"How long?" Konstantin Valdo asked.

"Nine centuries and seventy-five years." Roger Dorn said.

The Marshal of the Forbidden Army nodded, and said nothing.

Shining Golden Boots surged in the mud, and he walked in front of everyone with his spear in hand. Not even Roger Dorn could take this responsibility away from him - he was a pioneer, but he was also a guide.

There is no one to take his place.

At this moment, the number of people in this team is still small, however, compared to when they first found Roger Dorn, the team has actually expanded a bit, and they have added three hundred and forty-one people.

Some of these newcomers were those with black armor and crosses, some who looked not much different from today's Imperial Fist but killed a lot, and those who were mixed with blue and gold and were few in number

Interestingly, the difference between them is not just superficial, and the armor paint is only the most superficial difference between them.

Dorne didn't ask a single question about it.

He acted indifferent and didn't even take the initiative to ask for everyone's name. Some introduced themselves to him, but Stubborn just nodded blankly. Others looked at him, and he responded in return.

Nothing superfluous, nothing at all. It was as if he had suddenly become a mirror. Whatever you give him, he will give you. However, Alessio Cortés noticed that Roger Dorn did not leave anyone behind.

He had greeted and saluted everyone, and he didn't have the slightest arrogance that he should have as a genetic prototype.

Realizing this made Alessio a little uneasy, and it wasn't until today that he actually met his genetic father. Then he realized that he didn't really know anything about him.

He has seen many descriptions of him, or history, and many precious portraits that have survived. However, when he actually met him, Alessio realized that these things were only one side of Roger Dorn.

They can't even accurately express how amazing that aspect of the original body is.

But if there was one single word to sum up his character, to describe what he did, Alessio would choose 'indestructible'.

Roger Dorn, indestructible.

They continued on their way, led by the Forbidden Army into the darkness again. It's the same, abstract journey again. Everything takes on another form in the darkness, an ugly form that is very different from what they really are.

Stones grow mouths, air turns to choking dust, trees give birth to eyes and long tongues, tirelessly telling every story for 10,000 years. Ill will spread in it, undisguised.

These things peeked at them in the dark, but they could only 'peep', the words did not shake anyone, and the distorted form only made the faces of many warriors disgusted.

Nothing else. Did they fail?

Perhaps, but it's still a long way to go, and they still have time to do what they want to do until Konstantin Valdo raises his spear.

"Retreat, die." The marshal of the Forbidden Army coldly ordered. "In His name."

The golden flame flickered on the tip of the spear, and there were thousands—or tens of thousands—of screams in the darkness, then the stench of burning flesh, and the hissing of grease in the heat.

From this point of view, no matter how profane they may be, their forms still need to obey certain basic rules. For example, they are not resistant to fire.

The Black-and-White Sons of Dorne began to shout praises to the God-Emperor, his ruthlessness to demons, and his protection of humanity.

Their fanaticism made the rest of the sons of Dorne immediately a little uneasy, but their father remained silent and acted very calmly.

In fact, he was very calm. He simply wrote down the word 'god-emperor' and the word 'he' used by Konstantin Valdo.

Out of the reach of his sons, Dorne began to think.

First, he thought of himself.

He is Roger Donne, the culmination of centuries or even decades of painstaking work by the Lord of Mankind, the perfect ending of a project.

The Emperor created him and his brothers in the laboratory, and war was their only duty for decades after they were recovered.

Some people in the galaxy call them demigods, a term that Dorne doesn't like, as the gods are often associated with extreme hedonism with impunity.

He read many myths, and in those precious Guterra myths, the gods were sometimes human-like, sometimes over-human, and sometimes they were emotionless, just a manifestation of a rule

So, what about them?

If they really are demigods, what will they be judged for? Is it an evil god who neglects his duty and burns the earth and makes the people miserable, or a righteous god who would rather sacrifice himself to cure the flood or bring fire to mortals?

No.

Dorne shook his head - let's be human.

He put the word God-Emperor behind him for the time being, and Constantine Valdo had done his duty. They left the darkness and returned to the Terra Grounds, at least what looked like the Terra Grounds.

The sky was still burning, and snow was drifting like black dust. The ground was covered with thick ashes, and the tragic deaths were uncountable. The only difference was that the sky was filled with golden light, and the massive warships that were supposed to obscure the land, but somehow failed to cast any shadows.

"It's time for me to go, Roger Dorne." Konstantin Valdo said to him. "The Lord has another task for me to complete."

Dorn glanced at him, and in the subtle change in his stance, he could see that Valdo was deliberately blank.

He was surprised again for a moment, just as he had been when he saw Waldo's smile, and he asked, "What else do you have to say?" ”

"You're a little too direct, Rogge." The Forbidden Marshal sighed softly. "Just."

"What?"

"The Lord left me to decide the matter for myself." Valdo spoke with a slight hesitation. "He wants me to decide for myself whether I want to tell you about it."

"I wondered about it, his attitude became a little peculiar, he wasn't so cold anymore, but I could feel his pain, he was screaming, every second, Rog me."

Emotional exposure. Dorne choked his sigh and thought. You've never been so human-like for a moment.

"You're empathizing, Waldo." He said. "That's probably why he wants you to decide for yourself, life is made up of countless choices."

"Empathetic?" The commander of the Forbidden Army was stunned. "But I- I have no emotion, I don't have any emotion other than anger. Intense emotions such as sadness and happiness are nothing more than cold academic words for me. ”

"But you're grieving just now." Dorn pointed out the matter mercilessly. "And if we're not here, I'm sure you'll cry."

“.”

"And, what do you want to tell me?"

The Marshal of the Forbidden Army was silent for a moment before he spoke: "The Lord has given me a new mission, and he wants me to lead the way for another person, and that person is called Orr Pesson. A shameless perfidy, a traitor. ”

"What kind of traitor?" Dorn asked.

"A traitor who betrayed him." Konstantin Valdo frowned. "His existence and name are confidential, but the Lord has just informed me of these things, and he has not hidden anything about them."

Dorne nodded, as he knew it.

"Then, he asked you to ask me."

Waldo nodded.

"Clearly, then, he knows that you will have doubts and grievances about this matter, and he wants you to seek from me some advice or support that you may use. I must point out one thing, Waldo, for you have never questioned his orders. ”

Once or twice a while." Konstantin Waldo reluctantly added. "Well, counting this time, it's four."

"Maybe that's what he wants." Dorn said. "He wants you to question him and understand him, I think we've talked enough, Waldo."

Konstantin Valdo bowed his head in silence and turned away without a word.

There was still confusion on his face, a newborn doubt, like a child who doesn't understand what his parents mean by 'going to school' — forgive me, Waldo.

Dorne pursed his lips.

I really can't think of a better analogy.

"Father."

At that moment, a call came from behind him, and Dorne turned and called out the man's name: "Alessio, what is the matter with you?" ”

"What are we going to do next?" Alessio Cortés asked, confused. In fact, it wasn't just him, Dorne looked around and saw that many people had similar emotions on their faces.

Dorn almost laughed.

How similar.

"We fight." Roger Dorn said solemnly. "That's all."

He pulled out the fangs of the storm, and they followed.

——

"We fight." Peturabo said. "That's all."

He finished his speech, and 10,000 faces, the same or not, began to cheer and cheer.

They may have had a name, an identity, or a family. And now they are just loyal soldiers belonging to the Empire, and of course, just now, they have also gained a new identity, that of which is the auxiliary army of the Iron Warriors.

The auxiliary army that has just been recruited. There is a lack of supplies, training is urgently needed, military qualities need to be improved, but morale is high.

Perturabo nodded—that was enough.

"You're giving a speech." His first company commander, Fricks, said. "I was surprised."

Perturabo glanced at him: "You're trying to joke with me, I'm surprised. ”

"I swear I don't have that idea, Primordial."

Frix immediately raised his hands as a sign of respect and obedience. Perturabo impatiently pressed him, but then turned around and took a shovel from behind him and shoved it into the hands of one of his company commanders.

"Trenches, Fricks."

Faced with Frix's slightly distracted expression, the Iron Lord began to explain to him coldly and forcefully.

"Instead of wasting your time talking to me here, you might as well dig the trenches. Even if we dig an extra meter before the enemy arrives, we have a better chance of holding this place. ”

"Yes, Primordial." The company commander stiffened his expression, reached out to take the engineering shovel, and turned to leave.

Perturabo bowed slightly, and with the same steps, he walked in the other direction.

At this moment, his armor did not transmit any message to him, which was unusual. In the past, any war fought by Perturabo should have been accompanied by a wealth of real-time information and an overview of the situation.

But Terra's case is somewhat peculiar, and communication devices seem to be 'banned' here. You can try to communicate with people, and if you're lucky, maybe you can get three or five out of a hundred, and that's the limit.

The Lord of Steel raised his head and glanced at the sky. His focus wasn't on the ships that were still sending support and firepower, nor on the huge pillar of fire looming in the depths of the clouds.

He just stared at the black snow.

"Conrad Coetze." He said without looking back. "Did you find him?"

"Very sharp, Abo," the shadow behind him chuckled. "But why should I go to him?"

The Lord of Steel turned calmly and placed the hammer in his hand lightly on a stone.

"It's not that you're sharp, it's that you don't even want to hide yourself from me. I found you in the crowd as early as the time of the speech, and you are acting alone? You're a primordial."

He frowned as he spoke, and began to count his brother.

"You just rest assured of your legion? I understand the special combat power of the Nightblade in the face of demons, but these monsters on Terra are by no means comparable to ordinary demons, have you ever seen a demon that can't be killed after five shots from an automatic cannon? ”

The Night King raised his hands helplessly, and although his face had been completely obscured by the skeletal mask, his expression was probably not much different from that of Frix not long ago.

"Don't worry about that, Abo—" He pointed at the mask's right eye socket with his right index finger. "—I suggest you worry about yourself more."

"Why?" Peturabo asked. "I have recaptured six positions on the western front of the palace, and by simply rebuilding the trenches and positions will transform the war into the form we are most familiar with. I'm confident that I can recapture the entire western front of the palace in twelve hours, and I don't think I have anything to worry about. ”

"But Rog and his heirs are also rushing here." Conrad Coetzes lowered his hand and shrugged his shoulders.

"So?" Perturabo looked at him calmly and reached out to grasp the hammer. "What do I need to worry about?"

The Night King didn't answer, just chuckled and left. Perturabo turned around as he followed his movements, and he watched as he vanished as far as he could see.

Then, just twenty-seven minutes later, Conrad Coetzes said the word.

Perturabo meets Roger Dorn and the surprisingly unfamiliar Astarte behind him.

The meeting between the two primordials should have been exciting, but given their identities and names, it resulted in an extremely striking silence.

For more than five minutes after they met, neither Steel nor Rock had said anything, they had just stood face to face, observing each other in silence.

To Dantioc, the war blacksmith who was urgently called back, his father now looked like an angry bull, waiting for the right moment to strike. And in Alessio Cortez's opinion

Well, he didn't really have any idea, just surprised and honored to see the steel and cornerstone of the empire standing in the same trench today.

"Dorne."

Dantiok silently tensed his nerves and reminded himself that the bull was in trouble!

But his father's next sentence surprised him.

"Nice to meet you." Peturabo was expressionless and spat out the greeting word by word.

Dantioc turned his head to look at Frix, who answered his silent inquiry with an indescribable expression, and the shovel in his hand suddenly sank deep into the dirt.

Of course, they weren't the only ones who were puzzled by this, and even Roger Dorn himself showed some confusion.

"I'm glad to meet you, Peturabo." Dorne paused before finishing the pleasantries.

Peturabo nodded nonchalantly, and let out a nasal voice in response to his words. This cold performance gave Dantiok and Fricks a long sigh of relief, but it also made Perturabo quietly turn his head.

"I don't think a simple meeting would require so many senior officers to be on the sidelines." He said suddenly. "You can go about your business, I'm going to see at least five artillery positions built in an hour, understand?"

"That's true." Roger Dorn bowed slightly. "Do what you have to do, Alessio."

The crowd was dispersed, or at least away from the trenches. Black snow fell from the sky and fell on their armor and dirt, bringing with them patches of inky color. After a long silence, it was Roger Dorn who spoke first.

"You've changed." He said cautiously.

"That's true." The Iron Lord replied with a sneer, completely indifferent to Dorne's caution.

The Rock almost thought he was going to utter a sarcastic remark that would make the conversation seem like it had happened hundreds of times before - but Perturabo didn't, and miraculously used the second half of the sentence to change the atmosphere very. Peculiar.

"Just like you, changed a lot, Dorne." Peturabo said slowly. "What did you all go through on Terra?"

Dorn was silent again.

Struggle. He said with a frown. "And sacrifices."

"Be detailed."

"Okay." Dorne nodded, and a long narrative began.

"I've laid out many fortresses and tactical traps along the solar system, as well as up to hundreds of thousands of emergency preparedness. I laid out most of the forces of my legions, as well as the garrisons of the solar system, along the way, and was fully prepared for everything I could think of. ”

"But the enemy did not choose to wage war by conventional means, and their arrival was silent and swift, and in a matter of moments, war came. At first, the situation could be controlled, but with the fall of the vengeful spirit."

He was silent, it was a period of absolute silence. There were no shouts, no roars in the fog, no roars from test firing from artillery positions. Only the breeze blew slowly, turning the face of the stubborn stone into pain in the wind and snow.

Even though it was only half a second, the pain was absolutely real.

"In war, the situation changes in a split second." The silence ended, and Dorne continued, his voice still calm. "The enemy was prepared, at least counting my reaction."

"It knows that in the first few hours of the war, I will still treat this war with the same attitude as an ordinary war, and I can predict the situation on the battlefield, but there is a premise."

"I couldn't make a proper arrangement for this kind of war, which I had not experienced, and it used the time that was born out of my defeat to make the situation precarious, and in the twenty-fifth hour it used a tactic that would have been decisive in the second hour."

"On a strategic level, it was an absolute fiasco. As the commander-in-chief, I am responsible for the soldiers and civilians who died. I'm done. ”

"Not detailed enough." Perturabo spoke slowly, taking over the baton of the conversation.

The Iron Lord's face still did not fluctuate in the slightest, cold as ice, revealing an inhuman firmness and coldness in the cold wind. It was as if he was really made of steel, and what was buried under the skin was not flesh and blood, but real forged steel.

Dorne looked at him, feeling a strong strangeness again.

"You have to figure out why you failed and correct it, Roger Donne." Peturabo said.

His words sounded like an accusation, a terrible criticism of 'you weren't good enough,' but his tone was very calm, as if he were just telling a fact.

"In the face of these things, you have to figure out the reasons after the first failure, and you have to never do it again. Our soldiers are very loyal and will not hesitate to carry out any orders of the commander, so we must do our best within our ability, even in the face of failure. ”

"In my opinion, the root cause of your fiasco can be summed up in one sentence - that is, the outdated concept. Do you have an opinion on this? ”

"Nope." Dorn replied quickly, his expression very focused, completely unoblivious to Perturabo's overly direct diction.

"It's a fatal problem." He admitted simply and straightforwardly.

"And we all made that mistake." The Iron Lord sneered again. "Yes, just like you, Dorne, I made the same mistakes."

"I had faced that so-called Horus and his wolf pack in the Istefan system, and I had the opportunity to bite off a piece of his flesh, but I lost the victory, the fleet, most of the living forces because of a mistake, and"

He retracted his smile and spat out a name.

"Motarian."

Roger Dorn's pupils shrank.

"The evil creatures of the subspace are haunting us." The Lord of Steel recounted calmly. "Maybe it shouldn't be called an evil thing, but an evil god. Have you ever seen a flytrap, Dorne? ”

"My restoration of flora and fauna in Olympia is a reverse projection of the ancient Terra texts, and this plant is one of our successes. It is a very patient hunter, its blades are its teeth, and its cages are carefully crafted for its prey."

Perturabo stretched out his right hand and slowly opened it, and when the snow fell into it, he quickly closed his palm. A creaking sound slowly resounded between the metal palms, causing a tooth-aching shiver.

"Even a ferocious beast can be bitten in half by this plant in an instant. As long as it senses the presence of its prey, it will never leave or close its blades before that. That thing had treated Motarian with such patience, but it was not to devour him, but to make him submit. ”

Perturabo spoke out his pain in a deep voice and a sneer that often came but disappeared instantly.

But he didn't, and he resisted until he died. If it weren't for him, you wouldn't see me and Vulcan here. That's the price I pay, Dorne, I let my brother die a miserable death, let the flagship be lost, and let the victory turn into a fiasco. ”

"The most important thing is that I thought I had learned my lesson, but it wasn't enough. At least not enough for me at the time. ”

He shook his head and remained silent. Dorn, however, began to observe with absolute patience the brother who had been irritable and irritable in the past, and who had always had little patience with him.

He threw away his surprise and drove away the part of his feelings as a brother, leaving only the ability to 'observe'. With this detached third-party perspective, he saw the great pain that Perturabo hid in a sneer, a wink, or the occasional deep breath.

A question was born immediately after him, and was asked by himself "What the hell have you been through, Perturabo?" ”

"Failure." The Iron Lord spat out the word with a blank face. "That's all, like all you experienced on Terra."

"Along the way, I saw many corpses, mortals, Astartes, tanks, titans—all of them were over, no matter how great their conviction and unshakable courage they had, they were all dead."

"They were the best of the best in life, but they fell like straw and were covered in dust in the mud. And now, I see darkness over Terra. The savage cultists proudly flaunted the spoils of war they had stolen, wrapped the skins of the loyalists around their bodies, and nailed the tormented defenders to ridiculous crosses and slowly erected them. ”

"They have no discipline, and the greater reason is that those who can restrain them have become part of this depraved barbarism. So, based on the above facts, I have to deduce a conclusion - this is not war, Roger Dorn. ”

"The battle we are experiencing now is not enough to be called a war, it should be a confrontation between two armies, a collision of tactics and strategy, a contest of courage and perseverance. Moreover, it will end. ”

"But what about those things? They will not stop, even if we are all dead. So this is not a war, and you and I are in it, so we should leave behind our past experience and pride as soon as possible and start from scratch. We are nothing but two losers. ”

"Bury friendly soldiers, dash hope, but still live shamelessly."

Perturabo raised his hammer dismissively.

"But we live." He snapped. "Therefore I ask you to fight alongside me in the ancient Codex, Roger Dorne."

"I answer your call." Dorne said slowly. "But, which codex?"

He held out a hand and placed it in mid-air. After a few seconds, the hand was held tightly by the other hand.

Behind them, artillery began to roar.

Peturabo laughed sinisterly.

"The Code of Vengeance." He said. "The code of law engraved in the bones of mankind."

7.3k, only one chapter, pulpitis committed, go to the hospital tomorrow to extract the tooth.

I calculated, I've had two root canals, then two wisdom teeth that haven't been extracted, and now it's pulpitis, and I may have to extract a good tooth and plant it

It's numb.

(End of chapter)