dmims Page 173
Page 173
Amaras's eyes widened, and then he saw the person in front of him lift his hood, remove his black robe, revealing short white hair, a resolute face, and a suit of golden Terminator power armor he had never seen before.
“Amalas, you ask who I am.”
The man spoke in a voice devoid of any emotion.
“I am the seventh son of the Emperor, the Royal Guard of Terra, and the genetic father of the Black Templar.”
"I am Rogal Dorn."
Chapter 203 The Iron Warriors' Movements and the Final Wall
"I am Roger Dorn."
The moment those words were uttered, the expressions of everyone present, whether mortals or Astartes, underwent countless changes in a mere instant.
Shock, joy, doubt, fervor...
A multitude of emotions surged forth, even causing Commissar Arek, who was seated, to grip the armrests of his chair and force himself to stand up.
The elderly man, nearing the end of his life, declined the assistance of his trusted aides and moved with unsteady steps, slowly approaching Roger Dorn. Roger Dorn lowered his head, looking at this mortal, whom Lynch had described as a legend, and nodded slightly in respect.
"You say you are Rog Dorn." Arek took a deep breath. Facing this being who was even taller than Astartes, even he, who had seen countless storms, couldn't help but feel a slight tremor in his heart. "How do you prove it?"
"Commissar Arek!"
Helbrecht said sternly.
"Are you questioning the Black Templar? There is a natural connection between the Primarch and his offspring. We can confirm that the person before you is our Primarch, Roger Dorn, the seventh son of the God-Emperor!"
Arek turned his head and looked at the Grand Marshal, his eyes filled with calm.
"Sir, the connection you mentioned may be real, but I'm sorry, I can't sense his presence."
After speaking, Arek raised his head and looked fearlessly into Roger Dorn's eyes.
“I need proof that if you are indeed Roger Dorn, that lord, then please prove it to me.”
Roger Dorn looked at Arek but did not answer immediately.
A silence fell, and doubt began to creep onto most people's faces. Helbrecht hadn't expected things to turn out this way; rather, he hadn't anticipated his father's sudden appearance at the meeting.
Indeed, anyone who saw Roger Dorn for the first time could tell he was no ordinary man.
But besides the Black Templar, who else could sense that connection and definitively tell others that this person was indeed an Emperor's offspring, a true Primarch?
The Grand Marshal took a deep breath and mentally prepared for the worst.
He made a gesture, and Grimados and Bayard beside him understood his meaning. The Hidden Master and the Imperial Champion both slowly reached for their weapons, tensing their muscles so they could immediately assume a fighting stance if anything went wrong.
"Relax."
Roger Dorn suddenly spoke, looking at his offspring and sighing helplessly.
Why do you think I have no way to prove it?
All eyes turned to the Black Templar, and the knights froze, an awkward feeling creeping into their hearts, causing each of them to swallow hard.
"Sir...sir..."
“You should call me father.”
"Father...Father..."
"Notify the Eternal Expedition to open the sealed compartment number one. There is something I left behind there. Bring it down; it can prove my identity."
"Roger Dorn said, his tone tinged with a hint of helplessness. After speaking with his offspring, he turned his gaze back to Arek, his voice filled with admiration and respect."
“Commissar Arek, someone has told me about your deeds. I salute you on behalf of the Empire.”
"What I need is not tributes."
Arek looked at the giant before him, and at this moment, he was already somewhat convinced of the giant's identity.
However, his expression remained calm, though his voice trembled slightly as he spoke.
"What I need is hope."
"So."
Roger Dorn nodded slightly.
"I will bring you hope."
－－－－－－－－－－－
Meanwhile, in the subspace, a massive fleet has completed its assembly.
A massive warship stood at the very center of the fleet. Compared to it, the other warships looked as small as children in front of an adult. Its length was estimated to be at least twenty kilometers, and in the ten thousand years of human empire history, only a handful of warships could have reached such a length.
The warship's exterior is unadorned, making full use of every inch of its space. Unlike typical warships, this one has very few usable observation windows—a design that would be unwise for any ship, as oracles and holographic projections would be interfered with, and sometimes the naked eye could perceive everything around it more clearly.
Of course, this is not entirely absolute. If the ship's commander is an unparalleled genius, a master of naval warfare, and a unique commander, then even without the existence of an observation window, he can still achieve results that are no less than anyone else's.
And coincidentally, the owner of this ship was just such a person.
The Ironblood began its first activity since the great rebellion ten thousand years ago. Its machine spirits cheered, and a smile slowly appeared on the captain's face, who had become one with the ship.
Every part of the ship trembled with excitement, yearning for slaughter, for destruction, for turning the empire that had stripped them of their glory into a lifeless corpse.
Yes, the ship's name is Ironblood.
Deep within the library of Terra, the heart of the Empire, among the books strictly sealed by the Inquisition and various other powers, lies a record of everything about this ship.
It is a Glory Queen-class battleship, belonging to the Iron Warriors, a legion that was once in the Empire but has now become a traitor.
And its owner is naturally the owner of the Iron Warrior.
That man's name was Perturabo, a demon prince of chaos and the emperor's son, a demon feared by all the judges who knew his name.
Unlike other Primarchs who betrayed the Empire, Perturabo was one of the most active Primarchs in the past ten thousand years, second only to Angron. He devised numerous plans that threatened the Empire, and even participated in Abaddon's Black Crusade, during which he destroyed many Astartes of the Empire's Iron Hand Chapter.
However, it is unprecedented to gather tens of thousands of people and hundreds of warships and charge into the real universe with such invincible momentum.
Many people are discussing this, not just the demon, but also Perturabo's brothers who betrayed him along with him.
The Serpent Prince stuck out his long tongue, watching the fleet with great interest, wondering what kind of amusement could have stirred up such a commotion for his dull brother.
The Plague Angel frowned deeply as he looked at the report from his subordinates, and began muttering some incomprehensible numbers.
The Cyclops casually tossed the parchment aside, a mocking smile playing on his lips, before resuming his immersion in the magic he had just collected.
Bloodhound... Bloodhound is still loading and respawning.
In short, the Iron Lord's actions have undoubtedly caused a huge uproar, with many people turning their attention to him and his legions. Among them are not only the forces of Chaos, but also a large number of forces from outside the Warp that are spying on him.
But Perturabo didn't care about any of this. In his room on the Ironblood, he repaired the doll he had destroyed last time. However, this time he did not choose to inject his soul into it. He looked at the small bottle in his hand, at the small ball of flame floating inside, and silently placed it on a shelf.
【Dong Dong Dong】
A knock sounded at the door, and Peturabo knew the person he was waiting for had arrived. He didn't speak, but the door behind him opened automatically.
Footsteps sounded as two Iron Warriors entered the private room belonging to the Iron Lord. The one in front appeared very composed; his power armor, though old, still gleamed under the white lights. The one behind seemed much more nervous, instantly tensing up and going on alert the moment he saw Perturabo.
"Father, I've brought the person."
"Well, let's go down."
Peturabo spoke, his voice hoarse and deep, like the engine of a rusty war machine still trying to run.
Upon hearing the words of the Father of Genetics, the Iron Warrior who was walking in front immediately turned around and left. However, before leaving, he gave a deep look at the people he had brought with him, as if to remind them or to gloat.
Before the person brought there realized what was about to happen, he was enveloped by a huge shadow.
"You're Hong Suo?"
Peturabo spoke, looking at his son, who was also the son of Roger Dorn.
Hong Su swallowed hard. For the first time, he felt an unparalleled attraction. This feeling compelled him, forced him, as if the person in front of him had a great attraction to him, and he would not hesitate to do it even if he were to die in the next moment.
No...no!
Hong Su shook his head violently, his face contorted in a grimace, and forced out his answer from his throat.
“I… am Hongsuo, the esteemed Father of Genetics. I am Hongsuo, your war blacksmith, and also your son.”
"Heh, he's also Roger Dorn's child, isn't he?"
Hong Suo's body suddenly stiffened, and an inexplicable feeling arose in his heart, a feeling that was somewhat bittersweet and somewhat unwilling.
"so what?"
Hunsoo spoke, startling Peturabo.
He looked at the stubborn-looking boy in front of him and couldn't help but laugh.
"Heh... that's interesting. Sit down, there are chairs over there. I have some questions for you."
The oppressive feeling on Hunso's shoulders had mostly disappeared, and Hunso let out a long breath, sitting down in a chair that was clearly unfinished, as instructed by Peturabo.
"Hong Suo, I heard you took on some side jobs recently?"
"...That shouldn't violate the Legion's rules."
“I don’t need you to tell me. What I need now is for you to tell me everything that happened on that planet. I know you’ve already reported once, but now I need you to report again, to me alone.”
Honso looked at Peturabo with a hint of confusion in his heart, but he still reported as Peturabo asked, from his participation in Kayan's bidding to the final defeat in the war and his escape through the portal.
After he finished speaking, Peturabo fell silent. He remained silent for a long time, and the silence made the atmosphere in the air extremely heavy.
"ha.........."
After a long pause, he spoke, letting out a laugh that seemed to have no meaning.
Dorne, Horus, Saint Gilles, and even traces of Danteok...
A smile appeared on that distorted face, but it did not feel warm; instead, it contained a strong sense of madness.
Father, you are a madman.
And as your son, so am I.
－－－－－－－－－－－
Looking at the golden-armored messenger before him, Von Hagen took several deep breaths before finally calming himself down and managing to regain his composure.
Behind him, the high command of the Imperial Fist were gathered. Their expressions were no better than those of their chapter commanders, with Company Commander Lysander's face contorted with fervor as he stepped forward to stand beside his chapter commander.