Warhammer, I'm a nanny, not your father!

The corners of Coze's mouth slowly curled up into a deep arc. "I accept this gratitude, brother. Let's go meet your legion. I have ordered them to stand by on the deck."

……

"Thanks Uncle Coz!"

Calvos trembled all over, as if even his bones were boiling with excitement for the grace that was about to come!

When one Primarch after another returned to the Imperium, the Primarch's legions cheered, and other legions were full of expectations, wondering whether the next one to return would be their Primarch.

Although the 19th Legion had also expected this, they understood that they were not special.

Their legion serial number ranking is not high, their achievements are not outstanding, and they have never received the honors boasted by the Emperor. The Pale Nomads is the nickname given to them by their enemies.

When the Emperor's decree came down, ordering the 19th Legion to rush to Nostramo and serve under the command of the Primarch of the 8th Legion, the soldiers' hearts were filled with unspeakable anxiety.

While they held absolute loyalty to the Emperor's commands, they could not help but worry about how the Primarch would view their unfamiliar Legion.

However, far from showing any disdain, Curze personally welcomed them as the Primarch.

He accepted the 19th Legion with a fatherly heart, not only treating every soldier as his own son, but also generously allowing them to call him father!

This honor brought tears to the eyes of all the soldiers of the 19th Legion, and they swore allegiance to the great Primarch.

But Curze humbly declined their oath of fealty, reasoning that their loyalty belonged solely to their Primarch, and he was merely holding it on behalf of his brother.

Since the establishment of the 19th Legion, being able to follow Koze has been their greatest honor!

Now the 19th Legion, led by Curze, has even welcomed back its own Primarch, which is something that cannot be exchanged for any glory!

"We have our own Primarch now!"

Calvos couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. He had never imagined that the 19th Legion would become the sixth legion in the history of the human empire to welcome back the Primarch!

After the identity of the Primarch was confirmed, Uncle Curze gave his orders with touching humility while the fleet was still on its way to the spaceport.

To avoid any misunderstanding among the Primarch of the 19th Legion, he asked the soldiers of the Legion to stop using the title "father" and call him "uncle" instead.

Uncle Curze's every word and action demonstrates his noble character as a Primarch!

Calvos lowered his voice and whispered to Sevatar in the encrypted private communication channel: "Seva, I really hope our gene father can be like yours."

Sevatar was as silent as a stone in the deep space. He prayed devoutly that the Primarch of Calvos would not end up like Curze. This was his most sincere blessing.

As the Primarch's close attendant, he would always serve by the Father of Genes' side whenever the Father of Genes met with other Primarchs.

However, this time, he could only stand here and wait with the 19th Legion.

Why is this? The reason is really hard to guess.

"Sevatar, will the Primarch recognize us?"

"Sevatar, what was your first meeting with the Primarch like?"

"Sevata, help me check if there are any scratches on my power armor. I just repainted it."

"Sevata..."

Sevatar unilaterally blocked the communication, allowing Calvos to chatter alone in the communication channel.

He had a good relationship with Calvos, but it was based on sympathy.

He is not a pushover. It is already difficult enough for him to serve Koz, and he has no time to provide psychological counseling to Calvos.

He grew up with Koz and has more of a brotherly relationship with him than a father-son relationship.

He didn't have the same admiration for the Primarch that Calvos had, and he couldn't understand the feelings of Calvos, a Terran veteran who had served for decades.

Would the Primarch of the 19th Legion approve of them? Sevatar had no answer.

But he felt that when the Primarch saw his offspring, he would never smile with relief.

"Are you relieved, my brother?"

At the end of the deep corridor, the voices of the two Primarchs talking could be faintly heard. The soldiers of the 19th Legion stood still like statues, but they had been looking forward to it for a long time.

"I'm very relieved."

When the Primarch's voice penetrated the corridor, the warriors of the 19th Legion could hardly suppress their trembling. It was an instinctive awe for the Father of Genes deep in their genes, mixed with an almost fanatical expectation.

"boom!"

The 19th Legion knelt on one knee, and the power armor and metal base made a dull sound.

Chapter 117: The Double Life of the Primarch (5.5K)

"What have you done to my legion?" Corax asked in the dark corridor.

"I trained your Legion the way I trained the Night Lords," Curze's footsteps made a soft sound on the metal deck, and he tilted his head slightly. "Your scions fought alongside mine—guerrilla warfare, infiltration, raids, their coordination was seamless. Most importantly, I taught them to protect mortals."

Corax: "That's what Father taught us."

They are powerful, but they should not be superior.

They rule the people, lead the people, and protect the people, not oppress the people.

They are human beings, and no matter how powerful they become, they should never abandon their humanity.

Curze paused, his pale features appearing particularly profound under the dim blue light of the bulkhead. "My brother, I have devoted all my energy to your Legion, cherishing each and every one of them, and teaching them as I would my own children. I assure you that they will perfectly meet your expectations."

"I appreciate it, bro."

A hint of confusion washed over Corax, who had already thanked him for this.

Besides, based on his understanding of Coze, his brother was not the kind of person who would care about such empty formalities. The sudden resurrection of the past made him a little confused.

Coze: "My brother, are you relieved?"

"I'm very relieved."

If his offspring were really as outstanding as Koz said, how could he not feel gratified?

A meaningful smile appeared on the corner of Koz's lips. The direction of this conversation had been exactly as he predicted.

He fulfilled his commitment to the 19th Legion.

"boom!"

The metal deck made a dull roar under the coordinated movements of thousands of Astartes warriors. These battle-hardened warriors knelt on one knee in perfect synchronization, lowered their helmets, and paid silent loyalty to their gene-father.

Corax's gaze swept over his descendants. The entire deck seemed to be stained by the night, and thousands of inky black power armors glowed coldly under the bridge lighting.

Only the raven emblem on their shoulder armor, with its wings spread out as if ready to fly, shone with a silvery-white glow like a star piercing the eternal night.

Corax had long known of his mission from Wop, and before he reunited with the Legion, Corax often imagined meeting his children at night.

In addition to the uprising, he also designed new paint jobs and emblems for the legion, every detail of which was imbued with the beliefs he wanted to convey to his descendants.

When thousands of warriors wearing pitch-black armor and silver ravens on their shoulders knelt before him, these perfect warriors actually matched his ideal image even better than what he had described in his dreams!

Corax tried to show his offspring a smile of relief, but that smile froze on the Primarch's face.

Why was it exactly as he expected?

He turned his head suddenly, his cold gaze piercing Koz like a knife, and a hoarse growl almost came out of his throat: "Is this the perfection you promised?"

He did not lose his composure in front of his offspring, but his eyes conveyed a deep question to Koz.

There was a subtle curve at the corner of Koz's lips. He tilted his head slightly, letting the shadow flow across his pale cheek. His eyes clearly asked: "Aren't they perfect yet?"

Curze was not a perfectionist, but he gave his all to the 19th Legion. He was certain that the 19th Legion, from the overall structure to the details, perfectly met his brother's expectations.

"Get up!"

After all, Corax was not angry with his blood relatives and descendants, but his voice was still as cold and hard as iron.

He finally understood the source of his discomfort; his brother was not as gentle and amiable as he appeared, and his encounters with the other Primarchs were not as harmonious as he had described.

Coze didn't lie to Wop, but he deliberately used interesting stories about his interactions with other brothers to delay time, knowing that Wop would be interested!

In front of Corax, he also cleverly concealed the truth that could subvert everything, and this truth was no different from sweet poison!

Corax's knuckles clenched and unclenched in the shadows. He would never unleash his wrath on his own children; these loyal warriors were merely pawns on the chessboard.

But what expression should he put on?

Smiling at his offspring? He couldn't.

Corax's cold gaze swept across the legion formation like a knife, finally fixing on the warrior in the front.

He raised his chin slightly, his voice low and majestic: "State your name, warrior."

"Kalvos, my father!" The warrior's voice was as sonorous as the collision of steel, but at the end of the tone, it revealed an uncontrollable tremor.

The Father of Genes is watching him!

Corax's gaze cast a shadow over the warrior. "Tell me the name of the Legion you belong to."

Calvos' chest heaved violently, and his roar was deafening: "Nineteenth Legion! Raven Guard!"

"We are all your loyal children, my Lord!"

Every syllable of his words burst with iron loyalty, as if to burn the oath into the void.

Sevatar's eyes were fixed on a scratch on the seam of the deck. The scratch was so slippery.

Corax froze, his pale knuckles clenched white beneath his black robes. Shadows twisted and swirled beneath his feet, restless like a flock of startled crows.

Corax's fingertips trembled slightly beneath his robes, not with anger, but with something colder.

His brother had thought of everything so...carefully.

The Raven Guard's paint scheme perfectly replicates his preference, even the legion's name is so accurate.

Beneath such meticulously planned appearances, the invisible organizational structures, tactical systems, and training regulations must have already been crafted to perfection.

How ironic that someone should know how to shape his offspring better than he, the Primarch, did!

This "gift" was eerily perfect, like tailor-made shackles, even the lining of the shackles was thoughtfully padded with velvet.

What lay before him was not a gift, but an unsolvable trolley problem.

To accept it would mean acquiescing to the shackles his brother had carefully woven;

How could he refuse these loyal descendants? And how could he be so cruel as to sever the loyalty of these innocent descendants with his own hands?

What did they do wrong again?

They were simply made to look like what he was supposed to like.

But it was this perfection that suffocated him. Every bit of paint and every tactical principle was saturated with another person's will.

If he accepted them, the Raven Guard would forever live in the shadow of his brothers; but if he abandoned them and forged a new Legion, that would be true surrender.

Because no matter how he reinvents himself, he can't escape his brother's shadow.

To change deliberately is to acknowledge Coates’ influence in the midst of confrontation;

To insist on one's own opinion is to follow the path paved by Coze.

His brother had already planted a trap in his mind. No matter which path he chose, he would be bowing to the other party.

This game was doomed to fail from the very beginning. His legion was already marked with Curze's mark before it was even born!

Corax's voice was as deep as an echo from the abyss, and every word was shrouded in icy chill. "Tell me, brother, do you treat all of your brothers with the same generosity?"

Coze's voice seeped out from the shadows. His pale face emerged in the dim light, his mouth twisted into an arc between a smile and a spasm: "No, brother, only you."

Why am I the only one special?

Corax's gaze was as deep as a dark pool, quietly examining Curze's twisted smile.

Even with his brother's generosity, it wasn't a provocation or a humiliation.

Even if he wanted to declare war, he should have chosen a more sophisticated way.

Rather than being so straightforward.

All Curze did was to savor his own rage at being fooled—like sipping a glass of aged bitter wine, just to satisfy his almost morbid pleasure.

but why?

Why target him?

"Heh." A low, hoarse laugh suddenly escaped from Corax's throat. "You've been watching me, haven't you?"

Coates: "We are brothers and have the same father."