Chapter 571: Perturabo, You Can Strangle Your Own Sister

"Are you interested in returning as the Regent of the Empire's Shadow?"

Saint Guilliman smiled brightly at Perturabo.

Perturabo was utterly baffled by Saint Guilliman's sudden words; for a moment, even his innate intellect faltered.

"Are you joking?" Perturabo growled in accusation.

Saint Guilliman looked at Perturabo with a gaze bordering on pity and said softly, "What you gained from Chaos is no greater than what you gained from our Father."

"Saint Dora is a generous being—he is willing to pay you for whatever you desire—"

"You have no idea what I want! You cannot give me what I desire!" Perturabo commanded his iron-ring machines to surround Saint Guilliman.

Saint Guilliman's expression did not change; in his hand, the Spear of Final Effort became a swirling storm of crimson-gold, shredding iron filings into the air and severing the iron-ring machines' steel bones like butter.

"I know exactly what you want."

"Tell me, how many Karyphynies have you built in these ten thousand years?"

Karyphynie was Perturabo's adoptive sister, one of the few people he loved.

But Karyphynie pointed out that Perturabo pretended to despise love, pretended to be indifferent to others' affection, when in truth he craved being loved more than anything.

She said Perturabo always chose the hardest path, the most painful pattern, because he secretly desired respect for it—he played the martyr, shouting: "Behold, the great Perturabo labors without complaint."

Yet Perturabo's behavior was fundamentally that of a petulant child—he never grew up, never stopped deceiving himself; he craved recognition yet feigned indifference, pretended to be as unyielding as steel while being as brittle as reeds.

He, Perturabo, was the greatest fool she had ever seen.

In his rage, Perturabo strangled his adoptive sister himself—Karyphynie—and afterward, he regretted it.

Perhaps because only after killing Karyphynie did Perturabo suddenly realize he had murdered the one person in the galaxy who truly cared for him.

Over these ten thousand years, Perturabo had tried to build replicas of his adoptive sister, attempting to resurrect her, to atone for his mistake.

"I have never built a single Karyphynie!"

Perturabo erupted in unprecedented fury, roaring, growling, bursting from within the iron-ring machines.

His iron body, like a wall of steel, rumbled as toxic steam roared from it, and a hammer larger than a Dreadnought's torso swung toward Saint Guilliman.

But Saint Guilliman merely sidestepped gracefully, letting Perturabo's hammer strike empty air.

"I have never built a single Karyphynie! Never successfully!"

"Those were defective! Failures! Not true Karyphynies!"

Perturabo roared at Saint Guilliman as he swung his hammer.

Ten thousand years had passed—he had forgotten how many Karyphynie replicas he had built.

But he remembered the fate of each one, just like the real Karyphynie: after Perturabo's uncontrollable rage, their necks were snapped.

Ten thousand years. Every time. Every one. The same result.

"Because they are not true Karyphynies!"

"They are flawed, inferior copies! Karyphynie never treated me that way! Inferior copies must be destroyed!"

"We can give you the true Karyphynie," Saint Guilliman said softly.

The air fell utterly still.

Perturabo ceased swinging his hammer; the iron-ring machines froze, staring blankly at Saint Guilliman.

Everything on the battlefield seemed suspended.

"You're lying to me!" Perturabo growled.

He refused to think, refused to judge—he instantly decided Saint Guilliman was deceiving him.

"It is not I who lies to you, Perturabo," Saint Guilliman said gently. "It is you who fears."

"You are too clever—you already know that even if you saw the true Karyphynie again, you would only repeat the same mistake."