Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 87 Long live the Lord of the Night! (4k)

In the past, if you randomly grabbed an official and asked him which Primarch of the Empire was the most ambitious, 30% would say Mordred, and the remaining 70% would say Robert Guilliman.

But when Mordred became the Imperial Warmaster and brought endless surprises to the Imperial officials with a unique two-on-one draw, those 30% were basically all killed.

Even those who survived by sheer luck would never dare utter a single word of dissent, for no one knew whether those ruthless 'ultimate warriors' would ever return.

Not to mention those young officials who were suddenly promoted and stuffed into Holy Terra by Atlas have already established themselves. You dare to gossip about the War General behind his back? You're asking for trouble!

Therefore, in the present day, Mordred's reputation is unparalleled, and no one dares to speak out or ask questions, so they can only focus their firepower on Guilliman.

After all, if you say Guilliman is fine, the Primarch won't do anything to you. But if you dare say anything about Mordred, he'll knock your head off.

Not to mention the Ultramarines occupying the 500th world of Ultramar, obeying orders but not proclamations, and always arriving late for support. Who would believe it wasn't intentional? They're perfect targets.

Moreover, unlike the literal meaning of 500 worlds, those who know a little about it understand that the 500 worlds of Otlama refers to a vast territory encompassing 500 major worlds with Macurag as its administrative center.

Not only is it self-sufficient, but it also has a complete set of basic industries, making it a key control area for the Mechanical Education.

This state within a state made the Terra Council very uneasy, fearing that the thirteenth prince of the empire might suddenly raise an army to rebel one day, and most importantly, they had the power to do so!

However, under such skeptical gazes, Macurag is a world that can be described as happy, where people can even live to be 30 years old. In comparison, the empire's so-called benevolent policies seem extremely ridiculous.

Thirty years may not sound like much, but the problem is that one year in Macurag is equivalent to three years in Terra, which means that people there can live comfortably to the age of 90.

If this were ancient times, how many princes like Guilliman, who held a large army, whose territory was self-sufficient, and who even ruled a country, would inspire any sense of security?

So the other Primarchs were extremely jealous and dissatisfied with this rich kid who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, saying that he was an ambitious person.

But is that really the case? The answer is no!
The reason why the world of Altrama 500 is so prosperous today is mainly because its rulers treat people as human beings, unlike empires that exploit people to the bone.

After handling today's administrative affairs as usual—the kind of trivial tasks that would give ordinary people a headache—Guilliman finished them all in less than an hour.

Such efficiency was not only due to Guilliman's superhuman processing skills, which were practically superhuman, but also to the implementation of policies by a large number of Ultramarines who were reserve military personnel serving as government officials.

As is his usual practice, Guilliman would probably take a short break after finishing his work, perhaps playing with his super game console or enjoying a dessert and a cup of hot tea.

But a message sent from the stars interrupted his leisure time.

"Imperial Warmaster Mordred will lead the Second Legion of Atlas to visit Otrama."

"Wait a minute, with my reputation so tarnished, some brothers actually chose to come to me! Mother, can you hear me? We can finally establish diplomatic relations with other legions!"

Unlike Guilliman, who was eager to escape single-player mode, Mrs. Yotton seemed slightly worried upon hearing the news, calling Guilliman by his nickname and saying:

"Radish, I heard that this new Imperial War Marshal is extremely brutal. He launched a bloody purge as soon as he took office, and directly slaughtered his way from Holy Terra through the Solar Starfield."

According to those who fled here, your brother is quite prejudiced against the nobility, and his men, the Atlas, are more omnipresent than space wolves; there's even a lame joke circulating in the Empire now.

"What lame joke?"

I knew my naive son would react this way. Even with superhuman intelligence and physique, he was still so innocent.

"The joke goes like this: A nobleman was flirting with his lover in his room, and they were both very happy, but suddenly a third person's laughter came from under the bed."

Then suddenly a dozen Atlases sprang out from under the bed, counting off to determine who had betrayed their location.

"How can it be,"

Guilliman didn't find the joke funny. How big could a bed be? It's such a small space, how could it possibly fit a fully armed Space Marine, and so many of them?
But seeing the certainty in his mother's eyes, Guilliman suddenly began to waver:

"This can't be true, can it?"

"That's right, the reason it can be called a lame joke is because it's true. During those three years of bloody purges, Atlas roamed around like a ghost, and no one was spared."

Guilliman, who had been laughing just moments before, stopped laughing and began to think. He wondered why his infamous second brother had come to him. Surely it wasn't to do business with them.

Looking up at the bookshelf beside him, Guilliman immediately spotted the book titled "The Atlas Codex," a collection of jokes that was supposedly a primer for infants and toddlers compiled by Mordred himself.

Although the short stories inside are rather hellish and morally questionable, and the novel often mocks the Empire, Guilliman has a very positive impression of his never-before-seen second brother.

In particular, according to Legion veterans, the Terran warrior named Goff had once served as the second company commander of the Ultramarines.

Aside from a few minor flaws, they had a pretty good impression of these cousins, finding them quite humorous and, most importantly, very large, often being recruited to serve as honor guards.

"No, no matter what, this is a diplomatic visit between two legions. Whatever his purpose is, we cannot leave any room for criticism!"
Mother, we must receive you with the highest honors, and also dispatch the fleet as a precaution.

Based on the estimated time, they should arrive this afternoon. I'll head to the tarmac to prepare.

Meanwhile, Atlas, who were perceived as having ill intentions, encountered a somewhat embarrassing problem: they got lost.

Following the usual procedure, the Abomination, which departs from Tranquility, will first take a high-speed ride through the network, and then at the critical point, it will switch to warp space travel to Macurag.

But Kiaran, this Eldar girl, was really eager to improve. Patting her muscular chest, she assured Mordred that she had found a new network area and could start opening it immediately.

Mordred trusted this kind of professional extremely, but despite all his calculations, he never expected that Kiaran would be so unreliable.

Kiaran did find a new route through the network, but she didn't mention that it was seized from a group of Dark Eldar pirates. Following this dubious map, the Abomination plunged straight into the Comoros.

That's Comoros! The former capital of the galaxy, now a land of sin, a place teeming with all sorts of monsters and demons. The Abomination almost didn't make it back; it was only thanks to Icarus's powerful computing capabilities that it managed to swerve back using a sudden stop and a maneuver, then randomly picked a door and plunged inside.

The result was that a patch of black bean sprouts was embedded in the hull of the Abomination, attracting countless conspiracies to hunt it down.

The good news is that they not only escaped capture, but also, after a round of punches and kicks, gained a few more dark-skinned lunatics in the Atlas Darkmoon Order, and incidentally acquired a more complete network map.

This means that Atlas's air transport range has been greatly increased, from a small area to a large area, which is a qualitative leap. Even though the range is not that big, it is still a win!

As for the bad news, the network map that Atlas obtained didn't indicate where they were at all. They were completely lost and could only drift around inside.

"Kiaran, I need an explanation!"

"Father, I can't explain it."

"Then think it over carefully, at least make sure we're in which star system? As long as we're not outside the Milky Way."

Mordred was speechless that she would end up like Khan. How could she encounter such a low-probability event? Comoros is such a big place, couldn't you at least put a mark on the map?

"Whatever you do, don't run out of the Milky Way. If you run out of the Milky Way, there will be no starlight to guide you, and you won't be able to get back even if you travel through subspace. If I lose myself, I'll be laughed to death by that two-armed weasel."

“Father, you don’t need to worry. If we really lose ourselves, you won’t even be able to see the Emperor. How could he possibly laugh at us?”

Mordred glanced at Tom, who was interrupting again, and gave Brian a look. Understanding the unspoken message, several Black Knights quietly surrounded the boy and began punching and kicking him.

"You bastard, if you hadn't spoken, I would have forgotten. Back then, I left you to guard the ship and watch over the place since you had just been resurrected. You didn't even see that huge yellow weasel running in. I think you really deserve a beating."

"Lift him up and hold him against the pillar until Kiaran finds his way home."

"What? Father, you can't do this to me! I, Tom, have worked hard even if I haven't done anything great. If this continues, I'll become a rootless person."

Mordred regrets having been soft-hearted back then and not shaping Tom into a blonde like Luther, that good-for-nothing who's only good at eating.

Why is it that all the other students who returned from studying at the Eighth Legion look like cool guys, while you look like a comedic character? You're practically a mouse to be Jerry.

Perhaps the saying "a scourge lasts a thousand years" has come true. Before the ship had even stopped a few times, Kiaran, located on the bridge, exclaimed that she had found her way home, though it was a bit small.

Through the porthole, Mordred could also see the path. To put it simply, it was a pitifully small net tunnel gate, or more accurately, a tiny net tunnel gate, barely big enough for a Thunderhawk to squeeze through, while a Stormbird would get stuck.

What's worse is that the doorway was smashed by something, and large chunks of the entire frame are missing; it must have been hit recently.

It's only thanks to the fact that the interior of the network isn't empty space, but has physical contact that can be described as the ground, that it would be impossible to send personnel to explore the outside world.

Once the probe confirmed that the outside world was the physical universe and that there was a planet below, Tom was directly stuffed into the Thunderhawk cockpit by the group and kicked into the net tunnel door.

As time passed, just when everyone thought Tom was dead, the ID "Imperial Handsome Guy" lit up again in the holographic image:

"Father, something terrible has happened! I..."

"Stop!" Mordred interrupted Tom directly, knowing exactly what he wanted to say without even having to guess.
“I can accept it once or twice, but I don’t believe there can be a third time. Don’t tell me you killed another Primarch. I didn’t even mount a machine gun on that Thunderhawk.”

“But I did find a primordial. I’ve seen this jar before. It’s exactly the same as the nursery pod that you used as a decoration in your bedroom, Father.”

To prove he wasn't lying, Tom shifted the camera's focus to the abandoned metal structure in the mine, now completely integrated with the earth's crust:

"That's right. Judging from the state of contact and fusion between the incubation chamber and the ground, the high temperature should still be there. In other words, not much time has passed since the impact and melting."

That's right, my eyes are the ruler. Look at those rock layers. It's obvious that this nursery pod directly pierced through the earth's crust. Due to the excessive speed, the powerful kinetic energy was converted into heat energy and released, directly melting these metals.

Tom, why is it so dark? Look up a bit and see if there are any numbered markers.

Tom recognized the original sports cabin, but that was all he knew. After searching around, he finally found a number in the corner where it touched the ground.

"seven."

“Father, that’s eight, seven is one less than eight.”

"Eight? That's right, this should be number eight. Wait, number eight? Tom, retreat quickly!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than a scream came through the communication channel. Through Tom's tactical goggles, everyone could see a gushing of blood spurting from the corner.

Tom had come to scout ahead, and seeing the thick smoke billowing from this area, he quietly slipped away. To avoid alerting any miners, he didn't wear any power armor. But little did he know that something lurked in the shadows, hunting humans.

Tom, who was probably no ordinary person to become a company commander, saw that it was dark all around and sensed the danger. He immediately threw a flashbang at his feet.

In the instant the bright light and ear-piercing sound waves exploded, he did a forward roll and crashed into the infant care pod, then pulled the hatch shut.

According to Tom's calculations, even without oxygen to breathe, Atlas could hold out until reinforcements arrived.

It's unclear what material the nursery pod is made of, but once Tom went inside, he couldn't hear anything useful.

But he was too big and could only twist his neck with all his might before he could see the small, thin figure scratching wildly outside the cabin door.

"Holy crap, it's just a little kid!"

Meanwhile, Robert Guilliman was still waiting on the tarmac.

(End of this chapter)