Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 159 Echoes from the Future

Revenge was only the first step for Mortarion; his ultimate goal was always to ensure that the humans of Barbaros were fed.

However, this was not a problem for Atlas, who had a vast fortune. No one knew how much wealth these giant cans had accumulated, not even the Emperor.

Through transportation and firepower, raiding and wiping out families, recycling military equipment, and developing weapons, Atlas has long since transformed from a poor army that could only watch dinosaurs bare their teeth into a complete military-industrial complex, rivaling the world of Atlas 500.

In contrast to those who prefer to remain in their own little world, Guilliman, who is labeled as ambitious, receives a plethora of aid and infrastructure projects simply by cooperating with Atlas and joining its system. He is practically showered with billions in subsidies.

Son of the Emperor, Space Wolf, Holy Blood Angel, and Midnight Lord are basically all kept by Atlas. As long as their second brother has food to eat, the brothers won't starve.

Even the steel warriors got a piece of the pie, and you could see civil engineering guys frantically pounding mortar everywhere on the construction site.

Mordred understood the principle that if she lived, others should live too. The Emperor was too far ahead and too ambitious. War is all about economics. Even if Atlas used the Void of Demons to steal ammunition, he still needed the ammunition first.

Looking at the Imperial soldiers below the stage, who were happily receiving their rewards, Mortarion, who had already gained a basic understanding of the Empire, discovered that both the mortal auxiliary troops and the high-ranking Imperial Guards respected Mordred greatly.

The only thing that puzzled him was those plastic figurines. He clearly remembered his father as a majestic and imposing man, so why did the figurines look so strange?

That's definitely strange. Anyway, the Emperor isn't home today. Mordred is the biggest ship on the Emperor's Dream. Normally, he definitely wouldn't take this little thing out, or he would be hacked to death.

Perhaps it was fate, for just as the last Imperial Guard was happily retreating with the figurine, the giant golden figure descended from the sky and pinned Mordred's head down:

"You unfilial son, you haven't caused any trouble while I was gone, have you?"

"How could that be? Old Huang, you're joking. If you don't believe me, ask Mortalian. We just cleared out the aliens on the planet."

Turning to look at Mortarion, the young man was glared at by the murderous Emperor. He quickly nodded, indicating that his second brother was right and that his father could rest assured.

The emperor was very pleased with the emperor's call of "father," and it was worth the trouble he had caused to Nagle. He reached out and repeatedly groped Mordred, taking out half a bag of mushrooms.

But an emperor is an emperor; his limited emotional intelligence prevented him from having normal conversations like those between father and son. Instead, he sat there silently, creating an indescribable awkwardness.

But times have changed. The current emperor is much more human-like than before. Seeing that Mortarian was empty-handed, he led the two towards the treasury.

Perhaps because the feeling of blowing Nacre's head off with a single shot was too exhilarating, Mortarion's first choice was the relic pistol called the Nether Lamp.

This pleased Mordred, a cunning old fox, who thought to himself that although the kid had a sour face, he had been smart since he was a child. How could he become a grandmaster if he didn't use his gun?

But Mortarion's next weapon choice made the two frown. It wasn't a cool scythe, nor a mainstream greatsword, but a pair of very rare power maces.

As we all know, Space Marines are becoming more and more like Primarchs. Take the Vorgem for example. The Phoenix is ​​good at using a one-handed sword, so much so that the entire Legion loves this style. Mordred uses a gun in her left hand and a sword in her right, and Atlas also likes to combine guns and swords.

But while spiked clubs aren't exactly uncommon, they're certainly rare. Only the dim-witted Oglin likes them. Mordred can't imagine the bizarre scene of the 14th Legion being filled with people who worship chicken legs.

"What's wrong? Is there something wrong with what I chose? It's just that this thing looks a lot like corn, so I chose it."

The argument was logical and irrefutable. They exchanged a glance, both Emperor and Mordred accepting the reality: at least one blow would be fatal or crippling. Perhaps seeing a Sisyphus-like figure in Mortarion, or perhaps simply finding him pleasing to the eye, the Emperor particularly favored the young man, bestowing upon him the same honors as the Emperor's sons and allowing Mortarion to use the Imperial Twin Eagles emblem.

When the 14th Legion's Twilight Raiders arrived in Barbaros, the Emperor even used Mordred to support Mortarion, allowing them, whose designation had been changed to Deathguard, to enter the Imperial Dream for a homecoming ceremony.

Mordred felt a little uncomfortable seeing the Emperor being treated so human-like. He hadn't received such treatment when he returned to the Empire. How come he seemed like a completely different person after just two days?

The thought lingered until the return ceremony ended, and Mordred was preparing to take advantage of the chaos to scavenge some unclaimed items from the vault when he suddenly saw a figure sitting alone in the corner, drinking alone.

"Old Huang, what's wrong?"

Their eyes met, and Mordred saw a weariness in the Emperor's eyes that he had never shown before. He was not the psionic giant who was more than 5 meters tall as usual, but just a tired middle-aged man sighing.

This scene made Mordred feel a chill run down his spine. After hesitating for a long time, he put away his hot melt cutting machine and sat down next to the Emperor.

"It's all too late, we can't change anything."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

A greater question arose in Mordred's mind, but the Emperor quickly explained the reason to him:

"Do you know what I saw when I went out this time? I saw a vision of Mortarion in that fat man's domain, and he was giving a serious lecture to the demons."

"Giving a lecture? Don't tell me it's about how to farm, it can't be some kind of numerology lecture, can it?"

The Emperor remained silent, but his expression said it all: "It's that damned numerology, and he's actually teaching demons how to farm. Although the illusion was extremely fragile, I still caught a glimpse of it and saw Guilliman stabbing me to death with a sword."

Mordred thought this weasel must have gone mad with greed. Mortarian had always been with him, how could there be another one? It was impossible... Wait, Guilliman?
Suddenly realizing something, Mordred picked up the Emperor and ran. He had carefully analyzed the internal structure of the Emperor Dream in order to supplement his family income, and soon found the secret room.

As the door closed, in this room that even the Four Gods could not see into, Mordred asked:

"Are you sure that really is Mortarian? You can't just make things up without evidence."

Knowing this would be the reaction, the Emperor initially didn't believe it either, his eyes lit up and he started playing a slideshow.

Seeing Mortarion earnestly explaining numerology to demons in the video, even Mordred couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed, but he quickly discovered the problem.

"Stop, rewind the video a little, what is this?"

To ensure image clarity, the Emperor could only view the film with his left eye and the image with his right, repeatedly refreshing the resolution by following Mordred's finger to the area he was pointing to.

"Hair? No, it's not hair. Mortalian has gray hair. This looks so familiar."

"Of course it looks familiar. This is clearly Angron. Have you forgotten that he's a nail now?"

(End of this chapter)