Standing atop the hill, Aaron weathered the rain of fire that accompanied Perturabo's arrival.
Perturabo stood within the circle formed by his Iron Circle Automata. The Skullcrusher Warhammer in his left hand cast cold lightning overhead, while the battle automata turned to adjust their shields, forming a circular shield wall around him.
"You are resisting." Almost nothing human remained in Perturabo. Heavy armour covered his entire body, and a dozen sparking cables ran from his demonic face to every part of his frame. He resembled a small mountain of machinery. Without the Power Armour encasing and restraining him, he would scarcely have retained a humanoid shape.
The Daemon Primarch's right arm was a multilayered assembly of mechanical limbs. Aaron had no doubt that every one of those limbs possessed enough power to destroy an entire city.
"You are fighting, but forgive my candour: your so-called war between the eastern and western armies is as ugly as the interminable piss of a man who cannot empty his bladder. You seek the Three-Eyed King, the apocalypse howling amid the blessings of the Four Gods. The Father of Chaos has already perceived the truth-it sees and knows that if you truly find the Three-Eyed King, you will die. You are weak, and he has surpassed your weaknesses. He will not kneel. He will not obey. He will test the iron resolve you lack."
Perturabo's demonic face smiled. "I have come to correct you. You have taken the wrong path, and now I shall correct your mistake, my lord. You can become eternal, indestructible, unbreakable."
"Is that all you have to say?" Aaron sighed and asked, "Everyone has the right to choose their own path. In truth, I would very much like to correct you, but I'm not sure there would be any point."