Warhammer: My Biological Father Emperor and My Demigod Brother

"Aaron is there, it's alright."

After the gears struck and worked together to form this sentence, they fell completely silent, offering no further response.

This mechanical shrine, smeared with bright red engine oil and seemingly nourished by blood, has collapsed completely.

"No, no, Your Majesty, you should tell us a way out! Don't make me think for myself anymore. Every time I come up with a solution, it either doesn't suit your taste or is filled with the most taboo crimes!"

"Once a spirit-exorcising dead zone is established there, how will the soul contained within your firstborn son cope with its fate!"

No one answered Caul's feeble questions; the being on the throne, or the throne of gods, seemed to care nothing.

Forty-seven Terra hours ago.

Guilliman was reviewing the data; his eyes were tired and sore, but he dared not blink.

All the documents that flashed before his eyes were remembered by the Primarch's already exhausted brain, only adding a few more lingering feelings of weariness.

With the final document reviewed, the Primarch finally got a few minutes of rest, able to cover his eyes and close them for a moment.

But even with his eyes closed, the data he had just read was still washing over the Primarch's brain.

Once a problem is raised, a corresponding solution is automatically generated.

The Primarch naturally began to prepare battle plans based on this data, which consumed his mental energy but could never be stopped.

It's like a broken faucet that can no longer be turned on and off freely.

Not to mention the connecting pipes and the water tank below, which are already completely clogged. Countless imperial departments are reinforcing the water tank to keep it a little longer before it collapses under the pressure.

The good news is that there are many loopholes, many of which are so dangerous that they no longer need the Empire's attention and have lost all value in maintaining control.

They just need to focus on the part that can still be saved right now.

"How much longer must I toil, Your Majesty?"

Guilliman wondered to himself if he had ever heard of the corpse on the throne.

He looked up; the break was over.

Today, the citizens of the Empire world have become slaves to the Necromancers of space.

The exorcism zone is already a relatively minor threat, because the masters of these technologies, the space necromancers, are resurrecting on a massive scale.

All intelligence indicates that countless undead dynasties are united and obey a powerful ruler, the Silent King.

These ancient races, whose origins are now lost to humankind, achieved a mechanical ascension that even the Mechanicus found astonishing, or perhaps it was a failed attempt at racial self-salvation.

In short, those metal mechanical bodies contain consciousness that can be called intelligent life.

And those consciousnesses, alas, are difficult to unite even among humankind, let alone among different races?

The negotiations failed.

Those arrogant aliens demanded that humanity bow down to them, but the Empire never yielded to any alien.

Although at this point, the objective combat strength comparison showed that the enemy was stronger and we were weaker.

But Guilliman also seized the last opportunity to learn the location of the enemy's leader.

He decisively ordered the fleet to withdraw and leave it for later deployment.

He is the only one who can take responsibility and must avoid unnecessary sacrifices.

Until there was a knock on the door, a guard brought in an observation record.

A bald young man stood on the surface of a world within the Exorcism Dead Zone, gazing at his surroundings.

The humans around him were already dispirited and lifeless, their bodies and souls severed from each other.

"Aaron?"

Guilliman frowned, wondering whether he should lead only a squad of his personal guards to break in and investigate.

Then they heard the greatsword roar beside them, and their father's voice came out in fits and starts:

"Number Thirteen, complete your mission. No need to worry."

The god on the throne or something else stopped Guilliman from making a foolish move, accompanied by a curse from over 40,000 years ago:

"Issue my decree: Primarchs are strictly prohibited from boarding operations!"

He had heard this sentence many times; it was one of the first messages Marum sent back.

Guilliman leaned against the edge of the wall, took a deep breath, and kept replaying the few seconds of his observation record in his mind.

Brother, why did you appear in the Exorcism Dead Zone?

"Sicarius!"

He shouted that this loyal son was always ready to give everything for his father.

“Go there, find him, and after three Terra days, return, regardless of success or failure.”

“Respect him as you would respect me. No, even as you would respect my father.”

Guilliman gripped the holy sword in his hand, its flames roaring, and did not refute.

The Ultramariner, who had reached the Primarch's gate, removed his helmet and whispered:

"Cato Cicarius has fulfilled his mission."

boom!

The flames on the holy sword surged forth, rushing towards Sicarius and reshaping his body into a normal human form.

It was also the witchcraft performed for Marum's disguise.

"No need to disturb, just keep an eye on it."

The God-Emperor whispered in Sicarius's ear and then vanished.

Planet Norbert, a little-known mineral world within an empire.

Aaron walked along the deserted streets and noticed that the structures called streetlights were not covered with corpses, meaning there was no execution demonstration.

My father once described during a journey that people liked to hang tortured corpses at city gates, markets, or road intersections—places where crowds easily gather—as a form of intimidation.

It is usually accompanied by a desolate, sunset-themed atmosphere.

This situation will occur even more frequently in times of chaos.

His neighborhood is now a road junction leading to the city with its towering buildings, yet he hasn't seen any such behavior, leaving Aaron completely baffled as to what has happened to the city.

He couldn't even tell if this was the world his younger brother had grown up in.

The presence of large urban building clusters and vehicles indicates that their technology was far more advanced than that of their time.

So where are the people?

Even during major holidays, at least the departments that maintain the basic operation of the city should have staff on duty.

Aaron was puzzled. As night fell, only the cluster of high-rise buildings in front of him were lit up.

The neighborhood where he lived remained shrouded in darkness, gradually being swallowed up by the night.

These low-rise buildings succumb to the darkness of night, as if their deathly stillness can only be manifested here.

In the end, the darkness swept past Aaron, the only one still walking on the road, but could not stop this human from moving forward.

On the other side of the planet, a space necromancer wearing the title of scribe is fiddling with a brooch.

It dons human clothes and records the behavior of the staff member before his death, attempting to simulate and explore what living beings think and worry about.

From time to time, it adjusts its body, trying to imitate the postures and behaviors of human life, but eventually it falls silent and stops imitating.

"Blood tax is important, Altaus, life is not."

Altaus told himself, "But I really want to experience what it feels like to be alive."

It does not kill flesh and blood, but rather use the skin and flesh of others to cover its own body.

"We must complete the task accurately and efficiently, and confirm the effectiveness of the exorcism of the dead zone."

"Searching for humans in this world who still retain a sense of consciousness and soul, these lives are valuable data."

Ortaus reluctantly removed the insignia, took off his clothes, and reverted to his undead form.

It is the vanguard that resolutely executes the commands issued by the array. That luxurious experience just now, within the space necromancer, is already a form of abuse of power.

This world has been shrouded in the exorcism zone for a long time. In previous observations, some humans have shown a strong will to resist and have been able to retain control of their souls over their bodies.

This is considered a key step in the undead regaining their physical bodies and transferring their data-driven thinking into their flesh and blood.

That is, the precise connection between the soul and the body.

Death was initially cursed because of the demise of the physical body, coupled with the soul's inability to control the body.

The resistance exhibited by humans is also the reason why they were allowed to survive under the rule of the great undead.

Because of this human characteristic, the undead made an exception and allowed humans to live.

Small scarabs continuously transport data modules, expanding the scanner's database.

Many points of light are projected onto the planet.

"Not bad, another newcomer. Humans, what is it that you believe in that gives you such a strong will?"

Ortaus was impressed and ordered that these special individuals be captured and dissected for study.

Chapter 327 Aaron's Loss of Soul?

"So we're just going to sit here and do nothing?"

Marum was feeding Angron, his gaze shifting between the carefree old man lying in the yard, who had just been resurrected, and Aaron, who was sunbathing in the yard.

The old man's clothes were still hanging on the clothesline, and he was only wrapped in a piece of cloth.

He still has some water ghost-like swelling, but it's nothing to worry about. He'll just need to find another place to put some water.

He was just busy finishing what Marum had brought back:

"Oh ha ha, I already said my son isn't going to die yet, why are you worried about him? You should be worried about what we'll eat for lunch now that there's one less person to cook! This morning you really made me furious, your future emperor doesn't have a single nice word to say."

"It seems he entered that so-called 'Dead Zone of Exorcism,' but that thing poses no threat to him whatsoever."

"Those space skeletons love to do this nonsense. They even think they can ignore the risks of warp space. Heh heh, all civilizations that thought they could fight against the world have ended up perishing."