Chapter 68 Iron Warrior

"You worry too much, Jaco. De Feis said calmly, holding the helmet in his arms and wiping it, "The new transfer order has been delivered, and hundreds of fighting brothers have been incorporated into your camp. The Primarch did not blame us."

"Can we have a clear conscience if we don't blame?" Jaco's nervous voice sounded muffled in the helmet, filtered through the steel and came into the air, "And the war blacksmiths and tridents added by the Father of Genes to the chain of command are both vacant. Doesn't this just show that we don't satisfy the Primarch at all! Or maybe in his eyes, we are not as good as the native warriors who fought with him on this planet. Also, your yellow paint is not sprayed well, and the straight stripes on the shoulder armor have the wrong arc at the bottom, De Feis!"

A power armor with yellow and black stripes on his chest appeared with the noise of his iron blocks colliding and the rhythmic footsteps. "Two brothers, maybe we just haven't got enough military merits yet."

"Shut up." Jaco said unhappily, "You are the first person to talk to the Father of Genes. "

"He was also the first person on the ship to hit the target thrown by the Gene-Father." De Feis stopped wiping his helmet and glanced at his shoulder armor. Because his vision was blocked and he couldn't see the lower edge, he had to quietly step back half a step, hoping that the shadows cast by other Astartes armor would cover the possible paint problems on the shoulder armor - or the mistakes that Hako was nitpicking.

Nador raised his hand to show that he understood, and silently blended back into the deep sea of ​​steel where his fighting brothers were lined up.

Hako continued: "In any case, we have confessed to the Primarch. We hope he will punish us."

"Punishment? Are you looking forward to it? "A harsh voice came from above Jaco, like a hammer hitting the hot, solid air, hitting Jaco's heart hard. His whole body was hot, and he tried his best to control his desire to kneel down and repent.

Then, a heavy and warm weight fell on Jaco's head. The palm of the Primarch stroked his helmet, as if melting his whole body in an instant, making him want to cry. He couldn't speak, for fear that his trembling voice would disappoint the Primarch's touch.

The Primarch let Jaco go, and patted Defeis's shoulder armor with his other hand, and another Fourth Legion soldier with a stiff body and tears in his eyes was immediately born.

The tall giant passed through the middle of several square formations of the Fourth Legion, like molten iron poured into a mold, and everyone stood still and could not move wherever he went.

The Primarch was not wearing armor, but an iron-colored robe. When he stepped onto the main podium of the Grand Theater he built with his own hands and turned to his soldiers, the Fourth Legion saw A majestic face of a surprisingly young man.

His features were like a sharp rock that had just been born. His cold blue eyes had not yet been eroded by wind and rain. His robes and muscles formed a solid and indestructible line like a mountain range, which made the armored vehicles and even the breeze and dust in the whole venue intimidated by his severity and could not move rashly. Anyone who saw Perturabo would not doubt that he was the epitome of steel and strength.

If any Astartes dared to muster up the courage to look directly at their gene-father, they would have noticed the obvious beauty in the platinum laurel crown adorning his black hair, the appropriate golden ornaments on his robes, and the smooth and beautiful shadows of the cloth. Even the most simple clothes became a true testament to the combination of art and practicality on Perturabo.

Some ancient characters were engraved on the golden wristbands on his hands. After urgent collective study, the Fourth Legion knew that it was a re-emergence of one of the earliest human languages ​​that was passed down to Olympia.

"My Legion." Perturabo looked down at his Legion, "My warriors made of steel. Today is my first formal meeting with you. Starting from this moment, we will fight for humanity together, gather under the banner of the Empire, and bring the entire galaxy back into the territory of the human empire. "

"Before coming here, I didn't prepare any speeches. This is because I believe you don't need extra encouragement. I believe your will has been tempered for a long time and is as strong as steel. I also don't want our first meeting to be long and inefficient, forcing you to stand in the scorching sun and listen to the superiors on the stage. So I will keep my speech as brief as possible. "

"I never doubt your loyalty to humanity. As for your abilities, whether it is past glory or shame, it doesn't matter to me. What I want to see is the present and the future that I have seen with my own eyes. I will name you Iron Warriors, this is what I expect from you and myself. "

"Do you accept it?"

"Yes! "

As soon as the voice fell, countless firm responses came from tens of thousands of armored vehicles, echoing in the open-air theater through the sound transmission structure that Perturabo had designed himself, and vibrating deep in the steel and tens of thousands of hearts present.

"Very good." Perturabo's tone remained unchanged, "I have already sent the Legion Organization Change Document to you in advance through astrologer, and I will reiterate it here today. The Iron Warriors will be reorganized into levels from large to small, namely, the battalion, the heavy company, the front company, the hundred-man team, and the independent squad. Conventional armor, artillery, engineers, communication teams, and logistics support teams will be deployed in proportion. In addition, the core force of the Tirantikos Ruler will be set up as a separate heavy force. Is it acceptable?"

"Yes!"

"In the Iron Warriors, honor and shame will belong to this united whole. Your honor is my honor, and your mistakes are my mistakes. The assessment method for the Warsmith and Trident, which is temporarily suspended, will be ability rather than personal qualifications, strength rather than personal honor. When I see any of you who has the ability to completely design and shape the regional battle situation, and decide the battlefield like a blacksmith forging his work, he will be my Warsmith. Do you accept it?"

"Yes!"

"Very good. My children." The young Primarch said, "From now on, Olympia will also be our common home planet, just as I accept Terra as my second home. I will introduce my family to you, and I hope you will respect mortals as you respect each other."

A mortal woman who is much shorter than the Primarch came from the backstage of the theater, and her elegance and majesty did not differ because of her body size.

Kaliphon took the loudspeaker microphone and greeted the Space Marines, with neither arrogance nor timidity in her words. She looked at these warriors as if they were the people of Perturabo: "I am the current tyrant of Lokos, Kaliphon. From today on, we will be responsible for the technology recovered from orbit and the related local construction factories. The construction project of the orbital shipyard has started, and the flagship of the Primarch is in the design stage. Warriors, go fight your battles. We will be your arsenal and eternal backup."

"Yes!" The Iron Warriors responded in unison.

"And I am a craftsman." A clear voice came from the black-robed man who appeared at some point. Without any amplification equipment, his voice blew into everyone's ears like a breeze. "Just get to know me. You can pretend that I don't exist at other times."

"Yes!" Although they didn't fully understand, the warriors answered without hesitation in accordance with the Primarch's will.

This was not only to obey orders, but also because the appearance of the black-robed man was too abrupt: he did not hide his abnormality, and the iron warriors were not stupid people with poor observation.

This unknown shadow disappeared directly after introducing himself, without even revealing his appearance, but everyone remembered this strange person firmly. He must be the most discussed mysterious existence under the Primarch in recent days.

"Very good." Perturabo's tone became lower and gradually acquired a terrifying quality. "Next, let's talk about punishment."