Warhammer: My Biological Father Emperor and My Demigod Brother

But her father had never been a picky eater before, and Xiao An believed that even if she brought out a plate of poop, the old man would be too lazy to tell the difference, and would just think that she had concocted some kind of culinary disaster and eat it in one bite.

Sigh, he began to understand why his future father would become the emperor of humanity. He was able to eat what others wouldn't, so naturally he would be the first to serve others!

(Adachi, soaking in lava waiting to be resurrected: You unfilial sons, you're all unfilial sons!)

Aaron's gaze remained fixed on Mortarian, who seemed to have lost his train of thought.

I couldn't help but sigh. The child's emotions had been interrupted by external interference several times. At this moment, he no longer had the energy to build up and was not enough to support him in making a choice.

Not only can they not erupt like before, they can't even let their emotions flow out slowly anymore.

Is this Xiao Mo's personality? Once she loses her breath, she completely collapses and begins to accept reality.

None of his brothers had ever done anything like that. At least when Little Horse first faced his father's power, he dared to directly clash with his psychic energy, which is why he ended up with bald patches on his hair.

Feeling neglected, Angron was furious. A surge of crimson psionic energy began to flow from his eyes, even overflowing like tears of blood, forming grotesque claw marks on his small face.

"Aaaaah! Give me some food! Why aren't you eating?!"

Helios was startled by the roar and quickly forced a smile, saying:

"Since things have come to this, let's eat first, and then we'll see what happens."

He remembered that for the Neos family, eating was the most important thing.

Chapter 405 The Psychiatrist Helios (3K)

"Even if the world ends soon, it won't stop me from eating my last bite." (Adachi, I never said that.)

The original [End and Death], one hour before arriving at the Vengeful Spirit.

The emperor ate the last bite of bread, and it took him quite some time to find it in the palace of Terra.

It is said to be made from wheat cultivated by the most primitive human civilization, and its taste and texture are no longer acceptable to modern humans.

The golden giant wiped the breadcrumbs from his mouth. He was so tired that he had to support himself on his knees to stand up. He no longer held his sword high, but simply held it in his hand and let it hang down slightly.

There's no need for pre-battle speeches anymore; fate has already opened the door, inviting us into its trap.

He looked around, but saw no one before him or after him, only himself.

Golden-armored guards stood before their master, awaiting the arrival of the battle.

He said, “Your blades will be stained with my blood, but do not feel guilty about it, for it is yours to enjoy.”

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Barbaros, Angron's roar finally forced people to scatter and flee towards their own cutlery.

They were even faster than when Mortarian trained them to retrieve weapons.

Helios also came up behind Mortalian, grabbed his hem and pulled him back, and the Primarch was so startled that he was pulled along.

The old man tried to act like an adult and lectured his family for a while, but found that he couldn't say anything at all.

To be honest, he couldn't quite understand why Mortarian reacted so strongly. If Angron hadn't interfered, Mortarian would most likely have attacked Typhon directly.

The reason he has such a deep psychological trauma must be because his adoptive father instilled it in him when he was a child and before his original body could escape.

Could it be——

Suddenly, Poseidon's face flashed into Helios's mind, and a chill ran down his spine.

These beings, shimmering with withered spiritual energy, became the chain that had been around Mortarion's neck since childhood.

The even more terrifying reality is that even if Mortarian grows up, he will be powerless to break free.

“My adoptive father, Nikel, is the most powerful warlord in Barbarossa.”

Mortarian finally spoke, as if he had found someone to whom he could pour out his emotions.

If it were anyone else in front of him, Mortarian definitely wouldn't have said a word.

However, Helios did not see himself as a complete person.

"His brutal rule terrified other warlords, making it even more horrific than the harsh natural environment of Barbarossa."

In Xiao Mo's eyes, it seemed as if a strange being, shrouded in shadow, ruthlessly surveying time, truly appeared.

"What I want to do in my life is to defeat all the warlords and finally stand in front of Nikel and defeat him in front of everyone."

"That's a great ambition. Your uncle supports you. So, what are your plans?"

Helios asked in a low voice, then quickly turned back to look, hoping that Aaron would appear soon to relieve his burden.

This is your brother, not my son. Why should I worry about it?

But when he looked back, he only saw Aaron busy helping Angron distribute the soup. Noticing Helios's gaze, he simply turned his head and smiled encouragingly.

Aaron had a very precise grasp of Xiao Mo's boundaries; he was not suitable to be Xiao Mo's confidant, at least not now.

Helios felt his forehead was shiny with oil, and if it got any hotter, his brain would overload and he would faint from steaming.

"Xiao Mo, were you... by your adoptive father—"

He blurted out the question out of nowhere, and then started slapping himself in the face:

"Look at my mouth, what am I even saying?"

This kind old man's thought process was so unbearable that even Motalian, who was ready to continue confiding, couldn't stand it. He had a lot of words stuck in his throat, but he just couldn't get them out.

This was exactly what Aaron had predicted; his image as a caring older brother hadn't been very effective in comforting Xiao Mo in the past.

Instead, Xiao Mo would question whether Aaron had experienced the same oppression from the role of his father.

However, when Helios asked the question, his clumsiness and stupidity only made Morpheus feel that he had to take care of his uncle, making him realize that he was needed.

Instead of needing others to comfort you.

Mortarian clenched his fist, but ultimately didn't swing it. He was the kind of person who wouldn't waste his time once he faced reality; Helios was immortal, and killing him would be pointless.

He could only speak bluntly and coldly:

“There was no abuse. On the contrary, Nikel gave me a good upbringing until I saw my kind being used as entertainment and consumed in the lives of warlords.”

He steered the conversation back to the main point. Even though he was the one confiding, he now had to be careful to understand Helios's feelings and avoid his uncle overthinking things. Therefore, Xiao Mo had to categorize his words and use more precise and unambiguous language:

"Warlords look at ordinary people with indifference, but once they focus on them, it is a misfortune for ordinary people. I find it hard to describe what crimes they have committed. The human body is like a building block, manipulated at will."

“And Nikel wanted me to be that kind of person, his successor. But I rebelled and failed. He was bursting with that kind of withered lightning, and even the space behind him was torn apart, as if demons were howling in it.”

“I was forced to escape and began to wander aimlessly. For a while, my mind was in a state of chaos, and I even woke up in a fright from my dreams.”

“In my dream, I did kill Nikel and hung his head on my waist.”

Helios, puzzled but impressed, said, "Isn't this a good thing? In our time, we also had the custom of celebrating by cutting off the heads of our enemies; it's human nature. If you can predict the future, isn't that perfect? ​​You can then rule Barbaross as you wish."

Xiao Mo shook his head sadly and continued his story:

"No, at that time I saw myself as the future warlord standing at the top of Barbarus, ruthlessly exploiting everyone. My body also began to flicker with what you call psionic lightning. These powers were not used to benefit everything, but turned me into a monster. Corrupted moth wings spread from behind me, and I even became less like a human."

At this point in his story, Mortarian finally lost his composure and became agitated. Was this what he feared?

To become a new warlord.

He even gave a somewhat strange laugh:

"You know, in my dream, if I just reach out, all the crops on the entire continent will wither, the bodies of mortals will begin to rot and be devoured, and all I can hear is a symphony of wails and pain. Finally, I look behind me and hear a satisfied laugh. I don't know if that laugh came from anyone, and although it only happened once, I will never forget it."

“I am not afraid of my adoptive father, I am afraid of becoming him.”

Helios shuddered, his dull brain racing, and something seemed to come to mind. A stammering sentence escaped his throat:

"I'll kill your father for you."

Of course, he was referring to his adoptive father, not his biological father.

When I was wandering around, I heard philosophers from all over talk about concepts like patricide and intergenerational inheritance.

The problem can be solved as long as the mountain above Little Mo's head is defeated.

He used this patricide as a practice exercise so he could teach it to his other nephews later.

At worst, kill your adoptive father today and your biological father tomorrow, wouldn't that be perfect!

Helios couldn't help but let out a strange laugh, even more sinister than the satisfied smile that Mortarian had terrified. The contrast was so stark that it seemed almost comical, as if the fear he had just described was insignificant.

Mortalian found himself not actually averse to Helios's help, as if having an uncle like him to assist him was a bit embarrassing, though he was worried that Helios would bring shame upon him.

Instead of his previous concerns that a divine intervention would descend and Nikel would be killed before he could take revenge, Nikel was not worried.

"I can do it myself. You just need to assist. It's your responsibility to purify this world."

Motalian gave a somewhat awkward answer, which could be considered a denial.

Helios burst into laughter, slapping Mortarian's thigh:

"No way, I'm still pretty good at fighting, it's just not the right time to show it."

Motalian couldn't help but smirk slightly: "No, I don't trust you. You'll be torn to pieces by Nikel, and I don't have time to guess which piece of flesh you'll be resurrected from."

Helios was slightly displeased and said:

"Sigh, you're just like your dad. Never mind, I'll go in and ask your friend about his story. He probably suppressed and hid his true nature because he was considering your feelings. As you can see, although we are psionicists, we are also human. It's normal for a person to be fragile and sensitive."

"Since psychic energy truly exists, you shouldn't ignore it to gain inner peace, you can—"

Mortarian's expression turned cold again; the word "psychic" was like a switch that controlled his changes in expression.

"You want me to accept it?"

Helios waved his hand, his tone casual:

"You can also just ignore it and leave it aside. Psychic energy is a tool, not a power that transcends the material world. Your father once said that our purpose in life is to adapt to the world while also changing it."

"Although your father talks a lot of nonsense, he does occasionally say some things that can be called wise."

He turned around, about to go inside to give his nephew's friend some psychological counseling.

Helios also recalled Typhon's posture; his defensive, prepared-to-seize-weapons stance revealed that this man's character was a hidden threat.

Perhaps in myths, when such a thing happens, the latter would appear ready to be slaughtered, keeping their distance from weapons to express their reasons.

But stories are just stories; reality is different.

Typhon valued his own life more than his so-called feelings for Mortarion.