Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 202 Peturabo is still on his way.

Strange phenomena appeared in the sky, and demons danced wildly.

Even the mentally unstable green-skinned orcs were stunned by Atlas's cool entrance, and they all screamed and shouted, "Awesome!"
Mordred, who was being force-fed cream puffs by the four vendors, was not afraid at all. Don't be fooled by his current dazzling appearance; his higher-dimensional nature makes him the boss, and these are just a bunch of small fry who can't satisfy him at all.

And Atlas, who transformed into a source of fel corruption and whose entire crew became enchanted warriors, was even worse off. Each of them had two lives; if anyone was to die, it would be the demons within them.
Moreover, with the sacred F2 link, Atlas is a unified whole. As long as Mordred, the master controller, doesn't explode, there won't be any problems.

But Mordred, out of love for his sons, didn't want them to turn into idiots, so he took on most of the blessing by himself, and his swollen body instantly swelled to 30 meters tall as he flaunted the snacks.

Even the living missile under his feet was framed as a surfboard, resembling a white-haired man who was punched to death, but Mordred was only the second-in-command, the first being Zhuang Sen.

"I am now invincible, you bastard!"

Using their telepathic network, Atlas avoided the garbage ship piloted by Leviel.

When that massive piece of waste, 20 kilometers long, crashed onto the ground, the powerful shockwave from its violent explosion tore apart all the orc turrets within a 150-kilometer radius.

The moment he landed, Mordred was on all six feet, transforming into a mud cart Iaijutsu and running wildly. With his size, he didn't need to attack at all; he could simply run over his enemies and insult their strength.

While the other Atlas missiles did not possess this imposing physique, the accompanying live missiles made up for it.

As a burst of rousing music began, the living missile rapidly transformed, becoming a mushroom knight in just a few seconds. In an action game, this would be at least a three-stage transformation, making it a peerless powerhouse who could wield a yo-yo!
In contrast, the accompanying Thousand Sons and Death Guards seemed rather weak, making their own airdrop pod suddenly seem less appealing.

Fortunately, there are enough 3000 live missiles, enough for each member of the boarding force to have one. The Mushroom Knights, who possess "machine spirits," will find their own pilots, which is very humane.

Perhaps seeing that their good brother's enormous size was perfect as a mount, or perhaps because the clearing of enemies was too slow, Magnus and Mortarion exchanged a glance, then jumped onto Mordred's back and, using the colorful lights emanating from their good brother, directed the Mordred forward.

"Second brother, give me a gun."

"What gun do you want? We have better ones here!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Mordred pounced on an abandoned orc bunker, tearing through its outer shell with a single claw and pulling out the entire cannon barrel.

Flesh and blood tendrils gushed out, liquefying in a flash of emerald green electricity, and clung to Mordred's body, transforming into two giant plasma turrets.

"Clang clang clang, Atlas 300mm plasma rapid-fire cannon!"

Slashing each other with knives was too slow; compared to that, the thick, large cannon barrel was far more efficient. The two men instantly revealed arrogant expressions of overwhelming firepower, took their positions, and began firing wildly.

Mordred continued his charge tactics, running rampant across the surface, occasionally unleashing atomic breaths from his gaping maw. No matter what kind of heavily armored leader or war boss you were, even the mighty King Kong couldn't withstand Mordred's barrage.

The green-skinned leader, who had just crawled out of the ruins, peeked out and saw a terrifying beast charging towards him. After a brief moment of thought, he realized he was smaller than the monster's foot, and in fright, he let out a sharp, piercing scream:

"Brother Mao, don't come any closer! No, I have to survive—*splat*!"

"Hmm, did you two hear anything?" Mordred stopped and looked around, but didn't see anything alive.

"No, Second Brother, did you hear wrong?" Magnus and Mortarian, sitting at their gun positions, didn't notice anything unusual. Instead, they mocked Mordred, wondering if he had run into a speed bump.

"I must have misheard you, please continue!"

Morde accelerated again and continued circling around, completely unaware that half an orc was still stuck between his toes, and that the unfortunate fellow was still alive. This was probably the most desperate way to die.

Amidst the chaos of the 3000 mushroom knights and Mordred's rampage, the lizardman legion that had accompanied them did not venture too deep. Instead, they began collecting orc remains and various scraps.

As a boarding force, they must quickly establish an outpost. Once this foothold is planted, the boarding force can gradually devour this orcish world. At the site of the wrecked ship crash, a group of frenzied, excited lizards wield their psionic energy, catalyzing the fungal spores already buried in the soil.

To protect the little guys building their base, Atlas, piloting the Mushroom Knight, scattered around, acting as human artillery emplacements, firing a shot at any green-skinned orc that appeared.

As the first newborn lizardman hatched and shook off the slime, the encircling green tide revealed its vanguard, only to be met by the scorching plasma that had been waiting for a long time.

Turning around, Mordred, who was lying prone on the ground, charged towards the densest group of greenskins and smashed a Golem into pieces.

Seeing that things were not going well, the greenskins tried to retreat, but Mordred would not let them go. With a 360-degree spin, she crushed countless greenskins.

No matter how magical your green-skinned, thinking power is, it can't change Mordred's brute strength. You can only be tortured like a little insect.

Mordred's tongue curled up a green-skinned boy who couldn't dodge in time, savoring the orc's tender and chewy texture. His voice echoed through the mind network:

"Waaaagh!!! Kill these clueless greenskins, turn them all into biomass blocks to feed the hatchery! Turn their souls into fel crystals."

Qianzi and Death Guard remained silent as they watched the scene of Atlas devouring the alien, pretending not to have seen it. After all, Atlas's previous behavior could no longer be described as blasphemy; he was simply a monster in human skin.

In comparison, the little secrets of their own legion are nothing.

It wasn't just the allies who shared the same thought; the green-skinned orcs had never seen such a sinister enemy before. But the cheerful greenskins weren't bothered by the enemy's strength; they were only more excited.

The super-heavy leader, who was a full 8 meters tall, was drooling with excitement. As one of the nine beast generals of the Ulanor Empire, he had never met an opponent in his life. Apart from the Beast King Urg, no one could defeat him.

Today's enemy is so formidable that he's so excited he's practically waving his flag!

"Kids, Brother Mao is watching us, charge with me! I'm going to twist this beast's head off as a trophy."

An endless green tide surged forth, rushing madly towards the outpost.

Atlas, whose eyes were bloodshot from inhaling the blessings of the evil god, was driven mad by the Primarch's orders. The green-skinned creatures before him were not aliens at all, but rather pieces of fine soul seasoning.

Even the demon Palu, who was suppressed within him, let out an excited howl. As was customary, the plundered soul fragments would also be shared with them.

What else can we do? We have no choice but to kill!

"The time to feast is now! Eat them all, leave no one alive!"

King against king, general against general, the heavily armored leader charged forward, brandishing his battle axe and slashing at Mordred's eyeball with such grandeur that he was a god of war reborn.

Then Mordred bit him to pieces.

"Pah, I thought you were some kind of unparalleled master. Stop pretending! Firepower! Blow up all the big green scavengers!"

This isn't a knightly duel. How can you become a grandmaster if you have guns and cannons but don't use them? Even Mortarion and Magnus have started using cannons.

Thirty minutes later, looking at the corpses scattered on the ground, the lizardmen, who had already reproduced into the second generation, completely occupied this high ground, and the meadow-like fungal carpet began to gradually spread towards the giant void shield array in front of them.

Before long, this orc world called Big Stomach will be completely covered by creep, becoming the true homeworld of the lizardmen.

Meanwhile, Peturabo was still on his way.

(End of this chapter)