The galaxy was vast beyond measure. Amid its myriad stars, one could find every kind of strange world, and depending on their local environments, the humans living upon them had developed entirely different customs and ways of life.
Among the many Primarchs, there were barely any whose native environment could compare to The Boss's. With an environment like Olympia's, that stinky Barbarus brat would have cried his eyes out with envy.
But a good environment was one thing; the people of Olympia were far from normal. Even if they were not as bad as Nuceria's Dark Technology slave masters, they were still a pack of bipolar lunatics, tormenting themselves and everyone else.
Leaving the banquet hall, Mordred followed the scent all the way to a workshop by the river. Driven by the current, a somewhat crude mechanical device operated over and over, continuously supplying the workshop with power.
Mordred kicked the door open and saw that unlucky kid huddled in a corner, caught up in her own internal strife.
If this had been some standard heroic story, Mordred would have gone up to comfort her. Unfortunately, Master Mordred had never possessed that option. All he did was mock people.
"Yo! Isn't this Pepe? What's with that expression? What's with those eyes? Don't tell me you ran off just to hide here and cry. What a useless lump of mud!"
"I'm not useless."
"You are. You're a lump of mud, and once mud, always mud. No wonder you ended up like this. I don't even know what the hell you're dithering over."
"You don't understand me at all!" Perturabo, who had been insulted out of nowhere, grew angry as well and immediately launched into a furious tirade while pointing at Mordred.
"Mordred, that high and mighty look of yours makes me