Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 213 There's no Conch Girl, only the magical, powerful dog.
"This is just too unlucky!"

As the sun set, following the scent, the two dogs that had been trailing Neos for half a day lay on the roof, Horus's sigh echoing in Mordred's ears.

Throughout the day, the two dogs, taking advantage of their size, mingled in the streets and alleys, secretly keeping an eye on the Roman she-wolf.

Even if they climbed onto the roof now, no one would care, since no normal person would think that two dogs would be spying on them.

However, during this time, the two discovered a great deal of Huang Pizi's dark history.

Don't be fooled by the future emperor's serious demeanor and seemingly cold, expressionless, golden-haired giant. In the present-day Neos, he embodies the worst of everyone, possessing an incredibly rich and complex humanity.

She's good at slacking off, being greedy, lazy, and cunning. She grinds her teeth, farts, and snores in her sleep. Most importantly, she's extremely poor!
As an immortal being, coupled with the Emperor's almost abnormal charm, he should theoretically be rich. In fact, in this backward era where face-to-face transactions still exist, he shouldn't even need to pay money; he could just use facial recognition!
However, the truth is quite the opposite. The extraordinary charm of the weasel still exists, but what is more eye-catching than the charm is something else - bad luck!

To call it bad luck is an understatement. The weasel disguised as Miss Nios got bitten by a dog when it went out, was knocked over by a horse on the road, and even encountered a thief while buying something, who stole the reward money it received for serving Erda.

You have to understand that this is real hard-earned money. Mordred and Horus can testify to this. The kind of crazy, ruthless way they played is not an exaggeration even for Bean Sprout.

Mordred hated thieves the most, so she sneaked behind the thief and stole the money back, then seized the opportunity to smash the wallet against Neos.

However, the joy of getting the money back didn't last long before our Miss Neos lost it again.

Still not convinced, Mordred took action again, once, twice, three times. In just half a day, he emptied his wallet seven or eight times.

Horus eventually lost his temper and personally intervened, breaking the legs of the thieves.

However, this was just the beginning of his bad luck. After retrieving his wallet, Neos somehow slipped and fell into the river, and the wallet was swept away.

If it weren't for Mordred and Horus secretly pulling the strings, this unfortunate thing would have been washed ashore in the Mediterranean!

Peeking out, the dog watched as the unfortunate creature lay on the ground trying to start a fire to cook, but the firewood was soaked by a sudden thunderstorm and wouldn't light no matter what it tried. In a fit of frustration, it used psionic lightning to ignite the fire, only to blow up the stove in the process.

Even if they were unwilling to admit it, the two felt that their cheap old man must have some kind of mystical element about him.

"Why don't we go down and help her? I just sneaked into the house and saw that the earthenware jar that holds the grain has a hole in it, and all the wheat has been stolen by rats. Even if she manages to start a fire, she won't be able to eat at all."

As Horus's biggest nemesis behind the scenes, Mordred's favorite pastime was finding amusement in the Emperor. However, looking at the wretched-looking fellow in the yard, covered in black and gray and sitting on the ground with a lifeless expression, Mordred hesitated for a long time before finally agreeing to Horus's request:
"But remember this: we're both dogs now, so don't do anything to distort history, and it's best not to reveal your names at all."

Since that weasel is secretly promiscuous, always having sex with Erda, and we're in ancient Rome, let's call you Romus and me Remus, which corresponds to the Roman she-wolf.”

"Makes sense!"

…………

Whether it makes sense or not, no one knows, but now some people are going to go hungry. Fortunately, immortal beings, which are neither scientific nor subspace-based, won't starve.

After his impotent rage, the unlucky fellow pushed open the door, only to find that, given his cursed bad luck, a luxury like candles was clearly out of the question.

Not only were there no lights, but the room was also piled with all sorts of junk and rubbish. Based on this alone, Mordred was the Emperor's favorite son.

"Ugh~ I should have brought that bag of melons back with me! Those wretched stray dogs! Those wretched thieves! That wretched river! Even the firewood is getting in my way. I'm so hungry!"

The unfortunate fellow, unaware that his grain jars had been completely stolen by rats, went straight to his bed and rolled onto it.

Fortunately, the house was drafty, which kept the pile of straw haphazardly stacked in the corner very dry. It was quite comfortable to lie on, and before long, the weasel fell asleep.

Amidst a series of noises including snoring, teeth grinding, and sleep talking, the door was opened again, and two furtive figures slipped in.

The two dogs, who had stood up on their hind legs, approached the haystack. Looking at the yellow weasel's filthy, unkempt appearance, they felt a sense of shattered reality, like a filter had been broken.

Looking around at the bare mud-brick houses, which were mostly empty except for being fairly sturdy, the two exchanged a glance and immediately began their work.

Although the two were just projections and didn't have any tools, Mordred still managed to borrow some materials thanks to the generosity of his fellow Romans.

The two worked together, with Mordred extending his claws and using his mouth and feet to first twist several pieces of straw rope, and then using the straw rope to weave and bind a series of woven products such as brooms, winnowing baskets, straw mats, cushions, rattan baskets, and fish baskets.

Horus, meanwhile, swept the room with a broom and dustpan, sorting the various kinds of trash and junk into categories. Useful items were given to Mordred for recycling, while useless items were simply thrown away for cleanup.

Even though it was just a projection, and it turned into two dogs, they were still genetically modified dogs, not ordinary scavengers. Soon, amidst the weasel's purring, the two of them had tidied everything up, at least making the small house look like a normal human dwelling.

After finishing all that, the two went back to the yard to repair the stove. To prevent the unfortunate child from making the same mistake of not being able to light the stove again, they built a shed.

Mordred even managed to squeeze out a pitifully small amount of Celestial Power to knead a thick iron frying pan.

"Second brother, didn't you say we shouldn't change history?"

"Shut up! We already have iron tools in this era. What's wrong with me making a pot? Get back to work. I'll continue making tools. Go get some food. This unlucky thing doesn't even have salt, and we're by the sea!"

Fortunately, there are no cameras in this era, otherwise two dogs that can lift people by hand, do housework, and even cook would definitely make the headlines.

As the first rays of sunlight rose on the horizon, the weasel, who had been having hungry dreams all night, felt something tugging at its head.

"Open your eyes, you little brat! I'm your father!"

"What? Dad, you're not dead?!"

The weasel, startled awake, didn't see her long-dead father, but only two dog heads grinning at her, one yellow and one white—the same two that had bitten her yesterday.

"I must be dreaming!"

"Snapped."

Under Horus's slightly distressed gaze, Mordred slapped the weasel across the face with her paw and grabbed her ear, pulling her up by the handle.

"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!"

"Pain my ass! How old are you and still acting cute? You've got no shame! Get up and go eat!"

Following Horus's paw, a steaming bowl of seafood porridge was placed on the table, accompanied by a slightly burnt flatbread.

People need food to survive. Hunger made the weasel ignore everything around it and pounce on the table. Not caring about the heat, it grabbed the bowl and started eating like crazy, even though it didn't have a table yesterday.

The entire earthenware pot of thick porridge, plus 13 large flatbreads, was devoured by the weasel. It was clearly starving, and in the end, it was so full that it sat down on the ground with a thud.

It was only then that the weasel realized that there were two dogs standing next to it, and that these two dogs could talk!

Are you also immortals?

Knowing this guy would ask that question, Mordred, who was already well prepared, performed a backflip and jumped in front of Horus.

Even though they were indoors, a gentle breeze arose, ruffling Mordred's red cloak. His mouth was slightly open, and despite being a small dog, he exuded an unparalleled aura of dominance.

Horus roared to the sky, a gentle breeze ruffling his flawless, silvery-white fur, which, combined with his gold accessories, gave him an indescribable air of nobility.
"Humph! Since you ask so sincerely."

"Then we will tell you with great mercy."

"For love and peace, for the upholding of justice and hope, I, Remus, possess unparalleled wisdom!"

"Romus, who possesses endless power!"

"And you..."

Stared at by two pairs of piercing dog eyes, the weasel instinctively pointed at itself and asked, "Me?"

"Yes, you are Neos, the magical girl we chose! Call me Daddy."

Regardless of whether it's plausible or not, if dogs can talk, then what is impossible?
Even so, the weasel wouldn't call the two obviously mentally unstable monsters "Dad," because she always thought the two dogs were a bit silly.

“But I’m not Neos! The Neos you’re talking about has gone to war. I’m just one of his clones. My name is Makara.”

"Why?"

(End of this chapter)