Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 97 is titled "Redemption Through Maternal Love".

As Kurtz strolled through the garden, he grew angrier and angrier, his mind filled with Guilliman's arrogant demeanor. He was so angry that he just wanted to scratch that big face to pieces.

Looking up, the bright sun hangs in the sky, providing a pleasantly warm sunshine to the entire Macurag.

Everything was so beautiful, everything was so peaceful, even the carefully tended flowers and plants in the garden were so lovely.

But all of this made Koz uncomfortable. Compared to the beautiful and pleasant Macurag, he preferred to live in the shadows, like a mouse that couldn't see the light.

"Damn bastard, if it weren't for not wanting to disappoint my second brother, I wouldn't have come to this godforsaken place! What second hometown? It's all a lie."

But we're real!

The sudden sound made Koz turn around abruptly. Before he could even utter a rebuttal, he saw a pair of eyes filled with worry.

For some reason, even after only a day of contact, Koz didn't want to worry this person, and hurriedly explained:
“I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about Guilliman. He doesn’t know anything, he’s a bad guy.”

Looking at the stubborn little boy who could only huddle in the corner for a sense of security, Yoton recalled the first time he met Guilliman, the same wariness, the same fear and anxiety.

“Child, Guilliman didn’t do it on purpose. He’s just too naive. He didn’t mean to mock you.”

Your childhood must have been filled with unhappiness, but since you call me your mother, you should trust me and walk with me. Mom wants to hear your story.

Come out quickly, I've been looking for you for ages!

A hand stretched out in front of him, and in a daze, he saw that damned prophecy again, saw the woman named Yoton lying in a pool of blood, the chaotic and vicious laughter surrounding him, and a dark shadow like a pale ghoul seemed to be about to devour him.

His own hands were already stained with blood.

"No! I didn't do this. Who are you?"

"My name is Judgment, my name is Justice, my name is Midnight Ghost, I am Conrad Coates."

The more pain he felt, the stronger the malice lurking in the shadows became. The chaotic shadows no longer confined to one person; more malice pulled at Koz, trying to drag him into the abyss.

But just as Coz was about to shout for help to summon his all-powerful older brother to his aid, a hand firmly grabbed his palm and pulled him out of the shadows.

Looking at the woman who had pulled him out of the bushes, Koz, whose vision had finally cleared, paused for a moment, then tightly grasped those warm hands:

"Sorry~" A soft sound came from behind him, and Yodon's lips curled up slightly.

“I accept your apology, but as punishment, you have to tell me about Noztramo, how about that?”

"So, my brother landed in a sinful world full of criminals, where he never sees the sun, and he hadn't even had a proper meal before you found him, and I just scolded him?"

Mordred nodded and corrected Guilliman's statement:
“It’s not that he hasn’t eaten. Koz would find rats to eat in his burrows and drink some underground wastewater.”

"And you not only scolded Koz, but you also scolded me. Do you want me to tell you about my childhood?"

Hearing this, Guilliman's face flushed red. He tried to speak but couldn't utter a word. Finally, he slapped himself across the face.
"Slap~ I deserve to die! Slap~ I deserve to die! Slap slap~ Ah, why did you hit me?" Seeing this guy suddenly go crazy, Mordred quickly grabbed Guilliman's arm, raised his hand and slapped him across the face:

"Shut up. You should think about how to make it up to Koz later. What's the point of just going crazy here? Anyway, you have to persuade Koz to come back to me."

If anything goes wrong, I'll spread rumors that you're having an affair with the Eldar, that you're keeping Xenomorphs on the Makragora's Glory, and that you're hopelessly addicted to pointy-eared bean sprouts.

Such a vicious accusation immediately made Guilliman jump up, saying that this was all slander, how could he, Guilliman, be tainted by the Xenomorph, and no one would believe such rumors.

What Guilliman didn't know was that Mordred's moral compass was notoriously unpredictable; she simply pulled out her data panel right in front of him and photoshopped a picture of him:
Perhaps to increase the sense of oppression, Mordred's body rapidly expanded, returning to his original size, directly cornering Guilliman against the wall and shoving the photograph into his hand.

"Do you like it? If you want it, I have many more here. If you don't like the Spirit Race, I can make you some other ones. Anyway, there are so many alien races, there's bound to be one that suits you. I can even Photoshop an Emperor for you."

Guilliman was shocked. He couldn't understand how there could be such a despicable person, and what benefit there was in doing such a thing.

"Because I want to. And how can you be sure you won't make mistakes in the future!"

“That’s impossible.” Subconsciously ignoring Mordred’s suddenly enlarged size, Guilliman insisted that he had nothing to do with the Xenomorphs, and that it was Atlas who had behaved improperly.

"The Emperor is our father. As his son and the Imperial War General, you cannot insult the Lord of Humanity with a dark-skinned hottie."

"Wait, what black hot girl? I never said the Emperor was a black hot girl. You big-eyed Guilliman, so you're no good either."

Guilliman fell silent, his expression instantly softening, and he began to change the subject:
"How did you shrink? I've had a feeling something was wrong for a while now. I clearly remember you were only a head shorter than that bastard Vulcan, how could you shrink to such a small size? This is simply not scientific!"

Knowing this guy wouldn't understand, Mordred gave him a lesson on what a Primarch was, but no matter how he proved it, even pulling out a demon, Guilliman still didn't believe him and instead thought Mordred was abusing a pet.

Despite his disbelief, Guilliman suddenly realized that Mordred wasn't a difficult person to get along with. Although he was a bit abstract, at least he wouldn't immediately mock him for being ambitious.

Especially when it comes to the Great Expedition, the two are remarkably alike, both preferring to stay within their own little world and avoid venturing out if possible.

What's even more remarkable is that Mordred also enjoys writing books. He has a copy of "The Atlas Codex" in his study, which is perfect for reading as a collection of jokes and is quite darkly humorous.

As two plumes of smoke rose, the two burly men, each holding a Rick's Mushroom cigarette, sprawled on the sofa and began a tirade of complaints.

He said that Makado was a corrupt official who used incredibly complicated procedures to confuse Imperial politics, while another said that the Terran Council was full of insects and that a Space Marine seat must be placed there.

From the imperial central government to the living standards of ordinary imperial citizens, the criticism was thorough, ultimately concluding that everyone else was out of their minds, and only the two legions were normal.

"Second brother, I was wrong just now, please don't take it to heart!"

"Don't worry, I'm not a petty person. But I feel like I've forgotten something, like it's something very important."

Mordred glanced at Guilliman beside him, especially lingering on the white toilet seat for a few seconds, and finally remembered what he had forgotten:

"Brother, do you know Nukeria?"

(End of this chapter)