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Chapter 170: Recognition and Reluctance
Within the WAAAGH! Field's chaotic embrace, reality bent to the greenskin mass-mind. Here, the carefully tuned abilities of the gene-wrought became unreliable, their psychic gifts dampened by alien belief made real.
Only cold steel and blade-work could win where brutality ruled supreme.
At last, the Emperor came face to face with the Ork tyrant who had dared claim dominion over Ullanor.
The shockwaves of their clash surpassed even the exchanges between God-Machines and Gargants. They fought through dying daylight into night's depths, then from darkness back into dawn's pale glow.
The magnificent hall that housed the Ork court crumbled beneath their fury.
Empowered by his entire race's WAAAGH! Energy, the Ork Emperor's strength, knew no bounds. Every psychic assault the Master of Mankind unleashed was absorbed and redirected, the alien tyrant's power growing with each exchange.
The Primarchs and Custodian Guard could offer no aid, so instead they formed an unbreakable perimeter, holding back endless waves of greenskin warriors.
"Big Guy!"
"I'm devastated, nine consecutive PVP defeats!"
The Raven tore through space itself and materialised upon the Emperor's shoulder with characteristic disregard for dramatic timing.
The Emperor had no attention to spare for His companion's complaints, His blade moving in desperate parries against the Ork Emperor's relentless assault.
Swoosh!
A mechanical appendage, sharp as any sword, punched through the Emperor's defences and pierced His form. Golden blood spattered across rubble-strewn ground.
"And don't get me started on my last teammate," the Raven continued, oblivious to the wound as he channelled ancient energy into his partner's body. "Absolutely terrible performance, really dragged down my rating."
"Raven," the Emperor said through gritted teeth as He resumed His defence, "perhaps you might observe our current circumstances?"
"Oh, so now you're getting impatient with me?" The Raven's tone carried wounded dignity.
"My apologies. Please, continue."
With the Raven's power flowing through Him, the Emperor's strength became limitless as psychic energies and blade-work combined in perfect harmony.
After days of unrelenting combat, the battle reached its inevitable conclusion.
The Ork Emperor fell to the Master of Mankind's blade, his massive head severed in a single stroke. The Emperor gathered His remaining power and reduced the corpse to atoms.
The tyrant's death unleashed a psychic shockwave that rolled across Ullanor like a tide of dissolution.
The concentrated WAAAGH! Energy collapsed upon itself, creating a cascade of destruction that claimed every Ork too deeply bound to their fallen leader.
Massive bodyguards and warlords ceased, their heads erupted in sprays of crude cybernetics as the psychic backlash tore through their primitive minds.
The surviving Orks, bereft of a unifying force, became nothing more than scattered tribes awaiting Imperial justice.
After modest festivities, the Emperor announced His intention to return to Terra for contemplation and preparation. Command of the First Expeditionary Fleet would pass temporarily to senior officers, while the Primarchs would remain until summoned to rejoin their respective Legions.
Only one among them would accompany the Master of Mankind.
"You possess exceptional architectural vision, Perturabo," the Emperor declared, His ancient eyes meeting those of the Lord of Iron.
"Return with Me to Terra. We have grand designs to manifest, structures that will kindle the hearts of humanity and inspire them to greater purpose."
The words hit Perturabo like a physical blow. Recognition. Acknowledgement of his talents, not for siege warfare or grinding brutality, but for creation itself. The vision that burned within him: to build something beautiful, something lasting.
For a moment, he couldn't speak, couldn't trust his voice not to betray the desperate hunger those words fed.
The Lord of Iron straightened, his expression carefully neutral, but his eyes blazed with inner fire.
"I am honoured, Father. I will build wonders that will endure for ten thousand years."
...
This celebration surpassed all others in Imperial history.
The sheer attendance brought Terra's entire infrastructure to the brink of collapse. Citizens from across the growing Empire emptied their savings for the mere possibility of witnessing the ceremony firsthand.
When the flagship Emperor's Grand Design translated from the Warp and approached humanity's homeworld, preparations had reached fever pitch.
As the ship achieved Terra's orbital zone, a sound like breaking thunder rolled across the world, billions of voices raised in celebration, echoing from every hive spire across the planet's surface.
Aboard the flagship, Perturabo stood at an observation port, gazing out at the spectacle.
"Truly magnificent," he murmured.
After Ullanor, Perturabo had chosen to accompany the Emperor back to Terra and oversee construction of the expanding Imperial Palace. He had become the sole Primarch to witness the Solar System's transformation firsthand.
The prosperity surrounding humanity's heart exceeded even his enhanced ability to process wonder. Colossal constructs drifted in the void, artificial worlds complete with atmosphere and gravity, their metallic surfaces bristling with spires and energy matrices that pulsed like mechanical hearts.
Orbital platforms studded with countless lights formed constellations of human ambition, while streams of vessels moved in perfect order along designated transit routes.
Beyond even these marvels lay temporal interface stations connected to pocket dimensions, engineering achievements that defied conventional physics.
"These represent merely our earliest efforts," the Raven observed from his perch upon Perturabo's shoulder.
"In time, every human world shall bear such wonders, and humanity will claim absolute dominion over not merely the stars, but the very fabric of reality itself."
"Come," the Raven spread his dark wings. "The ceremony approaches. You will stand beside the Big Guy during the proceedings, a privilege your brothers would kill for."
Joy blazed within Perturabo's enhanced heart, though his features remained impassive. He betrayed no emotional response to the Raven's words.
Yet his quickened pace toward the boarding deck revealed the excitement he refused to acknowledge.
The Emperor's Grand Design completed docking procedures with ceremonial precision, and the Imperial party transferred to atmospheric craft for final descent to Terra's surface.
The planet below had been transformed beyond recognition. Magnificent structures pierced the atmospheric envelope, their peaks lost in the upper atmosphere like artificial mountains reaching toward the stars.
The Emperor emerged wreathed in golden radiance, His presence transforming the surrounding air into something approaching the divine. Representatives from every stratum of Imperial society prostrated themselves in waves, voices raised in loyalty oaths that thundered across the spaceport.
Some observers wept uncontrollably at the mere sight of their Lord, while others pressed their faces to the ground in absolute devotion.
"Such intensity," Perturabo observed, genuine shock registering across his usually controlled features.
He had known his father commanded the love of Imperial citizens, but witnessing this level of fervour exceeded all expectations.
"This is merely the beginning, Perturabo," the Raven's voice resonated within his mind. "One day, you will rule a universe of your own creation. Should you prove yourself a worthy sovereign, you too will command such worship and devotion."
"Will such a day truly come?" Perturabo gazed upon the frenzied masses, witnessing adoration he had never received in all his years of service.
Deep within his engineered heart, an ember of longing sparked to life. To be beloved by countless souls, to be regarded as the most precious existence in their lives, this was a dream he had harboured but never dared voice.
Standing there, watching billions worship his father, Perturabo felt something crack inside his chest. He didn't break; he was too strong for that. But crack, letting in a dangerous light: hope, ambition, the terrible, wonderful possibility that he might one day matter to someone the way the Emperor mattered to these people.
He had built fortresses that withstood millennia. But what he truly wanted to build was love.
[End of Chapter]
Well, let's address the elephant in the room. What do you want to build?
Maybe share with us, and when you feel lost, you can come back and look at it. HMM :)
I wanna be a writer and artist, but shit is man, I gotta learn how to be a programmer taught by a college that cares more about whether I pay the fee in full than actually giving a fuck after ripping us off.
LoL life is :)