Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 190 Skabrand, is that you?
"Short Man" is a rather discriminatory and derogatory term, but just as there are no wrong nicknames, only wrong names, the nickname "Short Man" is indeed very fitting for this group of galactic miners.

This even led to a variety of short jokes. For example, the classic line "Life is short" refers to the ogre's lament after capturing a space dwarf.

But the eldest brother didn't laugh at the second brother. It wasn't just dwarves who had nicknames; other races did too. For example, humans called Eldar "Bean Sprouts," dwarves "Shortmen," and Orcs "Greenskins."

The Eldar also call humans "monkeys," Space Marines are called "giant apes," Dwarves are "craft spirits," and the Primarch is undoubtedly the ape god.

The reason for this phenomenon is that nicknames are easier to remember than real names. They are a type of stereotype. After all, you might make a mistake if you try to verify something based on a stereotype, but the accuracy rate is definitely higher.

In reality, the Great Crusade wasn't as crazy as later generations imagined. Unless communication was impossible and it was confirmed that the aliens were harmful to humanity, the Empire's initial strategy was primarily based on negotiation.

Just like the cat-people who have now become part of the empire, this group of demi-human races, genetically modified from the Dark Ages, is quite popular and is an excellent scout. They are even present in the Sun Auxiliary Army.

The dwarves, a larger subhuman race, have been confirmed to be a branch of humanity, evolving gradually from former mining fleets.

But the short-haired elders looked down on their poor relatives, the Imperials, believing the Empire to be too cruel and ignorant, especially those little red-robed men who plotted against them.

Moreover, the Empire couldn't refute anything, since the space dwarves, who inherited a large amount of the legacy of the Dark Ages, were more legitimate than the Empire, both in terms of bloodline and technological possession.

Even so, the Empire did not engage in a large-scale conflict with the Space Dwarves like the Randan Empire. After all, the Dwarves' base of operations was in the Dead Zone around the Galactic Center, where the extreme environment made the Empire shake its head. The tranquility that was slightly closer to the galaxy gave birth to the subspecies of Oglin apes due to their high density.

Additionally, Olympia is relatively close to the Space Dwarves, which may explain why Peturabo appears more robust than the other Primarchs.

Logically speaking, these space dwarves who love digging and treasure hunting should have nothing to do with Qianzi, and they shouldn't be fighting each other. But Qianzi's group was lucky. They secretly stole one of the dwarves' ancestral cores!
This thing is essentially a super AI, but in the hearts of the space dwarves, it is comparable to their clan elders, and even an ancestor.

Whenever a clan member dies, they infuse the deceased's thoughts into the body, using it as an ancestral totem to guide future generations.

Moreover, the Ancestral Core is crucial to the survival of the clan. It contains a large amount of Dark Age technology, various lost STC templates, and is the core of the Brocade Network, similar to the genetic prototype of a Legion.

When the prospecting team returned from their mining trip, they exclaimed, "Good heavens! You damned bastards dug up our ancestral graves! And you're even yelling that this is some kind of abomination intelligence! We'll just lift the coffin lids and take a look, and we promise we won't damage your ancestral graves!"

This was intolerable! Upon learning of this news, the clan leader immediately added these damned bastards to the Book of Hatred, and then fought them head-on with the Thousand Sons Legion.

Perhaps due to their unbridled behavior, or perhaps due to the accidental ingestion of inferior protein, Magnus's legion was unable to end the battle immediately, instead becoming embroiled in a helpless tug-of-war.

Dwarves are naturally highly resistant to psionic energy, and having inherited a large amount of Commonwealth heritage, their technology is more advanced than that of the Empire. Even without Space Marines, they have Ironborn, a small tank of steel, whose firepower density completely surpasses that of the Imperial forces.

What's even more abstract is that, due to their height, the internal passageways of the dwarf ships are too low. For a short man with an average height of 1.2 meters, the highest passageway is only 3 meters.

Even slightly larger heavy firepower cannot penetrate it; even the Terminator has to crouch and shrink its way in.

This would undoubtedly be a disaster for Qianzi, whose size was approaching 3 meters after her second growth spurt. But sending in the mortal support troops would be like sending them to their deaths; her single-mindedness had backfired, leaving her trapped in a dilemma.

"Ariman, send me a message on Terra and have that old man Makado send me reinforcements. Remember, they need to be short Iron Warriors. Also, don't call me on psionic phones, use interstellar communication."

"But Father, wouldn't it be faster for me to make a direct psionic call?"

Upon hearing this, Magnus immediately gave his eldest son a good slap and, while rubbing his wasteland punk hairstyle, launched into a tirade:
"Make phone calls, make phone calls, all you know is making phone calls. If I hear you making phone calls again when you're bored, I'll slap you. I don't know where you learned this bad habit. What if you accidentally blow something up while making a phone call?"
"Get down there and do 3 forbidden squats!"

When Makado received the message, it was already a week later. Since the Emperor was not at home and had gone out to play, the Seal Master had no choice but to call Mordred, Coz, and even Dorn, who had been hiding in the net tunnels playing in the dust.

When the three Primarchs saw the battle report, they were speechless at its abstract content. But then they thought that it was indeed possible that Thousand Sons had done this, after all, they had a history of such things.

Once, during a joint operation between Dark Angels and Thousand Sons, he actually abandoned his allies and went to the battlefield to do archaeology, which almost made Zhuang Sen furious. He thought he might as well just throw an extermination order and blow the guy up.

The behavior of the red-robed bastards of the Mechanicus was beyond question; grave robbing was their specialty, which made the three of them look at Mordred, who shared the same hobby.

"Why are you looking at me like that? What kind of looks are those? Let me tell you, this is slander! We Atlas have no secrets, this is what we picked up." Putting aside Atlas's moral issues for the moment, the problem is that the Iron Warriors simply can't be mobilized. They are currently engaged in a fierce battle with the Hruds alongside the Word Bearers, and they simply can't spare any time.

Thinking of this, Dorn, who had been staring at Mordred and wondering if Mordred had stolen his Soul Spear, suddenly realized that everyone else was looking at him.

"Why are you all looking at me? We, the Imperial Fists, are not Iron Warriors. On average, we are five centimeters taller than them!"

Before long, some of the Imperial Fists within the Sun Starfield began to assemble, boarding Atlas's fast ship. Mordred sent Tom, while Dorne sent Sigismund.

Before their departure, Mordred specially allocated a batch of the latest Mark III power armor so that these Dorn's sons, who could become Iron Warriors with just a change of paint, could wear it.

This new type of powered armor, which sacrifices flexibility for enhanced frontal armor and has a more rounded appearance, is designed primarily for boarding maneuvers and is well-suited for unprotected combat in confined terrain.

If its combat effectiveness is good, Atlas will mass-produce this special armor and have it assume the tactical role of assault troops in the kill squad.

As for the development of other new types of armor, Atlas is also carrying out the work. However, there are too many expeditionary armors in stock now, so there is no need to replace the equipment. Not to mention that there are still some technical difficulties that have not been overcome.

Looking out at the two legions that were already heading to the battlefield, Macado inadvertently glanced at the gate in front of the palace, especially at the tall man acting as a ticket seller.

The one who held the seal didn't say much, but instead handed Mordred a list containing the names of every Thunder Warrior of Holy Terra.

Let's give them a peaceful ending!

"I know without you telling me. By the way, where did that yellow weasel go? I clearly remember he came back before me, so why can't I find him?"

"My lord has more important things to do."

If it were any other Primarch, Macardo wouldn't even bother to explain, but since it was Mordred, whom he knew well, he said a few more words:
"My lord is trying to steal a key. He originally planned to take you with him, but plans have changed. You've found a sucker."

Just like fishing, too much bait can be counterproductive, so His Majesty only took Horus and Saint Gilles with him, and it's probably over by now.

Mordred vaguely remembered that Old Man Huang had told him he wanted to steal the flame, so it was clear that his disappearance was for that purpose.

If Macardo hadn't mentioned it, Mordred would have almost forgotten that he had a sucker—no, a business partner—and immediately slipped back to his own Abomination, intending to put his child psychology skills to good use.

Due to its overly complex composition, even Mordred himself didn't know what it was, just like the Atlas flagship, the Abomination, it was a true Frankenstein's monster.

But there are advantages to Frankenstein's monsters. As we all know, fusion is the current top-tier solution, and even Digimon emphasizes fusion evolution.

With a flash of fel energy, Mordred's vision gradually tore apart. When he opened his eyes, he was already on the fel planet Mardun, transformed back into the red-cloaked kobold, and then he saw an extremely brutal scene.

A long queue had formed in front of the Fel Beacon, with all sorts of bizarre demonic slaves coming and going. At the far end of the line of sight, Vashtor was directing demons to dismantle a spaceship to obtain precious resources that could be used in the physical world.

It even multitasks, creating another clone that transforms into an HR to select suitable demons for Atlas. Once a suitable type is caught, it is immediately packed and ready for Atlas to summon and use.

Vashtor was so eager to improve himself that he dreamed of becoming a god. Now that he had finally found a collaborator, he was more enthusiastic than anyone else about it.

In contrast, Mordred, who was also a legion commander, seemed so lazy that he felt a little embarrassed.

But Mordred soon didn't have to feel embarrassed anymore, because he saw a familiar face, and the person opposite him recognized him at a glance.

"Scarbrand? Is that you?"

"No, I am Angela."

(End of this chapter)