Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 601 Alpha Primus
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In fact, not much had changed in the office from where they had arrived.

Everything seemed quiet, with no apparent damage or signs of Chaos intrusion.

Perturabo, alias Ramezane Kalosini, was even still sitting in the same chair, in the same place, looking equally unharmed.

But the one still named Perturabo - the one who smelled completely wrong - showed a very canine facial expression. He was trying hard to restrain his lips from curling up to show his canine teeth, but the subtle movement of his facial muscles still betrayed some kind of instinct in him.

This was what the First Primaris saw when, after a moment's hesitation, he chose not to leave Belisarius Cawl, who looked like a cooked, steaming iron-shelled oyster, alone with the Iron Guards next door, but instead chose to drag the motionless Archmagos back to at least his office.

Perturabo now looked like a wild animal on high alert, facing an unexpected and unfamiliar situation, stripped of the atmosphere that made people relax their guard in this room with only three awake creatures. What remained was a thing of such pure anger, rage and killing instinct concentrated in a physical prison called Logos, and the desire to destroy everything equally was purer, stronger, more emotionless and fairer than any servant of the blood god he had killed.

A kind of enlightenment came to his mind, shaking the mind of the Primaris: for the being in front of him, the end of life in the entire galaxy was an option that could be achieved and was not unacceptable. All life, no matter how noble or humble, all existence, was equal.

His master, Kaur, deserved his defeat.

The First of the Primaris knew Cawl all too well.

He probably felt that this small paradise-like territory was governed and built in such a gentle and meticulous manner, which made the great sage think that this ruler might be better at agriculture, art and construction, and was more likely to have a simple, hard-working and defensive personality. He was most likely willing to listen to the prisoner's eloquent explanations before punishing him, so he performed his usual dramatic and adventurous behavior so straightforwardly in front of him.

To put it bluntly, he thought the other party was good-tempered and reasonable, and would be able to get away easily even if caught. So he planned to make a Jedi counterattack as usual and then steal something to complete a big drama. He didn't expect that the other party was not such a person at heart, so Cole suffered such a big setback.

As his early creation and assistant for thousands of years, the First Caster knew early on that Kaul's audacity and arrogance, although they had brought him so much success, would one day lead to his downfall, because although Kaul himself did not think so, the First Caster always believed that Kaul was not immortal.

Apparently, today is a good day to realize that.

"What's wrong?" The man sitting behind the desk blinked at them, with ice-blue eyes and a body full of coordination, charm and strength.

The genetic code that the ancient compiler had wrought into the flesh and blood of the Primarch was beautiful and flawless, completely different from the crude, ugly, patchwork imitations of second-rate tinkers that had created the Primaris Prime and his eternal pain.

The Primarch was undoubtedly charming and beautiful in the common sense of human beauty, and compared to his gracefully elongated and widened skull structure, the Primaris First was reminded of his own face that he had often glimpsed in the cold steel bedroom or on the reflective surface of Cawl's experimental equipment.

This is a face with a broad skull, which elongates the facial features. It is plain and boring, covered with scars from countless surgeries that were cut and sutured, as well as various scars left by thousands of years of exploration and battle. His facial features are by no means ugly, but they appear unrefined, dull and rough.

If the face of the Primarch may make mortals feel oppressive and terrifying, but at the same time make people feel the exquisiteness and balance of the work of nature, then the face of the First One is like the draft of the Primarch - just like when a great artist carves those immortal statues, he will first use a piece of not-so-good stone to carve a practice or trial work. At first glance, it seems to be the case, but it is much more sloppy and rough. From the second glance, people can't help but frown, thinking that this face is more like a monster that needs to be modified.

The First Cast is undoubtedly such a work of Belisarius Cawl, full of legacy errors and places that need to be modified but have not been modified, as well as the persistent pain and instability they cause that cannot be removed by drugs. Because his pain starts from omissions in genetic coding, rather than ordinary physical pain, they are constant and more intense. The First Cast has actually become accustomed to killing, fighting, walking, cooperating with tests or sleeping in pain. Although it is still painful when sleeping, his brain modification does not care about this. His brain can complete Cawl's designed function by resting as needed.

It cannot be denied that the First Forged was designed very, very carefully. As a work of genetic engineering, he was designed perfectly by the Great Sage in terms of practicality and functionality. This is why he has been able to serve as Cawl's warrior and assistant for thousands of years. Most of the time, he is sent out alone to handle tasks that require an entire team of Space Marines, or even more.

Even though Caul would sometimes try to say strange things to him, like suddenly and without warning claiming after the conversation that he thought he was as important as Qiu Fo, that would only make the First Cast feel more helpless and resentful. His attitude towards the life that every Qiu Fo had to go through had gone from sympathy to numb acceptance - but he also couldn't resist his master and maker, as diligence and loyalty were also written into his genetic code.

Although these thoughts seemed to come one after another, in the actual flow of time, it only took a moment for their eyes to meet.

The shape of those icy blue eyes changed, and he was smiling, the First Primaris realized, not only at the utterly stressed-looking Perturabo, but at himself as well.

"I can see that you really want him to die, why don't you just let him die?"

His warp vision was completely suppressed, so he could only see the man in reality raise his finger and point at the Archsage of Domination, who was lying at the feet of the First Cast, his life or death unknown.

The First Primaris bit his lip.

Many, many times indeed he had wished that Call were dead, and perhaps his endless obligations to fight and work would be over.

He himself is a monster, and so is Kaur.

The First Forge imagined that Belisarius Cawl's ten thousand-year-delayed death had finally come, not the grand, dramatic, galaxy-wide demise of a genius and artist that the Archmagos had been expecting, but an ignominious and silent death as a failed thief and deceived.

And he finally realized that he hadn't expected this to happen as much as he had.

Just as the Primaris realized his inner complexity and confusion, the man behind the desk turned to Perturabo BC. "Why don't you come over? Perturabo? What's wrong with you?" The man spoke High Gothic in a voice that was just right and elegant, even with a slight accent, showing an invisible closeness that even made Perturabo BC feel a sense of real familiarity, but without that kind of natural laziness.

"who are you?"

The border collie sat in his cockpit, all the instrument lights and screens around him flashing non-stop, his ears tightened and pressed tightly back against his head, his lips twitched from time to time, his nose twitched at high speed, his mane exploded from his neck to his back, his hind limb muscles were tense, and his claws had dug deeply into the soft seat cushions.

"I am who I am," the other said, in a language the First Forge had never heard before. "I am Ramezane Kalosini, and I am Perturabo."

In an instant, the pressure in the entire room was relieved.

Shouzhu took a deep breath from the bottom of his lungs - only then did he realize that he had not even dared to breathe until now.

But it was obvious that the person next to him was not someone who could be easily fooled.

"Really?" Perturabo BC raised his hand and pointed at the documents and sundries on the desk that had obviously been messed up by the noise just now. The various small gadgets rolling on the ground showed that some accident had indeed happened on this desk.

"So what's going on here? Did you just pass out? Or what happened? Belisarius Cawl suffered a severe overload and backlash. Do you have anything to say about this?"

"As much as I'd like to claim responsibility, I know nothing about it. Like you said, I seemed to lose consciousness for a moment, and when I woke up, I was sitting here." The man behind the desk shrugged. "What happened to him?"

"Nothing. He's cooked, falling apart, burning, and finished. Unless someone wants to save him."

Perturabo had not relieved his urge to destroy, he had simply hidden it better beneath his shell, the First Forge realized, and realized that he might have one final, decisive conversation before witnessing the extinction of all life in the universe.

Maybe there was no need to consider whether to save Caul? They could die together here and now, without violating his genetic code that forbade him from harming himself. A second-rate tinker monster and his creation, quite appropriate.

Even at this thought, a flash of unprecedented relief flashed through Shouzhu's heart, which had been tormented by pain.

"He may have..." As he said this, the blue-eyed Perturabo turned his head towards the First Forge and Cawl at his feet.

Shouzhu suddenly felt a sense of "emptiness", as if his composition, his past, his future, his pain and all his secrets were ruthlessly taken out, decomposed, spread out, and laid out, and displayed in this gaze with incomparable clarity. As long as he wanted, he would be able to "tell" their entire person. Shouzhu didn't know what this power was, and he couldn't define it with any words, but the powerful talent he gained after being designed made him vaguely aware of this horror.

"Hmm... Kaul's brain can't be described as a mere illegal enhancement... This brain is like an entire palace built illegally on a one-story bungalow... He is really capable, and he is really conceited. Oh, he is losing all his synaptic vitality, and the connection with the external storage can probably last for a maximum of 22 seconds. After this time, it will be unable to anchor, and the entire existence will begin to drift. But the repairable parts are not enough, so we still have to rebuild a new brain for him to put back."

"Reconstruct? But his brain is already 90% mature, and it's dissolving and releasing lipids," said the other Perturabo, but he stood still and didn't move closer to the desk. "Where can you find a backup of a brain with such a special structure? The protocol for creating something out of nothing can only be used once, and now it can't be created out of nothing."

Wait, how do you know I want to save him? Maybe giving up on his treatment would be better for him, for me, for Qiu Fo, and for everyone else...

"Ahaha. The First of the Primaris. Well... I understand why you want to get rid of your old father... Col is a little better at raising a son than someone else, but it's just a little bit, no more. But he is better than him in one respect, at least his rupture has not reached that level."

As if reading his mind, the pair of icy blue eyes swept over his neck and chest again. "This is it. Unfortunately, although the family wants to remove the tube and give up treatment, Cawl cannot die, at least not now, and not here. He still has important tasks to complete. Originally, there was a backup that followed Malcador to Macragge to prevent this situation, but it has been deleted. Unfortunately, because the fate line there is slightly stronger than calculated, there is really no room for the backup. Given that no one has thought of the problem of the port not being used but not actually offline - this is indeed a new blind spot."

What is he saying?
"Never mind, I was just talking to myself. Now, it's true that I can't create something out of nothing, but how do you know that I won't be able to find a new brain for Belisarius Cawl himself?"

"From what I know, he really likes to travel around the galaxy adventuring and creating Primaris Space Marines. He also fills up the cellars of various planets like a squirrel storing food for the winter, and then forgets about them after filling them up. But since he can't find them himself, how can you find them? You can't even dig them out of his own memory. Besides, there will only be inorganic substances and mechanical carriers such as the outer storage chip that are easy to preserve. Although he is arrogant and presumptuous, he would not be so confident to preserve his wetware brain in such an environment."

"Who said we were going to dig into his brain?" the man behind the desk said, "Well... let me call up the data and have a look... check it out... Oh, as I thought, indeed, there are treasures to be found in dusty warehouses. I found it. Look."

He turned the dataslate on his desk toward them.

Shouzhu looked and saw the name of a planet.

Bella Kahn.

(End of this chapter)