Warhammer: My Biological Father Emperor and My Demigod Brother

"Hey, old man, what's wrong with you? I'm the one in pain, why are you touching your face?"

Aaron was annoyed. His own hand was swollen, and the old man was still touching his face innocently, as if to say, "Didn't you eat today?"

The Black King slowly exhaled, regaining his composure. He walked past Aaron to Feralus's side and spoke:

"Ferus Marus, number ten, the Primarch of the Iron Hand Legion."

“He can’t speak now because he has no head, so I’ll do it for him.”

Aaron turned around, still clutching his hand, and looked around:

"This isn't the real world 40,000 years from now, is it? You seem to be of sound mind. Why don't you go help Guilliman with his work? He's exhausted."

Aaron was still thinking about the one of his brothers who was suffering the most. He felt that if managing the population of Athens was so difficult, then the immortal uncles must have been able to turn the human society of their time into paradise.

Not to mention the management of the vast and numerous galactic worlds.

Black King completely ignored Aaron's words and continued speaking to himself:

"I know what I'm doing. You need to figure out how to confirm Number Ten first—"

Felus interrupted the Black King: "Enough, Father, don't use me as an excuse."

The headless giant's body began to burn with golden flames, illuminating the surroundings. Although it still had no head, it could still make sounds:

"Actually, it was Father who wanted to see you, brother. Father in the past was too weak, like an infant in a cradle. Whenever he cried out, someone would come out to clean up the mess."

“But now there is only one Father, and the way He can connect with you is through the connection between our respective brothers.”

While Feralas was speaking, the Black King reached out and pulled the flames from his body, dispersing them to a distant place to bind him.

"Shut up, you unfilial son! Don't I have a mouth? Can't I speak for myself?"

Aaron took the opportunity to try to pull his father down by the waist. He had been able to shove his father into the tent when he was off guard in Egypt, but now his father was completely unmoved.

Could it be that Father has become stronger over the past forty thousand years?

Looking at the comical scene before him, Black King shook his head helplessly, reached out and conjured up the familiar recliner from all around, picked up Aaron with one hand and threw him onto it.

He had been sitting in the chair long enough.

"Quiet, Aaron, don't think that just because you're already dead to me, I'll respect the dead." The Black King spoke, and it didn't feel out of place at all for him to say these words with Anda's face on his head.

That's exactly what that inhuman old bastard could say.

He then said:

"Not enough changes have been made yet. You need to save Feralus. I need to bring him back to reality."

Aaron lay dejectedly on the deck chair, resigned to his fate. Until he had the power to rebel against his father, it was best to remain calm and slowly build up his strength.

Even though forty thousand years had passed between him and his father, he showed no interest in reminiscing about the past, and coldly snorted:

"What are you good for?"

The Black King said seriously, "The main changes all happened 30,000 years from your perspective, but more than 10,000 years from my perspective. What did I fail to do more than 10,000 years ago have to do with me now?"

Aaron's vision went black, and he almost fainted.

That's it. This old thing hasn't changed at all. Humanity has managed to survive under His rule, leaving Guilliman with a mess. It's already a miracle that Lady Luck or the hand of fate intervened.

The Black King, sensing Aaron's disbelief, even began displaying a timeline that oscillated forward.

Countless threads, whether converging or expanding, formed a continuous web moving in one direction, with two strands of silk being the most solidified.

They are located in the central area, interspersed with colorful chaotic threads, and a colorless thread that stands out but also contains chaotic threads.

These threads are generally straight, but they all converge at a certain point, both in front and behind, where it is pitch black.

Chapter 481 The Black King's Renovation Plan (3K)

A huge black cube is frozen on the thread node, and almost no web can spread out to produce any other results.

The Black King manipulated the threads, and all the vibrations stopped as they approached the black cube, unable to affect it.

"You see, it really has nothing to do with who I am now. No one can interfere with what I did back then."

Aaron, skeptical, reached out and touched it; the surging threads passed through the black cube normally.

He stared wide-eyed, wondering how the old man was going to explain:

"Look, it can move, can't it?"

Black King remained silent, only squatting down and rubbing his face, his breathing becoming erratic.

No, no, the more monstrous Aaron is, the more decisively I win.

He told himself this, concealing the threads of time, and offered an explanation:

"Perhaps only you can do it, Aaron. The fate of your brothers is yours to change. After all, they represent a future that has not yet happened to you, so naturally you have the opportunity to change it."

Aaron was still thinking about studying that timeline, and watching the threads disappear, he felt a little regretful.

"Why don't you just move a little? The past is fixed for you, but what about the present? Every today is tomorrow. Don't carry over your old personality of stubbornly refusing to wash the dishes and putting off all the difficult things until now."

He still didn't forget to persuade the old man to get back to work.

The Black King adjusted his expression. He was avoiding talking too much about father-son relations with Aaron. It was good to keep things as they were 40,000 years ago, so that no one would have to shed tears.

He released the tenth brother from his bonds, saying:

“I have been helping Guilliman, and quite a lot of it. I even saved many Astartes and human warriors from danger. Guilliman himself even fell into the garden of the Lord of Corruption, and I was the one who went to rescue him.”

Aaron glanced sideways and chuckled:

"I'm talking about imperial administration. I suspect the current imperial system isn't healthy, but rather a complete mess, even bordering on madness. In my time, madmen weren't necessarily corrupted by chaos, but rather acted from within. I still remember someone trying to capture me under your name. You, sitting on the throne, should at least try to straighten out these lunatics' thinking."

He also recalled a dream in which he was summoned by his father's followers, who came up to him without warning and started fighting with knives and guns, showing no manners whatsoever.

If the father had corrected things even slightly, things wouldn't have ended up like this.

Before the Black King could speak, Feralus, now freed from his restraints, knelt on one knee before his brother and father, and whispered:

“Brother, Father is a god, but He cannot become a god. He needs to remain human. If He truly becomes a god and responds to humanity in His divine capacity, then the entire empire will become a divine kingdom, and unimaginable disasters will erupt.”

Black King muttered in a suppressed voice, "Number Ten, shut up."

Aaron took off his shoe and threw it at Black King: "Shut up! If you have any problems, just say them and see if I can think of any way to help you. You're always telling others to shut up, but I haven't seen you do anything right."

Feralus's neck drooped even lower, then he realized he looked somewhat frightening and quickly raised himself up:

“My father has done his best, and no one has the right to criticize him or ask him to do better.”

Aaron sighed, thinking that the tenth brother had probably been fooled by the old man. He sighed again:

"Sigh, just think of me as a son complaining. Can't a son vent a few words to his father?"

The Black King's expression remained unchanged, but within his heart, it was as if a cosmic explosion was taking place. Countless destructive forces, which were originally disciplined by the simulated circuits of his personality, were now transforming from simulated existence into signs of reality.

Aaron said he was my son.

Aaron carefully examined his headless brother and realized that this place, as his father had said, was a place of souls, or at least far from reality.

"Ferus, how did you lose your head, and when?"

He asked about it and included it in his plan.

Felus slightly shook the broken muscles in his neck and said:

“It’s not the right time yet. I’m worried about creating a bad image for you. You shouldn’t be prejudiced.”

Aaron immediately sensed something fishy in those words: "Was it done by one of our fallen brothers?"

He flashed a bright smile and placed his hand on Feralas's armor:

"Don't worry, I can tell the difference. I realized it back when I was with Luo Jia. And you, don't worry about anything. Why do you have to hide it? Instead of learning good things, you're just learning bad things from that old man every day. And you're so weak, He can bind you with a wave of his hand."

"Sigh, I was hoping you guys could all get together and give him a good beating."

Felus had no idea that his brother seemed completely untroubled by his troubles, and that his worries were nothing to worry Aaron about.

He seemed to have already assumed that he would successfully save all his brothers.

I really envy that mindset, or perhaps—

Suddenly, Feralus felt his non-existent, material heart begin to pound wildly, and a terrifying thought arose within him:

More than 10,000 years ago, my father had the same confident demeanor, and all of humanity believed that under the emperor's leadership, they could create a glorious future for mankind.

Then, after taking a big dump together, they discovered that the Emperor brand toilet seat, which was meant to prevent the drain pipes from bursting, was only good for sitting on the toilet; it didn't completely solve the problem.

What if the older brother's so-called superficial confidence is also inherited from their father? Wouldn't that be terrible?

No, no, we can't think like that. At least there's already a successful example right now: Peturabo.

The evil steel has been eliminated, which shows that even if the elder brother cannot change the history he knows, he can still create another thread.

Perhaps when this timeline can completely replace my own, everything will turn out well.

Even if the price is the demise of my own line of work?

Ferrus's boldest ideas about the future could only be speculated to this extent.

He couldn't understand how Aaron could possibly satisfy the endings of both timelines simultaneously.

Aaron could sense that his brother was pondering something very complicated, but unfortunately, he wasn't Angron and couldn't fully understand it.

He could only comfort her:

"It's a good thing you don't have a head right now. I bet you didn't want to cry, did you? Alright, I had an idea earlier, what do you guys think?"

Aaron rose from the recliner, shook off his clothes, picked up his shoes and put them on, then reached out and aimed at the recliners that had materialized from the invisible force of the object:

"disappear--"

He clenched his fist and spoke, and the recliner indeed disappeared, turning back into a mist of light.

The Black King stood beside Aaron, puzzled, and asked, "What are you trying to prove?"

Felus said, "It might be the right of succession. Your father and elder brother have the ability to control your domain. According to the myths of your time, you should be thinking about how to kill Aaron Well right now."

The Black King closed his eyes, then raised his hand again to bind Feralus at a distance, before rubbing his forehead and sighing:

“Aaron, the tenth brother wasn’t this taciturn before. No, he wasn’t much of a talker before either. I also never let him have any contact with Guilliman. How come they all suddenly have a mind of their own and become so sharp-tongued after seeing you?”

Aaron was increasingly feeling that his father, tens of thousands of years in the future, was no different from his own father.