Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 283 Guilliman is still on his way (4k)

The brutal meat grinder battle continues.

On one side was the Chaos Demon Army, which had gathered forces from the entire Dead World by farming in the Void; on the other side was Atlas, who had gone completely mad and was growing stronger by devouring living souls.

The green-skinned genes from Mordred spread rapidly throughout every Atlas, propelling the entire legion toward a path of inhumanity.

Fel corruption, mind network, celestial power, demonic pact, Waaaagh energy...

The Abomination is not only Atlas's flagship, but it also embodies the essence of Mordred, the Primarch.

Scraps from all the Primarchs, the blasphemous legacy of the Terran unification war, fragments of cosmic stars, the remains of green-skinned orcs. Even the Emperor who created Mordred didn't know exactly how many fragments he had stuffed into him.

Not to mention Mordred's bizarre appetite for anything; that pot of thick soup alone was already the most grueling task of all, and she didn't even spare the pot.

These bizarre and strange things, when put together, should have exploded long ago, but instead, they formed a strange balance within Mordred's body, dissolving into nutrients he needed for his growth.

The once boundless green grassland gradually disappeared, and in its place emerged a bizarre fungal carpet that seemed to be alive, dragging every piece of flesh and blood with its tentacles. Then one after another, the bulges burst open, spewing out an army of lizardmen.

If you don't have trypophobia, you might even spot a few naked Atlases among the lizardmen. There are men and women, humans and beasts, and even dogs.

The boundary between life and death gradually blurred. Souls that should have died no longer rushed to the Sea of ​​Souls, but were bound by evil energy and reborn from the creep.

Under the baptism of intense warfare, more and more lizardmen began to revert to their ancestral evolution, and a large number of giant individuals with a body size of over 5 meters appeared.

The Waaaagh field, almost tangible, is inextricably intertwined with the fel energy mist, protecting not only the lizardmen but also every Atlas who embraces fel energy.

This caused Atlas, who could still be called human, to exhibit some peculiar reactions that were only seen in orcs.

This applies to ground warfare as well as space and naval warfare.

Atlas, which should have had the naval advantage, encountered 3000 Vengeance Souls and was completely overwhelmed.

Even the Abomination's keel was punched with a large hole, causing it to leak air constantly when it ran.

We don't have a single good ship left after all this time. It's only thanks to the mushrooms that we've managed to hold the warships together like glue, otherwise they would have been shattered long ago.

Repairing a warship with mushrooms is like rubbing science in the ground, but as my thinking power grows stronger, this phenomenon has indeed occurred on Atlas.

For example, as a commander of a space naval battle, Goff is now completely destroyed, in a physical sense. Half of his body is stuck to the deck, while the other half is waiting for him to respawn.

But everyone believed that Goff was not dead, so even if Goff's mouth was blown off, he could still issue orders.

Having assimilated life and devoured souls, Mordred, now one with the entire planet, greedily craves everything, and this energy will feed back to Atlas.

Otherwise, Atlas's legion alone wouldn't have been able to hold out for so long.

Jill had long forgotten how many times she had died. The first time she died was when she was stomped to death by a Titan, and the second time she died was when she was torn apart by a heavy bomb from the enemy.

All sorts of bizarre ways of dying appeared frequently. After the initial panic, all that remained was numbness. Jill even had the composure to watch the brain matter flowing out of her own skull.

When resurrection is no longer the privilege of demons, human courage will be infinitely stimulated. After all, there is no punishment for death, so the only fun is fighting.

Tearing away the mycelium that blocked her view, Jill, completely naked, wiped the slime off her body. A drop of blood from Mordred burned wildly within her, and following the guidance of the mental network, she arrived beside a mushroom knight.

Beside him were 3000 lizardman berserkers, the legion Jill needed to command this time, and these lizardmen would soon be turned into biomass again.

As the war entered its 169th day and night, even Atlas was running out of ammunition and food. They had to find weapons and ammunition on the ground, let alone clothes to cover their bodies.

So what if we're naked? We're all the same. Shame is meaningless now. We'll kill as many as we can. We might not even get our clothes before we get blown up by a cannon.

Despite his utmost respect for his legion commander, Jill still felt disappointed with His Highness's aesthetic sense; these mushroom-shaped vehicles were simply too clumsy, with large heads, thick necks, and most importantly, extremely short legs.

Along with Jill's complaints, a large number of people in the mind network echoed her sentiments, all criticizing that these mushroom-like creatures had too short legs and couldn't run fast at all, making them a completely different kind of living tank.

"If only I had two long legs, and it would be even better if my arms were longer too."

"Yes, my arms are so short that I can't bend down to pick things up; I have to squat down to pick them up."

Like Jill, who died and came back to life repeatedly, Atlas, who have survived to this day, are all numb. Only by bragging and joking in the mental network can they relieve their mental stress.

But their discussion soon caught Mordred's attention.

With a wave of his hand, Morereid crushed the hell beast that dared to breathe on him, multitasking as he fought and breathed:
"It's good enough that it's even useful. How dare you question my perfect creation? Don't you know that legs are just decorations?"
"It's just a consumable item, as long as it works, that's fine. Why are you being so picky? You don't understand my difficulties at all. I'm exhausted."

"Father, how long are we going to hold out? Why aren't reinforcements coming? I've boarded the Soul of Vengeance over 300 times already."

"Shut up. You've only jumped over the gang 300 times, while I've jumped over it a full 1000 times. I don't even know how many times I've killed that little braid of Abaddon."

"Abaddon's tough as nails, actually withstood three of my power punches without even breaking his face."

“Indeed, isn’t it strange? I’ve only seen Horus a few times, but I see Abaddon every time.”

Recalling his previous experiences, Brian sent out a fragment of memory through the mind network, attracting everyone's attention, including Mordred.

Brian, who had merged with his demon Palu and transformed into a four-armed snake demon, crawled through the ventilation duct in the shadows until he reached the depths of the bridge.

From Brian's perspective, everyone saw a spiky braid pointing directly at the vent; who else could it be but Abaddon?
By now, everyone knows that the so-called 3000 Vengeance Souls are all warp projections. Apart from the various Chaos Space Marines and cult demons, most of them are bots.

The origin of these human-controlled machines is unknown, but there is no doubt that any ship that can be controlled by human-controlled machines is fake.

After all, on those ships, some Atlas saw archangels smashed into a pulp, wolf kings beaten to their knees, Imperial Guards attacking indiscriminately, half-human, half-raven Space Marines, one-eyed sunburnt Oglins without any powerful muscles, and even the First Legion wearing hoods and calling themselves fallen angels.

As everyone knows, angels don't turn into mincemeat, the one kneeling is definitely not the Wolf King, the Imperial Guard are all perverts covered in oil and wearing very little clothing, there are no birdmen among the Space Marines, the Red King is the Empire's number one male model, and even the First Legion doesn't wear hoods.

Therefore, these ships must all be fake.

But from Brian's perspective, every Vengeance ship he boarded had an Abaddon.

If it were just Abaddon, that would be fine; they could be considered fixed NPCs. But every Abaddon runs away, not only incredibly fast, but they even have lines. For example, the Abaddon in front of Brian, after taking eight power sword swings with its face, actually sat down on the ground and started crying:

"Waaaaah, you wretched bastards, who are you? Why am I always the one who gets hurt?!"

After reading the memory fragments sent by Brian, the others also sent their own experiences in a similar manner. Although the experiences were different, without exception, each ship had an Abaddon, and even the lines were different.

"Enough! Stop arguing. There must be one real one among so many Vengeful Spirits. Let's just keep fighting quietly."

"Father, when will our reinforcements arrive?"

"Brian, I also want to ask you this: did you send a signal to Guilliman and the others?"

"I sent it! And I even sent it in batches. Last time we communicated, they said there were still nine hours left, but now three months have passed, and I still don't know!"

Nine hours, another nine hours. Mordred suspected that these nine hours might never come, meaning they would have to rely on themselves.

"Hang in there a little longer! Wave 3764, totaling 110 million lizardman beasts, has hatched. I will launch you into near-Earth orbit."

In fact, Mordred was also nearing his limit. The resurrection of each Atlas required a great deal of his energy. Not only did he have to collect the corpses and piece them back together, but he also had to ensure that the bodies did not have extra arms, extra legs, or extra three or four heads.

That's not the most tiring part. The most tiring part is ensuring the integrity of the soul and having it correspond one-to-one with the body.

This severely limits Mordred's computing power; in other words, 99% of his computing power is used for this purpose, with only 1% left for combat.

Given Mordred's information processing capabilities, ensuring the resurrection of Space Marines and Spartans was already the limit.

Ordinary mortals can't be of any help; they can only ensure that the soldiers don't suddenly die. After all, they don't have gene seeds or their own blood as anchors, and their souls can only be recovered twice before they completely collapse.

On the contrary, because Oglin is not smart and his soul is as simple as stone, it is the easiest for him to be resurrected, but he can only do it a maximum of five times.

Each time someone dies, their soul dissipates and they fall into a state of exhaustion. Even the Space Marines of Atlas will fall into a deep sleep after repeated resurrections.

This frantic pursuit of KPIs has caused a bug in the Sea of ​​Souls. Mordred can sense a warp entity forming, the source of which is the echo of Atlas before his death.

While toying with lives, whenever the Beast Legion gathers a certain number of soldiers, Mordred uses his magical abilities to pack them up and send them into low Earth orbit.

Mordred has done this countless times, and after accounting for normal losses, the entire planet's mass has decreased by nearly 1/476.

Using quality to compete with quantity is the best tactic Mordred could come up with, but at the same time, his mental pressure is already on the verge of breaking.

The current situation is a contest of who has the most health; whoever can hold out the longest wins.

Moreover, as time went on, the scales of victory had begun to tip in Atlas's favor. More than half of the 3000 Vengeance Souls had already been destroyed, and Horus's true location would soon be found.

Just as Mordred was continuing to withstand the pressure, two pieces of incredibly good news arrived one after another.

A squadron of Shadowmoon Wolves, appearing out of nowhere, emerged from the enemy fleet and pointed out the true Vengeful Spirit.

At first, Goff thought it was a false signal from the enemy, but he soon discovered that there was a dog-man among the pair of Shadowmoon Wolves, and it was the old charlatan, Dogniz.

With the dog as an anti-counterfeiting symbol, Atlas finally found its true target after a hard-fought six-month battle.

The other piece of good news is that reinforcements have finally arrived.

When Mordred saw the figures of the Dark Angel and the Blood Angel appear in orbit, but not the Ultramarines, she immediately decided to make her eldest son, Brian, the crown prince.

The three legions sent out the message together, but you Ultramarines couldn't get there. It's thanks to Brian's thoughtfulness in separating you all; otherwise, if you were all grouped together with the Ultramarines, none of you would have made it.

But none of that matters. The important reinforcements have arrived, and they are the First Army Corps and the Ninth Army Corps.

"Hahaha, this time it's truly an angel descending! Destiny is on my side, destiny is on my side!"

"My children, it's time for a major counter-offensive! Abandon the ground battle, adopt a base-trading tactic, and charge with me!"

With wings of light unfurled, a colossal monster hundreds of meters tall emerged from the mist. Accompanied by flashing grassland illusions, Atlas, who was engaged in a fierce battle on the ground, vanished instantly and appeared on the Vengeance Soul ship together with Mordred.

After nearly half a year of brutal fighting, Atlas had run out of ammunition and supplies, forcing everyone to fight wearing mushroom skins; they really had no clothes to wear.

But thanks to its high degree of symbiosis with the Mushroom Knight, Atlas was able to perform a physical boarding maneuver in the cold void.

Seeing the four-armed monster clinging to the deck and gnawing on it, Saint Gilles and Johnson immediately recognized it as Mordred. After all, no other idiot would ever board a ship and cling to someone else's deck and gnaw on it.

Especially the little golden hair on the top of the monster's head, which is like an anti-counterfeiting mark and can never be faked.

The arrival of the two legions was not without its challenges; they too encountered Chaos attacks and fought a guerrilla war for nearly six years before finally reaching the capital.

Six years, three years, half a year, and countless years have passed in Holy Terra. Time has long since collapsed, but support has finally arrived.

The two legion flagships launched out and, in a pincer movement, slammed into Mordred's Vengeance Soul.

Without any hesitation, after the physical collision, the two Primarchs immediately boarded Mordred and came to her side.

"Second brother!"

"Big brother!"

"Laojiu!"

The three victorious leaders stood together. Although they were of different sizes, all three Primarchs had thick, golden hair, which greatly boosted the morale of the three legions.

This delighted the four peddlers lying on one side of the curtain, while the emperor, still in Holy Terra, remained clueless.

Meanwhile, Guilliman was still on his way!

(End of this chapter)