I'm in Warhammer, please don't praise Doraemon

Chapter 603 Vulcan was right.
"he?"

When Thor heard those chilling words, he was momentarily stunned.
Who is he?
Thor is now completely cut off from the Empire; he knows nothing about its situation, and the Empire knows nothing about him either.

In this situation, he has no chance of getting reinforcements unless Doraemon appears.
But Doraemon fell into a deep sleep decades ago and has long since stopped walking among humans.

But just then, a crisp sound of a door opening suddenly rang out, sounding exceptionally clear in the empty cabin.

Before Thor could realize what was happening, a whooshing sound suddenly rang out.

A warhammer, far too large for Astartes to be counted, shot out from Imotec's back and slammed straight into his metal head.

A roaring thunder surged from the warhammer, almost like a bolt of lightning hurtling towards him. Imhotep's warrior instincts were triggered; he almost instantly turned and raised the Destroyer's Staff in his hand towards the warhammer hurtling towards him.

The atom itself was torn apart in the blink of an eye, and the scorching dark green lightning collided with the warhammer.
But to Imhotep's surprise, the lightning released by his staff of light, which was imbued with necromancy technology, was unable to stop the massive warhammer, as if the technology used to forge the warhammer was even superior to Imhotep's.

The dark green lightning shattered in the blink of an eye, and the warhammer hurtled towards the Storm King like a meteor.
Imotek's empty eyes flashed with green light for a fleeting moment. This Necromancer displayed unparalleled martial skill, wielding the Destroyer's Staff to block the warhammer, instantly dissipating its force.

The warhammer grazed Imotek's body and slammed into the metal ground, causing the entire ship to shake slightly.

Imotek looked sharply in the direction from which the sound of the door opening came. He saw a reddish-pink wooden door standing abruptly in the dark cabin, seemingly out of place with its surroundings.

Before Imotek could react, a bright burst of teleportation light erupted around him.

"Vulcan is right, the hammer should have a teleportation beacon."

A fragrance reminiscent of black datura, tuberose, and vanilla swept by, and suddenly a tall, slender figure in purple and gold appeared in the corner of Imotek's eye.

The figure grabbed the warhammer and slammed the hammerhead down on Imhotep.

Imotek extended his left claw, the flaming gauntlets on which gleamed with a ghostly green flame, and clashed with the warhammer.

But that warhammer embodies the wisdom of at least three Primarchs: forged by Vogrim, modified by Feralus, and further improved over millennia by Perturabo. Even the power of necromantic weapons from space seems so weak in the face of that warhammer.

Imotek's arm deformed, cracked, and broke off instantly under the heavy hammer, turning into a twisted and broken lump of metal under the hammerhead.

Storm King's logical mind worked at high speed, allowing him to react quickly, tearing off his own arm and immediately distancing himself from the purple-gold figure.

His arm returned to normal in the blink of an eye. This was a characteristic of the undead body's metal; the higher the level of the undead body, the more advanced and sophisticated it was, and the faster its self-healing speed.

The Sotek Dynasty, to which Storm King resides, is one of the most powerful in the entire Necromancer Empire. His physical strength is among the best of all the Necromancers, perhaps second only to Silent King.

Imhotep took a step back, and the space-time around him instantly became blurry. In the blink of an eye, Imhotep and the tall, purple-gold figure were more than ten meters apart.
But in that instant, several Astartes appeared behind him, as if they had anticipated Imhotep's relocation.
Those Astartes wore power armor similar to Thor's, interwoven with purple, gold, and white, but they were all rare Hades-type Terminators.
These power armors are ornately decorated, with layers of golden carvings of wings and eagles, and glittering red and purple gemstones. The weapons they wield are not the usual power swords, but rather power spears similar to those used by the Imperial Guard.

The sharp spears intertwined, forming a deadly net, aimed directly at Imhotep.

This sudden attack caused Imotec's logical mind to operate at an even faster pace, and the cold, dark green coolant within his body began to flow violently.
How did these Astartes suddenly appear beside me?

It wasn't some kind of pocket dimension, nor did it have any Supreme Heaven reaction; it was practically a completely different new technology from all other space technologies in this universe.

But Imhotep reacted swiftly; his metal cloak trembled violently, and a massive swarm of blood scarabs coalesced into a silver wave that surged in all directions.

These nanomachines' Netherworld Scarabs were originally intended to be secretly injected into enemies to lure the Space Necromancers Skinners into surrounding and killing them, but now Imhotep is using them directly as weapons.

An endless silver wave surged toward the Astartes, briefly halting their movements.

But at that moment, an Astartes wearing Mark IV power armor from the Great Crusade era suddenly appeared before Imhotep.

The Astartes' power armor was also a mix of purple and gold, but unlike the Terminators, it bore numerous phoenix, three, and laurel wreath symbols. Furthermore, it was inscribed with numerous battle oaths, sharp and piercing, like terrifying curses. In his hand, he held a slender blade as thin as a viper's fang.
With a slight flick of his finger, the swordsman's blade moved like a coiled snake and struck with the speed of an eagle.

Imotec's logical mind overheated from intense activity, his internal coolant surging, instantly calculating the swordsman's sword trajectory.
The Storm King brandished his staff of light, parrying attacks repeatedly; the clanging of metal echoed through the ship's cabin like rain pattering on a roof.
This swordsman, in a short period of time, managed to become evenly matched with the Storm King using only his human body.

At that moment, the fragrance of black datura, tuberose, and vanilla transformed into a hurricane and blew back to Storm King's side.

The initial notes of the scent were as gentle and unassuming as an evening breeze, but what followed was a domineering, arrogant, and sticky aroma, so overpowering that it almost made one suspect it was poisonous.

The ensuing attack was equally fierce; the warhammer roared, tearing through the air and crashing down on Imhotep amidst thunderclouds.

The tall, slender, white-haired figure's attack appeared simple and direct, but it was far more deadly than the dazzling swordsmanship of the Astartes swordsman.

Imotek's logical mind was working frantically, generating so much heat that even the coolant inside his body was struggling to suppress it.
But Imhotep's logic allowed him to calculate the trajectory of that hammer blow, enabling him to dodge it.

Suddenly, a highly authorized communication device abruptly cut in front of Imotek.
It was a communication from the Triune Council, giving Imhotep no right to refuse; the figures of the Triunes appeared directly before Imhotep's eyes.

Hapsaras of Light stood atop the high platform, looking down at Imotek:

"His Holiness Imotek of the Sotek Dynasty, and our great King Slarak of Silence, decree: The traitor Anlakel is plotting a great rebellion; you are hereby dispatched to suppress him."

Imotek didn't listen to a word that bastard Hapsarath of Light was saying.
The Triune Council's forced insertion of communications into his system was completely illogical, as absurd as the Greenskins, causing Imotec's logical mind to overheat instantly, the coolant unable to suppress it in a short time.
At the same time, Imotek felt a sharp, piercing pain in his legs, causing him to slow his movements abruptly.
This is certainly not because Imotek's metallic body has rheumatism.
Imhotep suffered from chronic leg pain during his lifetime. That damned disease left its mark on Imhotep's consciousness and memory. In addition, the damage to his memory modules caused by millions of years of slumber meant that when Imhotep's logical brain was operating at high speed, he would instinctively feel that his chronic leg pain had flared up again.

"Silent King, you bastard raised by a fraudster—"

Imotek cursed, and his head deformed, twisted, and exploded into a jumbled mass of metal under the warhammer.

The Storm King's mangled body crashed to the ground with a thud, smashed to pieces by the massive warhammer.

All of this happened so fast that Thor was still somewhat dazed and hadn't fully processed it.

He first realized that this must be due to the power of Doraemon.
He immediately confirmed that those Astartes were all his Chapter brothers, members of the Sons of the Phoenix Chapter. Except for the tall figure and the swordsman in the Mark IV power armor, Thor recognized them all.

However, their power armor was different from what Thor remembered; it featured many double-headed eagle and phoenix elements, and they had somehow acquired so many ancient Hades-type power armors.
"Are you ok?"

The figure, much taller and more slender than a typical Astartes, spoke.
His voice was exceptionally pleasant, inspiring a sense of inexplicable warmth and trust, yet without sounding obsequious.
"Your excellence has somewhat exceeded my expectations."

"Although Imotek lacks creativity and is obsessed with logic, he is still a top commander in the galaxy. He can even hold his own against Guilliman without being completely outmatched."

"You've already earned an honor by holding out against him for six days. It's just that the number six isn't a good one."

The figure spoke in a friendly voice as it slowly walked towards Thor.

As he drew closer to Thor, Thor's heart began to pound more and more fiercely for some reason.
He felt his blood roaring, a primal resonance deep within his genes, something that had been there since he was designed to be, was at work.

"Who are you?" Thor couldn't help but ask.

Thor felt the two wills within him reacting in kind, influencing his emotions and causing him to feel fear, disgust, hatred, awe, and worship at the approaching figure.
A complex mix of emotions surged within Thor until that face appeared clearly before him.

That handsome face, so striking it would put all the goddesses of beauty in human legends to shame, wore a faint smile.
His lips were thin, and when slightly upturned, they held a hint of mockery. His skin was pale, almost translucent in the dim light. His hair was silver, like Thor's, but Thor's silver had a more golden hue, while his hair looked as if it were woven from pure silver threads.
That face, that face. Thor felt a surge of anger welling up from the depths of his blood, his genes, his soul.

“I am your genetic father, son,” the handsome figure said softly.

"Forgrim!!!"

(Next chapter will be later)
(End of this chapter)