Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 158 Farewell, my weakness.

When the Imperial Guard Commander, Little Kitty, received the order of the War General to assemble 3000 Double Red Flower Sticks, 800 Silent Sisters, airdrop two Emperor-class Titans, 40 Poison Blade heavy tanks, a squadron of Knight mechs, 30 heavy Stormbird fighters, 3 elite Sun Auxiliary Army soldiers, and a number of other armored vehicles of various colors.

Having assembled on the Barbarus Plains, ready to annihilate the Empire's formidable enemy, and after giving everyone a pre-battle pep talk to ensure their morale was boosted, they arrived before Mordred with great excitement:

"Commander, we are all fully prepared and ready to go."

What kind of terrifying alien could possibly have commanded you to summon us all to your aid?

As the saying goes, when there are more than 10,000 people, it is a sea of ​​people. Not to mention that this is the imperial guard that accompanied the emperor on his expedition, so its prestige is extremely high.

Those 3000 golden-armored imperial guards alone could shatter the legion, pin down any known alien in the galaxy, beat them to their knees, and drag them back to become their star slaves!
But how could a country bumpkin like Mortarion know the strength of the Royal Guard? Only Mordred remained silent, biting her lip with all her might.

But as the Imperial Warmaster, second only to the Emperor, Mordred still had to say something:

"Brothers, soldiers! Beside me are my father's 14th son, my good brother, and the face of our empire."

But there's this damned group of aliens who're slaughtering humans right under our noses, even mutilating His Majesty's own flesh and blood like this."

As they pulled him to Mortalian, everyone saw the Primarch's unusually thin figure and his legs that were swaying back and forth unintentionally.

Mortarian was not faking it; after all, anyone who was given repeated enemas would suffer the same fate. But the soldiers in front of them didn't know that. They only knew that there were aliens who dared to harm His Majesty's offspring.

"You all saw it. It was the aliens on this planet that tormented Mortalian into this state. Before my father and I found him, Mortalian hadn't even had a proper meal."

My brother, despite enduring unimaginable torment, remained steadfast until now, his frail and sickly body constantly yearning for revenge and annihilation. What is this? This is boundless loyalty to the empire!

Come on, Xiao Mo! Tell me about your experience.

Standing before the army, Mortalian was a little bewildered, wondering if he really was that great. He hadn't even decided to join the Empire just half a day ago.

But the more this is the case, the more heartbreaking it is to see Mortarian's innocent face, clearly indicating that he has been tormented terribly.

But Mortalian had never seen such a situation before. Let alone 3000 Imperial Guards, there were fewer than 3000 in the village, even including the dogs. He was completely speechless and could only give a flat, uninspiring retelling.

But as he spoke, Mortarian recalled his experience of being tortured by Mordred, and his eyes instantly turned red, his arms waving up and down involuntarily.

"Okay, let's give them a round of applause!"

In an instant, thunderous applause erupted. As long as the mood was right, that was exactly the effect Mordred wanted.

Mordred pulled Mortalian into a tight embrace, removing her silver laurel wreath and placing it on his head. She then commanded, "I hereby appoint Mortalian as interim war commander. All men shall follow him to slay the aliens."

"But Commander, this is against the rules."

"Hmm? My rules are my rules."

After the mission is accomplished, each person will receive a reward of 100 gold dogs, with senior officers receiving double the reward. All expenses will be reimbursed by Atlas, and fallen soldiers will be posthumously awarded five times the reward, with their descendants and children joining the nation in its cultivation.

Those who perform exceptionally well will enjoy a peaceful ten-day holiday and receive a personal award from me, be promoted one rank, and be given a limited-edition imperial figurine.

"Little kitty, now I'm asking you, is Mortarion suitable to be the temporary war commander?"

"Your Highness is too kind. Serving the country is our duty. Your brother is our brother. I have nothing more to say. I must get the limited edition His Majesty figurine immediately. I just don't know which model it is?"

"Haha, little kitty, what do you think? You're just asking a question you already know the answer to!"

Taking a step forward, Mordred turned to face Mortarian, immediately knelt on one knee, and shouted:
"Commander, give the order!"

………………

Meanwhile, Nacre, the alien lord who was conducting witchcraft experiments in his own lair, felt uneasy, as if something big was about to happen.

But then he thought, he was the most powerful of all the lords, and he had cultivated this fortress for many years, making it impregnable. Not even a fly could get in. What could possibly happen?

However, Nacre has gotten to where he is today because of his cautiousness, and he immediately performed a psychic divination.

Then he saw his adopted son, who had run away a year ago, leading a group of strange humans attacking his lair, accompanied by a giant blond-haired man.

Perhaps engrossed in watching, Nacre noticed that the blond giant was looking up at the sky, as if staring at him, muttering something under his breath. Judging from his lip movements, it seemed to be:

"You're going to die!"

"Death? Who can kill me?" Nacre, focused, thought that a mere 3000 enemy soldiers were nothing to be alarmed about. He figured that as long as he used his powerful spiritual energy, he could easily take them down.

"Hey! Why are those two mountains over there moving?"

Confused, Nacre decided to go closer to the window to take a look; he didn't remember two mountains appearing nearby. In an instant, two scorching torrents shot out, accompanied by endless barrages of fire, slamming into the alien fortress and instantly piercing through the psionic shield.

Shells rained down from the sky, frantically depleting the shield's capacity, efficiently blasting down enemies at a speed the Nacre couldn't even imagine.

All of this happened so fast that Nacre could only raise a psionic shield to protect himself and barely teleport out of the artillery range. He watched as his years of hard work vanished into thin air and was almost blown to bits.

What Nacre was unaware of was that at the same time he was being bombed, almost all the alien lords were being subjected to Imperial artillery fire.

The towering mountains were instantly leveled, and the perpetual poisonous fog was cleared, allowing sunlight to shine on the land of Barbaros once again.

If you look up at the sky, you can see the giant golden ship that is casting a rain of death onto the ground. Under the orbital bombardment, all living beings are equal. Alien creatures are scattered everywhere, and what awaits them is the strangulation and encirclement by the imperial soldiers.

The two Imperial Titans, which Nacre saw as mountains, drew closer and closer, and the two-headed bird atop the God Machines could be clearly seen.

Explosions, flames, death, and the lightning-fast golden-armored warriors—even the most powerful alien lords at the pinnacle of a planet could only await their demise.

The highly toxic mist, which should have been able to cut through flesh and bone, was completely ineffective, unable to penetrate the Void Armor of the Sun Auxiliary Army. Furthermore, the aliens' proud psychic magic was also rendered useless by Sister Silent's anti-psychic field.

Compared to the alien lord who crumbled instantly, Mortalian, who had obtained a one-day trial card as a War General, was more conflicted. His once-obsessive pursuit of revenge seemed like a joke in the face of this unstoppable and powerful army; everything seemed so unreal.

All of this was simply because he had joined the Empire and Mordred had placed a silver laurel wreath on his head.

"Second brother, I don't understand! Holy crap, what are you doing? This can't be eaten!"

"Huh?" Mordred looked at Little Mordred while he was savoring the aliens. To be honest, perhaps because he was a psionic species, these aliens tasted quite good. They had a characteristic of smelling bad but tasting good, which suited Mordred's taste quite well.

He hurriedly pulled the already killed alien over and threw it away. Like a teenager struggling with excessive body hair during puberty, Mortalian confided:
"Exactly, I feel like a joke. This is not what I imagined. Shouldn't we have suffered heavy casualties and gone through countless hardships to win?"

Before Mordred could even speak, the Imperial Guard Commander, Little Cat, interjected:

"Your Highness is joking. If such trash could cause us heavy losses, I would write my name backwards. I see you don't understand at all!"

"If I'd known they were such trash, I would have just thrown those three gay bastards down there."

"Exactly, Xiao Mo, are you out of your mind? As a strong person, you should insult your enemies. See that Titan over there? One volcanic cannon shot and the mountain will be vaporized."

Am I supposed to force my men into close combat for some so-called revenge ritual? Why should I be the Primarch if I have cannons to fire?

"Let me tell you, as the Primarch, you've suffered enough in this life. Now it's time to enjoy life. When you return to the Legion, you'll take off on the spot."

"Ah! That's right, that makes sense too."

Mortarian's mindset underwent a slight change. He suddenly realized that he was no longer the old farmer from Barbarossa who was struggling to make ends meet, and all of this was thanks to Mordred.

Subconsciously ignoring the repulsive, large, golden man, Mortarion's eyes were only on Mordred beside him. Although his brother was a bit crazy, he was really good to him.

"Second brother, thank you!"

If it were Horus, there would definitely be a model of brotherly love and respect, but Mordred is not such a hypocrite, and she slapped him on the head.

"Stop babbling on and on. You're not Pepe. At least Pepe is a real talent and looks good. This is too annoying. If you want to thank me, then kill Nacre to prove yourself."

You can log on now.

As soon as he finished speaking, Mordred handed his plasma pistol to Mortarian, afraid that the kid would embarrass himself at the last moment.

In order to obtain the Emperor figurine, Corn Can did not kill Nacre; instead, they aimed their powered halberds, which could destroy Ricard with a single shot, at him, with a dozen Silent Sisters standing guard nearby.

I wonder if Nacre was the reincarnation of Emperor Eikawa in his past life, to be able to enjoy such treatment; he's certainly been given a lot of prestige.

As Mortarion slowly advanced, the royal guards made way for him, finally coming to face the charred Nacre.

"Motalian, my weak adopted son, I never expected you to find a new ally. Is this the courage you have to face me?"

"bang"

Before Nacre could finish speaking, a burst of plasma exploded in his head, and the once invincible alien lord died meaninglessly.

Only Mortarion's whispers lingered above Barbaros:

"Shut up, I am the Imperial War Marshal. Farewell, my weakness."

(End of this chapter)