Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 51 Peturabo was startled

If you were to ask whether it would be great to be a god who holds the sun and moon in his hands and plucks stars from the sky, a god unlike anyone else in the world, 99% of people would say yes.

But it depends on where you are. In the real world, it's great, but here it's a bottomless pit, and a pit within a pit.

Take the four peddlers as an example. Although these four noble beings commit all sorts of evil deeds in the subspace and act as if they are the most important people in the world, they have no freedom at all. They have become a kind of conceptual natural phenomenon and will be swept up by emotions and thoughts for their entire lives.

This is the same as asking Slaanesh to engage in pure love and unwavering loyalty, Khorne to teach and educate people and talk about world peace, Nurgle to be a fat man who pays attention to hygiene and generously sacrifices himself, and Tzeentch to be stagnant, lazy, and not do anything fancy. Is that possible?

If possible!

Mordred poured herself a glass of her favorite orange juice with pulp, placed the glass in the center, and addressed Atlas, who was gradually gathering around her:
"Do you see this? What if this is a subspace entity born from faith, the so-called god you speak of?"

Everyone understood. They weren't those brainless ghouls; they could see through the analogy at a glance, and not only could they comprehend it, they could also apply it to other situations.

"So, Father, you mean that people who are built up by faith will become uncontrollable subspace entities?"

Mordred nodded, then shook his head, explaining, "In our world, everything has a spirit. Even the most common laser rifle, if it's old enough, can develop a similar effect—it's not just life itself."

To illustrate this more vividly, Mordred poured out half of the orange juice, then added half a glass of red wine, and shared the mixture with everyone.

"You felt it, didn't you? Just like I said, as chaotic beliefs circulate, even if the entity was incredibly pure at the beginning, it will become chaotic and messy over time. It will lose the sweetness of orange juice and the fragrance of red wine, and become unpalatable."

This conclusion was hard for everyone to accept, because Atlas immediately thought of someone, a big, golden guy who led them out of Terra and into the Star Sea.

Mordred's years of subtle influence had worked, gradually dispelling the illusion surrounding the Second Legion and erasing the flawless image of the Emperor in the soldiers' minds. (Emperor: Now you know why I can tolerate the Second Legion?)
"Then is there no solution, or will we also become one of those chaotic entities?"

When Fricks asked the question, this spiritual Atlas had been completely assimilated, but he didn't want to find a twisted freak when he later reclaimed his original body.

"Of course there are, and there's more than one."

First, there's the scale. Take that glass of orange juice for example. Subspace entities aren't static. As long as the dosage isn't large, adding a little less red wine won't significantly change the taste.

Even a small-scale faith boost can make someone with a combat power of 100 deal 1000 damage, which is why I keep emphasizing the "cool factor".

Another method is purification, and Machine Soul and World Soul are examples of this. Oh right, I forgot to mention, Goff, take note of this.

The planet Katachon near our home is alive; the entire planet has self-awareness. Next time we go, we should sacrifice some livestock to it—it might just work.

As for you, nephew, you'd better be prepared. I have a kind of precognitive ability; my brother, your father, isn't so easy to get along with.

"Your Highness, what kind of person is my father?"

After a pause, Mordred recalled all the bizarre things he had done with the fourth brother. Even he felt that the man was too twisted, like a pufferfish.

If you treat him well, he suspects you're trying to take advantage of him; if you treat him badly, he craves affection. Moreover, this twisted person is a genetic prototype, a vicious, twisted, arrogant, and incredibly destructive landmine-type behemoth.

Seeing the hopeful look in Fricks' eyes, Mordred was speechless for a moment and could only reply:

"Your father is a good man with extraordinary wisdom, but he is not good at communication and is also very impulsive and strong-willed, which makes him prone to doing things that he will regret for the rest of his life." This assessment was the most tactful thing Mordred could think of. The Fourth Legion was indeed useful; as long as they were given an order, they would gladly go to even the most brutal battlefield, and they were also honest and kind-hearted.

Mordred really didn't want to see these promising talents headed towards that tragic future, so while Plankton was still away, he wanted to give them a helping hand.

“Fricks, you are a member of the Fourth Legion and will return to the Primarch sooner or later, but remember, do not be misled by the Primarch, and always have your own ideas.”

"Your own thoughts?" Iron Can was a little confused, thinking that his own Primarch would not harm him.
Mordred knew this reaction would happen. He even suspected that the Fourth Legion's seeds had been laced with aphrodisiacs. Counting the equally gravity-enhanced Warhounds, these two legions were truly something else. How come their offspring were all a bunch of problem children?

“That’s right, you need to have your own ideas.” Perhaps thinking of something interesting, Mordred’s expression darkened slightly.
“My dear nephew, think about it. What if your father was left to wander and didn’t receive proper education, and ended up as a barbarian like Rus? You must take responsibility for your descendants!”

Leman Russ's name is known to all. All the Legions know that the Space Wolves are a military police force, and the Primarch, who resembles a savage, is a sword hanging over everyone's head by the Emperor.

The thought that his future father would be an executioner like Ruth sent chills down Fricks' spine. It wasn't that he was prejudiced against the Wolf King; the key point was that he himself had actually worked with the Space Wolf, and he had actually met the Wolf King!

These bloodthirsty thugs were covered in fur and animal bones; they couldn't even be described as slovenly. They were completely uncivilized beasts. Every time they went out, they would look at everyone with a scrutinizing gaze, as if they were all potential enemies, including their own allies.

In Fricks' mind, his father should be someone like Prince Mordred, who is not only incredibly powerful and handsome, but also very witty and humorous and nepotistic. Even if he has the minor flaw of raising aliens, that doesn't matter!

“No, my father must not become Ruth, he cannot be that kind of person.”

Unexpectedly, Ruth was so lethal that Mordred decided to add fuel to the fire.

"So, my dear nephew, when you encounter a Primarch in the future, you must help my brother become a Primarch useful to the Empire. As for how to do it, you can exchange experiences with my offspring."

You must especially stay true to your principles and not be soft-hearted. This is a long and arduous task. You must unite all your brothers and get the entire legion to help you, do you understand? Here, take this book.”

Fricks accepted the book his uncle handed him with a determined look. The title on the cover, "The Method to Train Even Oglin to Count to 100," made him nod repeatedly. It was simply too valuable!
He inadvertently set a trap for his good friend, which made Mordred very happy, and he continued his magical knowledge lesson.

"So, in conclusion, Kiaran, you're doing me a disservice by creating a sect for me. I don't want my soul to be turned into a brain-damaged mess by the incense offerings."

The spirit girl nodded as if she understood, but still asked:
"What if there is no soul at all?"

"Isn't that obvious? How could you become an idiot if you don't have a soul? How could you not have a spirit... wait a minute."

Mordred seemed to suddenly realize something, and the words of the Emperor and the Great Sage echoed in his mind:
[You're someone I picked up... Your Highness, the Second Legion's members are all bastards... remnants of extraterrestrial wanderers... Your higher-dimensional characteristics... Don't stuff yourself to death next time, I need some soup!!!]

Seeing Mordred suddenly fall into deep thought, Chiarand thought she had done something wrong again. But before she could slide to her knees at lightning speed, everyone saw their Primarch's lips curl up wildly, and she bounced up and down, grinning like an idiot.

One moment it's shaking its head, the next it's chuckling foolishly, and even its appearance is changing back and forth, eventually turning into a small corgi.

"Fifty-one episodes already! Turns out my cheat code has always been there, always been there! Damn it, I'm a god, I'm invincible!"

Fricks abandoned his previous fantasies. He thought it best if his father didn't resemble Prince Mordred. Actually, it was fine as he was; at least he wasn't a dog.

Even Ruth!

(End of this chapter)