"From the moment that guy started sneaking onto the Mechanicus forum, I knew he'd never really abandoned his original ideals."
Eden pulled up Perturabo's account data on his dataslate.
It was a disguised heretek Tech-priest account, with a dopey avatar and not much in the way of recorded technical achievements.
From the follows and browsing history you could see he liked to keep an eye on all sorts of mechanically clever but practically useless, non-military tech.
Some of the designs were downright comical, the kind of things gearheads cooked up purely for laughs.
But it was precisely these whimsical, sparks-of-inspiration tech ideas that had shaken up the Imperium's otherwise dull, hidebound research atmosphere.
They had already spawned quite a few prototype upgrades and entirely new technologies.
That was also why Eden allowed free research into such things inside the Savior's Dominion, so long as it was under the Machine Goddess's supervision.
Because the collision of different technical ideas and paths was what truly drove technological progress.
Things that had looked like jokes at first had even been put into real use.
For example, installing jump packs on Titans. That "for the memes" research project had led to the development of massive turbine-drive assemblies capable of lifting a Titan into the air.
After field tests, however, it turned out that apart from looking cool, the things didn't have much actual combat value.
The battlefield scenarios where they could be applied were far too limited, and they were a waste of resources.
Titans were deployed in advance anyway; they weren't meant to go zipping around the battlefield. Slow-moving, massive targets like that were just begging to be shot down.
If you really needed to redeploy one, why not just teleport it?
But that same tech was later applied to transport craft, massively increasing their load capacity.
It had greatly boosted wartime logistics throughput.
"Maybe it's precisely that kind of research atmosphere that drew him in."
Eden spoke as he typed a reply to a thread. "He wants to be part of that research, but he's too afraid to take the step. He even deliberately walks in the opposite direction.
"Just like during the Great Crusade—he hated war, but he still led the IV Legion and turned them into the Imperium's most fanatical siege army."
Perturabo's heart was fundamentally kind, but with that twisted personality of his, he was doomed to a life of needless suffering.
Back when the Primarchs held their gatherings, he had even carefully prepared gifts for everyone, only to end up never giving them out.
He obviously wanted to have a good relationship with his brothers, yet still made himself into a loner.
Guilliman watched the Savior's expression and realized something.
"Brother, you want to bring Perturabo and his IV Legion back?"
"Yes. Their numbers are vast, and they hold a staggering amount of knowledge—both mechanical and Chaotic. The Imperium needs those minds."
Eeden nodded and laid out his thinking. "If the Imperium wants to truly halt Chaos invasions in the future, we'll have to build massive techno-fortifications inside the Warp itself.
"And the Iron Warriors are perfect for that."
The IV Legion was one of the biggest and most widely deployed Legions in the Imperium, probably second only to the Ultramarines.
"Forgive my bluntness, but I don't think this will work.
"Except for Father, that man has never been close to any of us. He has almost no affection for the Imperium. He only fought because he was ordered to."
Guilliman frowned slightly. "His personality is too warped.
"Now that he's sworn himself to Chaos, it's even less likely he can be persuaded to return. There will be unforeseeable risks."
The Primarch of the Ultramarines clearly had reservations about Perturabo's return and very little trust to spare.
None of the Primarchs much liked the Lord of Iron. You could say they collectively ostracized him.
Or, to be more precise, he had chosen to isolate himself from the rest of them.
"I actually think his chances of coming home are higher than any other fallen Primarch."
Eden sounded quite confident.
Perturabo had resisted becoming a Daemon Prince from the start, and even afterward he didn't do much actual work for the Chaos Gods.
Even his Iron Warriors hated mutated limbs. They would hack those off and replace them with augmetics whenever possible.
Among the Traitor Legions, they were one of the least tainted by Chaos, which greatly increased the odds of redeeming them.
"So what do you intend to do?"
Guilliman knew there was no talking this Savior-brother out of his plan, so he simply asked.
"Through emotion, of course. Through brotherhood—through trust and genuine care between people…"
Eden's voice grew soft, his expression all benevolence.
"Most importantly, the man still has an unextinguished ideal. For the second phase of this plan, we might even need Father to get involved."
As long as Perturabo still had an ideal, he had a weak spot.
And his personality was a perfect entry point.
The more twisted and withdrawn a person was, the more they would give everything for you if you were merely kind to them.
Back then, the Emperor had only needed the status of "Father" plus a few rare scraps of attention to make this war-hating Primarch shoulder the most brutal sieges and the hardest campaigns.
The Iron Warriors had inherited their sire's psychological burden.
These soldiers were intensely skilled at constructing engines of war and fortifications, and they were just as twisted in temperament—no matter how much they were abused, they still obeyed orders without complaint.
If anyone had shown them even a little more concern, they might never have turned Traitor in the first place.
Eden still could not quite wrap his head around what sort of managerial operation it had taken to push such soldiers all the way into rebellion.
Of course, he wasn't going to sit there and chirp at the Emperor like some armchair critic. He could only say that the old man had been a bit too confident in those days.
That was the curse of the strong—their conviction that nothing lay beyond their control.
This was, after all, the being who had successfully deceived even the Chaos Gods, to the point of giving them genuine trauma.
So why would he ever imagine that he could not control his own sons?
When the Primarchs rebelled, the first thought that must have flashed through the Emperor's mind was, "Impossible. Absolutely impossible."
What followed would have been a deep, searing doubt, a crushing blow, and profound disappointment.
"On the Mechanicus forum, Perturabo and I actually get along quite well. You could call us online brothers.
"Of course, that's on the premise that he doesn't know who I really am."
Eden spoke as he scrolled, copying and pasting technical ideas forwarded by his advisory team and posting them as his reply to the Lord of Iron.
They were both chatting through burner accounts: the other side's was a black-market gearhead, while his own persona was also a tech-heretek.
Eden's persona was that of a high-level gearhead and technical heretic specializing in civilian tech—a fringe savant hounded by the establishment.
And a lover of ancient art.
Under that identity, he and Perturabo had discussed all manner of civilian technologies on the forum.
They got along famously.
Of course, the only reason he could keep up with such a technical heavyweight was that he had a whole team of senior gearhead advisers backing him up.
More importantly, his own memories gave him a far more open mindset about technology than most gearheads in the galaxy.
That was what let him put forward viewpoints that genuinely attracted the Lord of Iron.
At the moment, the two of them were chatting about ancient Terran toasters—a bit of small talk slipped between technical discussions.
The conversation had drifted into ancient art.
They were talking about Beethoven's music and paintings by artists like Van Gogh—art which, in the 41st Millennium, was basically the equivalent of chatting about prehistory.
The Imperium was obsessed with such things, almost to a religious degree, seeing them as relics of humanity's height of artistic brilliance.
Back when Eden first discovered how much the Imperium reverenced these "2K arts," he had been taken aback. Maybe art really was eternal.
It was like people in his original era going crazy over bronze ritual vessels; if you could actually collect one, you were practically untouchable.
"What breadth of learning…"
It wasn't only Guilliman. The other Primarchs watching the projection were just as impressed.
Knowledge this deep about ancient Terran art was usually the domain of the Imperium's highest-ranking and most respected Old Terra scholars.
Imperial nobles and high personages all loved these ancient treasures. Relics from that period were literally priceless.
Those who could truly appreciate such art were themselves objects of respect—even the Primarchs were no exception.
They were starting to feel that this Savior-brother was as erudite as their Father, the Emperor.
Back then, the Emperor had subdued warlords and nobles across the galaxy not just with his power, but with his charisma and his vast learning.
That was how people had come to believe he was unique, the one ruler capable of leading humanity into prosperity.
For scholars of Old Terra's history, however, acquiring such knowledge took a lifetime—scraping truths together from fragments of relics.
They had to scour ruins everywhere, even plunging into Warp-wrecks in search of faint clues.
To Eden, though, the art and philosophical lore of Old Terra were fresh memories.
He had lived in that era.
It was a time before Old Terra's civilization had been destroyed, before its artistic heritage was scattered across the galaxy as humanity fled to the stars.
For the Imperium trapped in its dark age, the artistic legacy of Old Terra was proof that mankind had once truly been magnificent.
Only an age of peace like that—unpolluted by hated machines—could have birthed such pure, soul-piercing art.
Ding~
Just as Eden finished replying to Perturabo's thread, the Lord of Iron fired back.
His tone was full of excitement.
Since Eden had left him hanging for quite a while, the Lord of Iron had actually started to worry that something had happened to his forum friend.
Mechanical Ambition: "By the Machine Goddess, you finally replied. I thought something had happened to you."
Eden had been busy with the Salvation Crusade these past days and had barely touched the forum.
To this fallen Primarch, that could only mean his forum friend had run into trouble.
In his view, being a tech-heretic in the Imperium was extremely dangerous. You could be discovered and condemned at any time by the Mechanicus or the Inquisition.
The fact that they could talk through the Mechanicus forum didn't mean the Imperium had given them free rein.
If their data-masking systems ever failed, their locations could be exposed.
In simple terms, they were logging in with fake IDs and using them to access the network illegally and communicate in secret.
Because the noospheric network spanned so much space, this was not an easy problem to solve. The authorities could only periodically run purges, deleting accounts that were too heretical.
But as long as they abided by the forum rules and didn't upload things like Chaos tech or forbidden doctrine that might trigger the noospheric filters and alarm systems…
They would not be banned or "unboxed" and dragged off.
From the Imperium's point of view, it was better to have these black-market gearheads leaving tracks on the noospheric network than skulking in some unknown hole.
"Man, Perturabo is really starved for friends. He even cares this much about some forum buddy."
Seeing the concern in the other's message, Eden could not help sighing.
From how fast he responded, it was obvious he had been camping the thread waiting for a reply. Eden was the only entry in his friend list.
He almost wanted to tell him, "I'm in the middle of organizing a massive Imperial task force to beat the crap out of the Iron Warriors and other Chaos heretics."
Of course, he only thought it. He could not break character.
Toaster Enthusiast: "By the Machine Goddess, how could those idiots ever catch me?
"I've just been busy lately—working on a new type of toaster and a **-engine. I also stumbled across some Old Terra art."
He had barely sent that when the other side posted again.
Mechanical Ambition: "If you need help, just say the word.
"I know a few of those big, thickheaded Iron Wa**iors. I can get them to help deal with threats.
"For now, you'd better stay clear of anything related to the Vostroya region. It's become a terrifying vortex—far too many Imperial forces have gathered there."
The concern from this fallen brother was genuinely touching. He was even willing to share intel like that.
It really warmed your heart.
Eden even considered having his own people "arrest" his burner-account persona and using that persona's life as leverage on the Lord of Iron.
Or luring him into some carefully prepared trap.
But that would have been too despicable. His goal was to win the man over, not to sow even deeper hatred.
Next, he had his burner account upload several images.
Toaster Enthusiast: "By the Machine Goddess, look at this art. Isn't it mesmerizing?"
These were fragments of paintings preserved in stasis fields. One of them still faintly showed a Madonna holding an infant.
He was sure Perturabo would recognize it.
Sure enough, the Lord of Iron went quiet for a moment before replying.
Mechanical Ambition: "My friend, you've found the great art of Old Terra. That's a work by Leonardo da Vinci. Damn it, I'm so happy you shared this with me!!!"
Perturabo was highly fond of da Vinci's surviving works.
He had spent a long time searching through ruins on Old Terra and worlds across the galaxy for relics of that ancient artist's art.
He had barely found anything. Even stumbling across a copy was considered extraordinary luck.
At present, the only genuine piece known to survive was kept in a vault beneath the Imperial Palace, locked behind multiple layers of stasis fields.
Even that canvas had decayed until it was almost nothing but charcoal dust. You could just barely make out the outline of a smiling woman.
It was one of the Emperor's personal treasures; even Perturabo had only been allowed to see it once.
He had made that his sole reward after winning a great victory, and he had not even dared to ask the Emperor to give him the painting.
The fragments in Eden's possession were more complete than what the Emperor owned.
The Savior's Dominion's gearhead-archaeology teams had recovered them from Warp ruins tagged by the Sun of Hope.
To make it even more alluring, he had used his memories to reconstruct portions of the painting, then mixed the fakes with the genuine fragments.
He had tossed them into a Warp eddy for a while to let the energies "season" them. With that noospheric noise, no technological scan would easily tell the difference.
Whatever the case, this was likely the most complete da Vinci piece in the Imperium's history.
Even Trazyn the Infinite, that Necron overlord-collector, would have killed to add it to his museum.
But Eden had done all this for one reason: to boost Perturabo's affection for him.
Toaster Enthusiast: "I'm just as fond of such magnificent relics as you are. But I believe you're the one who truly deserves to own it.
"You're my only friend in the technical arts.
"If I ever get the chance, I'll hand it to you in person. A work like this should belong to someone who can genuinely appreciate it."
Eeden's message sent Perturabo into an even longer silence.
After a long time, a reply finally popped up.
Mechanical Ambition: "Mm."
Then he said nothing more and logged off.
Seeing that reply, Eden knew the man's twisted soul was struggling again.
He did not send further messages. Their little interactions through burner accounts had always been intermittent anyway.
From a roleplay perspective, heretek gearheads were not exactly the emotional type.
Eden was confident he could win over this fallen brother.
He had prepared not only the art the man most adored, but also a path by which Perturabo could realize his ideals.
"Brother, we may have a problem."
Just then, Lion came over, worry etched across his face, his tone tight.
"What?"
Eden followed the Lion's gaze outward—and went numb.
"Th—what in the Emperor's name is that?!"
He shut off his dataslate and stepped out onto the balcony of the mechanical fortress, so he could get a clearer look.
Guilliman, the Khan, and the others were already there.
Out on the planet's surface, countless upside-down palaces were beginning to manifest, along with miasmic gardens, landscapes made of bodies, and mountain ranges of skulls.
These were not mere phantoms—they were physically connected to this region of space.
This was not a simple set of Chaos rifts anymore. These were fully formed bridges to the Warp itself. The "shadows" were already becoming real.
Eden finally grasped just how terrible the Changer of Ways's grand ritual-circle really was. This star-spanning array could drag the entire theater of war deep into the Warp.
Deeper than even the Eye of Terror.
Now, the hideous whispers and shrieks had coalesced into something tangible. Daemons were freely venting their menace and mockery.
They saw this world as a platter set before them.
"Emperor above…"
Lazarus, the warriors of the Dark side, and the Imperial soldiery all trembled despite themselves.
They had never seen anything like this.
In such a scenario, the Imperial front line was no longer confined to this planet—it now extended across overlapping Warp regions as well.
The fronts they had to hold had ballooned to a terrifying scale.
Eden had thought of that as well, and goosebumps ran up his arms.
It meant they were about to face a Chaos daemon army of unthinkable size—perhaps the largest Chaos offensive in the Imperium's history.
He and his brother Primarchs were about to confront unimaginable danger.
Unless they were willing to abandon this world and retreat, but then they would fail to stop the ritual.
They were trapped between advance and retreat.
"No wonder Fulgrim was so smug earlier. He really was saving up for something big…"
Eden frowned.
"With what we've got on the ground, I doubt we can hold an assault of this magnitude. We're badly outnumbered."
Lion let out a long breath.
From the ships hanging in orbit and the Astartes already landed planet-side, their strength was still far from sufficient.
Even with reinforcements, how many more could they realistically bring?
"Who said we're short on manpower?"
Eden shook his head.
"Those are just my honor guard. The real Imperial forces are still en route.
"I summoned the bulk of the fleets a while ago. They're just stuck in a bit of traffic."
So many Imperial fleets were converging on the system that they had clogged the main transit routes. Thankfully, the choke point had not fully collapsed.
It was manageable.
He had barely finished speaking when the skies darkened and the upper atmosphere shuddered violently.
Imperial fleets arrived one after another, a sea of iron-black hulls enclosing Kaslid from every angle.
Those steel leviathans of deep space layered themselves around the world until even the light of its star could barely reach the surface.
Then, the ships' floodlights snapped on, washing the planetary crust in artificial daylight as a rain of flaming meteors began to fall.
Those were mass-drop troop carriers.
"Brothers, the fires of war are already roaring.
"It's time to show these Chaos abominations… the full might of humanity's steel tide."
Eden clapped the thoroughly bewildered Lion on the shoulder, his voice like an oath.
Rumble—
"???"
Lion had barely begun to process all this when the world lurched. The violent shaking almost knocked him off his feet.
The mechanical fortress shook like an earthquake. Then a massive upward force surged beneath them.
The entire fortress was moving.
His vantage point climbed past a hundred meters, and it was still rising…
(End of Chapter)
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