Itching to Build

Perturabo was very unhappy.

But this is pretty much his usual state – there aren't many times when Perturabo can be happy, except when he's hiding in his room playing with rubber, or when he hears the news that Rogal Dorn has suffered heavy losses in the Great Crusade.

As for now, watching Mortarion being folded up is one of the few things that can make him laugh.

Unfortunately, just as he was about to gloat, he was caught in the act by the foolish slave workers from this wretched little island.

"Hello, guest, may I ask how you should address me?"

Averinia asked somewhat timidly.

Perturabo was already tall and strong, and he had an extremely strong aura that kept strangers at bay, which made everyone who dared to get even a fraction of a step closer to him feel inexplicably terrified.

"Perturabo".

The smile on his face vanished completely, replaced by his usual displeased expression.

"What do you want with us?"

"Um... I heard from them that you are a powerful mechanical expert, possessing mechanical knowledge that we can't even imagine."

"If possible, we implore you to help us upgrade our weapons and equipment! The Kiavahr fleet is arriving soon, and we need to be prepared for the worst."

"Alright, I understand what you mean. You don't need to act pitiful in front of me. It won't increase my chances of helping you."

Tsk.

Perturabo clicked his tongue dismissively.

It's another guy coming to ask him for help building weapons.

On Olympia, whether it was his tyrannical foster father or some other ambitious man, they all sought out Perturabo for this reason.

No matter how much power is promised, how unattainable the vision is painted, or how unimaginable money and beautiful women are offered.

The first thing these people always ask for is for Perturabo to build them weapons powerful enough to conquer everything in the world.

Even after setting foot among the stars and leaving Olympia, Perturabo discovered that humanity had not changed at all.

The same situation applies this time as well.

Perturabo wanted to refuse the other party.

But then he thought about it again, and his hand, which he originally wanted to extend to express his refusal, stopped halfway in mid-air.

We can't just stand by and watch someone die.

If they don't help them, and if the people of Corvus Corax suffer heavy casualties in the final war, the other side may very well take their anger out on them.

Why not do a favor? It might help to improve your relationship with Corvus Corax in the future.

Although he wasn't particularly keen on getting along with Corvus Corax.

Perturabo's mind began to race.

"Lead the way."

After a brief exchange of blows, he spoke to Averinia.

"Stay hidden. They'll be out soon."

In a corner of a room converted from a former prison cell, Kasgar signaled to the group to continue lying in wait.

He and Fulgrim weren't the only ones squatting in this corner.

Even Corvus Corax, who had been somewhat skeptical of them, joined them in hiding in the shadows.

Not long after the Kasgar spoke, the rusty iron door of one of the rooms opened, and a towering giant squeezed through the door—a door that would have been no problem for mortals—and followed Averinia out.

As she walked, Averinia kept bowing repeatedly to express her gratitude.

"Is this your plan?"

Fulgrim asked Kasgar, who was pinned beneath her, with some confusion.

"Hmph, that's right!"

Kasgar answered with great pride.

Earlier, when Averinia wanted to find out if the guests were satisfied with their accommodations, the shortest (but still very tall) of the four guests told her something.

If you want to be able to deal with the Kiavahr warships, the people in that room can provide assistance.

"But you are all so tall, I can't really tell which one is which."

"The one who looks the most unhappy, the one who owes money to everyone."

As the man spoke, an image suddenly came to Averinia's mind.

Among this group of guests, there was indeed one person who seemed to dislike everyone.

"He's a genius mechanic here. Although he has a terrible temper, he's very skilled. In fact, he's very capable."

"If you want to modify your weapons, he should be able to help you."

"But given Perturabo's temperament, would he really be willing to help them build new weapons?"

"Friends, I do not know your origins. But in my vague memory, there are indeed some fleeting fragments."

The Corvus Corax is one of those that ripens earliest but wakes up latest.

He still remembered the underground laboratory of the Imperial Palace where he had once been. He knew part of his origins and was also clear that the "Terra" that Kasgar and the others spoke of was indeed real.

They were not spies sent by the Kiavahr, but were his true compatriots from the planet he had before it was lost to Lycaeus.

Corvus Corax placed his trust in them.

—But he still couldn't understand why these two people, Kasgar and Fulgrim, didn't seem to feel much tension as their ship crashed and war loomed.

Instead, they seemed to be playing pranks on their companions, as if they were on vacation in Lycaeus.

"So, Kasgar, what exactly do you mean by this? Why are you secretly recording all of this?"

"Also, will Averinia be in any danger?"

"It's nothing, just a small record."

As he spoke, Kasgar put away the small recording device in his hand.

Compared to the bulky recording equipment used by ordinary narrators, the one in Kasgar's hand was small and exquisite.

"But don't worry, Corvus Corax, if Averinia is in danger, Fulgrim and I will come to her rescue."

Hopefully, Perturabo won't be squeezed out of his body right now.

Just take a look, that's all.

Kasgar thought to himself.

"Now, it's time for us to move."

It was an old house filled with countless broken parts.

Here, dust covers the surfaces of these old mining machines, and piles of various mechanical parts, large and small, are stacked thickly in the room.

Although they didn't know what use it was to pile it up here, it seemed a shame to throw it away.

Inside the factory, there were some young people dressed in apprentice uniforms, seemingly tinkering with things they didn't understand in this room filled with old, discarded machinery.

Due to their clumsy handling, the entire room reeked of engine oil.

"This is what you use?"

Perturabo looked at the mountain of waste and debris with utter disgust.

"Crude, old, and utterly worthless; they are all junk that only slaves would use."

"Indeed, this complements your slavish and clumsy methods."

"You're right."

"We were really slaves to the mines not long ago, and it was Corvus Corax who freed us from endless hard labor."

"."

After being silenced for a while by Averinia's sincere words, Perturabo, holding a piece of scrap metal, walked to the anvil in the factory and stopped.

"Well."

Perturabo sighed, "Watch out, I'll only help you this once."

Next, he shaped the scrap metal plate at a speed that was difficult for ordinary people to see and even harder to imagine, and then placed it on an anvil and began to hammer it.

"Get out of the way, go play somewhere else."

It seemed that the giant's appearance had attracted the attention of too many curious apprentices. They wiped the dust off their faces and moved closer to where Perturabo was.

Seeing this, he merely glanced indifferently at the group of young people who seemed quite unconvinced.

"Your brains are not qualified to learn my technology."

These words provoked resentment among the young workers.

They were all mechanics, and had all learned some basic knowledge from Brother Corvus Corax. Even though they hadn't had time to study before due to the heavy mining work, they had more time to learn about machinery after liberation.

After that, their progress was nothing short of phenomenal, and how could this fellow countryman from Corvus Corax possibly—

As if deliberately challenging these young workers, Perturabo showed no intention of pretending to be an ordinary person while forging.

Bite--

Swift, intense, precise.

Before the workers could even protest, the metal plate, about the size of two people, was instantly forged into dozens of extremely dense parts.

Even the scraps of this piece of iron were hand-rolled into several tiny parts and assembled into a small mechanical device that was not very easy to understand.

To everyone's astonishment, he turned to the mining laser drilling machine and used his large, heavy hands to brush away the dust from it.

Click.

"Cough cough."

Perturabo fanned away the thick dust spewed from the laser drilling machine with disgust.

"How could this old model, which is even older than me, still be in use?"

After finding the correct opening, Perturabo removed the laser probe from the drilling rig. Then, with a series of unclear operations, the laser drill bit was transformed into a small laser gun, as if it had undergone surgery.

"Take it and try it out yourself. Remember to choose a sturdy shooting range."

"Don't blow everything up."

As he spoke, Perturabo nonchalantly tossed the laser gun in his hand into the hand of one of the workers.

"What's this?"

What they saw before their eyes was beyond their comprehension.

Even Corvus Corax, whom they considered omnipotent, didn't possess the power to conjure up a set of equipment out of thin air in an instant.

It can instantly identify the damage points of the drilling machine without using blueprints, and then handcraft a set of replacement parts.

"An ordinary flashlight, but it can shine a hole through a person."

"Go quickly, don't bother me."

Even Perturabo himself didn't realize that he was speaking with a more joking tone than before.

As he spoke, he waved his hand and shooed away the workers whose eyes showed disbelief.

Although the other party was quite displeased with Perturabo's arrogant behavior, after he showed them the reason why he could be arrogant, the three of them did not dare to be negligent and ran outside with the heavy laser drill probe in their hands.

The entire factory workshop suddenly became empty again.

"You are... Averinia."

Perturabo glanced at the female worker beside him. "Tell me something."

"Since this is a mine, what kinds of ores do you have here?"

After hammering away at several pieces of scrap metal, Perturabo still shook his head, somewhat dissatisfied.

"There are plenty! Our planet Lycaeus is rich in minerals; we can mine many of the metals needed for weapons here, for example—"

Averinia proudly explained to Perturabo.

The planet Lycaeus has abundant minerals, which is something they can be proud of—if all the minerals hadn't been transported away by the Kiavahr people using Space Elevator, leaving them only with endless mining slaves.

"That's enough. You don't need to tell me your name. Just bring the actual item."

Averinia nodded and led Perturabo to another factory building.

Here, the ores they had mined as slaves were piled up in the room.

Due to the lack of methods for refining and using these ores

Corvus Corax was a good liberator, but not an all-around engineer.

He could improve drilling machines using the knowledge he had pre-loaded in his head, but how to transform raw ore into machinery needed for war or daily life was another whole different story.

"The quality is good."

Perturabo silently picked up one of the raw ore pieces, carefully examined its color, and almost instantly analyzed its constituent elements.

Even when he couldn't figure it out, he would bite down on one of the preliminary forged metal ingots.

Chew it in big gulps.

"I'm going to set up a whole production line next, so don't bother me unless it's absolutely necessary."

"I'll say it again, don't let anyone bother me."

Averinia nodded silently.

"Now, get out."

Ding ding dang dang.

A series of loud noises came from inside the closed factory building.

And this noise lasted for a long time.

Tsk.

Do I really need to go to this extent?

Looking at the lethal Plasma Cannon in his hand, Perturabo fell into deep thought.

It was crafted by the Primarch, or even by a mechanical master like Perturabo. Even though the tools for its creation were scarce, and the materials were not particularly plentiful.

But clearly, for a Primarch to unleash their full power, crafting a Plasma Gun by hand is not a difficult task.

Just now, in his eagerness to make a name for himself in Averinia, he forgot that his current role was merely that of an ordinary mechanic on a ship.

—In order to be able to handcraft this Plasma Cannon, he first improved the Promethium fuel conversion of the anvil, so that its temperature could be stabilized at a fixed coefficient.

Then, in order to enable plasma weapons to have interchangeable hydrogen cylinder ammunition, he handcrafted an ammunition cylinder production pipeline, and then used some of the devices at hand to build a production line for electrolyzing water to produce hydrogen and compressing and canning it.

Following this, seeing that plasma weapons had corresponding ammunition manufacturing and storage facilities, Perturabo completed the sorting and transportation of ore, as well as the shaping of molds. He then manually created an automated industrial mech system, which he felt was too inefficient.

Perturabo did it all.

He eventually built a fully automated production line that could produce plasma munitions using only water and Promethium, using these raw materials, and the large Plasma Cannon in his hand that could penetrate the armor of warships.

"How long did it take me to make these things?"

When I came to my senses, five days had passed.

Five days!

He worked here for five days straight without eating, drinking, or sleeping!

Even when some workers thought he had been working for so long and was bound to run into trouble, and tried to force their way in, Kasgar stopped them.

Let him build it.

For a serious city-building enthusiast, being able to dedicate some time in the Great Crusade to building things they like is already a form of relaxation.

"Kasgar, you are so gentle."

Fulgrim chided, "Perturabo was so rude to you before, but after your prophecy came true, he stopped talking about how he treated you back then."

"If you ask me, we should teach Perturabo a lesson so he'll remember it."

As he spoke, Fulgrim tenderly stroked Kasgar's chest.

"How are you? Did he hurt you anywhere?"

"Fulgrim, that was more than ten days ago."

"Could you please stop touching me like that?"

"Kasgar said helplessly."

"Whee."

Just as the two were still flirting, the factory door was pushed open, and what came into view was Perturabo, whose body was covered with all kinds of dust and metal powder.

"It's finished."

He said calmly, "I have already converted that factory into a production line for you. All you need to do now is put the ore and fuel into the corresponding entrances."

"There will be an alarm when something is missing; just follow the instructions."

Fearing that they wouldn't know how to operate the machinery, Perturabo even built an operating manual for the workers that was comparable to that of a baby bus.

"Thank you, Brother Perturabo. On behalf of all the workers on Lycaeus, I would like to express my gratitude for your dedication."

"Corvus Corax said somewhat respectfully."

The fact that someone could selflessly help them build the weapons and ammunition that Lycaeus desperately needed was already a tremendous aid.

The scariest thing is that he made all of these by hand!

"It's nothing."

Perturabo didn't even feel tired from being locked in the room for five days building.

On the contrary, as if an endless flame was burning in his eyes, he was becoming more and more excited and thrilled with each creation.

There are still many more surface- Macro Cannon, laser cannons, and other equipment that haven't been developed yet!

At first, he even considered maintaining his disguise and building machines as an ordinary mechanic.

But clearly he couldn't convince himself not to do his best when building it.

Perturabo, caught up in the moment, couldn't wait to handcraft a surface fortress right now.

"Are there any suitable targets I can use for testing?"

He was eager to try.

Bang!

It exploded.

Or rather, the entire hill standing on Lycaeus gained a tunnel due to this explosion.

Boom—

Immediately afterwards, although it was inaudible in a vacuum, the enormous noise and the trembling collapse could be imagined and traveled from afar to everyone's feet.

The massive rock, as large as a small mountain, shattered into countless small pieces that fell to the ground in an instant.

"You're too weak."

Perturabo felt a pang of regret seeing the look of shock on Averinia's face as she turned around.

"If you were a little stronger and could handle the greater recoil, its power could be increased even further."

He was still very dissatisfied.

"Tsk. Give it to me, I'll take it and improve it a bit."

"What am I doing?"

Like waking up from a hangover in an unfamiliar bed, Perturabo, carrying his Plasma Gun, blinked a few times as he walked back amidst the cheers of the workers.

Hiss.

After five days of elbowing his right brain with his left, Perturabo regained control of his thinking for the first time.

Do we really have to go to this extent for these people?

He's Perturabo!

How could the Iron Lord, Iron Within, Iron Without, possibly frantically manufacture weapons to please mortals like a lapdog just because he expects their praise?

This... this isn't right!?

As if entering a period of deep reflection, Perturabo began to reconsider his actions.

Snort!

He understands best what ordinary people are thinking.

Although they verbally wished him well and praised him, they actually viewed Perturabo as a tool!

He knew it! Perturabo had seen guys like that far too many times on Olympia!

They look very happy now, and they're probably thinking about how to trick Perturabo into building them even more and better things!

He was definitely thinking about how to gain Perturabo's trust with a few flattering words.

That being said, it always seemed like he couldn't refuse whenever the female worker named Averinia asked him to help build something.

What's going on?

Perturabo fell into deep thought.

It seemed that every time he interacted with Averinia, there was always another presence behind her, one he was more familiar with and more eager to communicate with.

They really are alike—

"Abo—!"

Who! Who! Who! Who!

Perturabo shuddered countless times in that instant.

Who called me that?! Who is it?!

He saw a small, blond figure in the distance running towards him, accompanied by dozens of workers.

Phew, it's Averinia.

Perturabo breathed a sigh of relief.

He still thought, he still believed—

Ptooey! Ptooey! Ptooey!

He didn't think of anyone; his heart was as hard as steel, and he didn't care about anyone at all!

"Phew, I finally caught up with you!"

After a short jog, Averinia stopped in front of him, panting heavily.

Why did you call me that?

"My name is Perturabo, Pet, Tu, La, Bo!"

Perturabo shouted angrily, enunciating each word clearly.

"You're not allowed to call me that anymore, understand?"

"I'm fine."

"I don't know why Perturabo suddenly erupted in such strong anger," Averinia replied somewhat timidly.

"Speak, what do you want from me?"

"It seems there's a problem with our food production facility, causing the machinery to malfunction. We need your help."

Help?!

Ha, how ridiculous!

What did these workers take Perturabo for? Servitor?

Perturabo thought to himself, annoyed.

Is there not a single person even remotely intelligent left on this planet?

Does every tiny mechanical malfunction require Perturabo to repair it?

How ridiculous!

He wanted to refuse firmly.

He must firmly reject these unreasonable and ridiculous demands!

Even if you die outside, even if you jump off here, the Iron Lord will never help you in the slightest again!

Nutrient paste production workshop.

"."

Perturabo silently stepped into the workshop, which reeked of a strong fermenting stench.

How disgusting.

This was Perturabo's first impression of the place.

Even though Corvus Corax tried to improve the equipment used to produce this so-called food, after trying to improve the cleaning process, they were unable to produce the Nutrient paste they wanted.

Some things can be left untouched.

Although I don't know how he started running, he couldn't run anymore after he started moving.

There was nothing they could do, and Corvus Corax dared not make any more changes.

Anyway, it won't taste good once it's dry, so just eat it as is.

At the heart of that place, which reeks of a strong, foul stench, lies a biological pool that nourishes the growth of algae.

However, it seems that besides algae, there are also more viscous substances that don't look like algae floating and tumbling in it, emitting an even stronger odor as they are boiled in the next pool.

Like a pot of thick green soup, it is constantly fermenting new elements.

Vomit.

Just seeing these things made even Perturabo's steely heart feel nauseous.

I heard that the Imperial Fists deliberately messes with newcomers like this, which does seem to fit Rogal Dorn's nature.

Is this what everyone in the world eats?

Living off food (*)?

In Olympia, even animals eat better than this!

Even though he had a lot of grievances against the people on Lycaeus, Perturabo still felt a slight pity for them at this moment.

Perhaps he had previously mocked these people for being as stupid as animals, but it seems they eat even worse than animals.

After the problem is fixed, let's help them build a new Corpse Starch synthesis factory.

Perturabo thought to himself.

"Where did we go wrong?"

He asked the worker representative who was hurrying over.

"It's the exhaust vent." The man bowed respectfully to Perturabo. "These days, workers have been reporting seeing a thin, ghostly figure at the exhaust vent, which is making the workers here very uneasy."

"You have an exhaust vent here? I thought this huge open-air fermentation site was the exhaust vent. Can't you smell the stench?"

"I"

"Alright, I don't expect you to be of any use anymore. I'll handle this. Go back to work."

"Yes, thank you for your help, sir."

Tsk.

"The exhaust vent is right at the top of this workshop. They call it haunted? These idiots are so superstitious—"

Hehehe

"Wow, that tastes amazing!"

As Perturabo climbed up the pipe, he seemed to actually hear the ghostly figure's laughter.

However, the voice seemed somewhat familiar.

"It's right ahead!"

After climbing over the corner of the ventilation shaft, he saw the thin, ghostly figure lying on it, and the two locked eyes.

The two sides fell into a rather long silence at this moment.

Finally, Perturabo posed a thought-provoking question.

"Mortarion, it's you?"

Mortarion will never laugh again.