Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 4 What Lord of Humanity? He's nothing but a piece of trash!
Cold, shaking...

While unconscious, Mordred felt extremely tired, and hunger filled his mind. But what troubled him even more was the tingling sensation all over his body, an urgent urge to scratch.

With a series of crackling sounds as the crispy skin of a roast duck broke, Mordred finally opened his eyes.

"Not bad, you're the most well-mannered one among this group." A cold voice rang out.

Mordred turned his head and saw a gigantic man in golden armor and sunglasses staring at him with a sneer.

Their eyes met, and Mordred's confusion gradually gave way to disdain as she stared intently at the wretched-looking weasel.

Is it interesting to act like a cool, sunglasses-wearing guy?

"interesting!"

Looking at the giant blond man in front of him, Mordred closed his eyes with a sense of relief. Judging from this scene, this scoundrel must have gone through his memories, and might even know about the times he secretly wore little skirts when he was a child.

"No, I didn't look at your childhood memories of wearing women's clothes. As your father, you have to trust my moral standards. Also, I have to comment that a red dress suits your hair color better than black."

Mordred finally snapped. The thought of his dark past being freely viewed by others filled him with such intense shame that he wanted nothing more than to kill someone to silence them. He propped himself up and was about to kill that bastard.

Just as Mordred was about to unleash a powerful leaping strike, a sharp pain shot through him, causing him to collapse back onto the operating table.

Looking at his empty, broken body, Mordred became even angrier:

"Where's my ass? You damned weasel, you dog donkey, how dare you shoot me with a spear? What? Did you get addicted to selling your cunt when you were a Roman she-wolf? You're envious of me, but you want me to call you dad? Bah! You should take a piss and look in the mirror. I only have one father in this world, and that's Thomas Wayne!"

And why do you know so much?

Before he could finish speaking, a massive golden fist descended from the sky, slamming directly into Mordred's head, forcing him to swallow the rest of his foul language.

However, Mordred was not one to give up easily. He had been seething with anger since entering this cesspool of a world, and this bastard had to come at the last minute, just when he was about to kill someone.

Fine, I could have just come and started doing whatever I wanted, being a good-for-nothing who just loafs around and waits to die. But you actually sent people to bombard me with cannons! That's just too much to bear!
Just as Mordred was about to continue her oral gymnastics, the Emperor suddenly appeared in front of the operating table, and with his two powerful arms, he pinned Mordred down on the operating table like a chick.

Glancing at the massive muscles, thicker than his own head, Mordred subconsciously swallowed. After struggling with all his might to break free, his expression gradually softened.

"Um, I might have raised my voice a little just now, you can't hit me again, Father, I'm your own son!"

After admitting defeat, Mordred looked at the Emperor in front of him with pitiful eyes, trying to awaken the faint fatherly love that he didn't even know if it existed. But to his surprise, the Emperor still had that expressionless face, with that fake, crooked smile.

This situation made Mordred suspect that the Emperor wanted to kill him, after all, killing with eleven draws was a fine tradition of the Yellow Weasel.

However, Mordred was overthinking things. Upon hearing his offspring admit defeat, the Emperor was secretly pleased, convinced that his humor had gotten off to a good start. His limited parenting experience then told him what he should say, but the Emperor was unaware that this was not an option in his underlying logic.

He had never encountered this situation during his previous rehearsals with Makado, so the Emperor decided to deal with it in his best way and wait for the other party to speak first.

After a five-minute standoff, the Emperor finally spoke and asked:
"Who is Thomas? Bring him here; I want to appoint him as the governor of the planet!"

"..."

"Thomas is my adoptive father. You've seen my memories, so stop pretending! He's long dead. Why don't you release me first? My dog ​​apprentice is still down there." The emperor remained silent, only issuing orders to the Imperial Guards.

Half an hour later, under the watchful eyes of a squad of imperial guards, a total of eighty-eight giant dogs clad in scrap metal armor entered the operating room.

If it weren't for His Majesty's order, they would never have allowed these aliens to enter the Emperor's Dream. Even a single dog hair falling from it would be the ultimate insult to the Imperial Guards.

But the quiet, country-dwelling canines didn't care about that. Upon seeing the Emperor Dream, such a large and beautiful building, their canine instincts were completely unleashed, and they wanted nothing more than to gnaw off a piece of the wall to taste its saltiness.

The moment Mordred entered the operating room, the cannibals immediately swarmed around him to protect their chieftain. Rambo even began to growl at the Emperor, trying to scare away this dangerous, golden giant.

However, this time Rambo hissed at the wrong person. When the big black dog in front of him hissed at him, Emperor immediately gave him a Mordred-style big punch, making Rambo bark shamefully and retreat to seek comfort from his master.

“Boss, we thought you were dead. When we opened our eyes, we saw that you were only half a man. Those bastards captured us. But the prison food they gave us was pretty good, though we weren’t full.”

"Yeah, yeah, boss, could you ask them to give us some more prison food? I still want to eat that Ant Cow canned food."

"Hey boss, you smell amazing! Just a little less cumin..."

Looking at his pathetic subordinates, with bits of meat still dangling from their lips and barking incessantly, Mordred felt a surge of relief, but quickly felt humiliated and shouted:
"Get lost! Do you have any shame? You're prisoners and you're still thinking about food. I don't have any canned food. Go ask that big blond guy over there."

Upon hearing this, the dogs and beasts scattered, abandoning their chieftain and gazing with longing at the emperor who was merely a backdrop. Even his expressionless, sour face appeared handsome and dashing in the eyes of the canines.

To be honest, humanity during the Great Expedition was not as fanatical as it is in later generations. Due to the vastness of the galaxy, when encountering a new world, human fleets mostly adopted a strategy of negotiation as the primary means and force as a secondary measure.

There are even a very small number of races that deviate from humanity. As long as they are harmless to humans and promise not to develop space military capabilities, the Empire will leave them a place to live.

Otherwise, given the sheer size of the galaxy, if we were to fight them one by one, who knows what strange contraptions those remnants of the dark age of technology might pull out.

The most important criterion for evaluating these races is that they are harmless to humans. As for whether the so-called peace agreements are humane, that is unnecessary.

Looking at the group of giant dogs in front of him, the Emperor suddenly realized that he had never seen this race before. After a brief moment of thought, the Emperor glanced at Mordred's golden hair, which pleased him, and then at the soldiers who had quietly surrounded him. He couldn't help but nod.

"Waldo, take these demi-humans to the dining hall! And have the chef prepare a banquet; I need to speak with my offspring alone."

"Yes, my lord!"

No one would deny the Emperor's orders, and the chefs, who were always ready, began to busy themselves, hoping that their skills would satisfy the Lord of Mankind, even if the guests were a bunch of giant dogs that seemed to defy the Empire's truth.

But whatever the Emperor says is right, even if these dogs are aliens, they can only be demi-humans of the Empire in the future.

Upon hearing the news that they would have another feast, the dog-men howled excitedly. But even so, the dogs did not leave immediately; instead, they turned their attention to their chief behind them.

"Go ahead! Remember to eat a lot, eat your fill, eat these despicable rich guys out of house and home. I've been wanting to have a good talk with him anyway."

"Woof, yay!"

(End of this chapter)