The word "family" rose to Perturabo's lips, yet he could not bring himself to speak it. It swirled uneasily at the tip of his tongue, but never managed to break through his thin lips.
Seeing this, Datch smiled.
It seemed the Iron Lord still needed a little push to face his true self and acknowledge his emotions. Even steel required a soft side. Hardness alone made it far too easy to break.
"Bring the remnants of the previous tyrant," Datch ordered the guards.
Having witnessed everything that had just occurred, none of them dared show the slightest disrespect. They immediately turned and went to fetch the people.
Before long, Perturabo's adoptive father and brothers were brought forward.
At that moment, Dammekos had only just shed his sheep form and returned to human shape. Before he could even grasp what was happening, the guards lifted him up.
When he saw the Nameless One sitting upon his former throne, complex emotions flooded Dammekos's face.
The instant he turned and laid eyes on Perturabo, that complicated expression transformed into excitement and elation. He opened his mouth to call out, but at the last moment restrained himself.
Perturabo, too, saw his adoptive father and brothers. A worried look appeared on his face.
Datch, seated on the throne and having watched the entire scene, smiled and made a throat-slitting gesture.
"Eliminate them all."
Even Ferrus, watching from the audience, widened his eyes in shock.
…Aren't we supposed to be here to change Perturabo? Would killing his adoptive father and brothers really alter his way of thinking?
Ferrus instinctively stepped forward and half-raised a hand as if to stop them, but quickly lowered it again. That Nameless One must have some profound reason for this. If he couldn't understand it himself, it was wiser not to interfere.
"No..."
Perturabo roared and charged out of the crowd, spreading both arms to shield his adoptive father and the brothers behind him. His gaze, however, was filled with fury and locked onto Datch.
"You can't do this!"
"If you lay a single hand on them, I will kill you. No matter what happens, if you harm them, I will kill you."
Datch stretched lazily, tilted his head, and regarded Perturabo with interest.
"Oh? Really now?"
"But there's one thing I don't understand. What exactly do they have to do with you?"
"They are... they are..." Perturabo still could not say the word "family." "No matter what, if you touch them, I'll fight you to the death."
"Either way, you won't even be allowed to touch them."
Datch stared at Perturabo, the corners of his mouth curving upward.
He extended his hand and chose to confront Dammekos using the power of the Time Stone within the Infinity Gauntlet.
In mere seconds, Dammekos's hair visibly whitened from root to tip. His skin wrinkled like crumpled paper, deep creases spreading across his face. His once-straight back hunched over, and his strong, sturdy hands became dry and frail.
Within those few seconds, Dammekos aged dramatically, so weakened that a single gust of wind might topple him.
"What does my fighting the remnants of the previous tyrant have to do with you? You are nothing to them."
"I'll kill you!" Perturabo roared in rage and charged his massive frame straight at Datch on the throne.
Datch snapped his fingers. A faint blue spatial barrier materialized around Perturabo, sealing him inside.
"Aren't you proud of being made of steel? Then why are you so obsessed with settling matters with these humans?"
As soon as Datch finished speaking, he raised his hand and waved it lightly.
Dammekos's head was severed by an invisible spatial force. The old man's head spun through the air, his wrinkled face frozen in confusion and terror. Blood erupted from the stump, tracing a vivid red arc before splattering shocking crimson stains across the ground.
Next came his foster brothers, Herakon and Andos. The headless corpses collapsed with dull thuds. Bright red blood gushed forth, quickly forming pools.
"No...!!!"
Perturabo's roar was filled with endless despair and agony. Bloodshot eyes fixed on Datch, he pounded desperately against the spatial wall that imprisoned him. His fists struck again and again, dull impacts echoing as white bone began to show through torn flesh.
His usually rational mind went blank. In a hoarse voice he screamed,
"I'll kill you!"
"I will definitely kill you!"
"How could you lay hands on them?! How could you do something like that?!"
For the first time, Perturabo's voice trembled with sobs.
"They are my family… so how could you do that?!"
"They are my family…"
...
Ferrus stood to the side, a look of pure joy on his face.
What had he just heard? It was unbelievable. Perturabo—the Iron Lord who despised emotion and pretended indifference to everything—had actually admitted that humans were his family.
This was a miracle. One that deserved to be recorded among the miracles of the galaxy.
"Ah, so they really were your family." Datch's voice carried a note of sudden realization. "You should have said so sooner."
Datch raised his hand and waved lightly. The spatial barrier vanished.
The moment the Iron Lord regained his freedom, he charged like a mad beast, fists swinging toward Datch. His speed was astonishing; bloodied, wounded knuckles tore through the air with terrifying force.
Datch waved his hand and used the Space Stone to summon Calliphone directly in front of him.
Perturabo's foster sister appeared in shock. One instant she had been outside the palace; the next, she stood there, facing Perturabo's blood-covered fist.
Perturabo's pupils contracted instantly. His massive body twisted violently, diverting the blow. Momentum carried him forward and he nearly stumbled.
"I thought for sure you were going to kill your foster sister as well," Datch said with a grin.
Perturabo lifted his head, eyes blazing with fury.
What a despicable, shameless man—using a woman as a shield.
Datch ignored the glare. He extended his hand and chose to revive Perturabo's adoptive father and brothers with the power of the Time Stone.
Time reversed. The severed head rose from the ground, spun through the air, and settled perfectly back onto the neck. The wound sealed, bones rejoined, and blood vessels reconnected.
All those who had been killed were restored to life.
Thus, the boundary between life and death was effortlessly distorted by the Player.
Dammekos and the others knelt on the ground, touching their necks and uninjured bodies. Bewilderment at having survived the catastrophe was written on their faces.
Perturabo stared at the scene in shock, then turned to Datch with a puzzled expression.
"What exactly are you trying to achieve?"
Datch clapped his hands and spoke in a casual tone. "After all, they are your family. Killing them rashly wouldn't be good, so I revived them for your sake."
"However, if you fulfill my two conditions, I will completely free them and free all of Olympia. Otherwise, every resident of Olympia—including your family—will become my playthings. I sincerely hope these pitiful people can endure my torture."
Perturabo felt only humiliation and rage at such arrogance, yet he could do nothing. Faced with an existence capable of manipulating stars with a flick of the wrist and killing or reviving at will, he knew he stood no chance.
"Why are you doing this?" Perturabo demanded. "You possess overwhelming power. You should be able to obtain anything you desire. Why still resort to threats?"
Datch tilted his head and answered lightly, "Because it's fun."
Those casually spoken words planted despair in everyone's hearts. Their lives, everything they possessed, were nothing more than entertainment to the enemy.
"You're a complete madman," Perturabo said.
"You're free to refuse my offer," Datch replied calmly. "But from this moment on, you have no right to object to anything I do."
Perturabo fell silent for a long time, thinking of his adoptive family and the suffering people outside. Finally, he relented and nodded.
"Tell me your conditions."
"First, help me construct a magnificent holy capital. You may decide the design." Datch raised one finger. "Second, forge steel that never decays."
Perturabo frowned, confusion and surprise flickering in his eyes.
That's all?
He had expected far harsher demands. Unexpectedly, all he had to do was build a city and forge iron—tasks that were nothing to him.
"Is that truly all?" he asked cautiously.
"Of course." Datch nodded.
Perturabo was silent for several seconds, then nodded.
"Understood. I will fulfill your two conditions. In return, you will leave Olympia and restore freedom to the people here."
"Understood," Datch agreed.
Perturabo turned and walked away to fulfill the conditions.
Datch watched his departing back with a smile.
He retrieved the Infinity Gauntlet from his game inventory and chose to use the power of the Reality Stone to impose an entirely new rule.
"Those who build the holy capital shall experience the pain of fire and ice."
The moment the words were spoken, the rule quietly took root in reality.
Perturabo had just stepped out of the palace gates, preparing to locate a suitable construction site and draft blueprints, when an indescribable agony erupted from the very marrow of his bones. His body suddenly stiffened.
One moment he burned as though on fire; the next he froze as though encased in ice.
The same torment struck the craftsmen who tried to assist him. The instant they picked up their tools, burning and freezing pain assaulted them. They screamed and collapsed to the ground.
Perturabo stood at the construction site, gazing at the fallen craftsmen, his rage reaching its peak.
"Shameless."
"Do you really think you can force me to submit this way? You're gravely mistaken."
Perturabo turned and left, telling the others not to help him. He would complete the task alone.
He quickly chose a flat stretch of land with a cliff at his back and a plain stretching before him. With bloodied, wounded hands he carried heavy stones alone, cut stone alone, and dug the foundation alone.
Burning and freezing pain tormented him every single moment. Yet he remained silent and continued working diligently.
The foundation gradually took shape. Stones were stacked. Buildings began to rise. Progress was slow, but steady.
…
On the fourth day, a new development occurred.
A shepherd arrived with his companions, declaring they wished to help the Primarch build the city. The burning and freezing pain was nearly unbearable for them, yet they endured it through sheer willpower.
"You don't need to do this," Perturabo said hoarsely, looking at them. "You probably can't endure such pain, but I can."
The shepherd set down the stone, straightened his back, and wiped the sweat from his brow. Deep wrinkles like valleys were carved into his weather-beaten face.
"There is no difference. Back then, when you were starving and stole a sheep, and we were chasing you, you still stopped to help drive away the feathered snake. That was when I realized you were also a living human being."
He paused, his gaze falling on the back of Perturabo's thick hand.
"You saved my child. Now it's my turn to repay you. Olympia has always been a fair place. Effort should always be rewarded."
Perturabo's expression grew complicated. He had always believed those people would never feel gratitude toward him. Who could have imagined that, even knowing the pain it would bring, they would still come resolutely to help?
The shepherd hadn't expected a reply, but continued anyway. "Perturabo, you are a hero. But even heroes don't have to bear everything alone."
...
The shepherd's arrival seemed to be a signal. People Perturabo had once helped poured in from every direction.
Blacksmiths, farmers, miners, and merchants gathered to help rebuild Perturabo's city, bringing tools, food, and water. They endured the pain of burns and frostbite, yet not one of them faltered.
They cooperated in an orderly fashion—some cutting stone, some transporting materials, some raising walls, some surveying—each with their own role. Their enthusiasm accelerated the construction dramatically.
Perturabo stood at the center of the site, a smile on his face. Until now, he had never realized that ordinary people possessed a perseverance no less than his own.
Datch and Ferrus stood on the slope of a distant hill, overlooking the lively construction site. The setting sun slowly sank behind the western mountains, casting golden light upon the emerging buildings and warming the rough stone walls.
"Don't you understand, Lord Nameless One?" Ferrus's voice held confusion. "You don't even need a city, so why insist on Perturabo doing this?"
Datch glanced at Ferrus, then turned his face away. As always, he had no desire to answer questions from NPCs unrelated to the quest.
With the cooperation of countless people, Perturabo completed a vast city. Various sculptures modeled after Datch's own works adorned it.
He then began forging steel that would never decay.
For Perturabo, forging iron was a simple matter. He carefully selected materials and mixed them in precise ratios to create the most perfect steel.
Several days later, he returned to the palace carrying a shining steel ingot and met Datch.
"I have fulfilled all your conditions. Leave Olympia at once."
Perturabo looked at Datch.
"Hmm??"
Datch applied the power of the Time Stone to the steel ingot. No matter how sturdy something might be, it could not resist the flow of time and was destined to decay.
The block of steel endured for a long while. But as time passed, rust appeared, and eventually the entire ingot was covered in it.
"No..." Perturabo said. "You're cheating."
"I cheated? All I ever asked for was steel that never decays," Datch replied.
"Such a thing absolutely cannot exist," Perturabo declared—surprising even himself.
Everyone knew he had long revered iron and believed it the most perfect creation in the world. Yet faced with this mysterious outsider, he had no choice but to admit…
No matter how perfect the steel, it would deteriorate over time.
"That's none of my concern," Datch shrugged. "My only demand is steel that never decays."
"I know how to forge immortal steel," said Andos, Perturabo's foster brother.
All eyes turned to him in confusion.
"The steel we forge is fated to decay eventually, but our will does not decay. As long as we inherit the will to forge steel and reforge it whenever it begins to rust—as long as our will never breaks—the steel itself will never decay."
After finishing, Andos walked toward Datch under the surprised gazes of the crowd.
"Mysterious outsider, please protect our and Perturabo's creation so that it may withstand the test of time."