Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 336 He still can't forget the Second Empire.

"Get out of my way!"

He slapped Samel away, who was trying to step forward to protect him, and said, "You think you can save me from a trap set by the aliens? Hurry up and go to the back to be the atmosphere group. What kind of storms haven't I seen?"

In terms of self-awareness alone, Mordred is quite pure; the way he stands there, he's more alien than the alien itself.

Seeing his second brother's boldness, Zhuang Sen also strode forward and entered the monastery together. The Holy Blood Angels around them looked at each other, helpless against their two great fathers, and could only follow behind.

"Dante, your second uncle has come to see you. My good nephew, come out quickly."

In fact, Mordred had no other intentions. Sammer could smell the aliens, and he could smell them too. Moreover, he not only could smell them, but he also knew that they should be space necromancers.

After all, Atlas is a gold standard when it comes to digging up graves. Otherwise, how could he have copied the Exorcism Zone and Living Metal? Of course, he dug them up from graves.

The only drawback is that Mordred has never seen a living space necromancer; every time he digs up a grave, he only finds a deadly one.

In his view, it was just a space necromancer, nothing serious. Even Zhuang Sen thought so, since the Great Expedition wasn't as brutal as later generations imagined.

Whenever a new race is discovered, unless the creatures harm humans and offer no benefit to them, the Imperial Legion in the 30k era would primarily prioritize negotiation. This is how many demi-human races came to be.

Even Makado kept a half-breed lieutenant specifically to listen to his trash talk, but this unfortunate guy seemed to have been driven insane in the end.

But in Dante's ears, it was a different story. He was terrified, and Zarasusa was right next to him, but none of that mattered. What mattered was that Johnson was next to Mordred.

Since the Primarchs' departure, the High Lords, in order to rule the Empire, have openly suppressed the Chapters while secretly rewriting history, erasing all traces of missing Primarchs and exaggerating their reputations.

Guilliman was described as a restorer of the dynasty, Johnson as the embodiment of loyalty and righteousness, Luo Jia as a saint of the state religion, Feralus's courage was unparalleled throughout history, Forgrim was as beautiful as an angel, and Dorne was exceptionally Dorne...

There are countless stories like this, with almost every Primarch's image being repeatedly altered, and even the Emperor was not spared.

This led to unofficial historical accounts such as His Majesty the God-Emperor Terra entrusting his son to God-Emperor, and Grandpa Guilliman reversing the tide and defeating the Chaos Fleet with pebbles.

Zhuang Sen, whose image is comparable to Guan Yu, fared even worse. He was completely demonized into a madman who only recognized loyalty and not conduct, the kind of person who couldn't sleep at night without beheading several traitors every day.

Under the influence of such unofficial historical accounts, stereotypes became the Primarch's labels, to the point that when the elders who survived the Great Crusade talked about the Primarch, no one else believed them.

This is why Azrael is so afraid of the Lion King, and why the Blood Angels, who have gathered a large number of warbands, dare not even breathe loudly in the presence of the two Primarchs. They are genuinely afraid that these two behemoths might kill everyone if they are in a bad mood.

Perhaps sensing Dante's predicament, Zarasusa did not heed Dante's bad idea of ​​hiding behind the curtains.

I'm a member of an old aristocratic family, here to negotiate, not to steal someone. Why should I hide? I can come and go as I please.

To show his sincerity, Zarasuza tore open the dimensional pocket, intending to escape, but then he froze, and the entire machine began to alarm wildly.

Seeing Zarasusa standing there dumbfounded, Dante wanted to urge him on, but before he could speak, he saw Zarasusa's entire body instantly glow red, drawing a spear from thin air and charging towards the figure who had already placed his hand on the door of the monastery's inner sanctum:
"Papaya Star God, you deserve to die... Bang!"

With a kick, Mordred stared blankly at the space necromancer embedded in the wall, wondering what the hell it was. Anyone who didn't know better would think it was a door bolt.

"Holy crap, Ruth?"

"Where's Ruth? Holy crap, it really is!"

Mordred glanced at the nonsensical golden-armored warrior with a single hair on his head and confirmed that this person should be Dante. However, he did not expect that this person would be so sloppy, without any of the handsome features of Sanguis, but rather like an older version of Rus.

Their eyes met, and both brothers saw the awkwardness in each other's eyes. But the other Holy Blood Angels were even more embarrassed, because they saw the blasphemous alien embedded in the wall.

The air instantly became tense, and an awkward atmosphere spread. Dante stood helplessly by the bed, the Primarch stood at the door bewildered, and the other warriors dared not even breathe.

Only the Zarasuza statue embedded in the wall was spewing sparks wildly, shouting strange things like "Save me, save me, my back is broken" in extremely pure Gaugothic.

Time ticked by, and just as the atmosphere began to shift toward the Fist of the Empire, Mordred finally moved, stepping forward and grabbing Dante's hand: "Good nephew, I'm your second uncle! Look at how big you are, you scared me half to death. I thought it was that good-for-nothing Ruth."

"Come, come, you look like a wretched old man. Your second uncle didn't prepare anything before coming, so here's an elemental bottle that I personally concocted for you."

With that, Mordred placed a small bottle emitting an orange glow into Dante's hand.

Although he didn't know who the Primarch was, Dante felt a strange sense of familiarity. He instinctively took the drink and gulped it down, then froze:

"Your Highness, this tastes wrong!"

"Expert, this is my own handmade Fel-infused Orange Juice. It contains the life essence of a vampire, a freak, a succubus, and a Nurgle. Doesn't it taste sweet, sour, and a little stinky? That's the taste!"
But don't underestimate our Atlas traditional craftsmanship; just this one bottle of orange juice with pulp is enough to make you feel young again.

"I heard you've lived for over 1200 years. Don't worry, after drinking this bottle of orange juice with pulp, you can live for at least another 300 years. But why do I think he looks more like Ruth? Don't you think so, Johnson?"

“Indeed, just now it was only similar in appearance, but now it’s like a carbon copy of Ruth.”

Faced with the two Primarchs' evaluations, Dante was speechless. Admittedly, being compared to the Wolf King was a great honor, but he was more concerned about the 300 years of lifespan he had inexplicably gained. He instantly broke down and collapsed in front of Mordred, bursting into tears.

This action stunned the other Blood Angels, who felt quite embarrassed, but Mordred helped Dante up and comforted him:
"Kid, I know everything about you."

"What? You knew all along?"

Mordred nodded, recalling the deepest fragments of memory buried in his mind. A strange light flashed in his eyes, and his whole body radiated a warm, soft light.

"That's right. You've put in a lot of effort to stabilize the warband, but now that the Tyranids are attacking, you're forced to cooperate with these skeletons and command these cans that don't even look very smart."

The will of the angels compels you to exert all your strength, and in the end, you bear it all alone. Saint Gilles is also too perfect, and that is precisely your flaw. You must be very tired.

"Your Highness, who exactly are you?"

The anxiety and unease caused by the Primarch's arrival were soothed, and a gentle breeze stirred in their hearts, stirring the insatiable thirst for blood that the angelic offspring possessed from their very genes. This was Angron's trait, and a skill that Mordred had previously considered rather useless.

After all, Mordred prefers to subdue people with force rather than with words.

However, combined with his extraordinary charisma, this power could calm the hearts of the Holy Blood Angels before him, resolve their conflicts, and make his and Zhuang Sen's arrival acceptable.

Mordred patted Dante on the shoulder. Although he still thought the kid resembled Ruth, he also saw a hint of angelism in him.
"My name is Mordred Wayne, the lost Second Primarch, the second Warmaster of the Empire, and the brother of your father."

As for the one next to him, he is even more of a heavyweight: the First Primarch, the Lion of Caliban, the Lord of the Dark Angels, and the fourth Warmaster of the Imperium.

Now that the Great Rift has unfolded, the Starlight has dimmed, the Empire's vast territory has been divided in two, and countless citizens of the Empire are suffering from the ravages of alien chaos.

The Azure Heaven is dead, the Yellow Heaven reigns supreme. In the name of the Imperial War General, I am summoning the Holy Blood Angels to jointly establish a dark regime.

"Now I appoint you as regent and Zhuang Sen as commander-in-chief. Do you agree?"

Looking into Mordred's golden eyes, Dante saw no desire, only sincerity and approval. In a daze, Dante saw a phantom figure emerge from behind Mordred.

The figure had thick blond hair and a pair of pure white wings, and was giving him instructions.

But Dante couldn't hear clearly and could only deduce from the angel's lip movements:

"What Second Empire?"

Upon hearing this, Mordred immediately beamed with joy. He hadn't expected the kid to be so quick to understand; he'd spoken before he even had a chance to say anything. He grabbed Dante and Johnson's hands and raised them high:

"Good nephew, I knew I hadn't misjudged you. I hereby declare the Second Empire established!"

(End of this chapter)