Molten Steel (II)

This is a right hand protected by pale, skeletal armor.

The material that forms its exterior looks completely unrelated to steel. A very pale, ashen white is mixed with a somber, night-like black, and the lines are not sharp, even giving a somewhat dull feeling.

At this moment, it was laid flat before Perturabo, and above his palm was a ring.

Perturabo's brow furrowed deeper and deeper, as if someone had struck it with great force with a chisel. He didn't need to think to tell that the ring was made of Adamantium.

It is large, fitting the Primarch size perfectly. The ring's surface has dark lightning patterns that gleam like Thunder in the night sky under the harsh white light.

"What does this mean?" Perturabo asked, staring intently at Karyl.

"This is a gift from your brother Konrad Curze Curze," Karyl replied calmly—in fact, judging from his earlier demeanor, he was almost too calm, like the last vestige of calm before a storm.

He assumed you wouldn't need weapons, and naturally, armor as well. But he couldn't come himself, because Nostramo still needed to be carefully protected. This galaxy is too vast; staying grounded is a better approach.

"So he chose to create a piece of jewelry for you, made by his own hands. He spent time learning how to smelt and forge. This ring took him three weeks, during which he worked almost non-stop. So accept it, Perturabo."

The giant from Olympia, who considered himself made of steel, did not immediately take the gift that represented brotherhood. Instead, he slowly clenched his fists, as if he were forcibly suppressing some emotion.

He tried, but his efforts were not enough to erase a certain flaw inherent in his nature. A storm of emotions began to brew on his face, eventually erupting into a roar.

"Are you insulting me?!" Perturabo roared, glaring at his opponent, his hands trembling, his face clearly showing his impulse to use violence.

"Bringing out my brother's gift at a time like this? What are you playing at, Karyl Lohars? If you're going to make a move, just come at me. I'm not like Lorgar!"

"No, Your Excellency Perturabo, I have no intention of taking action," Karyl replied slowly, his pale face beneath the hood expressionless.

"Just as you said, this would create a diplomatic incident. Beating him on a Primarch's flagship, leaving him bleeding, with a swollen forehead, bent fingers, and broken ribs... that would probably attract the Emperor's attention."

Silence.

A deathly silence.

Perturabo gritted his teeth and fell silent. His reason had crumbled, and for a moment, Karyl was certain that his words had had an indescribable and profound impact on Perturabo.

He could see the immense anger in the other man's eyes, yet Perturabo held back.

He actually managed to hold back.

"Get out." He spat out the word through gritted teeth, then more. "Leave the gift behind, then take my brother's legion and leave my ship, Karyl Lohars. Get out of here now, before I lose my mind."

"The Sigillites has ordered us to come to your aid," Karyl said.

He paid no heed to the insults Perturabo used, but instead of giving him the gift, he maintained his outstretched right hand, looking like a statue.

His right hand didn't even tremble slightly.

"You have thirty seconds," Perturabo said grimly. "I'm giving you only thirty seconds to leave the hall. If you refuse, or exceed that time, then you'll face the consequences."

"As a result of?"

"Yes, the consequences." The Primarch smiled, the emotions stirred by the poison of his words flowing between his brows—emotions that were anything but pleasant. "Consequences you absolutely cannot afford. Fifteen seconds left, Karyl Lohars."

"What do you intend to do?" Karyl tilted his head slightly, scrutinizing Perturabo. "Or order your legions to attack us? Or bring out the weapons you've already prepared and attack me?"

Five seconds.

Karyl finally smiled, shook his head, and put away the ring in front of Perturabo. The skeletal face climbed up from the shadows, transforming his face into a hideous skull.

"Keep reading."

The altered sound, transformed by the armor, echoed in the empty hall, hollow and ominous, unlike anything a human could produce. In fact, even the changes brought about by the Power Armour's breathing grille could not compare to this sound.

It's not a power generated by technology. It sounds more like the roar of some monster from the ancient wilderness, from the long, dark night.

Karyl began to take a step forward and spoke softly.

I've changed my mind.

"I don't intend to give you this gift. This ring belongs to Konrad Curze Curze's brother, Perturabo, the Perturabo whom Fulgrim described as having a slightly eccentric personality, but who was definitely a good man."

"And in my opinion, you're just a biased and foolish child."

The next second, a heavy, loud bang erupted in the hall.

The sound came from Perturabo's right fist and Karyl's left arm guard. The surging storm transformed into a visible shockwave that swept across the entire hall from the point of contact between the fist and the arm guard, creating an exaggerated and unimaginable spectacle.

Perturabo didn't stop. His face darkened as he bent over, his left fist flipping and spinning as he threw a punch. His target was the jaw, but this time his attack failed. A hand deftly seized his left wrist before his strike could hit.

"Go put on your armor," the skeleton advised gently. "And remember to take your weapons, or anything else you might need, bring them all."

"You're a madman." Perturabo withdrew his arm grimly, easily freeing himself from the grasp; Karyl hadn't even struggled with him. "What good does this do you, Karyl Lohars?"

"There's no benefit to it."

"Yes, there's no benefit whatsoever," Perturabo snapped. "My hearing is perfect, so what you just said was a demand for a duel with me."

"You want to duel me for one of my negligent officers? Don't you think that's ridiculous? Do you think Sergeant Eltelos will be grateful for this, or his brothers will feel even a shred of gratitude towards you?"

"No, they won't. They accepted me and what I brought. I want them to become warriors with iron wills, and that's the path they're taking. No one will regret it, and no one will think it's wrong."

"You're interfering in my legion's affairs from an outsider's perspective. Who gave you that right? And on what grounds did you decide to strip my brother of the gift he gave me?"

Beneath the skeletal helmet, Karyl smiled silently.

"You've said too much, Perturabo." He sighed calmly. "Although you sound like you're trying to overpower me with a debate, to avert a potential bloodshed and diplomatic incident, but..."

He chuckled softly.

The laughter was distorted and terrifying, echoing through the hall. Its hollowness amplified the laughter's intensity, and Perturabo's exceptional hearing made it impossible for him to miss a single detail.

At that moment, he precisely captured the disdain and contempt contained within that laughter. They were genuine, and the evidence of their existence was frighteningly clear.

"To me, this sounds more like an excuse you're using to convince yourself. Are you feeling guilty, Your Excellency Lord of Iron, Son of Olympia, Great Perturabo?"

"If you're truly confident that what you're doing is right, why are you saying so much to me? You could just walk away like a real victor, instead of putting on a brave front and making a fool of yourself."

Perturabo exhaled slowly, a long breath that seemed as if he had expelled his lungs.

His emotions began to fluctuate, starting with his face, and then his chest began to heave rapidly as he put on the uniform that was clearly a last-minute change for the upcoming meeting.

Karyl had foreseen its outbreak long ago; in fact, his previous actions were precisely for this purpose.

He wanted to bring the storm down.

He and Perturabo had only met for less than twenty minutes, and even including the time they had previously communicated on track, it certainly hadn't exceeded forty minutes. Yet, he already had a considerable understanding of Perturabo, an understanding not based on experience or anything else, but on a keen insight honed through past experiences.

He probably already knew that Perturabo's anger always erupted suddenly. And he would continue to try to suppress it unless he truly couldn't hold back.

Beneath the skeleton, Karyl's smile grew ever more pronounced.

"You'll regret this," the Primarch of the Iron Warriors said after letting out a long breath.

"I come from Olympia. In my youth, I lived as a craftsman, a scientist, and a promoter of knowledge, but that doesn't mean I'm not good at fighting. I'm different from Lorgar, Karyl Lohars. You'll soon see that I'm not lying, and I will avenge him."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," Perturabo replied grimly. "Since you insist on this unnecessary struggle, since you've thrown my reason, my concessions, and my tolerance to the ground, then I will personally take that ring back from your hand."

"It no longer belongs to you," Karyl replied with a hint of regret.

One more chapter.