Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 269 The Great Rebellion—War!

What you can't have always stirs your heart; the more desirable something is, the more it attracts attention.

A dog that brings emotional value can make people feel happy, but if it dares to bare its teeth, its fate is to choose between a cage and a pot.

As a subspace entity born from extreme emotions, the four peddlers may be despicable, but they are definitely not the sycophants they always were. A forced relationship may not be sweet, but it quenches thirst!

To the four gods, Mordred was a complete liability. From beginning to end, they showed him almost lenient tolerance, and everyone was determined to have him.

The loving father believed that Mordred was a like-minded friend who was only deceived by the weasel, while Tzeentch believed that only with Him could Mordred continue to bring about infinite changes.

Slaanesh is even more straightforward. His extreme pursuit of desire drives him to become infatuated with Mordred, wishing he could devour her whole.

As for the seemingly mindless kobold, it is actually the most complex of the four gods.

As the stakes were placed on the table, the Great Game officially began. A violent warp storm swept across the entire galaxy, causing the already turbulent and unpredictable Sea of ​​Souls to surge with towering waves.

Countless psionicists were torn apart by warp energy, and holes appeared one after another on the dimensional barrier, spreading the power of the gods.

The Emperor could not hide the anomalies in the subspace from him; it was part of the plan. But the Emperor also knew that there was no turning back this time. After all, he had put his last ounce of resources on the line; it was all or nothing.

If that dark fate is inevitable, then humanity must tear off a piece of its own flesh to prove that it is not a coward.

Holy Terra remains, and the Emperor, leaning against the window of the palace, looks down one last time at the mother planet that has given birth to the human race.

The rising sun tore through the darkness, casting a golden silhouette over him, like a rope tightly constricting his neck.

"My lord, the time is almost here! Now that you have made your decision, why not do it with some dignity?"

Five years have passed since that conspiracy, and according to the numerology compiled by his good-for-nothing son Mortarian, now is an auspicious time for him to set off.

During these five years, the Empire appeared calm, but everyone sensed that something big was about to happen. Many Primarchs wanted to go to Terra to find out the truth, but the Emperor stopped them.

The previous emperor was a riddle-maker without a mouth; now he has a mouth, but he cannot speak.

The big, golden guy was forced into a corner, forced to spend his days surfing the internet intensely, arguing with others to relieve his boredom. His mentality improved a lot, but his mouth became increasingly foul.

The Emperor hadn't been slacking off all these past five years; he had made many contingency plans, including forming a special force to deal with Chaos and issuing them a final secret order.

To be honest, the Emperor felt that he had done something completely unnecessary. If the final secret order were to take effect, he doubted whether it would even work.

"My lord, it is truly time for you to set off."

"Okay, okay, don't rush me. Can't you let me experience the feeling of having hands and feet again, Lao Ma?"
I'm so tired.

Makado sighed as well. He knew that his old friend didn't actually have that much ambition; in fact, it was he who first proposed the idea of ​​an empire.

I remember when we first met, Macardo was just a child. He was immediately captivated by the noblewoman. And that separation lasted for 4000 years.

When they met again, the noblewoman in the red dress was gone; in her place was a tech warlord with a punk hairstyle, a stubble beard, and a cocky look.

Compared to becoming an emperor, Macardo knew that his old friend preferred to be a scholar, a scientist, rather than donning eye-catching golden armor and inflating himself into a giant golden figure.

Even so, after bringing this man to the Seals organization and showing him the cultural treasures passed down from ancient Terra, he still chose to debut as Emperor without hesitation.

Not only Makado, but even the Imperial Guard knew that the emperor they served was not a good person in the conventional sense, or rather, a despicable one.

The emperor was gluttonous, lazy, cunning, and shrewd. He didn't understand people's hearts, acted recklessly, was sharp-minded, broke contracts, had a twisted personality, and was even particularly petty and vengeful.

But so what?
When all was darkness, it was this man who stepped forward, leading humanity to dispel the darkness, break free from ignorance, and head towards the dream called empire.

And that's enough.

After taking one last look at everything before him, the Emperor, under the watchful eyes of Macado and Waldo, walked into the underground palace without hesitation and came to the golden throne that had been successfully calibrated.

I didn’t really understand it before, but now the Emperor finally knows why Morred called this powerful artifact a toilet when he first saw it.

As a genuine artifact, even in the darkest age of human technology, this golden throne would still be a formidable weapon.

As long as one sits on the golden throne, while consuming enormous amounts of energy, the user's will will transcend the world, achieving a unique form of ascension.

It sounds amazing, but in reality, this golden throne is a giant torture device. The energy it uses is psionic energy. An ordinary person sitting on it will be instantly reduced to ashes, and will be dead beyond any hope of survival.

The thought that he might end up paralyzed on it made the emperor's face contort in pain, as if he could see a skeleton with hardly any flesh on its body beckoning to him.

"Ah~"

With a wave of his hand, he dispelled the terrifying illusion before him. Knowing that his time was running out, the emperor knew he had to fire the first shot. He plopped down on the golden throne and summoned his three children who were waiting outside.

The three siblings looked at their father, who was already sitting on the throne, and remained silent.

As chosen guardians, Dorne and Magnus had indeed experienced the horrors of war, and Perturabo was later informed of the plan by the Emperor.

Every Primarch loved the Emperor, and now, the three of them would act as executors to activate this instrument of torture. "Father, why the three of us?"

"That's because the three of us are Father's proudest offspring! It's an honor for you two to stand with me, Magnus."

Looking at the three offspring arranged in front of me in large, medium, and chubby cups, although they were different sizes and colors, the longing in their eyes was exactly the same.

The Emperor wanted to get up right now and give that self-satisfied one-eyed sunburnt Oglin a good beating, telling him that Horus and his second son were his proudest offspring, and that you were only here because he was afraid something would happen to you; you were just an extra.

But when he thought about how he might have to rely on the three of them for the rest of his life, he swallowed back the words he wanted to say.

"That's right, you are all my wings, and you are all my proudest offspring. There is no order of ranking, and I love each and every one of you equally."

Upon hearing this, even the most conflicted Peturabo couldn't help but smile slightly, and even let out a soft hum:

"Don't worry, Father. As long as Dorn joins forces, we will be invincible. You should have sent me to Terra long ago. With Magnus's Thousand Sons as a reserve force, the solar system's defenses are impregnable. Not even a fly can get in."

"That's right! As long as the three of us join forces, we'll be invincible. Dorn, say something!"

"I am Rogal Dorn!"

"Hahaha, do you see that, Father? You can rest assured and leave things to us. Anyone who dares to cause trouble in Terra will be smashed into pieces with one punch."

The emperor thought to himself, "You're the one I worry about the most. It would be better if you just behaved yourself and didn't cause any trouble. If I had known this would happen, I should have given him a good beating back then."

"Stop talking nonsense and come on over!"

Without any hesitation, the three Primarchs, having received their orders, came to the side of the Golden Throne and simultaneously pulled down the massive lever in front of them.

As the Golden Throne was activated, extreme pain ravaged everything about the Emperor, but he remained unfazed, took out an elemental bottle with a grinning dog's head printed on it, flicked open the bottle, and poured the contents into his mouth.

This Elemental Bottle was Mordred's personal possession, having been with him for nearly two centuries. Its corrosive power was so great that a single sip could turn half a platoon of Space Marines into mindless beasts.

With fel energy entering his body and psychic energy erupting, and with the Golden Throne officially in operation, the Emperor no longer cared about the dangerous red line and frantically sought out warp energy.

Golden psionic flames erupted, burning wildly like a bonfire, and the Golden Throne lived up to expectations, absorbing the Emperor's powerful energy and successfully trapping half of the Emperor's rear end in the instant they were almost touching.

Despite the excruciating pain, the emperor let out a boastful laugh:
"Yes, yes, yes, come on, all of you!"

This was the most dangerous step, but also the most crucial. Having a sword but not using it is different from having no sword at all. From then on, humanity finally had a weapon to rival the evil gods.

This is the Emperor's act of taking the initiative to find a safety net for humanity; if everything falls apart, then everyone will perish together.

The mortal auxiliary forces are tools, the Space Marines are tools, the Primarchs are tools, but Nioth is the ultimate weapon.

As long as you are ruthless to yourself, you can achieve a result that tilts the scales with countless sacrifices, even if countless humans lose their lives for it. But this is the way of survival in this dark world.

"Go ahead, let's muddy the waters completely. The rest is up to you."

"Oh, and Magnus, you stay here. I must keep an eye on you myself."

"Huh? Me! Okay then."

The palace gates were tightly shut. The two Primarchs, three legions, and countless mortal auxiliary troops were ready to go, with some heading towards the defensive positions that had been practiced countless times.

A portion of them headed towards the net tunnels deep within the palace, a crucial battlefield isolated from everything, where Tom's 1 Atlas soldiers had been preparing for some time.

But the real protagonists are not them, but a force that has been overlooked by everyone.

"For the grand plan!"

“Waaaagh!!!”

Thirteen minutes later, the brilliant torch that had guided humanity forward went out.

Darkness enveloped the land, and the eternal night once again turned the human empire into isolated islands.

Time passed second by second, and every moment someone lost their life because of it. After nine days and nights, they finally couldn't bear it any longer.

A barrage of chaotic star signals struck instantly, and even the Divine Seal Network, used by both humans and ghosts, suffered a massive attack of invalid codes. Fortunately, the Divine Seal Network remained resilient and quickly returned to normal.

The Emperor was very satisfied with this result and became even more convinced of his decision to keep Magnus in sight. As long as this troublesome fellow was kept in check, that was the best outcome.

Before the emperor could even feel happy for half a second, the palace gates were suddenly smashed open, and there stood none other than Waldo, covered in blood.

"Your Majesty, something terrible has happened! A wolf howl came from who-knows-where and has messed up the network."

"..."

"Hmph, ahhhhh—Russ!"

(End of this chapter)