800, M30 — Segmentum Ultima — Olympia
The city-state of Lochos was immense. It was not built atop a mountain peak—it was embedded within one.
Olympia's largest iron ore mountain range, the Spine of Glaukos, stood here, and Lochos had been "set" into it like a component fitted into a machine. The city resembled less a settlement than a gigantic mechanism magnified a million times over, endlessly in operation.
Countless orderly geometric structures had been forged: square fortresses, cylindrical communications towers, pyramid-shaped energy cores, and elevated railways and pipelines spreading like a spider's web. They stacked layer upon layer along the mountain's slopes, interlocking tightly. Against the pale gray of the titanic rock faces, they formed a vision of cold yet magnificent order.
Under sunlight, the city did not gleam with metallic reflection. Instead, matte dark gray surfaces intertwined with the dark red of exposed ore veins—like cooled, iron-rich lava.
There were no unnecessary decorations in Lochos' architecture. Extreme structural logic and engineering precision had turned it into a perfect steel sanctuary of both reason and aesthetic harmony.
The streets were not winding alleys either, but networks of aerial corridors and tunnels intersecting at calculated angles based on terrain and transport efficiency. The main thoroughfares were broad ramps capable of supporting heavy transport vehicles moving in parallel. The road surface consisted of anti-slip metal grating, beneath which streams of cooling pipelines and data cables could be seen flowing.
The steel city walls were assembled from alloy composite plates refined from the iron veins of the mountains. Dark rivets and reinforcement ribs marked the seams. Engraved upon the walls were enormous diagrams—not decorations, but structural stress maps of nearby regions, pipeline distribution charts, or classic "masterpieces" created by engineers.
These diagrams formed a public knowledge archive—part of the architectural language of the people of Lochos.
Lochos was never silent.
Even after vibration-dampening treatments, the pounding of forging hammers still echoed faintly. The ventilation system hummed with steady airflow. Rail vehicles emitted soft electromagnetic buzzing.
The air carried the scent of ozone, heated metal, premium lubricating oil, and the filtered cold breath of stone drawn from deep within the mountains.
---
At the highest layer of the city stood the Design Dome, where the Steel Council and senior engineers resided. They assisted the Lord of Iron in reshaping the entire planet of Olympia.
They were the ruling class, masters of advanced mathematics, engineering, and military strategy. Their clothing consisted of simple dark uniforms adorned with geometric insignia and slide-rule ornaments that symbolized professional rank.
Their authority came not from bloodline but from verifiable engineering achievements and logical reasoning.
The Lord of Iron did not believe in lineage—only ability.
---
Beneath the dome lay the city's backbone.
Citizens lived in fully equipped, efficiency-oriented hive-style residential units. Their lives revolved around workshops, maintenance districts, and continuing education centers related to their professions.
Lochos possessed the most complete vocational training and certification system on Olympia. A craftsman's social status was directly tied to their technical rating. Public areas were filled with shared workbenches and three-dimensional printers.
At the lowest levels lived the largest population groups—soldiers, operators, and apprentices. Their lives were strictly disciplined, but they also enjoyed clear paths of advancement based on contribution and basic social security.
Their dwellings were compact barracks-style dormitories: simple, durable, and easy to manage.
There were also civil workers. On Lochos and throughout Olympia, they were not highly regarded—some even marginalized. These were individuals who, beyond pure engineering logic, had developed interests in philosophy, history, art, or even theoretical sciences with no immediate practical application.
Perturabo knew they were the seeds that would someday soften the edges of future cities and bring human spirit into them.
Speaking of hope and peace in the grim darkness of the Warhammer universe might sound naïve, even laughable. Perturabo knew that.
Still, he chose to believe in it—despite having absolutely no intention of serving the Emperor in the future.
---
At the deeper core lay the Iron Fortress and the Steel Furnace, the infrastructure that allowed Lochos to operate steadily.
The Iron Fortress was not a luxurious palace but an extremely fortified command-and-research nexus. It occupied the most advantageous defensive position on the mountainside and resembled a tilted cube of dark metal embedded into the rock.
Inside were labyrinthine tactical simulation chambers, holographic star-map halls, colossal computational arrays, and private design workshops.
Like the internal structure of a gigantic machine, every corridor, hall, and room exposed its structural frames, pipes, and transmission mechanisms. The ceilings were crisscrossed with I-beams and ventilation ducts. Transparent conduits in the walls carried pulsing streams of data-light.
The strategic command layer sat at the geometric center, with entire walls displaying real-time star charts and production data.
The armament production layer housed factories integrated directly into the fortress itself, assembly lines passing through walls as robotic arms glided along rails.
There was also the Sanctum of Logic, an archive storing Perturabo's engineering blueprints, tactical simulations, and philosophical works, organized into endless matrices of scroll cabinets managed by automated mechanical arms.
---
The Steel Furnace, the industrial heart of the city, occupied a vast natural cavern deep within the mountain.
Here stood Olympia's most advanced geothermal-plasma hybrid energy well, surrounded by prototype factories and material laboratories.
The furnace did not glow with the orange of flame but with the ghostly blue and white brilliance of plasma, illuminating the cavern like a mechanical god-realm.
This was the origin of Lochos' technology—and the birthplace of countless designs by Perturabo.
Yet the thing Perturabo was most proud of in all of Lochos was the omnipresent weaponized defensive system he had built with extreme effort, mental strain, and overclocked neural cables.
This system fused aggressive logic directly into defensive structures.
Lochos' defenses were not passive shields.
They were active domains of outward expansion and aggression.
Perturabo's philosophy was simple:
If something was the perfect defense, it would eliminate the enemy's intentions—physically and psychologically—before their attack could even begin.
To achieve this ideal system, Perturabo had made a decision that violated the Emperor's will.
He employed the Abominable Intelligence he had been born knowing how to create, integrating it fully into the defensive network.
---
First came the outer zones.
Perturabo installed seismic listening arrays and vibration sensor networks buried deep underground. These precision sensors could distinguish the vibration signatures of heavy vehicles, infantry formations, and even tunneling operations with an error margin of less than half a meter. All data flowed instantly into the central tactical logic engine.
A fully automated patrol system followed.
Its primary units were not soldiers but low-profile stealth sensor platforms and nests of micro attack drones hidden in camouflage. They lurked silently, forming a living surveillance net. Any unidentified biological signature or energy fluctuation would trigger localized alerts and share data with nearby fire-control units.
The terrain itself was divided into standardized grids.
Each grid cell functioned as a modular weapon platform site. Upon warning, the ground panels would open, and lifting platforms could deliver preloaded weapon modules to the surface within ninety seconds.
Rapid-fire laser turrets.
Missile silos.
Electromagnetic railgun arrays.
Their fire coverage had been calculated precisely to eliminate blind spots and create overlapping crossfire zones.
Perturabo even built heavy autonomous artillery units controlled by Abominable Intelligence. Normally they hid in tunnels within the mountains, coated in adaptive camouflage that made them indistinguishable from stone.
When war came, they would not charge blindly.
Instead, guided by predictive calculations from the logic engine, they would maneuver along optimal routes to sniper positions and deliver precise surgical strikes against high-value enemy targets.
In truth, the entire city of Lochos had been transformed by Perturabo into a colossal war machine.
Hexagonal armor plates covered the walls. Each plate could eject instantly upon impact, be replaced, or retract to reveal honeycomb launch tubes beneath.
Close-defense melta cannons, melta lances, high-explosive grenades—none of the weapons were fixed in place. Robotic arms along internal rails could rapidly reconfigure armaments according to threat type.
Retractable multi-layer fire platforms extended from the city walls and higher buildings, forming downward-facing kill zones—like waterfalls of steel pouring coordinated barrages of destruction upon climbing or airborne enemies.
A meticulous anti-air network completed the system. Massive radar and optical arrays tracked incoming missiles or aircraft while the logic engine instantly simulated tens of thousands of possible trajectories and evasive maneuvers.
This was the defensive system Perturabo had built with Olympia's resources.
It still had flaws—but it was the limit of what he could achieve for now.
He had already made plans.
Once he rejoined the Imperium, he would squeeze technology from both the Emperor and the Adeptus Mechanicus, upgrade the system with the Steel Council, and create defenses so formidable that even Rogal Dorn would be left utterly humiliated trying to break them.
Of course, that was the ideal scenario.
If the Emperor arrived and saw Lochos full of Iron Ring battle-automata and Abominable Intelligence logic engines—and didn't immediately erase him from existence—then Perturabo would immediately volunteer to design the defenses of Holy Terra and the Solar System.
After that, he could peacefully work as a humble construction laborer.
Let someone else fight the Great Crusade.
Let someone else save this damned Imperium.
Perturabo had no interest in joining the Emperor and the other Primarchs in some grand family drama, nor did he feel any urge to save a rotten-to-the-core human empire.
Chaos was far too powerful.
He was just one little Primarch—what chance did he have? Even the Emperor himself, the Warhammer protagonist who could crush stars like toys, ended up half-dead in the future.
Against forces like that, Perturabo figured he'd get slapped into paste in one hit.
Why even bother fighting?
If the Emperor tried to drag him into the Great Crusade as a tireless workhorse, Perturabo had already decided he'd take whatever benefits he could and then run.
The galaxy was huge—surely there was somewhere to hide.
If necessary, he could even leave the galaxy entirely.
Surely it wouldn't be that unlucky to run into the Necrons or the Tyranids out there.
In short:
After spending his previous life as an exploited construction laborer, Perturabo now wanted nothing more than to slack off.
He would focus on research and manage his Legion.
They were good kids, after all.
Unfortunately, the original Perturabo had gone half-mad due to the Warp vortex above his world and the Emperor's questionable treatment, leading to countless disastrous decisions.
But this Perturabo had no intention of repeating those mistakes.
He didn't care about bonding with the Emperor or his Primarch brothers.
But he absolutely would not abandon his sons.
With their compatibility so high, if they were sent to the front lines as cannon fodder it would be a tragedy.
Especially with their stubborn personalities.
If he didn't change things—and he himself didn't participate in the Great Crusade—then every major battle could cost tens of thousands of lives.
That was something Perturabo simply could not accept.
His rightful role was clear:
A construction laborer.
Why fight wars when you could pour concrete and build cities?
Why not make art and sculptures instead?
People obsessed with honor were fools.
If you were dead, what use was honor?
In any case, Perturabo would never join the Great Crusade.
Even if it killed him.
He had already planned his future.
His Legion would conquer the star systems surrounding Olympia, and he would transform them into massive three-dimensional defensive networks.
When the Crusade eventually ended, he would hide there and rule as a local tyrant.
He refused to be manipulated by the Emperor or Horus.
He wasn't that great a hero—he wasn't Roboute Guilliman, after all.
The most he could promise was that he would never betray the Imperium.
But if they expected him to work hard for it?
Maybe next life.
This life—he was slacking.
---
After finishing the eighty-eighth upgrade of a flak turret platform, Perturabo returned to his palace beneath the Dome.
He lived there with his sister, Stephanie.
As for the others—Dammekos and the rest of the brothers—aside from Andos, who still pursued his artistic ideals and wandered between small sculpture halls, Perturabo had simply assigned them random jobs in the lower levels and left them there.
A group of political schemers obsessed with ancient Terran Greek court intrigues—he had zero interest in dealing with them.
If not for Stephanie's pleas, he would not have spared the fools who once planned to exploit him to conquer Olympia and then betray him afterward.
The palace itself was not a single structure but a vast fractal complex of nested constructions.
Its overall layout resembled a massive polygonal star-fort combining concentric circles and radial axes—like an enormous Roman legionary camp fused with a futuristic fortress.
Every wall, tower, and corridor followed the proportions of the golden ratio and prime number sequences.
Not a single curve existed without purpose.
Steel walls of matte gray armor plates were joined by black reinforcement frames, each plate identical down to micrometer precision.
The corridors were lined with Renaissance-style paintings from ancient Terra and golden-ratio sculptures carved personally by Perturabo and Andos.
Other sections of wall bore enormous engraved mathematical formulas, engineering diagrams, and logical theorems carved in Olympian script.
One day, after learning High Gothic, Perturabo planned to replace the Olympian language with it.
After all, once Olympia joined the Imperium, High Gothic would inevitably become the language of education.
The palace walls consisted of layered slanted armor belts hiding automated turrets, missile arrays, and energy shield generators.
Every firing arc had been mathematically optimized to eliminate blind spots.
The palace's highest structure was not a tower but a massive orbital calculation array—thousands of black metal masts forming a complex instrument glowing with icy blue streams of data.
Crane frames and rail transport systems surrounded it like scaffolding, constantly lifting supplies and equipment.
The building itself was essentially a machine in perpetual operation.
Stephanie often complained about it during daily life, but Perturabo's obsession with functional mechanical beauty always drove him to such extremes.
He had even built a small opera house inside the palace.
Perturabo constructed several Men of Iron to perform plays for him and his sister.
The aesthetic was admittedly strange—but Stephanie had grown used to it.
After all, life in the Dome had little entertainment. The middle and lower levels were even quieter.
Perturabo enforced rationality and practicality to the extreme.
Even if he planned to slack off, that didn't mean lying flat.
He simply didn't like unnecessary movement.
Some things you might never use—but you must possess them.
Having a sword you never draw and having no sword at all are two very different things.
Only with sufficient power did one earn the right to slack off.
And this was Warhammer.
In large-scale warfare, a single Primarch rarely determined the outcome.
That was precisely why Perturabo dared to relax.
Without power on the Emperor's level, changing the tide of fate was nearly impossible.
Primarchs were strong—but not that strong.
Though admittedly, figures like Guilliman had proven that a Primarch could still accomplish incredible feats.
Otherwise, why would the Chaos Gods covet them so desperately?
In the end, Perturabo's strategy was simple:
Manage his domain well.
Avoid reckless adventures.
Find a few Blackstone Fortresses someday.
With enough stability, Chaos wouldn't even get the chance to corrupt him.
If things stayed stable, that alone would help the Imperium immensely.
In strategy terms?
Master logistics—then press F2A.
He refused to believe Chaos could compete with the Imperium's logistics in the material universe.
For now, though…
The five-meter-tall Perturabo sat in a white robe, his neural cables removed, helping his sister process Olympia's administrative matters.
Olympia had long since been conquered by him. Lochos was only its largest city-state.
The entire planet had already been transformed into something resembling an Imperial hive world—though far better managed.
Pollution had been completely solved.
Even the explosive population growth had been addressed by building steel fortresses across nearly all habitable regions.
Orbital ring structures were already being constructed.
The only real shortage was rare materials.
Perturabo could build starships—but without warp drives, he could not travel far.
Still, once he returned to the Imperium, everything would change.
He would develop the surrounding star systems and build up his Legion.
And one day…
He absolutely intended to place a few Titan war machines in the palace and Iron Fortress as personal collectibles.
---
After finishing the day's work, Perturabo lay back in a reclining chair, quietly making that decision.
"Abbo, what are you thinking about now? Planning another research project?"
Stephanie leaned in his arms, clearly sensing that his thoughts had wandered again.
She was proud of her brother's extraordinary inventions—but also a little unhappy that he never spent enough time with her.
Whenever inspiration struck, he would immediately rush off to experiment.
He never seemed able to stay idle.
And every time research or design was mentioned, those blue eyes of his would shine with a special brilliance.
He had even cut off his long, smooth black hair.
It still looked good, of course.
After all, the charisma of a Primarch was overwhelming.
Ordinary people would kneel instantly upon seeing a Primarch or the Emperor.
Truthfully, most Primarchs had truly terrible starting circumstances.
Gently touching the faint marks left on Perturabo's forehead by neural cables, Stephanie's expression showed a trace of pain.
He might not care—but he was her brother.
"Nothing. Just thinking about some things… things far in the future."
Feeling his sister's hand stroking his forehead, Perturabo tilted his head slightly toward her.
Perhaps due to some awakening of his essence, his abilities and psychic power had grown stronger than the original Perturabo's.
His body had expanded to nearly six meters tall.
Right now he was forcibly compressing himself with psychic power to just over two meters—otherwise Stephanie would look like a doll in his arms.
"Then stay with me a little longer today. Let the logic engine handle the administration. You haven't walked around the Dome with me in ages."
Her voice carried a faint pout.
Since Perturabo declared he wanted to improve Olympia, he had spent months at a time in the Iron Fortress conducting experiments.
Every visit left him glowing with the excitement of a research fanatic, never seeming tired.
Stephanie didn't understand technology-but she could see Olympia changing before her eyes.
Everything he did was extraordinary.
If she couldn't help much, she would at least handle the administrative work she could manage.
Fortunately, she was quite capable-and the logic engine performed final verification checks.
Under their rule, Olympia was flourishing.
She knew Perturabo liked things this way.
So all she needed to do was avoid becoming a burden.
"Alright. I'm free recently anyway. Whatever you say."
Perturabo answered softly.
When it came to Stephanie, he rarely refused her.
She had been one of the few people who genuinely cared about him.
And she still did.
"Hmph. You say that every time. Then you suddenly think of something and run off to research again. And Andos is the same-always running around chasing art and sculpture. He visits, eats a meal, then disappears again. Everyone's always busy."
"Can't you stay with me for a few days?"
As she spoke, Stephanie traced circles on Perturabo's chest with her finger, then lightly tapped him before burying her face in his chest.
"This time I won't disappear. There's nothing left on Olympia to improve right now. Material limitations are too severe. Future research will take much longer."
"I won't stay in the Iron Fortress every day either. Balance between work and rest is important. I'll stay with you."
Perturabo smiled and gently wrapped his powerful arms around her.
Stephanie nestled deeper into his embrace.
"Then it's a promise. You're not allowed to lie this time."
"Alright"