Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 74 Icarus, the Angel of Death.

Regardless of the facts, bringing the Battle Moon and the Randan aliens on it into the warp did indeed create a unique battlefield that was extremely advantageous for Atlas combat.

Moreover, this tactic is only applicable to Atlas; other legions wouldn't even dare to think about it, as the ubiquitous subspace radiation alone could drive them mad.

Even if they defeat the enemy, they will be neither human nor ghost after they leave, and will only end up killing each other to silence them.

At this very moment, watching the Randan aliens, whose mutations were induced by excessive subspace radiation and which had begun to lose their composure, the First Legion's space warriors were thankful for the first time that they weren't picky eaters.

"Canned pineapple is so delicious!"

"Shut up, who the hell gave you permission to speak? Get out of here right now."

A deep, thunderous roar came from above. Taking advantage of his height, Mordred, who was no longer human, had already seen the true faces of the group of Randan aliens.

Excluding the pitiful humans enslaved into the auxiliary army, the Randan aliens, who were over two meters tall, were not actually terrifying to Mordred, and were far less frightening than the experimental subjects he had destroyed.

With just one glance, Mordred could tell that these aliens were products of highly evolved traits. Such individuals could not possibly be born in nature. After all, what normal creature could turn its limbs into biological weapons?

"But I, Mordred, am not just a name without substance. Icarus, come out here!"

As soon as he finished speaking, a blazing beam of light descended from the sky, instantly vaporizing those overconfident flesh and blood servants. Immediately following this, Atlas charged out from every corner.

"Waaaagh!! Crush them!"

"Atlas will win!"

The battle was about to begin when the angel of death named Icarus descended from the sky, his steel wings revealing a towering figure comparable to that of a Titan warrior.

Unlike the clumsy and rugged Titans, Icarus is a true angel of death, possessing not only powerful firepower but also graceful lines. Even her face model was selected from Mordred's first beauty pageant, the Tranquility Pageant.

This is also his true secret weapon; only Icarus's powerful computing ability can perfectly coordinate the teleportation array to bring the entire battle moon into subspace.

The moment Icarus made its debut, the group of ignorant Hakimi were drooling with envy, exclaiming that it was simply too big. Look at the lines, look at the armor, it made them so excited that they were practically waving flags!

Unsurprisingly, the one who uttered such heretical remarks was that young man named Cypher, making it hard not to suspect that he had been corrupted by Slaanesh.

What surprised the First Legion even more was that, along with Icarus came not only Atlas's cousins, but also some smaller combat dolls, but covered in heavy armor.

These warriors, who do not show their true faces, are extremely efficient. Even when their limbs are melted through by plasma, they still refuse to give up the fight.

Their tenacious fighting spirit even terrified Urian, because these damned things were not human at all, but a group of abominations disguised as metal skeletons wrapped in silicone.

Even so, the canned boys of the First Legion could understand. After all, what legion doesn't have its little secrets? They even had the Extinction Relic.

But what happened next made them want to gouge their eyes out.

Their group of giant cousins ​​went completely mad, not only emitting strange green light, but also sprouting all sorts of subspace creatures. Most importantly, these bizarre things could even speak.

What do you mean by sharing a meal? Daddy, love me one more time? I've already called you Daddy, what's wrong with letting me have a bite? Do you think I'm being fair to you, stealing ammunition for you every time I'm in the Warp?

Such bizarre and outlandish theories made everyone's scalp tingle, and they wished they had more ears.

Even more terrifying, however, was that as the battle intensified, more and more warp creatures were summoned by Atlas, one summoning ten, ten summoning a hundred, overwhelming the cannon fodder army of the Randan Xenomorphs in sheer numbers. Perhaps because of the amputation below the nose, or perhaps because Mordred added some strange ingredients during the surgery, Urian, soaked in life-sustaining potions, exhibited unusually active thinking.

"We're doomed! They're not even hiding it from anyone anymore, we're definitely going to be silenced! I haven't even seen my original body yet!"

"Hmph, hmph hmph hmph! Damn aliens, it's all because of you! I'll smash your teeth in!"

"Either erupt in silence or perish in silence." Seeing their company commander suddenly go mad, the boys who had been pretending to be dead stopped lying around and, without any instruction, learned Atlas's free looting ability, picking up unwanted weapons and joining the battlefield.

Killing one is not a loss, killing two is enough. The thought of being silenced and eliminated afterward makes it better to die a glorious death on the battlefield, at least for the sake of the empire.

However, the truth is that Mordred didn't care about them at all; all the Atlas were having a blast.

The ferocious beast, standing a full 10 meters tall, spun rapidly. Its four sharp claws were indestructible, capable of killing anyone who touched them and maiming anyone who brushed against them, leaving Ran Dan, the alien, questioning the meaning of life.

What's even worse is that whenever they try to focus their fire on this beast, Mordred will backstab and flash into the crowd. Even if he gets hit in a vital spot, he can just open his bloody maw and eat two health packs to recover!
Only the Primarch can defeat the Primarch; against this terrifying monster, all of Ran Dan's techniques are ineffective.

Through a former Space Marine named Tyr, the commander of the Randan, it was learned that the humans who were frantically slaughtering their own soldiers were an Imperial Legion called Atlas.

As a warlord second only to the Imperial Warmaster, Tyr knew perfectly well that it was only a matter of time before they were defeated.

The minions used to wear down the enemy are no match for the summoned warp demons, and when the Hunter Guards want to decapitate the enemy, those sleazy big guys in black armor will use the demons as cover.

Even their powerful ability to assimilate enemies was ineffective; it was simply impossible to infect and assimilate robots with flesh and blood.

Even if they are lucky enough to break through the demon army and avoid being entangled by the angels of death, Atlas will show them what it means to fight fire with fire, and that they are not human at all!

"Despicable, utterly despicable."

Looking at the ferocious beast in the picture that was invincible on the battlefield, Tyr knew that it was time for him to take action. As long as they could control this Primarch, they would have a chance to turn the tide.

As ultimate beings personally nurtured by the Emperor, each War Lord possesses an incredibly strong physique and powerful psionic energy comparable to an Alpha-level psionicist, and Tyr is among the best of them all!
"Laughable lowly creature, the warp is not just your battlefield."

With a thought, pale frost spread from all around, and the purplish-black psionic energy, as if alive, penetrated the crust of the battle moon and struck Mordred, who was frolicking around, directly into the depths of his consciousness.

Unexpectedly, it went so smoothly. Tyr had already figured out how to assimilate the Familia, gain merit and rewards through this monster called the Primarch, and receive an audience with the Emperor.

"who are you?"

"I am your master, you foolish beast! Let me uncover the deepest, most vulnerable void within your heart!"

"..."

"You mean you're going to use your invincible psychic power to browse my consciousness and control me, is that right?"

"Scared now? If you're willing to surrender, I don't mind preserving your self-awareness."

"..."

Mordred remained silent, carefully examining the consciousness that had entered his mind. Torn between collapse and breaking down, he ultimately chose to offer a greeting:
"remarkably brave!"

(End of this chapter)