Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 107 The Domineering CEO Optimus Prime and the Car Wash Girl: Megatron's One Thousand and One Nights

Guilliman was once again convinced of one thing: following Mordred always brought bad luck, and he was always the one who got hurt.

Guilliman, heartbroken at losing his foot, never imagined that among so many people on the bridge, that damned Mordred would bite himself instead of anyone else.

"Are you sure this is hygienic? That's my foot, don't twist it."

"Don't worry, I'm an old military doctor of the Empire. It's just a matter of stitching up a severed limb. Even if your intestines spill out, I can put them back in. Slurp, I don't mind that you're dirty, but you're complaining about me."

Looking at the tongue that was swaying back and forth in front of him, mimicking Mordred's upper body, Guilliman didn't say much. He just thought that he had to erase the memory and make this blasphemous memory disappear from his mind.

The strange feeling of having saliva smeared on the wound was especially disgusting!

Despite how disgusting it was, Guilliman soon regained his mobility, which made the group of Ultramarines thoughtful, and they quietly collected a few bottles of slime.

"Alright, your negative spiritual energy Oglin has pretty strong recovery ability. Now it's time to get down to business."

"Hey Angron, why did you put yourself in a can? I'm your second brother! Let me see if you're developing normally; I haven't even seen you yet!"

Because he had just finished eating the demon primal and was then kidnapped by the kobolds, Mordred didn't see Angron's current state at all, only vaguely seeing a pair of twin tails swaying up and down.

Although he didn't understand, Mordred respected his brother's hobby. Marshal Waldo of the Imperial Guard was a mohawk punk, and having hair was good, because it proved he wasn't nailed down.

Mordred had a good impression of Angron, and Angron had a good impression of him as well. Angron was very envious of his brother who could turn into a giant monster. If he had such an ability, he would have killed those slave owners who dared to use anesthetics on him long ago.

Hearing his second brother call out, he strutted over, showing off his thick, muscular legs.

"Second brother!"

"Hahaha, Guilliman, listen to this. I told you Angron was a good brother. He speaks so politely. No wonder he's my chosen Second Empire's Minister of Finance. He's much better than that stupid dog Ruth."

However, I must say something to you, second brother: your taste is truly bizarre. Who would put a coffin over their own body and still have those hairy legs? You're being a bit too abstract.”

With a reach of his claws, Mordred severed the chains binding the coffin. He grabbed Angron's thigh and pulled him away. Ever since the coffin was embedded in the deck, he had taken a liking to it at first sight; he would never forget the delicious taste of adamantite.

"Boom!"

With a slightly comical crack, the burly, powerful humanoid figure was fully exposed in front of Mordred. In just one glance, the smile on his face vanished.

“Yes, we were too late after all. That damned blasphemous creation was finally inserted into our brothers’ bodies.” With a deep sigh, Guilliman came to Mordred’s side and patted him on the shoulder.

Despite all the effort put into the rescue, it all ended in failure. When Guilliman saw Angron for the first time, he was also in a bad mood.

Perhaps sensing his two brothers' low spirits, Angron smiled and comforted them in a nonchalant tone:
"When I learned about the Empire of Man from Hill, and that I was a Primarch, I knew I was not alone, and I believed that one day you would save me from that hell."

And just as I predicted, despite the many difficulties, my brothers came. What more could I ask for? You've done more than enough!

Reaching out to grasp Guilliman and Mordred's hands, Angron smiled despite enduring the pain inflicted by the two nails, using his innate abilities to comfort them.

Guilliman's heart remained pure as ever. Angron could sense that his brother was a simple and kind person, and he greatly admired that vibrant inner life, which made him easily absorb negative emotions.

But when Angron turned his thoughts inward, delving into the heart of his brother who always appeared cheerful and never seemed to have a carefree life, he witnessed a scene he could never comprehend. Chaos, fragmentation, and countless complex thoughts swirled within that body. Even as it desperately tried to disguise itself as human, the space where the soul should have been was completely empty, its twisted tentacles reaching out to devour everything around it.

Angron, who had almost been captured by the tentacles, was suddenly awakened and then met Mordred's emotionless golden eyes:

"Second brother, I..."

"Shut up, and don't try to read my mind. I don't want you to become a drooling idiot who only knows how to babble."

As for the nail in your head, your second brother will find a way to heal you. Even if I can't do it alone, there's that weasel dog. If I had known this would happen, I wouldn't have cursed that dog-headed man; maybe I could have negotiated something with him.”

"I believe you can do it, after all, you are the Imperial Warmaster!" Angron gave Mordred a big hug, showing no disgust at the slime on his body.

The more understanding Mordred was, the more uncomfortable he felt. It was like a fire burning inside him, neither rising nor falling, leaving him feeling uneasy, especially since he could also sense other people's feelings superficially.

This feeling of being trusted is infuriating! Old Huang, you bastard, you better find a way to resolve this, or you're just a useless piece of trash.

Mordred, who was muttering about the big golden guy in his mind, did not hesitate and immediately decided to take Angron back to Holy Terra himself. As for Koz, he would leave him to Guilliman. With Lady Yoton taking care of him, there was no need for Mordred to worry about him.

Before leaving, Mordred didn't forget to extract the original blood from Guilliman. Including Coz's share, Atlas would then have the ability to produce some of the seeds.

Due to his enormous size, Mordred was unable to enter the normal passageway. In addition, his head was stuck in the cabin and he couldn't get it out. Helpless, Guilliman could only order the hull to be cut with hot melt.

Once he regained his mobility, things would be much easier. Mordred summoned Tom, brought over his beloved Stormbird, tied it with a rope, and dragged it towards his Abomination, stuffing it into the large metal beak at the bow of the ship.

When the gates of the netherworld reopened, the pitch-black Abomination plunged straight in, heading straight for Holy Terra.

Meanwhile, far away in the Sea of ​​Souls on the other side of the veil, a demon demigod named Vashtor gazed at the ball of knowledge in his hand that emitted a strange light and fell into deep thought.

As an ambitious and long-established demigod, Vashtor has a very long history, dating back to the time when the Necromancers of the cosmos were called the Fearless Ones, making him a veritable living fossil of demons.

Unlike those warp entities that presume to be gods with a little power, Vashtor is a tech geek who has carved out his own place in the Sea of ​​Souls by creating a series of dark creations, including but not limited to demonic engines.

From the four Chaos Gods to the Demon Lords, everyone prefers to order weapons from Vashtor, making him a true Chaos arms dealer. In terms of reputation, he can even completely surpass the Golden Giant.

Vashtor firmly believes that his achievements are entirely due to his own hard work and dedication, especially his ambition, which he desperately wants to make.

Kneading the fragment of memory in his hand, the demon demigod took a liking to this little treasure the moment it suddenly appeared near his factory.

"The One Thousand and One Nights of the Overbearing CEO Optimus Prime and the Car Wash Girl Megatron?"

Despite the strange name, Vashtor couldn't resist after only glancing at the image of the giant robot, driven by his pursuit of wicked techniques.

"Interesting. Let me see what this thing is."

　Despite all my calculations, the filthy fat boy was still one step ahead. The corgi transformed into a little sun person with a body temperature of 38.4°C. His hands wouldn't obey him, and it took him three hours to finish writing one chapter. He really couldn't take it anymore.

　　So I couldn't do 6K today. I'll make it up after my fever subsides. I'm very sorry.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)