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

"It gave me scars all over my body."

Anger raged like a plague among the Dusk Raiders.

They had just arrived in Barbarus and knew nothing about the past of the Gene Father.

They knew that the Primarchs had two fathers, every Primarch had one.

But the existence of the third father tore apart their cognition.

But when they saw the shocking scars on Mortarion's body, they realized that they were not the honor left by the battle, but the marks of humiliation and torture!

The souls of the Legionnaires are burning!

The suppressed rage rolled in their chests, turning into silent roars, but they could not vent.

The anger caused by this humiliation was so deep that even the meeting between the Father of Genes and them became dishonorable!

They don't blame the Gene Father, how could they blame him?

The emperor is the biological father, but he gave birth to the child but did not raise him.

The mentor is the godfather, but the godfather is always late.

The Primarch of the 12th Legion is still a child, and their genetic father was also just a child when he was born. How can a child resist a powerful tyrant?

Rage burned in the veins of the Death Guard.

They witnessed the scars of the Father of Genes, those twisted, shameful marks, each one a blasphemy against the Father of Genes.

Their fingers trembled with anger, and their teeth chattered behind their respirators.

But what can they do?

The shame has been branded into the flesh and blood of the Gene Father, and they, his descendants who are supposed to protect his glory, can only kneel there and let the anger burn their souls.

This is not a battlefield, there are no enemies for them to vent their boiling murderous intent.

They tasted the greatest pain in their lives - impotent rage!

"My adopted father, the Supreme Overlord Nakre, is an alien who uses sorcery to enslave mortals."

"He raised me for three years, and also tortured me for three years."

Mortarion's calm tone suffocated his descendants, as if even breathing would hurt the scars of the Father of Genes and become a blasphemy against the Father of Genes.

They wanted to beg the Father of Genes to stop talking, but their throats seemed to be strangled by some invisible force, and in the end they could only lower their heads in this suffocating silence.

"Look up and look at me."

Mortarion's voice was as calm as the darkness frozen in the abyss.

The Dusk Raiders mechanically raised their heads, no expression visible on their armored faces, but a slight clattering sound could be heard from beneath their visors, and many warriors had their teeth gnashed.

His mouth was filled with pain and blood, but compared to the torture endured by the Father of Genes, this pain was worthless!

"The Overlord is a pawn of the evil god. My birth was his conspiracy. Barbarus was the cage he prepared for me. Nakre's upbringing was his trap. All that pain and torture was his carefully designed shackles."

"He sought to bring me to my knees with the chains of agony, and to bring me to my knees with the fetters of despair."

"But I didn't."

“I call it tenacity.”

"Resilience is not forged from pain, but the resilient never bow to pain!"

"His scheme ultimately came to nothing. His trap failed to restrain my will. I personally ignited the flames of resistance, letting the flames burn across the sky of Barbarus."

"But the shackles of the evil god are still like maggots on the tarsal bones, gnawing at my throat!"

Mortarion clenched the invisible shackles around his neck, and a rare burst of suppressed anger burst out from his calm voice.

The movement of his white knuckles made the kneeling legionnaires grit their teeth. The shackles did not exist on the material level, but they were deeply tightened into the soul of the Primarch!

"Before my biological father arrived, I climbed the poisonous miasma-shrouded peak with him! I came here solely to sever the shackles of shame and seek reckoning with my adoptive father—but that coward escaped into the evil god's garden!"

"Now these chains are still in His hands. He wants to use them to torture me forever!"

Chapter 139 We Must Tie Down the Gods’ Dwelling Places and Drag Them Down! (5K)

Twenty thousand warriors were silent like steel sculptures, but their hearts were burning with rage that was enough to burn down the galaxy.

Their armored fingers twitched involuntarily, and a harsh sound of metal deforming erupted between their knuckles.

Their teeth had long since broken, forming blood stains inside their helmets, blurring their vision.

"This is not boasting, nor is it begging for mercy."

Mortarion yanked his arm violently, and the hallucination of chains colliding penetrated the auditory nerves of tens of thousands of soldiers like a venomous snake, as if real chains were also wrapped around their cervical vertebrae at the same time.

Someone unconsciously reached out to scratch his neck, and the ceramic steel knuckles scraped against the armor, creating dazzling sparks.

The breathing valves under their visors made a hissing sound, as if twenty thousand ferocious beasts imprisoned in chains were suppressing their roars.

They were warriors who conquered the galaxy, but now they turned into violent beasts dominated by anger.

As they watched the Gene-Father shed his robes, each scar burned into their optic nerves like a branding iron, burning their retinas, stirring in their brains, and causing their strengthened hearts to pump boiling, poisonous blood.

“This is reality.”

Mortarion's voice returned to calm, but every syllable was drenched in icy weight.

"Hundreds of years ago, before humanity was unified, your ancestors supported my father's cause. The blood of the Albians soaks every inch of the Empire. On the star map of the Human Empire, every inch of territory expanded bears the memory of your glory."

The Dusk Raiders remained silent, but the shame and regret surging in their chests threatened to burn their souls.

Every word of praise from the Father of Genes was like a sharp dagger, piercing deep into their proud hearts.

They are Albians!

The Father of Genes knows their bloodline and history very well, but what about them?

They knew nothing about the past of the Father of Genes!

They cheered for the return of the Primarch, but knew nothing about the past of the Father of Genes!

Behind every scar on that majestic body, there was the inhuman torture inflicted by the aliens!

What are they happy about?

Can the father of the happy gene survive the inhuman torture of the alien?

When they were celebrating on the warship, did they ever think about the pain the Primarch was enduring alone?

What right do they have to celebrate? Do they deserve it?

"We deserve to die!"

This thought echoed in every warrior's heart like the most vicious curse.

The honor of their legion, which they were so proud of, seemed so ridiculous in the face of the suffering endured by the Primarch.

Before the Primarch's return, they worried whether he would like the Legion, or even worried that he would deny their honor.

And now, they would rather use death to wash away the humiliation brought by this ignorance.

Even if the Primarch's suffering was not caused by them, as his descendants, do they have no responsibility at all?

This has nothing to do with the facts!

It is never the Primarch who needs the Legion, but the Legion that needs the Primarch!

"I was born into the poison barrier of Barbarus, adopted by the foul xenos overlord. To this day, the chains remain in the hands of the gods."

A hint of sarcasm curved the corners of Mortarion's mouth. "He loves me so much, he can't wait to enslave me."

"And I swear to you!"

Mortarion gazed upon his iron-clad sons and slowly bent his knees. "I will never yield!"

His voice was not loud, but it was clearly heard by every soldier in the legion.

"Father," Huron Farr's voice was so broken that even he couldn't recognize it. "Please, stand up!"

This plea burst out from between the legion commander's gritted teeth, mixed with the sweet taste of blood.

"My brother once told me that resilience is often as silent as gold."

"Fortitude is not a formality, nor is bending the knee a servile submission," Mortarion said slowly. "I kneel before you as a warrior's respect, and as a father's request."

"Men of Albia, Dusk Raiders, the Empire will forever remember the glory you won during the Great Crusade. But I ask you to forsake your past honor, lend me your strength, pledge your allegiance to me, and complete my unfinished vengeance!"

"Father." Jialuo's voice was low and firm. "We are the continuation of your bloodline. We will all dedicate our lives and loyalty to you!"

The Dusk Raiders responded with bowed heads and silence, shame seared into their hearts like a red-hot iron, but no one would blame the Gene Father for this humiliation.

The father of genes is a victim, what is his fault?

They will only be angry that they failed to help the Father of Genes break the shackles!

The chains not only imprisoned their genetic father, but also strangled the throat of the entire legion like a noose!

"Get up."

Mortarion's voice was as deep as distant thunder, vibrating in the poisonous miasma-filled air.

Twenty thousand legionnaires straightened their bodies at the same time, and the friction and collision of the power armor joints merged into a murderous roar.

They remained silent, but silent anger still burned in their hearts.

Mortarion's slender knuckles gathered around his neck, tugging at the insubstantial chain once again. A hint of scorn flashed in his eyes. "The evil god strangled me with the chain, but he seemed to have forgotten that he was holding the other end in his own hand!"

"He has placed the yoke upon me, the stocks about my throat, but I will never yield, and He will not give up."

"Is it He who has tied me up? Or am I the one who has tied Him up?"

"I will never bend my knees to the shackles, and neither can you! We will use these chains to strangle the throne!"

Mortarion's voice rang out in the silence like cold iron. "We must shackle the abodes of the gods and drag them down!"

"That's what we call tenacity!"

"I am Mortarion of Barbarus, Primarch of the Fourteenth Legion!"

"You are my indestructible blade, you are my death guard!"

The Death Guards struck the breastplate with their iron fists. The clenching and collision of 20,000 power armor joints produced a thunderous roar. Every vibration of the metal was a battle cry declaring war on the gods!

From this moment on, the Death Guard will never have honor. The meaning of their lives has been tempered into pure belief - they will kill gods!

Neos suddenly sighed, a dark light flickering in his golden eyes. "You've taught him very well."

"Because of his beliefs, or because he called you father?"

Neos stared at Wop, "There are other Primarchs who call me father!"

"for example?"

Neos stared at him.

Wop shrugged slightly, "Okay, I won't ask anymore."

He is the master of mankind after all. Even though he is shameless, he still has to have some dignity. Let's give him some face.

Wop gazed at Mortarion's tall back, a ripple of relief in his eyes.

He had indeed taught Mortarion very well, worthy of his reputation.

He was even more radical than Lorgar, but Nurgle had brought it upon himself.

Although the possibility of Mortarion killing Nurgle is very low, as long as he grows up and becomes a lesser god of mankind, he will still have the ability to cause trouble for Nurgle, and it will be very great!

Wop: "Will you help him?"

Neos: "I will help him. Our interests are the same."

"Let's not talk about interests at this time, okay? He's our son!"

Neos remained silent, just staring at Wop quietly with a sharp gaze.

It was indeed their son.

But instead of a father and a mother, there were two fathers.

"If necessary, I will have the Sisters of Silence assist him."

Neos also didn't think Mortarion could kill Nurgle. Mortarion's status was not worthy of the feat of killing gods, not even he was worthy.