Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 357 Family Reunion Ceremony, go over there to register.

"Nefarian? Are you sure you are my offspring?"

“I’m sure! Father, look how alike we are.”

"You don't know, since the formation of the warband, we have been subjected to discrimination and even called heretics, which is completely slander."

But as your descendants, we have never lost our faith, and no matter how others slander us, we firmly believe that we are loyal.

And now, we have finally found our genetic father, and that person is you!

"Ah this."

Mordred glanced at the documents in his hand, then at the burly man who claimed to be his offspring, pausing for a moment, especially at the dark skin and the sharp bone spurs growing from his arms:

"Black Dragon Legion, what a great name! It truly lives up to its name. But have you ever considered this: since you're called the Black Dragon Legion, shouldn't your parent organization be the Salamanders?"

And even if we take a step back and say that the bone spurs on your hands look like mine, then I'll admit it, I also have a tail!

"But open your eyes and look closely. My face is so pale, and yours is so dark. You call me 'father'? Wait a minute, I remember finding a photograph in the palace."

After saying that, Mordred took out a family photo and pointed to the tallest and strongest black guy in it for Nefarian to see.

Upon closer inspection, Nefarian's eyes widened in astonishment, realizing that this man was incredibly handsome, robust, and imposing, unlike any ordinary person.

"Nonsense, this is Vulcan, I don't care if others call him Vulcan, Uncle Black, Dragon Fruit, in short, this is your real father, go register at number 18."

"No way!" Nefarian knew he wasn't Atlas, but he had brought his family to Holy Terra not to find relatives, but to blend in.

"Second Uncle, we're really terrified of being poor. The Holy Code stipulates that a battle group should have 1000 members, but we don't even have 200. It's a struggle to even operate an attack cruiser, and we're constantly being harassed by those damned black bean sprouts. Please help your nephew out!"

And as you know, your name is on this sacred text, it's written in black and white.

"..."

Nefarian didn't mean it, or rather, this is the reality for most chapters. Chapters with homeworlds are better off, at least they have some territory, but there are many ship-based chapters, and that's truly miserable.

Not only are supplies scarce and manpower is tight, but the already small population also has to pay taxes, including gene seeds. Furthermore, due to the Black Dragon Legion's unique dragon bone mutation, many forging worlds have their eyes on them.

Without the Astartes Codex, the Empire might have been destroyed long ago, but it is precisely because of the Codex that the Chapter is in this half-dead state.

Then some people might ask, doesn't the holy code stipulate that you can develop on your own? If you're not doing well, it's your fault for not being capable.

But the problem is that you have to be able to make it big. Not all warbands are as old as the mother warbands. The mother warbands not only have a large number of members and great power, but even the worst-performing ones have multiple worlds supporting them.

Putting aside everything else, just look at the Space Wolves, those space huskies. If they weren't the founding group, they would probably have been crushed by the Council after the Moon of Shame. How could they possibly have the right to give the State Church attitude and even bombard it with warships?

After listening to the other party's story, Guilliman, who had been forced by Mordred to work as a laborer, blushed deeply. The Primarch's blush spoke louder than any other expression; he felt as if the other party was cursing him.

And this isn't the first time; anyone would criticize the sacred text, and they'd do it right in front of him.

Guilliman wanted to escape, but Mordred wouldn't let him. "Nonsense," Mordred said, "what would I do if he ran away? He didn't write this toilet paper. There's a cause for every crime, don't try to pin it on me. If Guilliman ran away, he'd be the culprit."

"I know about your situation." Mordred grasped the other's hand, indicating that you could rest assured that your second uncle was back, and he would definitely not be like some ambitious person who would make fun of you.

"First, go to position 18 to register for genetic testing. Write down all your suffering in a truthful way. After that, we will allocate and recombine your genetic information."

As for any of your ailments, I guarantee I'll cure them. As long as your second uncle has food to eat, you'll never go hungry.

But I need to make one thing clear: this toilet paper wasn't written by me. I don't know this guy well; it was written by him, this blond kid. You can curse him later, but you're not allowed to curse me.

Nefarian had been waiting for these words. The black dragon lad immediately stood at attention and gave a hawk salute: "Heh heh, I have lived up to Your Highness's expectations! Nor have I failed the Regent's expectations."

Seeing Nefarian head to registration point 18 with his good brother, Guilliman felt increasingly uneasy: "Something's not right. Why does he call you 'Your Highness' so readily, but call me 'Regent' like a freebie at a grocery store?"

"Nonsense, it's already very polite of him not to scold you to your face. Do you think he could praise you a couple of times? It's one thing for him to write something, but you had to include my name in it. It's all your fault."

And let me tell you, this is still considered good. At least people can come to Terra. Many people are hiding in corners, afraid to come out, just in case you use another "Decree of Grace".

"Next!" As soon as the words were spoken, a gigantic giant pushed open the door, and even Mordred, a 3-meter-tall behemoth, had to look up.

With just one glance, Mordred knew this was definitely a tough opponent. The power armor, modified from a Terminator, was tattered and patched up, and the rifling on the explosive gun at his waist was worn away.

"Second Uncle! I've finally found you. You have no idea how much discrimination we've faced since the warband was formed."

"Stop! I suspect you're all in cahoots to fool me. Wait, what did you call me?"

"Second Uncle!" Tiberius opened his hideous maw and put on a fawning smile. But even with his appearance and demeanor, Mordred felt no joy, only horror.

"Your Highness, you may not know this, but I am not one of those opportunists outside. Although there are many different opinions, I firmly believe that we are a branch of the Dark Angels. Look how much I resemble the Lion King!"

Mordred didn't laugh, but the fallen angel hiding in the corner did. Zabril, the former fallen angel and now the Angel of Forgiveness, jumped out and immediately launched into a string of insults:
"You're talking nonsense. Our Dark Angel gene seed is extremely stable. You're already over 4 meters tall. Standing there, you're two heads taller than our father."

"Your skin is deathly pale, and you grin like a ghoul, yet you have the nerve to say you look like our genetic father? How dare you?"

Tiberius had never been treated like this before. His pair of power claws instantly extended, ready to fight Zabril to the death on the spot. Zabril was not afraid at all, and drew his sword to fight on the spot. Then, the two unlucky guys were slapped to the ground by Mordred.

"Men, strip these two idiots naked and hang them on the flagpole. You dare to cause trouble in front of me? You must have a death wish."

With these two unlucky guys cosplaying as teru teru bozu dolls, the other guild leaders lined up obediently like elementary school students.

However, since the other party had come, Mordred had to endorse them. Amidst the horrified gazes of the crowd, she extended her long tail and gave Tiberius a needle.

"It's a little sweet and a little fishy, ​​with a chewy texture. It's not Koz, nor Khan, and it doesn't have Ruth's fishy smell. But this gene fragment looks familiar. It's like I've done this kind of experiment before. That's right, you're Korax's son."

"The Crow King?"

"That's right, Corax is so fair-skinned, how did he end up with such a big guy like you? Oh right, I remember now, you're the leader of the Man-Eating Shark Battle Group. The great white shark on your ship was one I raised back then. Go register at seat 19 in a bit."

Next!"

The campaign to reunite Mordred continues, and more and more chapters are taking action after discovering that these chapters have not been called back to be slaughtered.

The Crusader Chapter, the Dark Brotherhood Chapter, the Dark Hawk Chapter, the Dark Hand Chapter, the Death Knight Chapter... these chapters are relatively easy to identify.

Those members of the Deathstrike Group who wore Smurf-themed outfits and claimed to be Ultramarines were immediately rejected by Morred, who declared that their ability to harden everyone upon their arrival meant they were definitely the sons of Dorne, and ordered them to report to the Black Templars.

There are many Ultra Warriors, so it's normal for them to think of themselves as Ultra Warriors. After all, the reputation of Ultraman's big butt is well-deserved. Everyone knows that Guilliman's big butt is good for childbearing. If you don't know who your father is, you can't go wrong by recognizing Ultra Warrior.

But there are exceptions, such as Crimson Fist, who firmly believes he is the Ultra Warrior, and they have mistaken their father for someone else.

Among them are not only those who mistakenly identified their fathers, but also those who were forced to accept a father figure, such as the Phoenix Sons, a new chapter composed entirely of Original Forged Space Marines.

When this chapter claimed to be the Sons of Dorne, Guilliman dodged the question and feigned ignorance. Just from the name, you could tell that the Sons of the Phoenix were definitely not the Sons of Dorne; they were all just white-haired kids.

Doraemon's genome is so pure that others might not know, but how could Morred not see it? He looks nine-tenths similar to Fogrim.

There were also some warbands whose reputations were so bad that they were beaten to a pulp by a group of people as soon as they appeared, so much so that Moreid had to send people to maintain order. This warband was none other than the Malice Warriors.

Just from their name, you can tell this group is malicious. On the one hand, they look down on everyone, and on the other hand, they love to cause trouble. However, they are loyal and even quite trustworthy.

They acted recklessly, daring to kill and provoke anyone, and were notorious troublemakers. Their actions were quite bizarre, and because they were so poor, they even went so far as to incite conflict between factions in order to steal other people's equipment.

After learning about the chapter's style of doing things, Morered was initially a little flustered, after all, it was just too similar, especially this kind of shameless and bastard-like behavior, which was completely at the mercy of Atlas.

But he quickly realized that Atlas couldn't possibly be that poor. Then, while Mordred was tasting the gene sequence, he was still wondering if it was Pepe's child, after all, it was a strange situation.

But the result was unexpected; they were not the offspring of Peturabo, but rather the offspring of Loka!
It's strange, but that's the truth.

There was good news, though. Mordred did manage to find quite a few Atlases using this wide-net approach, but her good mood ended on the fifth day.

All because a warband came before Mordred:

"The Soul Drinker?"

(End of this chapter)