Reconciliation

Everyone looked towards the field.

Perturabo's fist was hitting Dorn's face hard.

The force of that punch was so powerful that Dorn flew out and fell heavily to the ground.

Dorn was lying on the ground, gasping for air.

His body has reached its limit, and the body that has been trapped by Stasis Field for ten thousand years has not yet fully recovered.

Every muscle is protesting, every joint is in pain, and every breath is like a knife.

Perturabo stood in front of him, breathing heavily.

His body has also reached its limit, but he has 10,000 years more combat experience than Dorn, 10,000 more years of Chaos strengthening, and 10,000 more years of hatred.

He looked down at Dorn, with the joy of victory in his eyes, a sense of joy that he had never seen in ten thousand years, and a trace of complicated emotions.

"Get up." His voice was hoarse. "Aren't you a stone? A stone will not fall."

Dorn didn't move.

He just lay there, looking at the sky.

The sky was blue, the clouds were white, and the sun was warm.

"You win." he said.

Those three words were so soft that they were almost inaudible.

But Perturabo heard it.

He stood there, looking at the stone that finally fell, and felt an unprecedented feeling in his heart.

Not joy, not satisfaction, but an empty, abyss-like emptiness.

He won.

After ten thousand years, he finally won.

What then?

He looked up to the sky and laughed.

The laughter was crazy and unbridled, carrying 10,000 years of pent-up resentment, a joy that had not been seen in 10,000 years, and emotions that even he himself could not understand.

He had never smiled so happily.

Dorn was lying on the ground, looking at his appearance, the corners of his mouth raised slightly. "Like a madman."

Perturabo's laughter stopped suddenly. He lowered his head and stared at Dorn: "What did you say?"

Dorn looked at him, with a trace of mockery in his eyes. "I said you look like a madman."

After fighting for ten thousand years, I finally win once, and I am so happy."

Perturabo's face turned red: "You--you--"

Dorn continued, "But that's right, you haven't won a few times in your life."

It's really worth being happy to win once in a while."

Perturabo's fists clenched again. "Do you still want to fight?"

Dorn didn't move, just looked at him. "Can you still fight?"

Perturabo was stunned.

He looked down at his fist, which was shaking.

It's not anger, it's exhaustion.

His body was completely exhausted, every muscle was screaming, every joint was protesting, and every breath was like a knife.

Can he still fight? No.

Dorn smiled.

The smile was very faint and light, but Perturabo saw it.

That stone actually smiled.

"Why are you laughing?" Perturabo's voice was a little hoarse.

Dorn did not answer.

He just looked at the sky, at the blue sky and white clouds, and at the warm sunshine.

Then, he stretched out his hand to Perturabo.

Perturabo looked at that hand, looked at the hand that he had beaten for ten thousand years.

There was silence for a long time.

Then, he also stretched out his hand.

Two hands, held together.

Perturabo used force to pull Dorn up from the ground.

The two stood face to face, covered in wounds, blood, dirt and dust.

They looked at each other and were silent.

Then--

Perturabo punched Dorn on the shoulder. "Next time, I will win."

Dorn also punched back. "Dream."

Perturabo wanted to fight again, but as soon as he took a step, his feet gave way and he fell heavily to the ground.

Dorn was stunned for a moment, and then he also fell down, lying next to Perturabo.

Two people were lying side by side, looking at the sky.

The sky was blue, the clouds were white, and the sun was warm.

Perturabo suddenly smiled.

The smile was very light, very light, with a sense of ease that had never happened in ten thousand years. "I'm so damn tired."

Dorn also laughed, "Yeah."

The two of them just lay there, looking at the sky, in silence.

The sun shines on them, as warm as a mother's hands.

In the distance, Guilliman put away the parchment, stood up from the recliner, and stretched.

"Is the fight finished?" Malcador asked.

"The fight is over." Guilliman nodded.

"Who won?"

Guilliman looked at the two figures lying side by side and raised the corners of his mouth slightly. "Both of them won."

Tarasha looked at the two people, his eyes full of relief.

She stood up and walked towards them.

Guilliman wanted to stop her, but she had already walked over.

Tarasha stood in front of them, looking down at the two Primarch who were covered in injuries, stretched out his hand, and patted their shoulders gently. "Get up, the ground is cold."

Perturabo was stunned.

He looked at this old woman, at this mortal, at this person who dared to tap his shoulder.

He wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

Dorn stood up first.

He stretched out his hand and pulled Perturabo up from the ground.

The two stood together, covered in wounds, blood, dirt and dust.

Tarasha looked at them and smiled, "Let's go back and have something to eat."

I'll do it for you."

Perturabo's mouth twitched slightly. "You will do it for us?"

Tarasha nodded. "Yes, I will do it for you."

None of you children can take care of yourselves."

Perturabo was silent.

children.

No one has called him that in ten thousand years.

He looked at the old woman, her loving eyes, and her wrinkled but still gentle face.

He suddenly felt that his throat was a little tight.

"Let's go." Dorn said.

Perturabo nodded. "Let's go."

The three of them walked to the palace together.

Behind them, the sun was shining, making their shadows very long.

Guilliman stood there, looking at the three figures from behind, with a smile on his lips.

Malcador walked up to him. "Do you think Perturabo will come back?"

Guilliman thought for a while, "Yes."

"So sure?"

Guilliman smiled, "Because he laughed."

Malcador also laughed.

In the distance, Perturabo's voice came. "Do you still have that black tea?"

Dorn's voice. "Yes."

"Give me a drink."

"Pour it yourself."

"You--"

The sound of the two bickering became farther and farther away, disappearing into the corridor of the palace.

The sun is still warm and the sky is still blue.

Terra A new day has begun.