Hawks from the Land of Light are calling me a dove and an undercover agent in the chat group.

Ignoring all warnings, Peturabo looked up and stared!

On the one hand, he was conflicted and felt that even his own father might be deceiving him.

On the other hand, he was also secretly hoping that the Eye of Fear was really terrifying. If that were the case, wouldn't he be even more valuable to face the Eye of Fear unscathed? Let his foolish father see his worth!

Kassa smiled; it was a smile of relief.

Although he had done his homework beforehand and knew that Peturabo was a very eccentric person, he was still amused when he saw him in person.

He wasn't frustrated; no matter how stubborn or conflicted the child was, he had the patience to raise him. But in all these years, this was the first time he had ever seen someone so conflicted.

Don't be fooled by his inability to dissuade Peturabo by telling the truth directly. Even if he speaks ironically, he still won't be able to stop Peturabo, because Peturabo will still overthink, become conflicted, and wonder if it's a lie, a lie within a lie, true, or false.

He also longed to be treated with pure, selfless affection and wanted to trust others, but the twisted nature he inherited from Neos was amplified in Peturabo, making him unable to trust anything.

Even with himself, Peturabo doesn't really trust himself.

But you can't blame him for that.

Peturabo's inner conflict was one thing, but another was that he realized earlier than his brothers that he was definitely not a naturally born creation and did not belong to this world.

In reality, he would feel very uneasy and insecure. He would be afraid that he had been abandoned by his creator and that in this place which was not his true home, who could he trust?

In these reflections, Peturab, who has no one to confide in, gradually descends into twisted paranoia, ultimately beyond redemption.

Fortunately, it's not too late.

The reason why Peturabo was so incurable in history that he could even kill his own adopted sister was because he lost his memory while observing the Eye of Fear, and was then found and adopted at the foot of the mountain.

The fact that a child who was already so conflicted suffered amnesia was like adding insult to injury, completely freezing Peturabo's soul.

As long as he doesn't lose his memory, there's still room to bring Peturabo back from being the most twisted to being just an ordinary twisted person.

"Ah, my eyes! Ah, what is this? Father, save me! Don't come any closer!"

With his head held high, Peturabo saw the Eye of Fear, and he saw the many mysteries of the warp and chaos, those irrational, illogical things that destroyed his steely rational worldview.

Despite being separated by countless light-years, they seemed so close. Perturabo felt as if his head was about to explode, the pain unbearable. If this continued, his brain would definitely trigger its self-protection mechanism due to the inability to bear these blasphemous and chaotic images, resulting in amnesia.

Yes, but that's assuming it's just Peturabo alone.

“Petulabo, look at me, look at me.”

Kasa's gentle voice came through.

Perturabo, clutching his brain and screaming, subconsciously obeyed. He forced open his painful eyes, and the next second, a faint golden light emanating from Kasa instantly dispelled all the blasphemous chaos that had invaded his soul.

Peturabo went from critically ill to healthy in an instant.

He sought advice from Angron, one

After watching Angron lead the gladiators in a rebellion, and witnessing Angron's rebel army successfully break into a safe place and, under his command, begin to capture several cities that were originally ruled by slave owners, Kasa left behind three brilliant plans that encompassed the subsequent actions of the rebel army. Then, Kasa suddenly traveled from Nukelia to this place.

Here, the power of the Ultra Warriors has begun to return, although it is less than one ten-thousandth of what it was. However, the essence of their power will not be weakened. It is difficult to fight against Chaos, but it is easy to dispel the Chaos that invaded Peturabo from light-years away.

The chaos was dispelled, but Perturabo remained mesmerized. He saw a giant of light, a unique giant of light. Was that his father's true form?

Did they deliberately create the appearance of a weak human just to appease their useless son?

Even though he was already like a superhuman compared to other mortals, an absolutely superior life form, he was like an ant in front of his father's true form.

Compared to her father, she felt so weak. Could her father possibly have any value that he could exploit?

So, when his father came to see him, to warn him not to look into the eyes of fear, to dispel the stupid, useless, and hateful chaotic images he saw, was it all out of a father's love?

He saw it. When he saw the true form of the Giant of Light, he also saw the infinitely generous love emanating from the Giant of Light—the love for him, Perturabo. It was a great love, and also a small love; it was a pure love that did not ask for any exploitation!

My father loves me, so do I... do I have the right to love my father?

Or is it that the father's rescue was on the premise of severing the father-son relationship, and that this rescue was also a warning to himself that he was too useless and should never call him father again?

"what should I do?"

The endless, conflicting thoughts were causing Peturabo mental anguish. He had never thought there was anything wrong with his personality before, but now, he was starting to not want to continue like this.

He wanted to love his father well, and he also wanted to be loved by his father well.

"Ok?"

Kasa was a little surprised. He had thought it would take a lot of time to slowly sort out Peturabo's stubborn personality, but he didn't expect it to happen so quickly.

However, although it was unexpected, there are advantages to speed. At least it's good that the child has less internal conflict as soon as possible.

“What should you do... If you don’t know, then try to trust me, Peturabo, you could have been a good boy.”

Kasa said earnestly, “My child, don’t make too clear a distinction between love and value. This is the foundation of the universe. A person’s love and value are certainly two different things, but they will always influence each other.”

"Even for me, I don't expect you to have any so-called value in the broad sense, but I will still have expectations of you. I will hope that you will not become an accomplice to evil, I will hope that you will not go down the path of cruelty and cold-bloodedness, I will hope that you can be kind to people, whether they are human or aliens, and I will even hope that you can persuade others to walk the path of justice."

“This isn’t value in a broad sense, but when I hope you can become that kind of person, perhaps it could be said that I’m asking you to create value that benefits me… But, there’s no doubt that I love you.”

"Even if you can't become the kind of person I hope you will be, as long as you don't fall into darkness and evil, I will always love you, my child."

Peturabo listened to these words; he heard everything, but nothing else mattered. What mattered was love!

He heard it clearly: his father said he would always love him!

Given this, what reason did he have not to become the Peturabo his father loved most? What reason did he have not to become the kind of person his father wanted to see?

His father said he didn't need to have any value, but his father was too busy, too busy, too busy. He could feel it. In his long life, his father seemed to have never had a moment of rest.

So, if I become the kind of like-minded good child my father wants, then of course I can get more attention from him when he has a spare moment from his busy schedule, right?

Peturabo's thinking is undergoing a dramatic transformation. He is still somewhat conflicted, and this conflict is his inherent nature, but it has lessened considerably compared to before.

This transition may seem too fast, but that's how it really is in the Warhammer universe.

In the Warhammer universe, every person's transformation can happen in an instant, caused by a single event or person, which can violently churn their thoughts and influence their entire future direction.

In the original history, Primarchs would generally bow down to the Emperor the moment they saw him, precisely because they saw the unique charm and emotion in the Emperor.

The charm and emotions of the Ultra Warriors are deeper and more complete than those of the Emperor, except that they do not have the special attack bonus against humans like the Emperor. This is especially true for veteran Ultra Warriors like Kasa!

"I understand, Father...Father's friend!"

In his excitement, Peturabo almost blurted out the truth, but thankfully he stopped in time, which made him very grateful.

He's not qualified to call his father yet. Just wait and see. When he becomes the kind of person his father hopes for, he will openly and legitimately acknowledge his father as his father!

"very good."

Kassa smiled and nodded, thinking...

Peturabo was the most difficult one to deal with, but things went so smoothly. That's great.

Chapter 22 Conrad Coz, Space Batman

Nostrama.

On this dark and gloomy planet shrouded in thick dust and pollution, in this hive world teeming with pathetic criminals, there is unexpectedly a church.

This church exists to allow people to repent, but it sells indulgences. All the churches originated from the property of a certain noble family. As long as people come to the church to repent after committing a crime, they put money into the confessional box and leave a record.

Therefore, as long as the crime is targeted at the lower classes and not audacious attacks on the nobles, it can be forgiven to some extent, and the common people cannot use this as a reason to attack them.

Today, this cathedral has been booked by a mafia godfather, and he is the only person in the vast cathedral. Money is flowing into the confessional, which contains his utmost sincerity.

Simply because he had recently begun expanding his territory, he had killed countless poor people and beggars in the process.

Taking over other gangs' territory requires weapons, ammunition, and manpower, but squeezing out the already meager territories of the poor doesn't; one-sided killing is enough.

Unfortunately, to do this, every time, ransom must be paid to the nobles, just like now. After all, in the eyes of the nobles, the poor are their assets, and if they are massacred, it would be a loss of assets.

"Your Majesty, the great nobleman of Wayne, please forgive my disrespect, Amen."

“The nobles will forgive you for the sake of your wealth, but the suffering people will not.”

Swish!

Just as Godfather Oswald was feeling the pain in his neck, a cold glint suddenly touched him. The hairs on his body stood on end. He reached behind his neck and saw a shocking gurgling of blood!

Godfather Oswald's pupils constricted sharply, and he screamed in alarm: "Midnight ghost?!"

The first blow announced its arrival. The reason it only broke the skin was not because the Midnight Wanderer couldn't kill him with that blow, but because it was meant to toy with him like a cat playing with a mouse, to instill fear in him. The Midnight Wanderer's actions were terrifying in this way, and it was already well-known to everyone!

"No, no, no, please don't do this, Midnight Ghost, please, no! I only killed a group of lowly people! The nobles' actions were a hundred times worse than mine, why are you killing me? Ah, help! Help!"

Father Oswald screamed, but the next second, with several thuds, various heads were thrown from the darkness in all directions, landing at his feet. These were all his men, whom he had ordered to guard outside the church. (Heavenly Joy)

There were dozens of them, but each one was killed silently, without making a sound.

The church candles were all extinguished, and the electricity was cut off.

In the darkness, slow, deep footsteps could be heard, sometimes faint, sometimes faint, seemingly everywhere, yet nowhere at all. The figure of the midnight ghost was hidden within, like a bat.

"No, don't do that! I can give you all my money, all of it!"

Oswald pleaded humbly, looking like a complete victim.

But Conrad Coates would never forget how triumphant and arrogant this mob godfather was when he slaughtered the poor who were already homeless due to persecution by the nobility, killing his own people as if he were slaughtering a herd of immobile cattle.

“Godfather Oswald, you are guilty. You, along with your wives and children who have murdered innocent people, and all your henchmen who aided and abetted you, are all guilty and deserve to die.”

Conrad Kozner's face, pale as a vampire from lack of sunlight, suddenly appeared in the darkness, bringing judgment and pronouncement.

At the same time, Oswald, who seemed to have given up resisting, grabbed his modified weapon, the Black Umbrella, and attacked the world's infamous judge of evil, Midnight Wanderer.

But it was all in vain. A cold glint flashed and disappeared, and Oswald's weapon, along with his head, was sliced ​​in two, rolling to the ground with a thud, ending his sinful life.

The whole process was so easy, as if it had been rehearsed countless times beforehand, as if Conrad Coates had already experienced such a scene firsthand.

This was a resounding victory in the trial.

But instead of relaxing, Conrad Coz tensed up and suddenly turned his head to look at another dark corner of the cathedral. His tense posture, which showed absolute weakness and seemed as if he could be killed at any moment, was something he had never done before since his debut.

"Do those high and mighty noble lords even have a powerful figure like you under their command?"

Conrad Coates spoke into the darkness, cold sweat trickling down his forehead, his mind and body filled with pessimism.

Immediately, the darkness was illuminated, the extinguished candles regained their light, and a man less than two meters tall, not as tall as Conrad Coz, appeared leisurely there.

His stance was so devoid of any aggressive intent, so full of sincerity, that Conrad Coates understood even more clearly the vast difference between himself and his opponent.

This wasn't just a numerical difference; his instincts told him that even his prized, battle-hardened skills were far inferior to his opponent's.