"Do you really think they'll go and fight their own kind? The Dark Eldar might be vile, but that doesn't mean they'll willingly accept slaughtering each other."
"Are you cooking up another scheme?"
The Emperor stepped up beside Perturabo, watching Cegorach and Isha lead those Craftworlds deeper into the Webway.
He was rather curious—what kind of wicked brew was Perturabo concocting this time?
If you cut Perturabo open, his insides would be even blacker than his own. The Emperor simply did not believe that he would let such a golden opportunity slide.
"What scheme could there be? Do a bunch of rotten-to-the-core Eldar even require a scheme? If it weren't for the fact that they're still somewhat useful right now, coupled with the fact that we can't divert our entire attention to the Webway, I would have exterminated them long ago!"
Perturabo's disdain for these Aeldari was far from ordinary. His words and demeanor made it perfectly clear that he didn't view them as a legitimate opponent in the slightest.
"Don't underestimate them. They are, after all, one of the oldest races in the galaxy. Their strength and technology are not weak."
While the Emperor despised xenos, it didn't mean he actually viewed them as pushovers.
The methods of these xenos were exceptionally brutal and insidious.
If push came to shove, the xenos that managed to survive into the present day were truly capable of inflicting heavy losses on certain fleets.
Especially the Eldar and the Orks—god only knew what kind of radical changes their technology and gene-banks could bring them.
"How strong could they be? If they were really that capable, what were they doing before this? Sneaking around like stray dogs. If Lodgar and I hadn't inadvertently helped them deal with Slaanesh, they still wouldn't dare step foot out of the Webway."
"But what happens after Slaanesh is dealt with? What's the outcome?"
"If they possessed even an ounce of backbone, I might hold them in higher regard. A bunch of hypocrites. It's bad enough they're fake, but they're incompetent too—always making a colossal mess of things and then trying to vanish into thin air."
"Hmph. They thought highly of themselves in the past, but the Webway doesn't belong to them anymore. They've occupied the Old Ones' creations for so long, yet they don't even know how to maintain or build the Webway."
"You saw what the Webway looked like before. If we weren't slowly beginning to repair and build it now, those bastards would have probably ruined these tunnels before long."
"Tell me, how am I supposed to respect them? A bunch of wastes of space. It's an act of mercy that we haven't charged into the Webway to slaughter them all to the last."
Though Perturabo's words were laced with dismissiveness and contempt, the Emperor thought about it and realized it was indeed the truth. He dropped the matter and returned to the core of the issue.
"So you really just let them run off like that?"
The rest of the Eldar were one thing, but Cegorach, that clown, was exceptionally good at running and hiding. The Webway was vast; even if the Imperium completely sealed all Webway gates in the future, it wouldn't guarantee they could catch him.
"If they behave, the Imperium wouldn't mind having a few more abhumans. But if they want to run—"
Perturabo trailed off, letting out a couple of cold, mocking chuckles. The Emperor knew his son must have done something just now, otherwise, he wouldn't wear such an expression.
"What did you do to him just now?"
"Just a tiny essence of Slaanesh, combined with a little trick of my own."
Hiss~
Truly venomous enough! As expected of his own kid!
"So you can track them at any moment now?"
"Bright as a star."
Then there was nothing to worry about. As long as they could be tracked, it was fine.
"Then I'll head back and continue studying the Second, to see if I can revive him sooner."
The Emperor was currently having a bit of a headache over this particular son. Corruption wasn't just a problem of Chaos; the energies of the Warp had flooded his body. Even without the Four Gods, other chaotic psychic corruptions would still descend.
The Second still couldn't be awakened right now. The moment he woke up, he would highly likely daemon-ascend directly into a Daemon Prince—and a mindless, crazed one at that.
His very essence had been twisted to a point where he wasn't much better off than the traitor Horus back then.
Trying to thoroughly resolve this matter was highly difficult, but if there was one thing the Emperor was absolutely confident in, it was psychic power and scientific research.
He would definitely solve his son's problem!
Meanwhile, Perturabo stopped paying attention to Cegorach and the others, returning to the laboratory to continue his project.
The positioning of the Centurion armor was actually quite awkward. It sat right between the Terminator armor and the Dreadnought, essentially acting as a walking humanoid vehicle specifically used to anchor defensive lines and break through enemy lines.
But ever since Perturabo continuously upgraded the Terminator armor, combined with the presence of Abominable Intelligence (Iron Circle/Man of Iron tech), the Centurion armor had practically been left to gather dust in the warehouse.
After all, this thing was exceptionally bulky. Even if its defense was formidable and its firepower quite ferocious, compared to those Abominable Intelligences and the more agile Tyrant-pattern Terminator armor, the Centurion armor didn't really have any advantages left to justify its retention.
It was too clumsy and massive. The moment it appeared, it would 100% become the target of concentrated fire. Furthermore, its mobility was abysmal, forcing it to attack only in wide, lumbering movements.
Not to mention its current offensive capabilities were actually not that outstanding relatively speaking; its poor mobility alone meant it deserved to be phased out.
After all, Abominable Intelligences were right there assisting. If it couldn't keep pace with the God-Machines (Titans) and the Knight Households, what use did this war have for it?
It was the kind of thing where even keeping it for garrison duty felt like a waste of space. Donning it was a hassle, and being enclosed in that iron shell was a dreadful experience.
With that kind of effort, wouldn't a suit of Tyrant Terminator armor be much better? It was powerful, customizable, possessed decent mobility, and its firepower and defense weren't inferior to a Centurion.
Originally, Perturabo had almost forgotten about this redundant armor.
However, a Space Marine Chapter under his command, the Sons of Olympia, had recently encountered a xenos race. They weren't particularly strong, but they were definitely tenacious and troublesome.
In truth, they had suffered due to the terrain. This xenos race wasn't exactly cold-blooded or ruthless.
They were a mineral-symbiotic xenos species. The planet they occupied was extremely rich in high-quality Adamantium ore and the minerals required to synthesize Ceramite.
These minerals formed the planet itself. In terms of pure value, it was only slightly inferior to Nostramo.
If the Imperium passed up on a mineral planet like this upon encountering it, it wouldn't be the Imperium. Thus, Chapter Master Cassius intended to personally lead the drop to engage in combat.
It was originally thought to be a guaranteed victory, but this group of mutated stone-men xenos, called the Lipths, proved to be very stubborn.
Their technological level was decent. They had established one massive fortress after another upon those mineral veins. Their shield technology wasn't bad either, and their anti-aircraft batteries alongside artillery akin to Volcano Cannons left the Sons of Olympia quite disheveled.
There was no other reason than the fact that these sites were too precious. The Sons of Olympia didn't want to destroy the planet's value, so they didn't even utilize the God-Machines too much.
This war was fought with great difficulty. Nearly over 50,000 Iron Circle and cybernetica units were destroyed by these xenos in the process of launching decapitation strikes against these mega-fortresses.
The firepower of the Iron Circle and cybernetica units was indeed formidable, but saying they could compare to armored vehicles was impossible.
In an enclosed environment, even if the breakthrough capabilities of these Iron Circle and cybernetica units weren't bad, it was still considered an extremely delayed pace for an Imperium accustomed to swift victories.
In the end, it was Cassius who personally led his honor guard to execute a decapitation strike on the stone-men leader of this mineral world. Otherwise, this war would have likely dragged on for another two months before ending.
This also exposed a minor tactical flaw of the current Imperium: in high-value siege warfare, decapitation assault tactics would suffer from a lack of sufficiently heavy firepower, leading to delays in breaking the enemy lines.
For a single war, this bit of time didn't mean much. The current Imperium did not lack time.
But the future Imperium wouldn't have that luxury. Perturabo knew clearly that the Tyranid swarms and Necrons of the future wouldn't grant you time, and Chaos, which would slowly resurce later on, would likely crop up in some remote corner to corrupt human hearts again.
If the Imperium could resolve a war as quickly as possible, it absolutely had to do so swiftly, and without leaving any loose ends.
Speed and efficiency represented a lot of things. For an Imperium this massive to ensure the safety of every segmentum, every sector, and even every star system, it had to put enough effort into its Chapters and fleets, which also demanded massive maintenance costs.
They also had to ensure that every system had sufficient defensive forces at any given time.
Perturabo's ideal for this was that every star system in the future would be guarded by an Astartes Chapter, or at the very least, have a fleet of ten capital ships on standby at all times.
Every Forge World and those more important Homeworlds, Hive Worlds, Strategic Fortresses, etc., should have enough stockpiles and combat readiness. Only then could this Imperium truly be considered a Galactic Imperium in the truest sense.
Everything before this was basically petty squabbling. By the end of a war, everyone would be utterly dazed, not even knowing what the hell they were fighting for.
The Imperium's wartime capacity being dragged out or even stalled within its own borders was a very bad sign.
Perturabo would absolutely never allow the Imperium to turn back into that gradually rotting corpse. He wanted to make it bigger and stronger!
Punch the Necrons, kick the Tyranids, then settle the Outsider, leading humanity back to the Golden Age!
But for now, he still had to start with the little things, taking it slow without rushing.
Take this Centurion armor, for instance. Perturabo dug it out again and subjected it to an unprecedented upgrade.
First was the defense of the Centurion armor, which was the most primary concern.
The Centurion was meant to carve open battlelines, destined to be the meat shield taking the brunt at the very front. How could it work if its defense wasn't strong?
Thus, Perturabo extravagantly used Adamantium and several other expensive materials, combined with Living Metal, to forcefully forge a suit of armor no less heavy than a Dreadnought.
Furthermore, he built a deflector field inside it, along with a miniature shield generator. It could be said that the entire suit of Centurion armor was now a humanoid heavy tank—simply turn on the deflector field and energy shields, and it could crush the enemy into paste.
Of course, sheer heavy defense wasn't enough. Since assault capability was demanded, how could the firepower be lacking?
Perturabo went thoroughly insane by mounting a total of four Gauss cannon barrels onto these Centurion shoulder pads. The left hand was fitted with a massive Multi-Melta, the right hand was equipped with a heavy Plasma Cannon barrel, and the legs were fitted with four micro-cluster missile launchers.
It could be said that the entire Centurion armor was a miniature mobile arms depot that doubled as a heavy tank.
Granted, the armor was excellent, but this weight distribution was far too exaggerated.
If Perturabo hadn't installed a whopping twelve built-in power packs inside this armor, the only individuals capable of driving this Centurion armor purely with raw physical strength would probably be monsters like Ferrix and Constantin Valdor.
Where the Space Marine was housed inside the Centurion, Perturabo also took the pilot's comfort into consideration. After all, being stuffed inside such an iron shell was hardly a pleasant feeling.
So Perturabo lined the interior with a layer of Wraithbone. This material was extremely resilient and felt exceptionally comfortable against the human body, allowing the pilot to command the Centurion armor as naturally as their own limbs.
Thus, with the help of a Primaris Space Marine who had undergone partial Custodes surgical modifications, along with the twelve built-in power packs, a humanoid heavy tank standing six meters tall, with a bulk comparable to a Dreadnought and a movement speed matching a normal Tyrant Terminator armor, was born.
Perturabo was rather satisfied with this masterpiece of his. The only drawback was that the production cost was far too exorbitant.
The materials required to forge one such suit of Centurion armor were enough to manufacture five suits of Tyrant Terminator armor. Furthermore, even though Perturabo had repeatedly lowered the criteria for the pilots, the number of people with the strength to don this new Centurion armor remained exceptionally small.
Even within the Iron Warriors Chapter, which possessed the strongest physical forms and melee capabilities, it was estimated that only a select few could master this armor.
In truth, those truly suited for this armor would have to be the Custodes. Among Perturabo's sons, only those who had undergone deep Custodes surgery possessed the strength to pilot this frame.
Of course, this was plenty. A decapitation assault didn't require many people anyway. When a Centurion like this appeared before the enemy, the shock and terror brought upon them would be immeasurable.
Perturabo could practically envision the scene already.
In a narrow corridor, a six-meter Centurion would suddenly teleport in. Its terrifying tonnage would flatten everything as it advanced, unleashing meltas while utilizing its giant plasma cannon to blast any stubbornly resisting enemies into ash.
That Gauss cannon, which disintegrated everything down to the atomic level, would leave any xenos or traitors powerless to resist. This was the latest individual power armor developed by Perturabo.
"Are you that bored? Upgrading this kind of thing of all things?"
"With that time, couldn't you upgrade the current warships? Upgrading a couple more suits of Terminator armor works too. What do you want this kind of thing for? Is there anything more practical than your army of Abominable Intelligences?" The Emperor remarked, somewhat speechlessly. The cost-to-performance ratio of this Centurion thing was simply abysmal.
"Though the Abominable Intelligences are powerful, the Centurion isn't necessarily inferior. Isn't it good that our own people can become this powerful as well?"
"Aren't you the Lord of Iron? Back then you confidently told me you weren't afraid of them rebelling, so why have you become so hesitant now?" The Emperor asked, curious about Perturabo's shift in attitude.
"When have you ever seen me install full intelligence into them? I have to corrupt the logic engines before I even dare use them. As for the rest of those Abominable Intelligences, I've never done that."
"Because it's unnecessary, or what?"
"Unnecessary. Their level of intelligence is enough to handle most matters. Increasing it further is pointless."
"True."
The Emperor's attitude toward Abominable Intelligence was notoriously poor. If it weren't for Perturabo, he might have sparked another civil war over this matter by now.
"Those cogboys are acting more compliant than I expected," the Emperor noted as he studied the flesh of the Second while Perturabo uploaded the data for the updated Centurion armor.
"What do you mean?"
"Though they've indeed restrained themselves a lot because of you, you know how those cogboys operate without taboos. Even if I strictly forbade Abominable Intelligence, they still dabbled in it secretly. Even with your existence, they still run clandestine research and minor operations on the side."
"I originally thought they would be more brazen, but it turns out they're more subdued than I imagined. Even their infighting over STCs has lessened significantly, and they're actually willing to collaborate now."
This was what surprised the Emperor the most—those cogboys were actually willing to share the fruits of their labor.
Truly unprecedented!
Everyone had witnessed just how extreme those Tech-Priests could be.
In the past, apprentices stabbed masters in the back, Titans were deployed just to settle academic debates, and they dug up graves across the galaxy—saying they operated without taboos was an understatement. As the Imperium's Aquila, they barely gave anyone the time of day except for showing immense respect to the Emperor, Horus, and Primarchs like Ferrus Manus.
Before Perturabo's return, those cogboys were arrogant as hell. After following Perturabo, they became even more arrogant, to the point where even the Emperor's commands could hardly move them.
Yet to the Emperor's surprise, their behavior genuinely improved under Perturabo's constraints.
"Normal. I told them that all STCs and Dark Age technologies are, at the end of the day, just things that were created. Those things are highly advanced and convenient, but they are ultimately not the fundamental truth."
"These things are merely useful tools. Only by innovating upon them, or relying on things created with your own two hands, can something truly belong to you and be the best."
"Only in this way does humanity stand a chance of progressing. And only in this way can we prove that humanity has always been a race possessing hope and a bright future. Standing still will only lead us down the old path of the Necrons and the Eldar."
Soon, all Chapters received a schematic blueprint for the new Centurion armor and manufactured this weapon of mass destruction according to the manual.
Ferrix looked at the heavy armor enveloping his body, his arms now transformed into a multi-melta and a giant plasma cannon. He banged his fists against his chassis a few times, the heavy, echoing clangs instantly making Ferrix —a heavy armor enthusiast—fall in love with this Centurion suit.
Feeling the Centurion armor that had been fine-tuned to his own physique, Ferrix felt his strength reaching a new peak.
He could hardly wait to test the might of this armor.
"Logic Engine."
"Chapter Master."
"Are there any targets nearby worth attacking? Traitors or xenos will do. Undiscovered human pocket empires are acceptable as well."
"Unmanned scouting detachments have already deployed to search the surrounding sectors."
And at that moment, on a planet not too far from the fleet that had already been completely overrun by Orks, the Warboss topside felt as if something was constantly watching him, making his half-fungal, half-mechanical head feel a bit itchy.