Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 208 Dad
Communication, something that sounds simple, a skill that any creature with a mouth can do, even a hamster will breathe on you to express its displeasure.

However, something so simple is something that some people can never learn in their entire lives.

Fortunately, Horus, being a Primarch and a Warmaster of the Empire, had a mouth and knew that this thing was not just for eating.

Horus has been in a bad mood ever since he saw that vision at the coronation ceremony.

Although Horus isn't as adept at using psionic abilities as the one-eyed sunburnt Oglin, who can even create effects that use psionic energy instead of technology to increase muscle mass, he's still at least eaten pork, even if he hasn't seen a pig run.

Primarchs are inherently connected to the Warp, and aside from Guilliman, almost all Primarchs possess some kind of magical psionic ability.

Take the archangel's wings, for example. With his towering 3-meter height, plus his power armor and a full set of weapons, he must weigh at least two tons.

According to aerodynamics, even if Saint Gilles flapped his wings until they were torn apart, he still couldn't fly. Moreover, Mordred had tested that, given the angel's carrying capacity, it was possible to tow a Lemanrus in the sky.

Since it's completely unscientific, there must be something carrying the burden behind it, and that thing is psionic energy!
Archangels can prophesy, Coz can watch porn, Magnus can grow muscles, Dorn can make everyone fall silent, Corax can turn into a liquid cat, and Khan can use bullet time—all of these are the work of magical psychic powers.

Of course, according to the Imperial Truth, psychic energy is a legitimate scientific phenomenon, absolutely not witchcraft. It is a slippery slope that must not be touched. Anyone who dares to talk nonsense will only be sent to the private room of the Inquisition.

So after seeing the vision, Horus firmly believed it was a psychic prophecy. But the Warlord was a well-known imperial enthusiast, and he absolutely did not believe that his father would harm him and his brothers.

Horus, tossing and turning in bed and not daring to tell anyone, made himself feel emo. Then he suddenly thought of the yellow weasel that Mordred often talked about.

Through research, Horus discovered that the yellow weasel is a monster from ancient Terra legends, which can even transform into a little girl with long black hair, animal ears, and white stockings to bewitch people.

Horus was so distracted by the illustrations in the document that he wasted some time and finally became convinced that the terrifying weasel had possessed his father in the future!

After repeatedly recalling the vision, Horus first took the document to Dorn, seeking comfort from his brother.

Dorne, true to his Dorne nature, listened attentively to Horus's explanation, even though the reason was utterly absurd, and meticulously examined the document before launching into a barrage of soul-searching sarcasm:

"Brother, if I'm not mistaken, you're probably feeling repressed. People can't, but at least they shouldn't be. You can no longer distinguish between reality and dreams."

But don't worry, I have pain gloves here that can help cure this disease.

The so-called "pain gloves" are not gloves in the conventional sense, but rather relics from a dark technological era, similar to a type of latex suit.

Wearing it will subject you to intense electric shocks, causing extreme pain; it's a monstrous contraption, just like the Butcher's Nail.

However, compared to the Butcher's Nail that is inserted into the brain, the Pain Gloves, which are more of a masochistic tool, are much more popular in Imperial Fist.

These lemon-canned people, who are rather insensitive to pain, often wear this thing to reflect on life, especially Dorn, who shocks himself with it whenever he feels like it.

It has to be said that stereotypes can be deadly. Although Dorne can be quite scathing in his words, his reputation for reliability is universally acknowledged, and Horus believed it immediately.

"So, for the three days after the meeting ended, you've been getting electric shocks from Dorn? And you couldn't even say anything?"

"What can I say! That damn pain glove had a gag in it, I almost peed my pants from the electric shock before they let me out."

Horus, sprawled on the sofa, gulped down orange juice with pulp. The life energy contained within it began to take effect, relieving his anxiety of the past few days. However, he would occasionally twitch suddenly, clearly suffering terribly at the hands of Dorn.

"Damn Dorn, I must have been out of my mind to go looking for him, but you have to believe me, it's definitely not a hallucination, I really saw it." Horus had been hallucinating more than once or twice, and Mordred had even interpreted his dream last time, although they were all trivial fantasies, but this time it had piqued his interest.

Seeing the bald man looking so distracted, Mordred's emotional intelligence, far surpassing that of the Emperor, told him that he should offer him some comfort:
"First of all, prophecies are not credible and may very well be the opposite of reality, or even the complete opposite of what is expected."

Secondly, once you believe in a prophecy, the future may very well be changed, or even the actions you take after believing in the prophecy may lead to that future happening.

And finally, and most importantly, are you really sure it's Old Man Huang chasing you, and not some other ghostly thing?

It sounds convoluted, but Horus could obviously understand it. When Mordred was searching for Luo Jia, he displayed prophetic abilities that could be described as those of a charlatan.

Furthermore, since Mordred in the illusion was dead, it meant that his brother was absolutely trustworthy, which is why Horus only sought out Dorne and him.

As for why he didn't seek out angels? Horus felt that, given his position at the time and the blood-stained warhammer in his hand, it looked exactly like he was the one who smashed Saint Gilles into mincemeat.

"I'm not sure." Recalling that feeling carefully, Horus continued:

"In that illusion, I couldn't turn my head at all. As soon as I opened my eyes, I saw a dying angel. His last words were telling me to run away and that I couldn't beat him at all."

Seeing Mordred's thoughtful expression, Horus said that he felt like a puppet, and running was the only movement he could control at that time.

"I saw war engulfing the empire, Holy Terra shrouded in demons, and when I stopped, I found myself at the palace gates, where Dorn was nailed to the door and staring intently at what was behind me."

That sword is familiar to all of us... it is the Emperor's Sword.

And then the illusion ended, and I was finally able to turn my head and look back, and then I saw it…”

"Old Man Huang?"

"Yes!"

Horuston felt much more relaxed after finishing his story, but Mordred frowned. He hated prophecies the most; they were like chocolates that suddenly appeared in front of you—you never knew if they were candy or shit unless you ate them.

But this didn't stump Mordred. Since Horus said he remembered every scene in the illusion, why not let himself go into his mind and see it for himself? Luckily, he had such a machine.

Before that, Mordred opened his Pip-Boy and entered that highly valuable small group, selecting the red dog head icon without hesitation:
"Godfather, help me beat up that blue birdman."

"Huh? What did you call me?"

"Father!"

Beneath the bronze throne, Angrath, who succeeded Skabrand as the chief archmage, suddenly discovered that his own god was weeping:

"My Lord..."

"Shut up! He finally called me father! He finally called me father! Hahaha, Tzeentch Birdman, don't blame me!"

(End of this chapter)