Chapter 118 A Strange Gift

"Do you miss her?" Morse asked, and the two stood together at the front of the Iron Blood, looking out the window at the small starship going away.

A few hours later, under the protection of Geller's position and Morse's continuous watch, the ship will dive into the vast ocean and return to Olympia, the planet with green mountains and silver steel.

Perturabo lowered his eyes after the starship was out of sight, and his aura reached an unusually peaceful state. From another perspective, his consciousness in this shell was emitting a faint and peaceful golden light.

Unlike the calmness gained by restraining emotions and operating thoughts, this is a kind of peace from the inside out, just like the mountain lake water after the ice melts, it is not frozen due to the low temperature, but just exists quietly, reflecting the shadows of the clouds in the blue sky.

"I thought I didn't miss her so much." Perturabo said, leaving from the window, and Morse walked with him.

Only the front half of the Iron Blood, named Dodekatheon, was equipped with enough portholes. This included the activity room prepared by Perturabo for his Masons Club, the future tactical discussion and simulation center, and the living area of ​​the Iron Warriors.

The Iron Lord thought that this was enough to take care of the mental health of his offspring. Of course, he would come here from time to time to look at the stars and discuss various issues from daily life to daily combat with his warriors.

"Where are we going now?" Morse said, and Perturabo felt that he was asking a question even though he knew the answer.

He finally believed that it was as likely to hide something completely from Morse than to let the aliens shout "Long live the Emperor" - perhaps the latter was simpler, and Horus seemed to have had a successful precedent.

"Go back to my office," Perturabo replied, "I have a gift for you."

"You can choose to believe it or not, I really didn't find out what it was. Morse lengthened the vowels in the language. In these small things, he would keep some freshness for himself as a seasoning.

Perturabo nodded. After tossing back and forth several times, he gradually lost confidence in his gift.

This was actually not what Morse really needed. He didn't understand why he thought of such a weird gift. Perhaps this was the disadvantage of fighting for a long time before. Even as a Primarch, his brain was soaked up by war-related terms.

It didn't take them long to get back to the office. Perturabo walked to his cabinet, took a deep breath with his back to Morse, resisted the gaze from behind, raised his broad palm, and stood it near the palm lock.

"I need to tell you in advance," Perturabo said, "your preferences have always been a mystery to me. You have hardly paid attention to the basic needs of humans. Clothing, food, and housing have never touched you. There is only one thing that has never been separated from you since I met you. "

"Hmm..." Morse thought for a moment, "Unfriendly language? Are you going to give me a dictionary?"

"No." Perturabo's facial lines tightened, he was now like a carved stone statue, and it became a little difficult for him to move. "It's your chair."

Rattan chairs, rattan chairs, and more rattan chairs. Perturabo often wondered how many chairs Morse could touch out of the void. The black-robed man wanted to spend half of his time sitting in a rattan chair, the remaining quarter lying in a rattan chair, and the last quarter lying on the bed sleeping.

Perturabo pressed his palm and the cabinet door slid open to both sides. The speed at which his feet moved away from the cabinet door was slower than the reaction time of the Primarch or even the Space Marine. To be more accurate, the speed of movement of a mortal under the age of five or over the age of eighty might be equal to his.

"Wow. "Morse said, walking forward quickly.

The things in the cabinet slid to the center of the room along the track laid out by the golden spell, and the top fell into Morse's palm wrapped in black cloth. Perturabo held his breath.

What appeared in front of Morse was a unique chair - a magical object that was difficult to summarize in simple language, so it could only be palely described as a chair.

The chair used black leather as a backrest and seat cushion. In order to move, the chair legs were modified into two huge wheels, and pedals were added for the feet.

A hidden operating lever was installed at the front end of the armrest, relying on the user's finger to activate the hidden energy system in the chair to control the direction and speed of movement.

"What is the fastest speed?"

"About two hundred miles per hour." Perturabo whispered. "It uses the plasma reactor function. If the booster is activated, the short-term instantaneous speed can break the speed of sound. "

Morse wiped his face and tried to reduce the smile on his face. He found the hidden button on the back of the chair, and after pressing it, two gun barrels immediately extended from the top of the chair. If the user sits in it, the two gun barrels will be just above the user's left and right shoulders.

"This is a laser weapon," Perturabo introduced his creation, "not the kind of Imperial Mortal Auxiliary Army, but the ancient technology left on the Rock of Judgment on the Olympia satellite. It can accurately break through heavy armor, has strong armor-piercing ability, and can switch modes through the bypass switch. In addition, it is equipped with a smoke bomb launcher and a searchlight. "

Morse stroked the smooth iron-gray gun barrel, enjoying the cold and gentle feeling of steel in his palm. If he was not in the Iron Blood that Perturabo had just built, he would have sat on it and started to experience it.

Perturabo bent down and flipped the control switch hidden in the wheel axle, and a new gun barrel extended from under the right armrest. At the same time, the seat cushion popped open, and the metal box hidden under the thick black leather cushion was exposed to the air.

"This gun can fire shells with subatomic cores." Perturabo introduced as calmly as possible, "used to destroy bunkers and enemies behind bunkers. Suitable for supporting street fighting."

Morse opened the metal box and took out a silver-shining power dagger and a brand new yellow and black striped grenade gun modified to the size that mortals can use. The remaining space was filled with several boxes of bullets.

"Cool." He said.

Perturabo was born with a little joy in his heart.

Morse's fingers slid over the armrest and pressed the mechanism hidden under the leather on the left. Another gun barrel - actually six gun barrels were detached from the leather of the armrest, supported by the extended mechanical arm, and suspended in the air.

"Gatling?"

"Gatling, the fastest-firing weapon on this chair." Perturabo said. "Also, the thrusters are under the pedals."

"Any more surprises?" Morse asked.

"Of course, but this is the last one." Perturabo's mouth began to lift. He patted the chair's wheels, and a holographic projection immediately covered the chair, hiding all the guns and cannons in the light and shadow.

At the same time, a gradually solidified human figure constructed by projection appeared on the chair. It looked like a particularly weak version of Morse, slumped weakly in the ordinary leather chair, with his thin arms resting on the armrests. The back of the chair barely supported the weak body of the projection, and he took a few difficult breaths from time to time, and the holographic image played in a loop.

Morse laughed so hard that he began to cough with his mouth covered. "Your father is above," he patted his chest and panted, "You are a genius, Perturabo, seriously. You really are."

"So you... like it?"

"The only reason I didn't start trying it right away was because I didn't want to blow through your new ship." Morse laughed, "I like it too much. Don't worry, I will engrave a spell on each bullet to increase its power."

"Wow." Perturabo happily suppressed the smile on his lips with his thumb and index finger. "I'm glad you like it."

Morse shook his head regretfully: "I lost to you this time. The gift I gave you is too ordinary. I'll give you a new one next time. Reach out and take it."

The next moment, a huge war hammer suddenly fell from the air and was grabbed by Perturabo who was in a hurry.

The war hammer has a simple design and a smooth structure. The flowing runes are looming under the light. I don't know what function it has. The front end of the hammer handle is engraved with a miniature hammer-shaped icon that looks like this hammer. It is embossed in white on the black base, and a yellow strip is drawn on the edge to form a circle of black and yellow Iron Warriors' standard features.

"I designed a legion icon for you," Morse said, "You can also design another one yourself. By the way, I added some functions to this hammer, you can try them slowly - but there is no automatic background music, if you want I will add it now."

"I am in need of a weapon," Perturabo now has nothing to cover his rare smile because both hands are used to hold the hammer handle. "I can let the Iron Blood take it to the other me. Thank you, Morse. But you have to follow the Iron Blood..."

Before he finished speaking, the voice of another Perturabo came to Perturabo's mind, causing him to stop his movements temporarily, and the joy on his face added surprise.

"The auspicious observation instrument shows," his voice came along with the shared memory, "there is a huge interstellar spaceship in orbit of the planet ahead. It is almost the same size as a small satellite, covered with ancient weapons that are different from the existing technology of the Empire, and contains huge buildings such as monasteries that are still under repair and reconstruction."

"Yes, it is much larger than the Iron Blood. And yes, the white-haired giant walking on the deck should be a Primarch."

I really want to write a story about the Emperor who speaks and reopen the official history...

Lao He: The bastard street kid dad forced me to work 996 for 30 years

Wolf King: I lost to the Emperor in eating, so sad

Ullanor Queen Primarch: Dad really ran away and went back to Terra to fish, uh

Warmaster Daven: The Emperor became a god? Bullshit, can he become a god like that?

Big birthday celebration: refers to forcibly pulling the father out to work