on the data board, fifteen different viewing angles, fifteen different plots.

Mountains, oceans, forests, and cities are arranged in harmony and order, and the surface looks harmonious. A flash of doubt crossed Perturabo's face, and he began to switch perspectives, eventually discovering a clue in the city.

Soldiers in different armors were attacking each other, fighting each other with guns and cannons, weapons that had been left behind by Perturabo and were now being used by them to kill each other

The Iron Lord's breathing became a little shorter, he closed his eyes, turned away, and tapped his forehead with his right hand. The dull pain contained his anger and brought his sanity back a little again.

He turned back to the datapad and turned off the satellite screen. There's no need to look any further, it's all true.

The supply fleet from Olympia was not lying, a civil unrest was breaking out in his homeland.

But why?

Perturabo thought, gloomy and furious, yet incomprehensibly rational - he didn't understand, why was there civil strife? Attacking each other, killing?

It's incomprehensible, every aspect of Olympia has reached its peak level of improvement over the years, and the Iron Lord has the confidence that it will never be worse than Robert Killiman's Macurag.

What's more, there is no superhuman partition rule like the Ultramarines, and the rulers here are still tyrants of various cities in Olympia. Perturabo knew the sophistication and superiority of Kiliman's system, but he despised it.

He knew what the superhuman rule would make mortals think, and he calculated that he had given Olympia everything he could, so why did they still fight?

"My lord." Katis Garza's voice came from in front of him. "You might want to take a look at this."

"Just say it, Garza." Peturabo told her in a calm voice. "Tell me what you find."

"There are two other fleets passing through Mandeville Point." The female captain told him with a little hesitation. "Their identity code has been verified, one is the fifty-first expeditionary fleet led by the war blacksmith Dantioc. The other is Midnight Blade's Second Expeditionary Fleet. ”

Perturabo took a deep breath and looked down at the datapad.

"Hangar, get the gunboats ready." He began to issue orders. "Let Frix go down with five hundred men and tell them an immediate truce, there is no room for negotiation. Truce, or die. Then prepare another shuttle, just me, no need for a driver, I will operate it manually. ”

——

Carlil had imagined many times when he would meet some of the Primitives, but he had never imagined that this was the case now, when Perturabo, the Iron Warrior's genetic proto, boarded the Tridesia alone and asked to meet him by name.

It was undoubtedly a rather surprising thing, but Carlil had no intention of refusing.

He didn't even think about what prompted Perturabo to do this, but agreed to meet him, and immediately rushed to one of the Tridesia Room's two rooms.

As soon as he entered, he saw the Lord of Steel with a gloomy face. The expression was not unfamiliar to him, and it would be strange if Perturabo was not gloomy one day.

But what the Lord of Steel did next was the real oddity. The oddity of the incident was that his act of boarding the Nightblade alone was ordinary, as unworthy of much attention as Roger Dorn's expressionless face.

"I ask you to lend me a company." Peturabo said. "I'm useful."

"I'm sorry, I don't think I heard clearly." Karil spoke slowly after a moment of silence. "You're not saying—"

You heard it right, and you can't get it right. So stop playing this trick, Karil Lohals. I need you to lend me a company of Midnight Blade, I'll be useful. ”

"Is this some kind of talk about cooperation?" Carlil said cautiously.

He kept his tone calm, not wanting to let the conversation slip into another scenario he was more familiar with. He's not the type of person who likes to sneer at others, and Peturabo has changed since the last time they parted.

"Nope." The Lord of Steel bluntly denied it. "It's not cooperation, because I'm not going to fight a war. It's just a secondment, and I have one thing on hand that needs someone to do, and the best person to do it is you. ”

His gaze was fixed on Carlil's face and he accentuated his tone, repeating a short sentence again: "Do you understand? The best candidates. Don't let me say it a third time, Carlil Lohals. ”

If asked, Carlil would admit that he almost laughed - he didn't know much about Perturabo, but that didn't stop him from hearing some kind of compromise and metaphor in that sentence.

The best candidate. It's funny.

"If I could, I would like to promise you immediately, Peturabo. But no, I can't do that, and you should know why. As the supreme commander of this fleet, I have the right to know the whole picture in such matters. ”

The Iron Lord's expression gradually turned ugly, and this was certainly expected by Carlil—in fact, even Perturabo himself probably knew how he would react, as he quickly miraculously controlled his anger.

His face behaved strangely at this moment, gloomy anger tumbling with cold calm, forming an expression that made people want to record it.

Carlil looked at him and spoke again. He didn't want the atmosphere to be deadlocked, but the words he said sounded a little faintly stinging.

"Any good commander should do that, shouldn't he, Master Perturabo? If commanders are not responsible for the lives of their subordinates, then what kind of commanders are they? ”

"Don't call me that!" Perturabo roared. "What the hell do you think when I don't know what you and Conrad Cotz call each other like that?! You want the truth, right? I'll tell you the truth! ”

He sneered, took out a data tablet from the back of his waist, and threw it out.

Reluctant to reach out and take it, Carlil secretly decided to think more about it before he spoke next time - as he said, he had never been good at communicating with people, he was only good at making things seem simple.

Lowering his head, he began to flip through the datapad that had long been unlocked. The information on it froze his expression a little, and after a few seconds, he looked up and gave a wry smile to the impatient Iron Lord.

"Maybe we shouldn't have come back with Commander Dantiok's fleet." Carlil said with a wry smile. "Okay, Peturabo, how many people do you need?"

The Lord of Steel exhaled slowly and shook his head.

"Let's not talk about that." He said briefly. "Get on my boat, and we'll talk about it later."

Updated.

(End of chapter)