Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim

Compared to his other brothers and sisters he will meet among the stars in the future, his situation is significantly better.

Although Peturab's tyrannical foster father viewed him as an invincible weapon, he also groomed Peturab as his successor.

Moreover, he also has an older sister who loves him deeply.

Kelly Fanny.

As the daughter of a tyrant, she consistently supported Peturab's ideas, even when other politicians and priests found them incomprehensible.

This made him grateful for the other party's support.

But that's about it.

After all, supporting one's own ideas as a wise person is the most basic requirement that any intelligent person must meet.

Kelly Fanny simply demonstrated her righteousness through her actions, which was indeed several points superior to the other fools on Olympia.

But this was not enough to make Peturabo develop an inappropriate emotional awareness of what she should have done right.

Ok.

That's right, that's it.

As time went by, Peturabo's disgust with his situation deepened.

He had conquered almost every piece of land on the planet for his tyrannical foster father, but it seemed that people's greed for power was still insatiable.

To ensure that everything they have acquired in life will not turn to dust after death, tyrants' lust for power only grows stronger with age.

As for the rest of the planet...

Even the most learned sage is nothing more than a useless person who can only recite ancient books verbatim.

They denied the existence of stars in the sky, denied Peturabo's vision of the future universe, and denied all knowledge beyond the established impressions in their minds.

Staying in Olympia, clinging to their past beliefs until they die, is the best they can do.

As for the extragalactic world and the star vortex that has always existed in the sky?

I'm sorry, I don't care.

Everything they asked for or needed from Peturabo had only one purpose—

arms.

A weapon capable of conquering everything.

For uncivilized people, this was the ultimate destination of all languages ​​on Olympia—only by possessing weapons could they possess the power to interpret philosophy, literature, and art, and the power to ensure that the magnificent buildings created by their architecture would stand forever.

And this power resides within Peturabo, within his mind.

He wanted to escape, but he couldn't.

Even from beyond the stars, the newcomer was still after the power within his mind that served as a weapon.

Rather than architects, artists, diplomats, or philosophers.

But this is still an opportunity for Peturabo.

This would give him the opportunity to escape the mundane world of Olympia.

"That's right!"

“Yes,” said Perturapa, “I beg you!” He was almost delirious with amazement at the miracle. “I ask for nothing more! I swear I will serve you faithfully forever, this is my vow.”

Almost in a groveling manner, he begged the golden being before him to take him off this planet.

Perturabbe cheered without restraint. Finally, he felt an overwhelming sense of acceptance. Love emanated from the Emperor, enveloping his found son. Perturabbe was bathed in it. For the first time, he felt a true sense of belonging.

"Then get up, my child."

The sadness in the golden figure's words vanished in an instant.

Unfortunately, it is only today that Peturabo has come to know an eternal truth that exists in the universe.

Human folly does not entirely correspond to the planet they inhabit.

Even within the human empire, there are countless fools, more than Perturabo could ever imagine, who are hindering Perturabo's progress.

As a Primarch—though he didn't care what this status, far superior to that of other humans, meant—he knew he had led a powerful legion capable of participating in intergalactic expeditions.

A very powerful legion, it is said.

It is said that these Space Marines called "Iron Warriors" have inherited Perturabo's superhuman genes to some extent, so their tactical choices and applications in war tend to be more in line with Perturabo's personality.

This statement made him somewhat hopeful.

If that's the case, then the Iron Warrior, who possesses superhuman intelligence like Perturabo, must be invincible and unstoppable in war, right?

After all, he is his son, inheriting his personality and wisdom.

While pride and complacency are not good qualities, for Perturabo, a Primarch, a superhuman demigod, no amount of praise can more accurately describe him.

Let him see what these rascals have accomplished.

With an almost imperceptible smile, Perturabo confidently picked up the storage board containing the combat data of the Iron Warrior Legion.

"Eleven draws and eliminations."

The first thing Peturab did after reuniting with the Legion was to learn about the Legion's battle history.

The second thing is the eleven-draw lottery.

One soldier was randomly executed for every ten soldiers by drawing lots.

The Fourth Army had recently fought a disastrous battle.

These idiots!

Stubborn in tactical choices and fixated on minor details during tactical execution.

Lacking tactical flexibility, they fail to adapt to unexpected situations, only knowing how to increase troop deployment and continue to be brutally beaten.

There wasn't a single tactical element to be seen; it was always about overwhelming the enemy with sheer firepower and numerical superiority!

These useless fools finally managed to defeat the enemy at the cost of 29,000 Astartes casualties plus 2 million auxiliary troops!

This can no longer be called a Pyrrhic victory.

This is a failure, a complete and utter failure!

Father?

You think you're worthy to call me father after being beaten like this?

I am not your father, nor do I have such foolish sons as you!

Damn it, even after going into space, humanity's stupidity hasn't changed in the slightest!

They're just more numerous and less intelligent.

The more planets he conquers, even those Primarchs that show no signs of aging, will he only be able to lead these mentally challenged soldiers around the world to fight the most disgusting and difficult battles, and then die in humiliation in these cesspool-like battlefields?

How then can he realize his ideal future as an architect and a philosopher?

Why can't these idiots ever, ever understand his thoughts and wisdom?!

Peturabo was furious.

"what!!!"

He reached out and swept away all those stupid things that had no value in living.

"brother."

Countless exquisite iron ring robots and tank models fell from the table to the ground under Peturabo's large hands.

Some were even smashed to pieces by Peturabo's powerful force, exposing their delicate, tiny parts and constantly operating machinery.

Even though they were nearly destroyed, these models were still making tiny clicking sounds.

The fact that such tiny models can retain their miniature weapons as if they existed in reality is enough to imagine how much effort must have been put into designing, manufacturing, and assembling them.

But in the battle just now, they were all wiped out by Peturabo with a single slap.

"."

Peturabo and Mortalian, sitting opposite him and unsure how to react, remained frozen in their seats, saying nothing.

"Please forgive me, Mortalian. I apologize for my out-of-control behavior just now."

After remaining silent for nearly half a minute, Peturabo removed his right hand from his face and bent down to pick up the many war game models he had scattered on the ground.

Iron Blood.

This flagship from the Iron Warriors is equipped with terrifying firepower that other legions could hardly imagine.

As a result, the ship's hull appeared somewhat bulky.

But that's not all; the Ironblood warship also replaced all the portholes on board.

Petrabo's cold-blooded war logic held that it was extremely foolish to observe the enemy with the naked eye through a window.

Visual observation of the enemy can be accomplished using only a bird locator and a display screen.

Not long ago, Mortalian, the Deathguard Primarch, who was invited to travel to Lycaus with the Iron Warriors to welcome the new Primarchs back with the Sons of the Emperor, boarded this warship.

He came here to deliver the Emperor's orders.

But Peturabo doesn't seem to appreciate it very much.

"Welcoming the Primarch? What does he take me, my Legion, for? A hostess?"

"Will I have to dress up with my Legion and stand in two rows of returning Primarchs with professional fake smiles on my face when other Primarchs return in the future?"

"I'm not going! The Iron Warriors are always the ones who tackle the toughest battles, the invincible hammers, not the ones who return to their original form as mere accessories!"

Again.

Motalian sighed a thick Barbalus breath from his mouth hidden beneath the respirator.

He'd taken on a tough job this time—he might not know what kind of person the new Primarch was, but almost all Primarchs understood his personality, especially his brother Peturabo.

There are already established procedures that can be referenced.

Faced with this demand, his first reaction would certainly be a strong rebuttal.

First, there is denial.

Then, he would launch into a long tirade about the difficulties the Iron Warriors had recently faced, and vent his frustrations about the unfair treatment his legion had received.

This behavior is often accompanied by a dig at the Imperial Fist Legion, with comments implying that they are unworthy of their positions and that their honors outweigh their actual strength.

But if you listen to his account and genuinely believe that they have indeed been treated unfairly and need your legion to provide assistance—well, that's stepping on Peturabo's landmine, perfectly legitimately.

He will tell you in great anger that the Iron Warrior is steel inside and out and does not need anyone else's help.

Even with heavy casualties, they can still win the toughest battles.

The Iron Warriors need no pity!

Pity is only for the weak, while the steel warriors are tough and unyielding, and they will never need anyone's pity!

Pity is an insult to Iron Man and Perturabo!

Do not compare him to the weak and unproductive Rogdorn!

If you were to go along with him at this moment and praise the resilience of his legion's soldiers.

Another trick.

Peturabo will recount to you, filled with his own grievances, how utterly useless the soldiers of the Iron Warriors are.

He had originally devised a perfect attack plan, which, if executed correctly, would have scattered the enemy. However, due to the blunders of this group of idiots, not only did they need to deploy more reserves to reinforce the lines, but the losses were also far greater than anticipated!

Iron Warriors are a bunch of idiots!

If it weren't for Perturabo, the entire legion would be no different from the Imperial Fists!

"."

Fine.

But if he feels that Iron Warrior really doesn't need pity and help anymore, he will continue to complain in your ear like a nagging woman about the unfair treatment Iron Warrior has received: how many tough battles he fought, how many Astartes warriors he lost, and what terrifying alien forces he devoured.

The warriors of other legions either build fortifications and stay comfortably on the planets they protect without moving; or they fight extremely easy battles, in which the enemy cannot organize any effective counterattacks.

Where else can you find warriors like the Iron Warriors, who always have to fight the toughest battles in the most difficult places in the Empire?!