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

"Our Primarch is the seventh!" Nathaniel Garro could hardly hide his excitement.

Under the veil of eternal darkness of the nebula, Barbarus revealed its hideous outline.

The curved edge was outlined by the dim starlight, like a rusty scimitar hanging in the void.

The surface of the planet was swirling with sickly orange-yellow cloud vortexes, slowly wriggling like the internal organs of some decaying creature.

Only through the occasional tear in the clouds can one glimpse the blurry and distorted outline of the land below.

Even by the standards of the many worlds conquered by the Dusk Raiders, Barbarus was the worst.

Every inch of it is drenched in deadly malice, and the atmosphere is tinged with a miasma that would burn even the reinforced lungs of a Space Marine.

Garro stared at the swirling poisonous clouds of Barbarus, and a lament rolled out of his throat: "If it weren't for the poisonous miasma, it would have been a beautiful world. It's hard to imagine that our Primarch was born in this world."

The Legion Master's voice was deep and rich. "But our Primarch conquered it, single-handedly!"

Garro's pupils shrank slightly, realizing that his words were ambiguous. "I absolutely do not deny the glory achieved by the Primarch!"

Legion Commander: "I understand you, Garro. You should be more cautious! The Primarch's return is imminent, and I don't want him to have any misunderstandings about the Dusk Raiders!"

"I understand." Jialuo lowered his head.

Perhaps the Legion Commander was too sensitive, but at this critical moment when the Primarch was about to return, he had to be extremely cautious.

"Our Primarch will change our name. The Dusk Raiders will cease to exist, and so will our honor. Will you regret this, Garro?"

"No." Garro's voice was as strong as steel. "Without the Primarch, there would be no Fourteenth Legion. Only the Primarch is qualified to lead us!"

Not every Primarch believes in his Legion, but every Legion hopes for their Primarch's return!

Although they understood that once the Primarch returned, their former name and glory would no longer exist, if they continued to cling to their past glory and refused to let go, it would only sow the seeds of division within the Legion.

But they firmly believe that the Primarch will lead the legion to create even greater glory!

Legion Commander: "What about the Emperor?"

Those few words were like a hammer that struck down upon Jialuo's faith. His pupils suddenly contracted, and his iron-like stance wavered for the first time.

There was a suppressed tremor in Jialuo's voice: "Far, what exactly do you want to say?"

Huron Farr shook his head. "Perhaps I'm just overthinking it. Just treat it as nonsense."

Their Primarch is the seventh to return, but each returning Primarch has a close connection with the Mentor.

This title was spread by the Twelve Legions, once the War Dogs, now the World Eaters, and was requested by the lord himself, as he seemed to dislike the title of 'you know who'.

On the surface, the empire was prospering.

One after another, Primarchs returned from all over the galaxy. People believed that the Primarchs would lead the Legion to more glorious victories and guide the Empire towards a brighter future.

But when the Primarch returned, the seeds of division had already been quietly sown.

Because they are the Emperor's children, but they were not found by the Emperor, they were all raised by the Mentor.

Although the Mentor was a close friend of the Emperor, it was the Emperor who asked the Mentor to retrieve his children.

But what if, he meant what if, what if one day in the future, whether in the vision of the Empire or the future of mankind, if the Mentor and the Emperor have different ideas, how should the Primarchs deal with it?

If this ideological disagreement eventually degenerates into civil war, what will become of the empire?

Huron Farr's heart suddenly tightened, as if someone had grasped it tightly.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to crush this horrible thought with his iron will.

I hope this is just an absurd fantasy, an illusion created by a mind tired of a long war.

But this thought was like a thorn in his flesh, gnawing at his nerves.

If the Emperor and the Mentor came into conflict, who would the Primarch side with?

Farr's instincts told him that he hoped the answer was the Emperor.

The Legion is the sharp blade forged by the Emperor himself, the Great Crusade is the first step in his grand blueprint, and even the demigods walking on earth are merely extensions of his will.

The entire empire, the entire galaxy, and all of humanity should bow only to the figure on the golden throne!

But Farr's reason told him that there was a bond between the Primarch and his mentor that transcended blood, a bond that would drive them to follow the mentor who had shaped them rather than their biological father.

Why would Farr understand?

Because he knew the answer too well!

Ask yourself, if the Emperor ever broke with his Primarch, who would he support?

Farr sincerely looks forward to the Primarch's return. He believes that the Primarch will make the Legion prosper. He will unconditionally carry out the Primarch's orders and is willing to die for the Primarch!

However, if such a day really comes, Farr will still support the Emperor.

They respected the Primarch, loved the Primarch, and were willing to sacrifice their lives for the Primarch, but what made them join the Great Crusade was the Emperor's beautiful vision of reviving human civilization!

If even he would choose the Emperor over the Gene-Father, how could we expect the Primarch not to choose the Mentor over the Gene-Father?

The Emperor stood in the light and created the Primarchs, but it was the Mentor who truly shaped them, standing in the shadows!

Farr's throat tightened, and he wished that everything could return to its original purity.

"If that day really comes, I hope I'm dead." Farr said to himself silently.

If I could sleep forever in the most glorious moment of the Great Crusade, at least I wouldn't have to witness the collapse of this ideal country.

Besides, this is just the most pessimistic speculation and may never come true.

The Emperor, the Mentor, and the Regent were each other's dearest friends. They had stood side by side at the pinnacle of human civilization, jointly charting the course of the Great Crusade. Their wills, woven together like the stars, could never be torn apart. Their ideals, as unbreakable as steel, could never be shattered.

How could they disagree?

That's right, they have no disagreements at all!

"On the bright side, if an unbridgeable rift arises between the Primarch and the Emperor, the Master can mediate."

"Captain? Are you still listening? Captain! Farr! Huron Farr!"

Garo's voice gradually became louder, finally pulling Farr back to reality from those gloomy fantasies.

Fal slowly turned his head. The Captain of the Seventh Chapter was staring at him. His voice was low and solemn: "The Emperor has issued a decree. The Primarch wishes to summon us!"

Garro frowned. As a Space Marine and the commander of the Fourteenth Legion, it was really disgraceful for Far to be stunned at such a critical moment!

If the Primarch knew about this, how would he view them? Would he mistakenly think that the Legion did not value him at all, or even did not welcome his return?

If that happens, the Legion will probably cut ties with Huron Farr immediately.

Legion Commander? What Legion Commander?

What that is I don't know.

There are only two suns in our hearts: the Primarch and the Emperor!

"Call the legionaries." Fal's voice was low and hoarse, as if he was suppressing some unspeakable emotions.

Jia Luo stood up and responded, "They have already lined up on the deck and are waiting for orders."

The Legionaries had been arrayed on the decks since the day they arrived at Barbarus.

If the Emperor had not strictly forbidden them to land on Barbarus, they would have personally welcomed the Father of Genes back.

The Primarch's summons spread throughout the fleet like wildfire, and every Space Marine was excited!

The Legion is the sharpest weapon of the empire. A few hundred soldiers can capture a city in a few hours, and a few thousand soldiers can conquer the world in a few days!

And now, a full 20,000 battle-hardened warriors poured out from the fleet in orbit.

The Stormbird's engines were roaring, and the sharp blades of the Terrorclaws cut through the sky. They dragged plasma tails and smashed towards the preset coordinates like a hammer of judgment!

There is their genetic father!

Although it was a waste of resources to send 20,000 warriors to the surface of a planet for purposes other than conquest, it would be more economical to have the Primarch come to the fleet.

But no one would ask such meaningless questions at this moment, otherwise they would definitely be bullied by other brothers!

That’s the father of genes!

What's wrong with spending some money on him?

You even dare to talk nonsense about the father of genes. Are you still a human being?

……

The Dusk Raiders are the standard Space Marine Legion.

A standard tactical squad consists of 10-20 soldiers, commanded by a sergeant.

A standard fire support team consists of 5-10 soldiers.

Two tactical teams and one fire support team make up a platoon.

Three platoons form the core of a standard Space Marine company, commanded by a Captain.

In addition, it is equipped with assault squad, heavy fire support squad, veteran squad, sacred fearless squad, honor guard, terminator squad, boarding squad, a technical sergeant, a pharmacist, etc.

Five Space Marine companies form a battle battalion, also known as a battalion, half-company, or battle group, commanded by a captain, and is the smallest unit with an independent command structure.

Two battle battalions form a Chapter, commanded by a Chapter Master.

Large numbers of Chapters form Space Marine Legions, also known as Great Battalions or Clans, which are commanded by a Legion Master.

In theory, a standard company of the legion consists of 100 people, a standard combat battalion consists of 500 people, and a standard battle regiment consists of 1000 people.

This set of standard templates was planned by the Emperor himself, but it is not a hard requirement. There is a lot of flexibility, and each legion can freely customize it according to its specialties and war needs.

The number of companies can range from 100 to 200 people, and each combat battalion has 5 to 10 companies.

The Dusk Raiders used a larger formation, with each chapter numbering around 2000 men.

Because the tactics they excel at are launching large-scale raids at dusk under the cover of darkness, which requires a highly centralized command system.

This is also the origin of the legion's name.

But these are all in the past, because they have a Primarch, and the Primarch will bring them new names and organizations!

At this moment, 20,000 Dusk Raiders stood solemnly like steel sculptures, their power armor glowing coldly in the poisonous miasma of Barbarus, and their formation was so neat that it seemed like an insurmountable gray wall.

When the Father of Genes walked out of the spaceship, every soldier held his breath as he reviewed his findings.

The Legionnaires looked up at their creator, their genetic father, a pale and gaunt giant.

He grew up in the poisonous miasma of Barbarus and led mortals to defeat the arrogant overlord. The people of Barbarus called him the savior, liberator, reaper, lord of death, and leader.

In the eyes of the Fourteenth Legion, he is first and foremost their genetic father!

"boom!"

Without any orders, 20,000 soldiers knelt on one knee in unison, and the crisp sound of the ceramic knee pads of the power armor hitting the ground merged into a thunder.

Where they knelt, the hard stone surface was pressed into spider-web-like cracks.

Motari looked at his offspring silently, without signaling them to stand up, but when they raised their hands to take off their helmets, he raised his arms to stop them.

"You don't have to take off your helmet. I can see your faces, but not now."

Mortarion had never been a man of plans.

He also has plans, but he always lacks long-term planning.

He climbed to the top of the mountain because he could not contact the Emperor and had to let the Emperor come to him.

He summoned his descendants not out of arrogance or disdain, but to be here as witnesses.

But he forgot one thing - the mountain of Barbarus is poisonous.

Wop's psychic barrier always kept the deadly poisonous fog out, so much so that he almost forgot that the poisonous miasma covering the top of the mountain was unbearable even for the Primarch's superhuman body.

Although his descendants are extraordinary, if they rashly take off their helmets, the deadly miasma will instantly invade their lungs, and even the third lung cannot purify them.

If exposed to the air for a long time, even Space Marines will be poisoned to death.

Fortunately, Mortarion reacted in time, otherwise this solemn audience would have caused the 14th Legion to be nailed to the pillar of shame.

Mortarion gazed at his brood, but offered no equal to his brother's eloquence.

His words were as sharp and concise as his scythe, though Typhon called them poorly spoken.

"I have no mother, but I have three fathers." Mortarion's voice was low and hoarse. "My biological father, my godfather, and my adoptive father."

"My biological father gave me my bloodline, my godfather shaped my soul, and my adoptive father..."

Mortarion slowly peeled off his robe, the fabric falling like a dying feather, revealing the crisscross of scars beneath—already white, like a dry riverbed.