40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 192 17. Molten Steel ([-])

"Are you trying to persuade me to arrange another private meeting between you and our Primarch?"

"Exactly."

"You know how much this request sounds to me." Frix pursed his lips. "... Scary?"

"I'm sorry if I offended you, First Captain Fryx." Khalil lowered his head slowly and withdrew his right hand. "But, like I said, we still have a war to fight"

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

"I mean, I don't think we should be spending our time waiting for your Primarch to wake up and expect him to be mentally prepared to go back into the war. Of course, I'm saying that with hope , from what you know of Perturabo, what do you think the first thing he does when he wakes up?"

The city breaker's lips trembled.

He sadly speculated in his mind that there were many results born out of the joint operation of his extraordinary mind and intelligence, and the final result was devastating to him.

He found that he had no way to refute Khalil Lohars's hints and his "hopeful" statements.

The most likely thing Perturabo will do after waking up is definitely not to drop everything and continue to recover Cordipo.Fryx himself didn't know what his Primarch would do, but he knew very well what he wouldn't.

It is true that it is not impossible to drop everything and join the war again, but the possibility is just outrageously low.

"...I understand." Flix lowered his head, feeling extremely ashamed for his performance today.

He was on the verge of tears—he was a member of the Trident Council, and he should have advised and stopped his Primarch, but he hadn't.He doesn't even qualify for failure because he hasn't even tried.

And, as far as Fricks was concerned, he knew exactly why he had foolishly and stubbornly asked Van Cleef, an outsider, to join him in advising.

Because he is afraid.

He knew that his primarch might attack him in rage, or punish him--Fryx didn't care, he didn't even fear death, but he feared disappointing Perturabo.

And this is the most important thing.

He didn't dare go because he knew Perturabo would be disappointed in him.Perturabo would roar at him so that he would never again be able to speak proudly of being a member of the Iron Warriors.
This is the source of Frix's disgrace.

"Captain Fricks."

The city breaker raised his head in confusion, a surge of anger rising in his heart for no reason - why are you still here?And why do you say my name in a calm tone?
I have already told you that I understand, that Perturabo, who I let you into the ward, will punish me for this, but I will not back down anymore, I have suffered enough shame today!
"Thank you," Khalil said softly. "But you won't be punished in any way."

He looked away and looked at the surveillance screen.Lying on the hospital bed and instruments, Perturabo, who was still in a coma, closed his eyes tightly, and there was no one in the ward except him.

"What?" Frix asked confusedly. "No, wait, what did you say?"

"Unless he is really hopeless." Khalil looked away and smiled, and the smile disappeared briefly.
-
Perturabo was dreaming.

In the dream, he returned to Olympia.He does his favorite work in his study.

His study was an attic, and it was anything but comfortable.Throughout the year, there will not be a few days with pleasant temperatures here.But Perturabo didn't care about it, he would do his work here no matter the weather.

He writes his thesis here.Mathematics, astronomy, architecture, history.
You might even find a dozen essays on literature here.He also does urban planning here, making machines with fantastic ideas and stunning designs.

He made them and then destroyed them.

Few things survived and passed down from the library, and Perturabo was no stingy about sharing knowledge, but he stopped doing it after a few tries.

The wise men in Olympia were completely unable to understand his design, and even showed fear.Several people also advertised in newspapers that his knowledge was 'cursed'.

Perturabo didn't need to think too much to understand what these people were thinking.It's nothing more than worrying that the status they have spent half their lives earning will be overturned because of a paper or blueprint.
Reminiscing about the past was a strange thing for Perturabo, who missed almost nothing on Olympia, except for Callifon.

However, if one relaxes the criterion of useless nostalgia, then he actually thought of his insignificant adoptive father a few times.

Perturabo wallowed in these memories, trying to ignore what he had felt before entering the coma.But his perception wouldn't just lull him into a restful sleep, as countless nights of his life had proved.

Perturabo would wake up immediately at the slightest sign of trouble, and this time was no exception.

He opened his eyes suddenly, and saw a black and white skeleton.Compared with the previous black and white, it has changed a little bit.The armor seems to be alive and changing all the time.

And Perturabo didn't care.

He coldly tore off the needles and instruments on his body, ignoring the pain from his fingers and ribs, and forced himself to stand up little by little, and he stood up straight. "What are you doing here?" Perturabo asked in disgust. "Come and laugh at me a second time?"

"I suggest you sit down and talk." Khalil replied quietly, without expressing any emotional fluctuations in Perturabo's tone and his words.

"why?"

"Sit down, Perturabo," Khalil said, looking up. "I don't like to use violence to force people, but if I have no choice, I will use worse than violence."

Perturabo raised his hands with a sneer, his fingers wrapped in thick bandages and plates.Clearly, Khalil didn't just let his 'fingers bend'. "You mean this method?"

"No," Khalil said. "I can sing."

Perturabo's sneer turned into astonishment at a certain moment, and then the anger and shame returned.They mingled together, distorting his countenance.He opened his mouth and made a sound in his throat, and the anger he had prepared for a long time was about to burst out.

Khalil sighed softly.

"—shut up." He rubbed the space between his brows, interrupting Perturabo before he could.

It was a novelty to him, but he wasn't happy about it.Perturabo was stunned again, but not because his words were interrupted, but because a golden sky eagle was thrown on him.

Although his hand was injured, Perturabo still grabbed it before it fell to the ground. After three seconds of looking at it, the Son of Olympia raised his head with an ugly expression.

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" he demanded.

"Your tone should be more respectful," Khalil replied deadpan. "I don't think the tone you're using right now is appropriate."

Perturabo clenched his right hand violently, the fixing plate was instantly broken, and the bones of his fingers were still creaking.The golden sky eagle stayed quietly in the palm without any deformation.

A few seconds later, Perturabo spoke again.

"...Dear Khalil Rohars." He squeezed the words between his teeth. "Is this enough?"

"For you, that's enough." Khalil nodded noncommittally. "If I were someone else, maybe I would have higher requirements. But, for you, I think this is enough."

"Not enough!" Perturabo groaned and threw the Skyhawk back. He stood where he was, his chest heaving rapidly.A few seconds later, he put on a distorted smile abruptly.

His eyes were wide and unblinking.He lifted his cheeks upward, forcing the corners of his mouth to curve. This action caused the wound at the corner of his mouth to open again, and blood gushed out, but he himself didn't care.

He smiled unemotionally and kindly.

"Is this enough?!"

"You don't have to push yourself like this, Perturabo." Khalil narrowed his eyes. "I'm not here to humiliate you or make you look bad. I'm here for the recovery of Cordibo. Whether you believe it or not, this is my true purpose."

"Yes, of course you can say that." Perturabo threw a sentence from his throat. "You've humiliated me, after all."

"That's what you asked for," Khalil replied calmly. "And my patience is limited, Perturabo."

He took a step forward slowly, stretched out his right hand, and placed it securely in mid-air.The fingers are straight and slightly bent.It took Perturabo a glance to see what the gesture meant, and his cheeks began to twitch again.

"What do you mean?" He took a deep breath and asked in a voice as low as steel.

"It's called a handshake," Khalil said. "But I don't want to shake your hand. I only do it with people I respect. I do it because I have something to show you. I'm a psyker, dear Petula Bo."

"Don't call me that prefix!"

"Great Perturabo."

"enough!"

The Son of Olympia bared his teeth and took a step forward, ignoring the injury of his fingers, and grasped Khalil's cold right hand.

He used a lot of force, and if it were an ordinary thing, it would probably have begun to distort by now, but Khalil was so calm as if nothing happened, and even smiled.

It seems to have achieved a certain purpose.

　One more chapter.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)