Chapter 472 Loser

This was not the first time that Perturabo had returned to this scene in his memory, nor would it be the last time.

He stared at the sky of his hometown. There was no blue sky due to astigmatism, nor white clouds. There was only the smoke of his return to Olympia with his legion.

He could see the shadows of warships in the void, and the repeated firing of the warships' macro cannons at the ground. Perturabo had already calculated what the situation was like outside this area that had not been bombarded by orbit, but he didn't care, just like he didn't care about his own legion.

What brought me to where I am now? Was it the Empire? The Emperor? Or the huge eyes I saw on the cliff when I was young.

Perturabo had been thinking about this question. He might have figured it out, or maybe not, but in any case he became a powerful Ascended Demon in the Eye of Terror, and this was his final outcome.

"My Lord! The Cataclysm has cleared the Guards."

A captain paid tribute to Perturabo. His heavy armor had some broken holes and was even emitting bursts of heat.

Regardless of whether the captain was injured in the battle just now, he showed his strongest side in front of Perturabo to implement the creed of steel inside and outside.

Perturabo ignored him and just walked past him without even lowering his eyes, just like he used to treat these imperfect offspring.

Looking at this huge palace, at least according to the history of this planet, it can definitely be called unprecedented.

Perturabo still remembers his reaction when he was brought in when he was young. His uneducated brain and ignorant eyes flashed with admiration. He once thought this was magnificent.

But after he entered the universe and became mature under the baptism of time and knowledge, he no longer thought that these stone palaces were some magical and rare landscapes.

The cleaned hall only had some blood and debris left. The slow movement of the Iron Warrior made Perturabo a little impatient. He turned back and stared coldly at the captain just now.

Under such coercion, this tenacious warrior who had never bent down under the enemy's artillery fire knelt down to Perturabo.

Kneeling down did not make Perturabo feel the slightest joy or relaxation. Instead, he showed a deeper disgust for the performance of the captain.

He raised his foot and kicked him away. The already injured captain's injury became more serious. His armor scraped against the ground mercilessly, creating a series of sparks.

None of the soldiers around dared to come up to help. They knelt down to Perturabo without saying a word.

After Perturabo walked away, a soldier came to help the seriously injured captain and took him to find a Leviathan Dreadnought that had not yet been put into battle to save his life.

The cruel and arrogant Lord of Steel entered the hall, and his eyes were attracted by the coffin in the middle.

The coffin was carefully carved from Olympian stone, and inside was an exquisite transparent crystal coffin. The metal plates were melted and remade into crystal panes that were harder than diamonds and placed on the top.

On the soft red velvet blanket inside, the body of Damex, the deceased Tyrant of Lokos and Imperial Governor of Olympia, was sleeping. He was also Perturabo's adoptive father.

Respectfully walking towards the coffin, Perturabo gently stroked the surface of the coffin with his hand, so as not to let his rough movements break this seemingly solid coffin into pieces.

Perturabo stared at Damex in the coffin quietly. His former father's face was sallow and thin because of his old age.

The cold corpse did not have many implants, nor did it have the inhuman transformation that could be found in the Mechanicus. He was just too old, so old that a mortal could not withstand the baptism of time after several life extensions. That's all.

"Father."

The meaning was a bit complicated, mixed with anger and helpless pain.

But this faint noise echoed very clearly in the hall, and even with the thunder of the artillery shells exploding outside, it could not cover up Perturabo's lament.

"Father. Ideal. Failed."

"You never called him father when he was alive, why do you do it now?"

The old and heavy female voice came, which made Perturabo's heart slightly active because of the heavy memories of the past.

Looking up, in the throne of Lokos, between the two twin god kings, there was an old female figure.

This woman was not frightened by Perturabo's war armor, nor was she shocked by the sound of artillery fire from time to time. She just stared at Perturabo's face stubbornly and firmly, with only disappointment and coldness in her eyes.

"Sister."

Perturabo spoke, his voice was a little hoarse and dry. Facing the only girl he almost fell in love with, his sister was playful, complex, and wise. He could not forget the experience of being taken to play in the palace by his young and lively sister when he was a child.

Even though his sister had grown old over the years, Perturabo still looked at her the same way he once looked at his sister.

It was just a pity that she, like the Emperor, had failed Perturabo's expectations, which made him feel disgusted.

"Sister."

He repeated it again, just like Perturabo had called out to his adoptive father's coffin twice. His sister deserved his respect.

"Now I am your sister, and he is your father?" Perturabo's sister's voice was not very pleasant, and the words she said were just as cold, "Only rebellion can make you say these warm words, it's ironic and regrettable."

The sound of a burst of grenade guns firing came, like thunder exploding in the dark night, returning the right to speak to Perturabo.

"Rebellion, there has never been any rebellion." Perturabo said, "They failed me, I just took back what I deserved, that's it."

"So facing your hometown, soaking it with artillery fire and blood, is what you think you should do?"

"Do you think that everything about Olympia is your father's fault?"

"Do you know how many people are against him behind the scenes?"

"Do you know that he never had the courage to say that his power comes from your existence?"

A series of rhetorical questions made Perturabo's sister's old and weak lungs unable to support a little. She gasped and held the armrests of the throne so that she could support herself.

Perturabo knew that this weakness and aging was a movement simulated by the robot according to the code and memory, but he was unwilling to point out and adjust this point.

He made this robot that was exactly the same as his sister in personality and memory, not to improve his technology.

Perturabo's mental journey, I created everything to feed the empire, and the empire has nothing to repay me. Kill kill kill kill kill kill!