I Am You

He captured it all from those small daily routines, from those unintentional conversations, from those micro-expressions that even Perturabo himself was not aware of, and condensed them into three sentences.

What if you can become Lord Regent?

How about saying that dad likes how smart you are?

Among all our honest and loyal Primarchs, you are the only one who is dishonest.

There are literally one hundred and thirty thoughts.

Twenty hive creations rushed in front of him at the same time.

They have different shapes, some have wings on their backs, some have bone blades protruding from their arms, and some are covered in dark green energy shields.

Their eyes burned with blue-white light, and that light was full of murderous intent and madness.

They opened their mouths and let out a silent scream - not a sound, but a scream at the Psionic Energy level. The scream exploded on the battlefield, causing those Space Marines who were still far away to feel a tinnitus.

They pounced on Roge·Dorn at the same time.

From all directions and in various ways, they tried to tear this golden giant into pieces.

Their cooperation is extremely tacit, like a sophisticated killing machine, every movement is just right, and every attack is aimed directly at the vital point.

Roge·Dorn did not move.

He just held the Chainsword and stood there, like an eternal stone.

The roar of the Chainsword is clearly discernible among the screams, like a never-ending hymn.

"You are mine."

His voice was calm, "Perturabo and I have decided on dinner. But my children's dinner has not been decided yet - your nutritional value should be very high, right? Replenishing the bodies of my son and nephews who have worked hard for a long time is your only value."

He lifted Chainsword.

The blade of the sword drew a golden arc in the void, and the edge of the arc had fine golden lines like red-hot iron wire.

Wherever the arc passed, the air was burning and the void was trembling.

The sword blade struck the body of an insect nest creation. The creature's body was instantly cut open under the saw teeth of Chainsword. From the shoulders to the waist, the carapace was shattered, flesh and blood spattered, and dark green body fluids spurted in the air.

"You can't kill us all."

Another insect hive creature rushed from the side, and its bone blade pierced Dorn's side ribs. The speed was extremely fast, with a kind of madness of "Aren't you going to kill me? Come and kill me." "Before you run out of strength, we have twenty more!"

Roge·Dorn dodged the blow sideways, and the bone blade brushed against his golden carapace, leaving a shallow scratch on the surface.

He didn't look at the scratch.

He recovered his Chainsword, then swung it out again, hitting the chest of another insect hive creation, cutting open its carapace and the internal organs underneath.

"I am blessed by eternal power."

His voice was as calm as ever, "My strength is naturally endless. Killing you is just a matter of time."

The third insect nest creation swooped from above, its wings spread out in the air, and those membranes as thin as cicada wings reflected a dark green luster in the sunlight.

Its claws reached towards the top of Dorn's head, trying to grab his helmet and twist off his head.

Dorn did not look up.

He just raised Chainsword with the blade facing upwards. The creature's body was cut open from the abdomen to the chest by the blade during the fall, and the two halves of the body slipped from both sides of Dorn.

The fourth, the fifth, the sixth.

The Terra's Glory drew golden arcs on the battlefield, and each arc was accompanied by the fall of an insect hive creation.

The Hive Prince had crawled hundreds of meters away. Its palms were full of dark blood, its body was shaking, and its blue-white eyes were still staring in the direction of the mothership.

Perturabo is sprinting towards it. His speed is getting faster and faster. The sand and rocks under his feet are picked up and crushed in the air waves, and flying dust is raised that covers the sky and the sun.

His palm has been opened, and the Forgebreaker is spinning and accelerating in his hand, like a cannonball about to escape.

The smile at the corner of his mouth finally stretched completely, like a knife finally unsheathed!

Twenty insect nests Primarch fell to the ground.

Their bodies were cut, their carapace shattered, and dark green body fluids flowed on the sand, forming small streams.

They also hold weapons in their hands, some holding bone blades, some holding sharp claws, and some holding Power Sword that they snatched from Space Marines.

But those weapons could no longer be lifted because their arms had been severed, shaved off, and crushed.

Their dignity was trampled on, crushed, and torn to pieces.

But Roge·Dorn still looked calm.

His golden Power Armour was covered with dark green blood stains.

The Terra's Glory Chainsword sword still had half a carapace fragment hanging on the blade, and the saw teeth were still idling, making a low buzzing sound.

His breathing was steady, his heartbeat was steady, and his eyes swept over the twitching bodies. There was no emotion in those amber eyes.

Not the joy of victory, not the thrill of conquest, not pity for the weak.

Just calm.

It is like the bottom of the deep sea, a place where even thousands of years of wind and waves cannot reach.

What is he thinking?

Perturabo glanced at it from a distance, feeling a complicated emotion in his heart.

Why is his face calm?

Why is he standing there, like a mountain that nothing can shake?

"I am Roge·Dorn."

His voice was not loud, but it was on a battlefield that was already messed up by artillery fire and the screams of swarms of insects.

Every word was transmitted clearly, reaching the ears of those still struggling insect hive Primarch.

It reached the ears of the Iron Warriors and Imperial Fists soldiers who were still lining up in the distance, and it reached the ears of Swarm Prince who was crawling on the sand.

He is the seventh Primarch of Imperium of Man.

Gene-Father of Imperial Fists.

The last warrior in Siege of Terra to retreat from the city wall.

He stood there, the golden Power Armour shining in the afterglow of the setting sun.

His hair is very short, almost as short as a short inch, but the extra few centimeters are enough for him to comb his hair into a slicked back.

The back of the head symbolizes maturity, majesty and power.

He raised his hand and pushed back the few strands of hair that were blown by the wind. His movements were slow and natural, as if he was not adjusting his appearance, but confirming his existence.

"I don't understand your mentality."

His voice was as calm as ever, "I don't understand your desire either.

The so-called devouring life is a cruel robbery in my eyes.

Human beings will also expand, and humans will also plunder.

But everything is just to make human beings more friendly."

He paused, and his amber eyes scanned the insect nests that were slowly getting up Primarch.

"If you let me work harder, if you let me suffer a little more, you can make one more person feel happy and comfortable, and I will do it happily.

Perhaps for my father, this is the shackles of my soul that he innately placed on me.

But I have reviewed myself, reviewed for thousands of years, and finally my soul told me that it is not what he desires, nor what my father desires, nor what my Warp Essence desires."

His voice was still calm, but beneath the calm, something deeper was surging.

It's not passion, it's not fanaticism, but a kind of echo that has been tempered for thousands of years, like steel after quenching.

"It's just that I want to do this, and that's how I want to live."

His words fell into the air like a stone dropped into deep water.

There was no splashing or ripples, it just sank to a place where no one could see it.