Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 163 Oh, so he's just a nobody!
With the initial completion of the Atlas reconstruction project, Barbalus's journey has come to an end.

After all, the Death Guard is not the Night Lord whose mastery is questionable; Barbaros will always be the Death Guard's territory.

On the newly built starport, under the watchful eyes of all the Space Marines, Mordred presented Mortarion with an adamantite laurel wreath and, with two encircling ears of wheat, blessed Barbaros to be forever free from hunger.

Mordred initially planned to make a ring, but as soon as he finished it, it reminded him of the Centaur Ring, which was too unlucky, so he changed his mind and made a laurel wreath instead.

Moreover, the laurel wreath was the perfect size to fit the iron halo inside, making it quite practical.

Looking at his younger brother's reluctant face, Mordred gave him his final words of advice:
"I'm giving you this planetary conversion ship. With it, you can gradually build your own base. You're not that little brat Peturabo. I won't say more, but I believe you can definitely make it big and strong."

"Second brother!"

"Hey~ Why are you being so long-winded? You're the Legion Commander now, no longer that old farmer from Barbarus who toils in the fields. If you need anything, just go to Taran. That's Atlas's supply depot."

"It's okay, you can always come find me in Ningjing."

Upon hearing this, Mortarion could no longer hold back, grabbed Mordred, and wailed:
"Second brother, once you leave, the aid must not stop. I don't want you to go."

(▼へ▼メ)
Mordred was almost driven mad by what this brat said. Let them watch, Mordred grabbed the kid and gave him a good beating.

No wonder weasels always like to beat people up. One of these kinds of creatures is enough to annoy you, if a few more come, you'll be driven crazy.

Should we step in and stop them?

"If you want to die, don't drag me down with you. Zhan Shuai is notoriously petty. My father can take a couple of slaps and it's fine, but if you go over there, I'll knock your head off."

"Yeah, yeah, things are different now than before. Should we follow the example of the Ultramarines and form a Primarch stretcher team?"

"Line" × 77490
After helping Mortarian up, who was still pretending to be dead on the ground, Mordred, seeing how pitiful the boy was, gave him another idea:

"Do you know why I, your second brother, am so carefree, yet still manage the legion so well?"

"Because you have enough money to squander it all."

Mordred knew this guy was brainless, so he grabbed Mordred's spiky hair and yelled, "Because I'm good at judging people! Haven't you noticed that I leave all the big and small things to Goff? We just need to be our Primarchs."

"Find a few smart guys and send them to Ultramarines as exchange students. As long as they learn Guilliman's management skills, I guarantee you'll thrive."

Guilliman's prestige is undeniable; everyone in the Empire knows of his ambition, and even the Mortarion had long heard of him.

With things having come to this point, Mordred had nothing more to say. He simply tossed his trench coat aside, boarded the Abomination amidst the cheers of the Death Guards, and prepared to head to the world of Tranquility 50, which he was forever loyal to.

Even after the Warlord's departure, their Primarch still stood there, gazing into the distance. The Death Guards couldn't help but marvel at the brotherhood between their father and the Warlord.

"Father, it's time to go back!"

"Well, you go back first."

After everyone dispersed, Mortarian quietly called out to Karas, who was walking at the back, gesturing for him to quickly help him up, as his leg had been broken by a kick and he couldn't stand steadily.

On the Abomination, Atlas's high command, led by Goff, was reporting to the Primarch. Mordred was quite satisfied with the steadily increasing data.

Although Atlas goes to great lengths to subsidize each Primarch who returns, there are long-term benefits to be gained from this.

On the one hand, the Legion is highly dependent on the Mechanicus for weapons and supplies. Now that Atlas has established a complete infrastructure for them, they can be self-sufficient in low-end equipment and no longer have to wait for those unscrupulous techies.

Anyway, the things Atlas provided were pretty much the same, and most importantly, the quantity was large and plentiful, which led many foundries to start imitating Atlas and begin to roll their own products.

Among them, Huangquan 8 and Riza, the two casting worlds, were the most enthusiastic. The Emperor was happy to see this and began to take sides, forcing the Mars headquarters to also get involved.

Behind the scenes, Old Man Huang secretly met with Zhuang Sen and established the Icarus Protocol as a countermeasure, and ordered Ferrus to continue infiltrating the Mechanicus.

On the other hand, Atlas is a legion that has truly achieved complete self-sufficiency. Regardless of whether Mordred is bloodthirsty, his reputation among other legions is growing rapidly, rivaling that of Horus Lupecal.

Every Space Marine knows that there is a powerful uncle who truly cares about the Legion.

Whenever a battle ends, Atlas is always the first to appear, offering all sorts of novel gadgets in exchange for spoils of war.

In particular, the mini nuclear warhead produced by Atlas greatly enhanced the individual combat capabilities of the Space Marines, while the latter filled the gap in heavy armor below the Knights.

Most importantly, you no longer have to endure that damned nerve torture. Even if you have hands and feet, you can get in and drive, and even play games online. The only minor change is that you need to create a neural interface in your power armor. ...

"Father, in summary, this is all the achievement we have made in the past 35 years. Atlas has entered every aspect of the Empire, and the first step of the grand plan has finally been realized."

"Good! As expected of our Atlas's Chief Logistics Officer, in that case, I hereby declare that Goff will be one of our Atlas's Four Heavenly Kings."

As for the remaining candidates, Brian, JoJo, Gawain…”

Looking at Tom, who was standing beside her with his chest puffed out and waving wildly, Mordred sighed and added Tom's name to the list.

"And Tom."

"Great! But Father, weren't there supposed to be four royal knights? If you include me, then there are five!"

"You don't know anything. There should be five of the Four Heavenly Kings. That's the tradition." Mordred gestured for Tom to come over and then delivered a powerful blow to the bridge. The force was just right, leaving the passengers stunned but not brain-damaged. The entire bridge was filled with a joyful atmosphere.

After rewarding his hard work, Mordred discussed the follow-up plan with his offspring. Without changing the original plan, they began to cultivate the divine seal frantically, determined to cover the entire empire with divine seal terminals and connect them into an impenetrable wall.

The prophecy still affected Mordred, who had to race against time to build up his strength. The good news was that with the end of the initial training, Atlas would be welcoming a new wave of mass troop buildups.

After playing a few games with her offspring and achieving a five-game losing streak, Mordred handed the terminal to Sally to play for her, and then went back to her room to get a good night's sleep.

Although a short nap each day would be enough for a Primarch to be full of energy, Mordred maintained the good habit of going to bed on time every day, at least to make him feel like a human being.

But for some reason, her sleep quality was particularly poor today. Mordred kept feeling mosquitoes buzzing around her ears, and there was one more mosquito than the usual four.

One more?
Mordred quickly sat up and answered the psionic call, wanting to see which idiot was harassing him.

Don't be fooled by Mordred's ability to manipulate fel energy; fel energy is derived from psionic energy, making him a kind of psionic Primarch. Moreover, he recognized his true nature right away, which is why his stats are so pure. He can't make a phone call, but he can answer one.

Of course, Guilliman would never do such a thing. This guy managed to turn himself into a psionic Muggle by relentlessly elbowing the essence of the warp. Mordred doubted that even the Four Little Vendors could not corrupt him.

After all, chaos pollution is based on communication; you can't communicate with someone who has pulled out their phone card.

Following the psionic message, Mordred's perspective shifted and finally manifested as his ID avatar: a miniature dog-man with scarlet battle markings on his face and wearing a red scarf.

Upon appearing, Mordred found herself at an altar surrounded by a jumble of items, the most eye-catching of which was a large bucket of orange juice with pulp.

Since it was a sacrifice, it must have been offered to him. Mored immediately accepted it with a smile, and then he saw a cool demon staring at him with a malicious look.

"Mordred, you've finally arrived."

Huh? Who are you?!
"Damn, you scared the hell out of me! It was you, you bastard, who summoned me here. Next time, remember to add ice to your drink; I like it cold."

Mordred's remarks, however, elicited a series of cold laughs from Vashtor:

"Hehehe, trying to provoke me by pretending to be indifferent to me? Very well, as expected of a man I admire, you are now qualified to cooperate with me."

Mordred was dumbfounded. Why should I know you? And that tone of voice, which sounded like that of a nobody, was like that of a third-rate villain. Could it be that demons also get dementia?

The more Mordred thought about it, the more it made sense. His eyes turned disgusted, and coupled with his kobold posture, it reminded Vashtor of a large kobold. He desperately needed to regain his composure.

"Since you asked the question sincerely."

"No, who asked you?"

"Then I will tell you with great mercy."

"what are you talking about!"

"I am Vastor, the demigod inventor, engineer, scientist, and craftsman, the ruler of the Soul Forge, and the creator of chaos without division!"

However, Vashtor's introduction did not earn Mordred's respect; instead, he heard a sneer.
"Oh, I thought it was someone important, but it's just a nobody. You're not worthy of cooperating with me. Who are the people who are trying to win me over? They're the Four Gods! You little piece of trash, and you still want to talk about cooperating with me?"

Get lost! Don't contact me again; I'm afraid others will misunderstand.

But before Mordred could turn and leave, Vashtor's words made him stop in his tracks:
Don't you want to know Thomas Wayne's little secret?

(End of this chapter)