Warhammer: My Biological Father Emperor and My Demigod Brother

Aaron finally approached Mortalian, who was changing his bandages, and smiled warmly:

"Xiao An has only ever loved food all her life. Although the things she makes are tasteless, at least they won't do any harm to her."

Mortarian continued his hand movements without turning his gaze away, and said:

“I haven’t acknowledged you as my brothers yet, so don’t be so affectionate. Your behavior is too reckless and unpredictable, and it’s not part of my plan. Don’t try to do anything for my own good, bypassing me to do anything; I don’t need your help.”

He began to be on guard, worried that the two brothers might suddenly have some idea to help their family and rush into Bell's fortress to help him defeat the warlord.

Given the strength Angron just demonstrated, they are capable of doing this; such a thing is absolutely intolerable.

It wasn't a question of who should claim credit, but rather that Mortarian wanted to lead the local people himself, with everyone making sacrifices together, to achieve victory.

Thus, he was just one of the countless ordinary people in Barbalus, and their victory was well-deserved.

The working masses, who have long been oppressed by warlords, also need this victory in which they participate to change their past flawed way of life.

If there really is something that falls from the sky to solve everything, then it should have come sooner.

Aaron shrugged and took out a fragment of an undead building from his pocket. This was all he could easily find on him right now; he had many more at home.

He smiled and said:

"Unless you actively seek help, my brother. I understand your feelings, but I hope you can accept these small gifts."

Mortarian intended to refuse with a haughty air, but after just one glance, he couldn't look away.

This fragment of stone gave him a sense of deathly emptiness, as if it could alleviate his repressed emotions.

He unconsciously reached out and carefully took it from Aaron's hand.

The fragment, about the size of a grain of rice, was between my fingers, yet it was able to soothe me.

His refusal to recognize and acknowledge the existence of another power within himself over the past few years has been like a tightly stretched rope.

Now things have finally loosened up, and I no longer need to stubbornly deny my own existence.

"I suspect that many worlds have become like this due to the influence of the warp, or even the machinations of some demons. This thing can slightly neutralize the warp forces; I hope it will be useful to you."

Aaron spoke up, already quite accustomed to the existence of demons and the warp.

But after he finished speaking, he found that Mortarian looked puzzled, and his eyes even began to become cloudy.

"What is the warp? What are demons? And is there even a hell?"

Aaron turned to look at Uncle Helios in the distance and tentatively asked, "Didn't Uncle tell you?"

At this moment, another commotion broke out on the outskirts of the camp village. A small squad of seven or eight soldiers rushed in, and the leader, who was seriously wounded, shouted Mortarian's name.

"Karas!" Mortalian was slightly anxious and hurried over to greet him.

Karas Typhon raised his head and muttered, "Nikal, Nikal wants to take you back."

Almost instantly in Mortalian's mind, the name Nikel was mentioned.

The person standing behind him, whose dark, heavy gaze seemed like a tangible shackle, was chuckling.

Chapter 403 Yorgos: My Eternity Above You, Helios's Another Dying Move (3K)

“Nikel has sent his knight, the most powerful warlord in Barbarossa, who commands all sides. Whoever can bring you back will become his ally.”

Typhon lay in Mortarion's arms, but because of the height difference, he couldn't get too close to him.

What was supposed to be a sad scene seemed somewhat comical to Aaron, who was walking behind.

He needs to reflect on his own heart. He didn't have so many absurd thoughts before. He's clearly a good person.

It must be that the old man is still causing trouble even after he's gone, affecting my mindset.

Aaron took a step forward, glanced at Typhon, who looked haggard and seriously injured but didn't seem to be dead yet, and reminded him:

“I think you should start treating patients now, instead of just staring at each other.”

Motalian then realized that the two of them had been staring at each other for quite a long time. Their relationship was almost like that of brothers, and they had supported each other for a long time until they had gained a foothold and built up some foundation.

The lands he had previously conquered were mostly managed by Typhon.

Mortarian quickly picked up his friend and carried him to the so-called medical area.

It's much cleaner and drier here than the surrounding environment, and being here gives you a warm feeling, as if you're being bathed in the sun.

The few times the people of Barbarossa could see the sun were when some warlord, seemingly unconcerned, blew open the clouds and pushed a filth-laden rain over to his rival.

Occasionally, one could hear the laughter of some being from within the clouds, but these sounds disappeared not long ago, and some warlords who believed in evil beings could no longer receive a response.

"This place is so clean and tidy that even some warlords who prefer a clean style could not create such a warm environment."

Typhon was placed on the bed, and Mortarian performed the surgery himself.

Aaron sneaked into the operating room, and surprisingly no one questioned him; it seemed as if they had already tacitly agreed that he was allowed to act there.

The Primitive Body's ability to control its body allows for precise treatment of areas requiring surgery, greatly increasing the chances of successful recovery after injury.

However, some infected areas are unable to cope, and the relationship between the so-called "medicines" and the illness is nothing more than a question of how quickly one will die.

“Go and invite Helios over; we need him here.”

If the sun god can purify food—since it's all meat anyway—it will naturally have an effect when it shines on people.

Mortarian even used the word "please," which would have made Apollo laugh so hard he'd roll on the floor if he were here.

Not long after, Helios, who had just been used as a brush to scrub plague rats in the kitchen, was brought over. All the pus and blood on his body had been purified into a clean liquid that he could lick directly.

Lying dazed in his hospital bed, Typhon was trying his best to suppress the psychic energy within him. He had known since childhood that he possessed some terrifying power; he was the son of a warlord and a village woman.

But the mother was killed by the villagers who saw her as a threat, and the so-called "father" only saw himself as an accident that did not need his attention.

Typhon, who grew up in a painful and unguided environment, knew from the moment he met Mortarion that they were the same kind of people.

No, he himself suffered far more than Mortarian.

At least Mortalian was raised as a son by Nikel, but he himself could not accept the warlord's violent rule over mortals.

I'm more inclined to believe that the rich young master has a change of heart and wants to join the cause of resistance, and that he will eventually break away from the peasant.

When he opened his eyes and saw Helios, who was covered in golden light and exuding a familiar "magical" aura, his heart trembled rapidly!

Along with the mysterious power he had deliberately hidden for so long, it surged and rushed throughout his body. As if it had been subjected to some enormous stimulation, he could not bear it for a moment and vomited blood and fainted.

Aaron was quite surprised. He had only seen such scenes when he was a child, when he followed his father to watch people catch adulterers in the act.

Those were some of the few parent-child activities he had during his childhood, until one time the location of catching someone cheating turned out to be his own home, forcing these activities to stop.

Helios had some knowledge of medicine, or rather, these immortals had all been witch doctors to some extent before, because they had been granted the gift for so long and had countless opportunities to try and fail in their professions.

As for those unlucky ones who become experience points during trial and error, we can only wish them good luck.

"Don't panic. It looks like he just fainted from the pain. I know a little about first aid."

He remained calm and composed, about to gather his sleeves, straighten his hair and beard, and adopt the demeanor of a reclusive sage.

He was met with a cold stare from Motalian. If he didn't hurry up, his good nephew would kick him.

Helios then lifted his robe and rushed to Typhon, pressing his ear to Typhon's chest and listening intently for a few moments. Then he let out a strange laugh, his body stiffening as if he were the one who had died.

He pointed at Typhon with one hand and laughed:

"He's a psionicist, haha, then there's no need to worry. His injuries will heal on their own. His abilities are inherently close to withering and disease, and he has extremely high tolerance. It seems he's a strong person who can endure what others cannot."

Bright, golden sparks danced and flickered at Helios's fingertips; any energy heated to this point would produce a similar visual effect.

For example, Erda's gray-white lightning.

He shuddered. How could he have thought of that female demon while saving people? It was truly terrifying.

Helios quickly focused his mind and poured the golden lightning in his hand into Typhon's chest:

"Wake up! Karas Typhon!"

He remembered that Neos sometimes lay under the tree talking nonsense, saying that the power of lightning could revive a heart that had stopped beating.

However, treating psionicists doesn't require such trouble. You only need to awaken the flow of psionic energy within their bodies, and their bodies will adapt on their own.

Mortarian's eyes were filled with surprise and uncertainty, his pupils reflecting the images of these lightning bolts, and the brownish-yellow power known as psionic energy began to appear within Typhon's body.

This power did not belong to Helios, but rather to Typhon himself.

The power is the same as that of the man who holds sway over her destiny.

He unconsciously clenched his fingers, his knuckles turning white, and a barely perceptible panic even flickered across his face.

Does fate even push those who share your ideals, whom you meet for the first time, to the opposite side?

This companion, who had encouraged him along the way, possessed abilities that he despised.

Mortalian felt a deep sense of dread; he couldn't bear to face the moment when Typhon donned the leather mask he knew so well and became part of those warlords.

No, impossible!

He couldn't imagine that the upright Typhon would become one of those tyrannical warlords, betraying their shared ideals!

Or perhaps, when he looks down at himself, he too becomes one of those freaks who possess these powers.

In reality, seemingly to align with Mortalian's thoughts, Typhon's body gradually rose amidst the roar of golden lightning, his primal power was triggered, and the things around him began to wither and shrink.

But it seems to have been somewhat restrained, and it doesn't breed corruption; it's just simply old and outdated.

"Ah, what amazing power! I want it all—"

Helios praised the plan, but quickly shut his mouth, realizing he had almost revealed it to Aaron.

That is, to use Typhon's power to cast an even more terrible curse on Ilda: aging!

Now, she's just gotten a darker complexion, but she's still a beautiful woman. You can tell that Anda was quite excited at first.

How can this be? How can you two be so harmonious!

If we could acquire Typhon's ability to curse Erda to age thirty years, let's see how much more Erda would torment Anda!

Haha, tormenting two people at the same time, and all you have to do is limit the time to any period 30,000 years ago.

So, 30,000 years later, Erda's anger would have long since dissipated. Would he still be able to take revenge on himself?

Helios couldn't help but feel pleased with his idea; even with his golden body gleaming, his smile appeared incredibly sinister and cunning.

Given Typhon's apparent resurrection, as if he were a zombie or resurrected from some kind of necromancy, Mortarion felt compelled to speak up and stop the ritual from continuing.