This certainly wasn't the first time Perturabo had dealt with a Nightblade. In fact, this wasn't even the first time he had met Adbeaman Basley, and Robert Killman's introduction would have been completely redundant on closer inspection.

But it was definitely the strangest meeting.

Perturabo glanced at Vulcan's body, then stood up and walked to Kiliman's tactical table.

He was already familiar with the way the tactical table made by Makurag, but still compared it to the 'Olympia' he had made, or rather, the 'Peturabo'.

And the result is always a 'Peturabo-style' victory.

He raised his hand and began to manipulate the star map, and after a while, he saw the current situation of the Five Hundred Worlds. At least a third of the world was sacrificed by the Bearers, which may explain why they were able to summon such a massive subspace storm near Maculag.

With this in mind, Perturabo looked up at the outside of the porthole.

In that cold, dead vacuum, apart from the still crumbling Macurag and the group of warships, there was only a huge subspace storm. Brilliant colors, changing forms, huge, chaotic, dark.

Frankly, it reminded Perturabo of something similar.

He withdrew his gaze and coldly began to inquire about the current situation of the fleet, as well as the battle reports that Robert Killiman had sorted and compiled by himself before.

He didn't do it exactly to pass the time, and he did need that experience as well.

From ancient times to the present day, the evolution of warfare has never stopped. The bow and arrow always prevail over the sling, just like a heavily armored cavalry unit facing a musketeer.

Something in the subspace brought a new kind of war to him, and those who could not adapt to the evolution of war would definitely be eliminated, and he would never be the eliminated side.

As the clock ticked by, Adambiman Basri finally ended his use of psionic powers as Perturabo flipped through the forty-sixth battle report.

The temperature in the room began to rise rapidly under the influence of the thermostat, and the adjutant himself shook his head tiredly.

Perturabo glanced at him and asked, "What did you find?" ”

"It depends on how much you can take." Adebiman said, his expression looking somewhat intriguing.

His answer drew more attention from Perturabo, who simply left the table altogether and walked slowly to Vulcan's corpse.

"Say it." He told Adebeeman. "Don't care if I can handle it."

At the same time, a faint black flame flashed under his eyes, with a scarlet background that almost replaced the original color of his pupils.

Adbiman straightened up in shock, his expression already becoming quite serious: "I'm afraid I need to ask you a few other questions first. ”

"Ask."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Can't calculate." Peturabo said. "I've been in subspace for a while, but if you use somatosensory time to calculate. It's one hundred and fifty-seven hours. ”

"That's about seven days." The adjutant took a deep breath. "Do you know what you're going through?"

"I have some guesses, but I don't really care." Perturabo bowed his head calmly. "What's more, I haven't actually experienced much change, at least not as much as you."

He raised his hand and gestured to the tactical table behind him.

"From the war report, I have seen what happened to you, which confirms some of my suspicions. And the expression of Ling's now, Adebiman Basley. Tell me, who the hell is Karil Lohals? ”

Faced with his question, the adjutant of the third company only chuckled.

"Get rid of the herringbones, sir." He said wearily. "There's more I don't have the right to reveal. If our original body is here, maybe he'll tell you more. ”

Perturabo's eyes narrowed—it was clear that he was considering whether or not to press, but he eventually gave up on that option.

The eyes of the adjutant of the third company had already informed him of the answer in advance, and he knew that the questioning would not lead to anything.

"So, what do I have. What should I look out for? Considering the words, Peturabo asked again. Just like you, I should have something to be aware of. ”

Adebiman looked at him for a moment and shook his head.

"No?"

"No, sir." Said the adjutant. "Your situation is a little different from ours, you didn't swear to a god."

His words froze the Iron Lord's expression for a moment—Adbeaman Basri did not answer his question directly, but told him something from the side.

Despite his mental preparations, Peturabo's expression inevitably became complicated.

He was silent for a full minute before he continued: "He's like this, I mean, how long has this been going on? ”

"From the beginning." Adbeaman replied with a smile, a smile full of intriguing. "In other words, you're actually lucky."

Peturabo reined in his emotions, looked at him nonchalantly, and said in a cold voice, "Let's get to the point, adjutant." What is the situation with my brother? ”

"It's not a big deal." Adebeeman said. "Lord Vulcan is just dead, and for an existence like him, a death is like a rest. Personally, though, I think he might need an exorcism. ”

"What ritual?"

"Exorcism, my lord." With that ambiguous smile, Adebeeman shrugged.

He's starting to get his hands dirty, at least when it comes to communication. Perturabo could sense the change in his attitude, but he didn't have time to pay attention to it for the time being, just continued to ask, his brows furrowed.

"Exorcism? Over here? How? What do you need? ”

"Preferably on our ship, the Soul of the Night has everything we need. As for the rest, you don't have to worry about it. ”

The adjutant retracted his smile, nodded at him, and spoke softly: "In this regard, we are professional. ”

The Iron Lord was silent for a moment, waved his hand in agreement, but did not immediately walk out of the door. The same was true of Adjutant, the adjutant tilting his head back against the cold walls of the command room, staring coldly at the subspace storm outside the porthole.

They won't leave until Robert Killiman returns.

——

"My respect—"

Talasha Yuton bowed slightly.

"—My lord, I'm sorry, but the quarrel between me and the Marius War Leader seems to have disturbed your conversation with Master Perturabo?"

Kiriman was silent for a moment, but finally did not immediately answer the greeting. Even if he used his superhuman mind to calculate, he didn't know what to say now.

Marius Gage looked at them twice, and hurried out of the hallway without saying anything.

For a moment, there was silence. There was still a constant commotion on the other side of the main bridge, but it was tiny. Robert Killiman lowered his head, trying hard not to look at Yuton.

A few seconds later, he heard a slightly rapid breathing.

"Your hair, oh my God." Yutun spoke hoarsely, and then couldn't say a word again, just kept breathing.

Killiman looked up and saw the thin, old woman trying to touch his white hair on tiptoe, cane raised.

He rolled his throat a few times, fell to his knees in silence, lowered his head again, and carefully took Yuton's left hand with his right hand and pressed it against the top of his head.

"How do they feel to the touch, ma'am?" Kiliman asked.

As he spoke, he tried to keep his voice from sounding too deep.

"I hope they don't damage my image too much, I don't have much time to take care of myself. You're not going to nag me about that, are you? ”

Yutun didn't answer, and her touch was slight like a breeze. Killiman wanted to know her reaction, but he didn't dare look up at the latter's face now, and could only listen more closely to Yudon's breathing.

The old woman's breathing was rapid, but not continuous. After a few more moments, she finally spoke.

"Probably not, sir." She said. "The color of your hair reminds me of the first king."

Kiriman froze.

"The only difference is that King Connaught's hair is gray because of his age. He's old, so his hair is gray, just like me. What about you? Some people even worship you as an invulnerable deity. ”

"There are not a few people in the 500 world, who think you can do anything. Well, let's take a look at the current Robert Killiman, who is not only gray-headed, but also looks much thinner. ”

The old woman lowered her cane and rubbed Kiliman's cheeks with both hands.

Your face is all thin, how many days have you not eaten properly, Robert? And your eyes."

Killiman quickly closed his eyes, regretting how he had forgotten about it, but it was too late.

His actions made Yutun smile slightly, and the laughter rang out unabashedly.

"It's useless now, sir. I may be old, but I'm not blind. ”

"It's—" Killiman closed his eyes, hastening to explain. "—a kind of mechanization, I asked a technical priest to do it for me."

"Really? Which technical priest can perform such a modification operation on a primordial body? ”

"I can't give his name, ma'am."

"How?"

"He's mysterious. I mean, he's a bit mystic, he doesn't like his name being mentioned. I promised him that he wouldn't tell anyone, and I didn't want to break my word. ”

The old woman sighed, let go of her hand, bent down with great difficulty, and began to pick up her cane. She refuses Kiliman's help and insists on picking it up herself. Kiriman saw that she had been wiping her face with her left hand as she bent over.

Before she could straighten up, he quickly lowered his head again and closed his eyes.

"You still don't know how to lie, Robert." The old woman straightened up and said. "Your lying skills are too bad, or do you think that for an old man like me, you just need to fool around?"

"I definitely didn't think so."

"That is, you admit that you are lying."

"Yes." Kiliman said. "But as the Lord of the Five Hundred Worlds, I should still have the right to lie, right?"

"Of course you have." Yutun whispered.

Killiman opened his eyes and looked at her. He didn't see a tearful face, only a housekeeper who was completely calm.

"Your duty brings you equal rights, my lordship. Just as you ordered the bombing of Macurag, we have no right to oppose and we will not object. If its continued existence will endanger the other survivors of the Five Hundred Worlds, let it be destroyed. ”

"The loyalists and innocents who have fallen today will rejoice, and our ancestors will rejoice, and Connaught. He will be at the forefront of your decision, my lord, he will always know what is important. Just like you. ”

"But what price does it cost to always be upright and always on the right path, Robert?"

The housekeeper's mask suddenly disintegrated after these words, and no tears flowed, only red eyes and trembling lips. It was a mother's saddest sigh, not tears, but incomparable, enough to break the heart of any son.

Robert Killiman opened his mouth wordlessly, and two tears finally fell, hot and hot.

He didn't cry when he saw Cows' future cut off. He did not weep after witnessing the heinous murder of innocent civilians committed by the Bearers. He did not weep when he saw the burning five hundred worlds.

Even if the emperor showed him such a dark and terrible future, he did not really shed tears, because he knew that there was still hope, because he understood that there was still a glimmer of life for humanity.

Because he is the Lord of Macurag, the genetic prototype of the Ultramarines of the Thirteenth Legion, and one of the heirs of the Emperor. He must always be heroic, always determined, always glorious and loyal.

He must be so, and the purpose of his existence is to inspire others and to achieve victory.

Now it's different. Now, he's just Robert Killiman.

Now, it's a son, facing his elderly mother.

Talasha Yutun gently reached out and gently hugged such a giant.

"I watched you grow up, Robert." She whispered. "I know you more than I know myself. I remember every habit of yours, from handling government affairs to loving sweets."

"So, I know how painful you are right now, anyone who is in your position and has experienced what you have experienced deserves a complete weeping of tears, but you can't, you only deserve this moment of peace."

She paused.

"I'm sorry for my cruelty. There is no doubt that you are my child, Robert, but I must be cruel. ”

"I'm getting old, and I can't be with you much longer. I'm going to die, just like Connaught. Sooner or later, you'll be left alone. Life is like this, loneliness is the norm. ”

"Not to mention you, you will outlive all of us, which means that you will suffer twice as much loneliness as the Lord of Macurag."

"Your makurag is no longer there today, but it is still in your memory, do you remember? The appearance of the city, the forests, meadows, and farmland outside the city. Your father and people are arguing with the head of the bloody Senate, the Great Bath"

"Do you remember those poets? They like to observe the night sky with astronomers and come to name each star they find, named it after a psalm. You have such a night sky, but only you can see it, and the Maculag is in it. ”

"It will always be with you, whenever and wherever you look up or close your eyes, it will be in your eyes."

Mother smiled.

"Just like us." She said. "You are the pride of the people of Macullag, just as you are proud of us. You have a cloak, Robert, you can't see it, but I can see it. It's blue, woven by the starlight of honor."

"It's made up of us. We are one of the annotations of your honor and one of the stars in your night sky. ”

She sighed softly.

"Take it on, kid. Macurag stands forever. ”

Update complete. Good card.

This chapter is 4.3k, counting the previous chapter 3k, I still owe 3k, and I will pay it back tomorrow.

(End of chapter)