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

"There's more to it than this." Corax's whisper lingered in the shadows.

They are the most similar Primarchs, two sides of the same coin, or even the same side.

Curze lived in the streets and alleys of Quintus Nostramo, which were always illuminated by the night;

Corax spent his childhood in the tunnels and cells of Lycaeus Prison.

They have all seen the world enslaved by the wicked, with the weak and poor being crushed to death by those in power and those who enjoy pleasure.

They should have become completely different people.

In the future that Wop told them, he was cared for by politically adept and compassionate people who gave him compassion and support; but Curze received no such favor and became the embodiment of revenge and fear.

In the end, they walked in opposite directions, just like the night was torn into two opposite poles -

One sinks into deeper shadows, the other chases the glimmer of dawn.

However, here comes Wop.

Before the seeds of distortion take root, before the darkness around them erodes their hearts.

Woppe didn't just talk, he demonstrated everything through his actions.

He demonstrated that responsibility is not a shackle, but a glorious responsibility;

Proving that love is not a weakness, but a source of strength;

Let human nature no longer be a defect, but the strongest armor.

He imparted everything he had learned throughout his life, from tactics and strategies to how to behave in society, just like a real father treats his children without reservation.

In this cold and cruel galaxy, Wop gave them the most precious gift, not weapons, not power, but a complete heart.

Then they became light.

None of them fell into darkness, they all became the light that pierced the darkness.

Not a blind follower, but a sober practitioner.

They're almost the same, almost.

They both pursue justice, and they are almost walking together on the road to justice.

But their essences are different, their personalities are different, they have different experiences, and they become the same but different people.

Corax's voice was as calm as a dark pool. "Wop once told me that you were a sunny and cheerful boy."

"I know." The corners of Koz's mouth curved into an arc.

Coze is sunny, cheerful and loves to laugh. This is his human nature, but it also means that Coze can be easily blinded emotionally.

Perhaps at some unintentional moment, when he caught a glimpse of the intimacy between Corax and Wop, the tacit understanding without words pierced him like a knife.

A twisted urge suddenly seized him, and he demanded the Nineteenth Legion from the Emperor, seeking the perfect revenge on his brother.

The underlying logic behind all of this comes from the most basic emotion in human nature - jealousy.

Curze was jealous of each of his brothers, but he was most jealous of Corax because they were so much alike.

Corax sometimes hated the way Wop looked at him. He hated the way Wop thought of him as a shadow of his other brothers, even though Wop didn't think so and was just recalling the past.

And what about Coates? He's probably suffering the same pain.

He hated that Wop treated the other brothers as his shadow, and he also hated that Wop treated him as the shadow of the other brothers.

They were all resisting becoming shadows in Wop's eyes, but they became each other's shadows invisibly because they were too similar.

So they both began their own struggles, one through rejection, the other through possession, both trying in vain to prove that they were the only one.

Even though they never understood that they were not the only ones, they had 20 brothers.

But none of the other brothers could compare to them, they were the only ones who were each other's shadows.

Corax's voice was filled with icy certainty: "You're crazy, brother."

Koz simply tilted his head slightly, his pale face revealing an almost serene expression in the shadows: "No, I'm awake."

Corax's voice echoed from a deep well: "We are all frogs in a well, looking at different parts of the sky. So in the final analysis, we are all crazy."

Coates: "Warpe was never a proponent of structuralism."

Corax smiled; he didn't hate his brother.

The corners of Corax's mouth curled up slightly, and the sharpness in his eyes gradually turned into a desolate gentleness.

"We're all the same, brother." His voice was soft, but with a certain relief.

Corax could not bear any hatred towards Curze, even though his actions had crossed the line.

Because he saw through the truth behind this clumsy trick: it was just a neglected child screaming "Look at me" by scribbling on his homework book.

But he didn't dare let his father discover his mistake, so he carefully hid it until his father left the room.

Those carefully designed legion liveries and those offspring who perfectly met his expectations were essentially no different from the word "hate" carved on the desk.

Corax suddenly found it ridiculous.

They should have been the Emperor's most perfect creations, but now they were performing the most childish farce - Curze completed all the homework that should have belonged to Corax, just like a proud eldest son telling his youngest son, "I am better" and "Father loves me more."

What about him?

Will Corax also become Curze?

They have twenty brothers. Will one day someone among them suddenly feel that twenty brothers are too many?

At this moment, Wop seemed to have become the Greek tragic hero he loved to tell the story of the most - his light created shadow, his love gave birth to hatred, and he tried to forge a bond between the Primarchs, but instead became a sharp blade that cut the Primarchs apart.

"After all, I am not you, and I will never become you, and the same goes for you." Corax slowly extended his hand to Curze, "So, we are reconciled?"

Coze tilted his head, his jet-black hair falling like crow feathers, his pupils filled with childish confusion: "When did we become enemies?"

"Then I was wrong."

"You are so wrong."

Corax stared at him. "So we're friends?"

"No," Curze suddenly grasped his hand, so hard that his joints cracked under the strain. He leaned forward, his shadow covering Corax like a crow's wing. "We are brothers, two sides of the same coin."

Corax was stunned between the lines of his clasped palms, and he suddenly realized that he was actually worse than Koz.

Corax had long been jealous of Curze, but he had always feigned composure in front of his father. His father never assumed ill will towards them, so he had never been aware of Corax's jealousy.

However, in the eyes of the equally jealous Koz, perhaps he is just a green tea bitch in white lotus clothing, and this green tea bitch is trying to disguise herself as him to win his father's sympathy.

If the positions were reversed and he were in Cozee's shoes, what would he do?

He would be as jealous as Coze, and he would be as excessive as Coze.

"No." Corax stared at his brother, his voice low and firm. "We are never two opposite sides, but rather the same side of the same coin. Or, more accurately, two identical coins that can only ever show the same pattern."

Coates: “Similar.”

"Yes, similar."

The 19th Legion and the 8th Legion were shrouded in silence. Tens of thousands of legionnaires looked at their genetic father in confusion, their faces under the helmets full of confusion. The subtle humming of the power armor servo system became the only sound in the silence.

No one dared to break the silence. Even veterans who had experienced countless battles were completely unable to understand what was happening between the gene fathers in front of them.

They didn't understand when the Gene Fathers turned against each other and why they reconciled. Or maybe they had never turned against each other and were just formally introducing themselves to each other.

Only Sevatar lowered his head, turning a deaf ear to everything around him.

This dark floor is so white.

The narrow gap was large and wide.

He was wrong, very wrong.

The XIXth Legion was as unlucky as he was, all these Primarchs were equally heavy.

Sevata envied Fili very much. He suddenly thought about whether he should resign. Returning to Nostramo to become a civil servant might be a good destination.

But he knew too much, and Coze wouldn't let him go.

"brother."

Corax smiled, and Curze smiled too.

Corax and Curze's fingers clenched like interlocking canine teeth, their knuckles turning white from the excessive force.

They leaned forward at exactly the same angle, like reflections in a mirror.

"Boom!"

The two heads collided fiercely with primitive anger, and the dull sound of skulls colliding exploded in the hall.

The soldiers of the two legions were even more confused. What was the Father of Genes doing?

Koz's voice spread coldly: "Disperse."

Corax's tone was as cold and hard as obsidian, forming an eerie harmony with his brother's: "Surround us."

As the warriors hesitated and formed a circle, the two Primarchs spoke their ultimatum in unison, their resonant voices blending into a chilling declaration:

"We want to duel."

Although they didn't understand what was happening, the soldiers from both legions began to cheer.

So exciting, so exciting.

It’s a rare opportunity to witness a battle between powerful warriors. Even if I die this time, it will be worth the price of admission!

Corax and Curze released each other and moved back and forth on the wide deck, looking for each other's weaknesses.

Corax and Curze let go of each other at the same time and slowly retreated like two predators in the shadows.

Their footsteps drew perfect arcs on the metal deck, their eyes locked on each other, outlining an invisible circle of death on the empty battlefield.

Corax: "The rules are simple. Whoever steps out of bounds first loses."

Curze: "Touch any fighter and you lose."

Before he could finish his words, two dark shadows rushed towards each other like arrows, and the deck erupted in a deafening sound of fists clashing.

They threw away their usual weapons and abandoned their best fighting skills, and now only the most primitive physical collision remained.

There are no tactics, no skills, only the pure release of power, like two repelling stars wrestling savagely in the void.

Corax held no hatred for Curze, but dignity must be reclaimed.

His legion has been transformed into perfection by Koz. Only by defeating Koz can he regain dignity for the legion and himself!

Chapter 118: Old Farmer Barbarus (5K)

Wop slowly opened his eyes and felt the cold stone wall from behind him.

He squinted his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and the smell of mold and decay entered his nostrils.

This is a prison.

It was obvious that this prison was inhabited, with signs of life everywhere.

Soft furs were piled on a low bench, and on the wall there was an unlit oil lamp, emitting a faint stench of unburned petrochemical tar.

In the dark corner of the cell, there were piles of books neatly stacked. Most of them were bound with old leather and animal skins, and the leather covers were covered with mildew.

The edges of the pages were curled, showing the traces of being repeatedly rubbed by its owner.

On the top shelf lay a relatively new book, its bleached paper pages standing out in stark contrast to the surrounding leather books.

Wop picked it up carefully, and the moment he opened the title page, his fingertips paused slightly.

The two neat words "Diary" suddenly caught my eye.

Although the text that came into view was unfamiliar, there was no reading difficulty.

"Snapped!"

Wop slammed the book shut as if he had been burned.

No matter who the owner of this diary is, he should not pry into other people's privacy without permission.

Wop put down the diary and his eyes fell on another unfamiliar book.

This is a book filled with blood and violence, which lists various methods of killing in detail, and the unpleasant smell of blood can be smelled between the lines.