Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 203 The Burning of Olympia
If you were to ask which Primarch is the most unpopular in the Empire, Guilliman would certainly be on the list.

Even though they recognized their own problems, Guilliman's unintentional pride whenever he interacted with his brothers still made all the Primarchs feel that this bastard was mocking them.

Everyone knows that your Extreme Warfare has a large number of soldiers and generals, and everyone knows that the world of Altera 500 is incredibly rich. Everyone knows that you have a mother waiting for you to come home for dinner. But why do you, you bastard, always have to say something like, "Are you mocking us for not having a mother?"
All the mockery stemmed from jealousy. Even if they were unwilling to admit it, most Primarchs were jealous of Guilliman, this rich kid who grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth.

Compared to Guilliman's upbringing, the other Primarchs seemed to be on completely different levels. While Johnson was still a wild man in Caliban, Guilliman had already inherited a large fortune from his adoptive father, King Connor.

If you analyze it carefully, you will find that it is indeed not unjust for Guilliman to be labeled as ambitious!

Since the galaxy is not a flat plane, but a giant sandwich, each legion will find a sector to lead its fleet to launch attacks in different directions. Only the Ultramarines never move, but slowly advance from their home base and manage their own small territory.

Even if the Ultra Warrior's ranged efficiency is no worse than anyone else's, this behavior still seems to harbor malicious intentions.

In contrast, Mordred, Atlas also likes to manage his own pocket empire, and his expedition progress is the worst among the 20 legions, almost zero.

But no one said much, after all, he was a grain transport officer, and their duties were different. Even the most unruly Space Marine wouldn't do something as immoral as smashing the pot and cursing the cook after finishing his meal.

Furthermore, Mordred was notorious for his extravagant spending; every legion had received benefits from Atlas. Even Marshal Waldo of the Imperial Guard had a secret relationship with Mordred, and Mordred had served as a War Marshal for 30 years. So what could be done? They could only curse Guilliman.

The saying "It's not scarcity that's worrisome, but inequality" applies to any era. Even though the Ultramarines later began to interact with other legions, stereotypes had already been formed.

Besides, why are you Smurfs giving us benefits? Are you trying to corrupt us? You're really ambitious.

Logically speaking, they're all brothers who ate in the same trench, so it's unlikely that half the empire consists of Guilliman's little black men. But who can blame them for being so useless! They're clear-headed about small things, but incompetent when it comes to big things. They're always late for every collaboration, almost as if it's intentional.

But Guilliman also had something to say: Who knew that as soon as we stepped out of our house we would run into the main force of the orcs, with greenskin orcs from two star sectors blocking our way, and we lost no less than ten moons in the battle alone, what am I supposed to do?
Other legions only encountered scattered orcs, but we Ultramarines faced the orc army head-on. A green tide swept in from two entire star sectors. You say I'm ambitious? Have you no shame?
In just a month and a half, the Ultramarines lost nearly 8 Space Marines, and countless Mortal Support Forces were also lost. Countless ships were destroyed, and they also encountered a warp storm.

The green-skinned orcs weren't having an easy time either. They were even more confused than the Ultramarines. Why couldn't they kill all the blue cans in front of them? Kill one and two more would appear, kill two and a whole bunch more would pop up. Who were the orcs anyway?

"Reporting to Father, the rear reserve force will arrive in three Terra hours. The newly mobilized 5 combat brothers are all fully equipped and are conducting a flanking maneuver."

The second batch of combat ships has already undergone adaptation modifications, and another 30 capital warships are undergoing final testing, expected to be commissioned into the legion within a Terra week.

“Alright!” Guilliman, sitting on the Iron Throne of the Makurag, rubbed his temples, took the super-concentrated fel coffee handed to him by X, and gulped it down.

A dense array of data cables pressed against his scalp, enabling Guilliman's superior information processing capabilities to schedule each fleet, even down to the extreme micro-management of ground troops' gun barrels pointing 5 degrees to the right.

If Mordred were there, he would be amazed by Guilliman's appearance at this moment, which is exactly the same as Plankton in his memory, the only difference being that he does not use the 11-draw kill.

And that is indeed the case. In an alien world that Ultra Warriors conquered before, Guilliman discovered a very powerful neural connection technology.

Aside from its less-than-ideal appearance, it's especially suited to an RTS player like him who excels at micro-management. Between his hair and efficiency, Guilliman decisively chose efficiency, and now, having sacrificed his hair, he's terrifyingly powerful. Relying on the terrifying mobilization capabilities of the Ultramar 500 world, the Ultramarines have a large number of reserve soldiers just one final modification surgery away from completion.

Even if the legion is completely wiped out, Guilliman can still muster nearly 20 reserve hidden troops in a very short time if he wants to.

As for whether there will be a second batch of reserves after this reserve team is exhausted, nobody knows.

Seeing the situation rapidly improving, Guilliman, who had been engaged in intense mental work for over a month, felt it was time to take a short break.
"It's time to end the battle. Let the reserves take over the remaining forces. Don't get entangled with these aliens any longer. Issue the extermination order directly. We don't need the fallen world anymore."

This damned subspace storm, why did it have to happen now of all times, making interstellar communication unusable?

For some reason, I keep feeling like something's whispering in my ear, making me really upset. And Magnus isn't replying to my messages either. What bad luck!

Echoes, one of the Four Heroes, was puzzled. He thought to himself, "He definitely won't reply. Maybe Father, you've been blocked by Prince Magnus. We're 45 days late."

According to numerology, your good brother, His Highness Magnus, may have already been brought out.

“Father, I still think you should think about how to explain this. Or I could stab you in the back; that would be more convincing.”

"..."

Guilliman, feeling a bit humiliated by the filial piety, thought he should perhaps learn from Mordred and wear pants with a belt, otherwise he wouldn't have a handy tool when he wanted to hit someone.

Three days later, with the reserve team taking over the battlefield, the Ultramarines went full speed ahead, heading towards Olympia, which they should have reached two months earlier.

But upon seeing the entire galaxy completely overrun by green-skinned orcs, Guilliman, exhausted from days of work and obsessed with fel coffee, collapsed to the ground.
"Little Ma, Little Ma! Thirteenth Brother, I'm so sorry! How could you leave like this? How can I face Father?"
"No way! I'll make these aliens pay with their lives! Issue an extermination order and burn the entire galaxy to the ground!"

After confirming that there were no survivors in the entire galaxy, virus bombs were dropped on 14 planets surrounding Olympia, which were eventually burned to the ground in a massive fire.

Having done all this, Guilliman decided to continue the westward expedition. Due to the noisy interstellar interference everywhere, the Ultramarines had to find the nearest Astral Station to make contact with the main force.

But not long after the Ultramarines left, trouble arose again at Mandeville. After two months of rapid progress, the Iron Warriors finally arrived at their home.

Seeing Olympia engulfed in flames, Peturabo stood frozen, repeatedly confirming he hadn't gone the wrong way, before letting out a sharp, explosive roar:

"Do not--"

(End of this chapter)