Warhammer: My Biological Father Emperor and My Demigod Brother

Now that we're fully underwater, all around us are metal walls and dim lighting that isn't natural light.

So the fifth brother, who rarely gets seasick, couldn't be left alone.

Marum, the most considerate member of the family, had to take on the heavy responsibility of carefully guarding the family's most valuable possessions.

Aaron glanced at his fifth brother, who looked haggard, with slight concern, and asked:

“Father, I remember the technological design style could be simpler and cleaner, right? And some of the pipes on this ship are even rusty.”

Aaron still remembers the car he drove in the Ghost Exorcism Zone; it was a perfect embodiment of future technology.

Although the ray was powerful, it always gave Aaron a feeling of being in a "sub-healthy" state, like something that was leaking water and air everywhere, about to become rusty, but still usable.

This is the result of the restoration work done after Peturabo obtained the ray.

A word popped into Aaron's head: make do?

Could it be that the future development of the entire galaxy is just going to be haphazard?

(Four Gods: Yeah, my roommate's a lunatic, what can I do but make do?)

More than 30,000 years later, in the palace of Holy Terra.

Macardo was shaking the bottle in his hand, but his movements weren't as wild as those of the bartenders in the Emperor's memories.

It was more like an old man on the verge of death checking his medicine bottle, listening to see how much was left.

The chaotic sounds of the crystals colliding against the inner wall of the bottle irritated the emperor.

"Enough, Makado!"

The Lord of Mankind spoke out, his majestic voice echoing in the empty hall, but received no response.

Until the Makado before him quietly shattered, it turned out to be nothing more than a psionic projection.

Da da--

Only then could one hear the sound of a cane tapping the ground as it guided the steps.

"My Majesty, what has caused you such sorrow that you cannot bear to see an old man?"

Macardo walked alone on the golden road, which seemed far too wide for his human size.

He took some time to reach his old friend and took a letter from his pocket:

"I shouldn't tell you the contents of the letter, but your son's vision for the future is really interesting."

The emperor slumped on his throne, his hands straining to reach for the armrests, but his middle-aged back was too weak, or perhaps he craved this precious solitude, as if standing up would restore his status as a human emperor.

He gave up and succumbed to his body's laziness.

He had yielded countless times in the past, but in the future, those opportunities are visibly diminishing.

“You used to call them numbers, Macardo.” The Emperor closed his eyes, his face utterly exhausted and unrestrained. “Now, because of their sweet talk and attempts to please you, you think they’re my sons.”

Macado slowly turned and sat down, taking his seat on the first step below the throne.

The emperor's eyes narrowed slightly as he mocked:

“You are so much younger than me, Macado. You are not old yet. There is no need for you to pretend in front of me.”

Macado, with his back to his emperor, laughed heartily:

“But I am more mature than you, Your Majesty. You need a more mature leader to ensure you don’t go astray.”

The emperor didn't take it to heart: "Tens of thousands of years ago, I was indeed the youngest. My brothers weren't much more mature than me, and their immaturity was quite evident."

"That's consistent with your behavior of shaking the bottle to listen to the sounds inside. Alright, go ahead and read it. Anyway, you're not exactly a good person. Peturabo took my advice seriously and studied with you. He would never guess that you're the one who's always tattling on him. He thinks I'm all-knowing and all-powerful, always watching him."

Makado forced a strange smile; he enjoyed this feeling of being disrespectful to his elders, and only one person knew this side of him. He spoke:

“Macado, I hope you will sincerely consider the Emperor’s death. I need to witness the resurrection of an immortal. I’ve thought about it carefully, and only if that old man dies can the Empire’s operation be maintained. It’s the same whether he’s there or not.”

Chapter 381 Poseidon: Let me introduce you to your fourth son, I'm taking sides in advance (3K)

ka ka ka-

The throne, which was not a golden throne, was being squeezed so hard it made a cracking sound, as if it would be crushed by the emperor's large hand at any moment.

"The traitor——"

Those two words were squeezed out from that tired face, and those deep eyes seemed to want to take in the entire galaxy and then see which planet would be suitable as the burial place for the fourth prince, Peturabo.

"Macado, teach him a lesson," the Emperor said.

Makado couldn't stop laughing: "My Majesty, is this your decree, or have you, as a father, entrusted me to educate my son? There's a big difference between the two. I'd be quite interested in taking on a disciple."

The emperor took a deep breath and slowly released his grip; a headache was starting to ache.

“Magnus? Although Poseidon is there, he is trapped in Prospero and unable to conduct subspace travel.”

Makado shook his head, fiddling with the letters in his hand:

“I sent an invisible being to Prospero to protect Poseidon, and I think he taught Magnus quite well. Now let me finish reading the rest of the letter about the Great Expedition.”

Upon hearing the keyword "Great Expedition," it was as if a switch had been flipped, and a magical force immediately compelled the Emperor to sit up, trying to dispel the weariness in his expression.

The Emperor nodded and said, "Speak. I want to hear good news. If it's just some jokes or some childish fantasy, I'll slap him across half the galaxy right now."

Makado's laughter subsided somewhat. Speaking as a friend, not a subject, and without using honorifics, he asked cryptically:

"You can do that?"

The emperor raised one of his hands and examined it in front of him, seemingly to confirm whether it was a human body, uttering a barely audible sound:

"Ah."

Macado's smile vanished completely, signifying that his friend had taken another step towards that supreme position.

He returned to the main topic and proceeded to recount the subsequent contents of Peturab's letter:

The main issue is that he wants to merge the production lines of Ironheart and Mechanicus as soon as possible. He is even willing to resell the products under the Mechanicus brand in order to spread his products as widely as possible and make them appear in any newly reclaimed world.

Thus, those worlds wouldn't even need to take any further measures to govern; once all sorts of machines that improve the quality of life arrive, people will naturally understand the advantages of the empire.

Even in worlds reclaimed by other legions, the Ironhearts are willing to make concessions and allow any branding, as long as the small symbols of the Ironhearts and the Mechanicus are retained.

Even if a world were to be reconquered according to the Five Hundred Worlds ruling model, its material foundation would largely be supported by the industrial capacity provided by the Heart of Steel. At that time, raising the banner and shouting slogans, people would make the right choice.

The Emperor complained, "Why can't he use his brain and let the Iron Warriors further accelerate the Great Expedition to expand his sphere of influence?"

The Emperor knew of Perturabo's ambitions, but as long as it benefited the Great Crusade, he didn't care. If the goal was to expand the resources buried deep within the world, he would rather the Iron Warriors accelerate their progress than try to seize the lands reclaimed by his own brothers.

Makado commented, "You are a harsh and completely ignorant fool of a father, Your Majesty. Forgive my rudeness. You don't care about the living conditions of those worlds, you only care about whether those worlds are reclaimed."

The Emperor snorted coldly, "There's not enough time. I've already been tolerant enough of Number Four."

Makado really wanted to stand up, grab his cane, and whack the Emperor on the head. He felt like a grandfather in his own home, with a disobedient son and a bunch of unruly grandchildren.

He sighed, “Perturabo is already trying to distinguish between Ironheart and Iron Warrior so as not to affect your grand plan—and you don’t seem to care at all about the possibility of Ironheart’s collusion with the Cult of Machines.”

"Consider this: the Mechanicus, due to its own closed-mindedness and even some superstitious elements, doesn't require special constraints. It will simply operate within its own little world, functioning like a cog in a machine, without affecting the Empire's operations. If this cooperation with the Steel Heart is successful, the Mechanicus will soon discover a crucial fact—"

The Emperor smirked: "Heh, what can those red-robed oil geezers possibly discover on their own? In the entire galaxy, only I can convince them. If Number Four wants to establish cooperation with the Cult of Machines, then let him go on his own. I allow it, but I won't provide any assistance."

Makado couldn't bring himself to say what he wanted to say:

The Cult of Machines will soon find that instead of trying to disassemble the bodies of every genius whose intelligence meets their standards and replace them with machines, they will find it more difficult to succeed.

It would be better to make mechanical products a complete part of the lives of every citizen of the Empire, so that there would be no need to step on landmines in the Empire's truths.

Every day I express my gratitude to the bread machine for the convenience it provides to my life. My eyes inevitably glance at the logo on it a few times, and I think about elevating this individual machine to a unified concept. That's normal, isn't it?

However, as Your Majesty said, the current state of the Mechanicus is indeed stagnant and self-imposed isolation, and there is also some religious exclusion of dissidents.

It is hoped that Perturabo's stubbornness can counter the established beliefs of the Mechanicus.

It doesn't matter if it's a machine used for military purposes, but the machines used by the citizens of the empire should not be so frightening, nor should they have any supernatural manifestations.

Macado has received some reports that Mars believes in the existence of the Machine Soul.

"Alright, forget about Number Four. Let him deal with those geeks himself. Tell him I've given my permission."

The emperor waved his hand, returning to his weary state.

Makado forced a smile: "Including the first one?"

The emperor sneered, "Then he'll have to come in person. Even if all his sons came together, they might not be able to hurt me."

Makado laughed heartily as he rose. He was clearly much younger than the Emperor, but his aged appearance was unmistakable. He straightened up with difficulty and rubbed his lower back.

"By the way, during official contacts, don't let the term 'engine oil guy' get out of use. It's fine if you say it yourself, but don't let it become a habit within certain official departments."

The emperor closed his eyes to hide his embarrassment; he had already referred to him that way in many internal meetings.

Many times, he would publicly declare that the Cult of Machine God was an indispensable part of the Empire, revealing the other side of the Twin-Headed Eagle, before turning around and complaining that those machine enthusiasts were almost like freaks.

Fortunately, it won't try to create external mechanical organs like Poseidon did.

Fortunately, Poseidon was kept under strict control in Prospero, and his distant memories came back. Poseidon's desire for technological advancement largely stemmed from his wish for an experience where he could freely control temperature and durability.

Biological things can't do it, but machines can—it's as simple as pressing a button.

When he came to his senses, Macado had already disappeared at the end of the passage; he hadn't even heard the sound of the canes striking the ground.

The Emperor's face darkened, and he made a psionic communication call to Poseidon:

“Tell me, you haven’t done anything out of line in Prospero lately.”

In the East Construction Zone of the Prospero branch of Steel Heart, Poseidon, wearing a white hard hat and a protective uniform for inspection, watched with satisfaction as the massive tunnel boring machine moved back and forth underground, excavating the tunnel with vibrations.

"Huh? Someone's trying to reach me on the radio?"

"Idiot, it's me in your head! !"

Poseidon then reluctantly looked away and found a quiet room:

"Hey, my little brother, it's been a long time since we last talked. So, you've found a way to deal with me? But to be honest, I'm a little reluctant to leave. Aside from being tormented by that crazy woman in my dreams every night, I quite like it here. Prospero's use of psychic energy is extensive, practically divine. I've recently been researching how to directly simulate it using psychic energy—"

The Emperor forcefully interrupted:

"Enough, stop talking about that, it's disgusting."

Poseidon feigned a sob: "Waaah, you're already disgusted by us? Back then, we older brothers were the ones who took care of you and raised you into the person you are today."

"Get out!" The Emperor's tone grew increasingly fierce. "I'm asking you, you haven't been researching any strange machines, have you? I warned you 30,000 years ago that humanity's thinking on mechanical technology would influence me. Don't do anything disgusting!"