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

This Primarch, honored as the "Son of the First Return," is actually a prisoner locked in a time loop, and he must maintain the balance of fate alone.

While other brothers are writing legends among the stars, he must use himself as an anchor to maintain the balance of fate in loneliness.

He is both the starting point of the Primarch's return and must be the end point of Wop's teachings.

Being the first son to return is not an honor.

The desert sun stretched Wop's shadow very long, but it could not illuminate the darkness surging in his eyes.

Although he had not yet met Horus, Wop's heart was already filled with heavy weight.

Although all this is still speculation, past experience tells him that his speculations often become reality.

Otherwise, he couldn't imagine why Horus would imprison himself on Terra.

This is not cowardice or retreat, it is sacrifice.

During the silent trek, the crater emitting black smoke was getting closer and closer, and the Roman numeral IX was engraved on the silver-white incubator.

But the moment he stepped into the edge of the crater, Wop suddenly froze, as if even his blood had solidified.

Amidst the scorching sand, a baby with its white wings spread out was gazing at him with its clear eyes.

The baby seemed to have maintained this posture for a long time, and his gaze seemed to be able to penetrate the limitations of time and space. As early as when Wop stood on the hill and looked at the nursery, the baby had been looking at him.

Wop looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms, then leaned over to stare at the winged baby outside the nursery.

The hot wind blew sand and gravel across Wop's vision, and for a moment Wop suspected that he had encountered a mirage.

Their faces were mirror images of each other, their eyelashes fluttered at the exact same frequency, and even the pattern of their feathers when their wings were folded was identical.

Wop's thoughts were like a tangled mess, so confused that he had no clue what was going on.

The scene before him was briefly beyond his comprehension, but his body reacted before he could think. He stepped into the crater, his knees denting the hot liquid glass.

When he slowly stretched out his arm, the winged baby seemed to have been waiting for a long time. It flapped its tender wings and landed lightly in the crook of his left arm.

The baby's movements were so familiar that it was frightening. He adjusted his position to be on the left and right of the sleeping baby, and his four little hands each grasped Wop's clothes.

In the touch of body temperature, the baby's eyelashes trembled and closed his eyes.

“Is that right?”

Wop's mind was still confused. Was this Sanguinius or the Alpha Twins?

Is this still Barr?

Wop's gaze slowly shifted upwards. The IX on the baby cabin shone coldly in the sunlight, as if silently declaring an indisputable fact—yes, yes, this was Sanguinius.

However, Wop looked down at the two identical babies in his arms. Which one was Sanguinius?

The baby on the left suddenly frowned, and kicked the wings of the baby on the right with his chubby little feet in dissatisfaction because his wings had just crossed the line.

Chapter 143 Khan: My Father Is Not Alone (5K)

As the crimson sun of Baal was about to sink into the horizon, Wop finally encountered the first native - a mutant hunched over in the sand.

Wop gently shook his arms, and the two winged babies in his arms opened their eyes at the same time.

They raised their identical, perfect faces, expressions of angelic confusion.

"Look at him." Wop's voice was as light as a feather falling to the ground. "Watch this mutant carefully."

The grayish-white skin was covered with tumors like grapevines, some of which had already ulcerated and exuded foul-smelling mucus with every breath.

His knuckles were twisted into claws, twitching nervously. A stump had sprouted from his left armpit, like an underdeveloped embryo, its five fingers fused together in a webbed shape.

Seven asymmetrical eyes, nestled in a festering face, locked onto Wop's throat. When its mouth, covered in growths, opened wide, rancid saliva dripped from between its festering gums.

Wop: "This is a mutant, a poor man twisted by mutation, a Baal."

The two babies raised their faces at the same time, their clear eyes shining like stars. They were surprisingly quiet, not crying like ordinary babies.

They thought Wop would reveal some truth to them, but Wop just silently hugged the twins and walked straight past the terrifying monster.

Seven eyes were fixed on them the whole time, and his deformed arms curled and stretched, scratching in vain on the sand.

He is hungry.

Mucus continued to drip from his enlarged mouthparts. His instinct told him that he should fill his stomach, and his reason told him that he should hunt.

And another deeper need told him that he was jealous.

The babies in Wop's arms are also mutants, but they have perfect faces and white wings, which are completely different from his twisted mutation!

Why should he have to endure the pain of mutation while they can be so perfect?

Jealousy breeds hatred, hunger and thirst breeds killing.

The mutant suddenly let out a hoarse roar, and his seven festering eyeballs suddenly became bloodshot.

"boom!"

With a dull thud, an invisible hand grabbed the mutant who was flying towards Wop, and dark red slurry and broken bones splattered everywhere.

The pale blue light curtain silently blocked out the filthy things. Blood beads slid down the transparent barrier and mixed with the sand to form dark red mortar.

The twin angels watched this scene quietly, their clear eyes reflecting the blood mist and psychic light, without any reaction.

I have neither sympathy for them nor hatred for them.

Only ruthlessness.

Some Primarchs were born with the radiance of humanity, such as Vulkan and Angron.

However, many Primarchs, even those who seemed perfect and pursued justice, were actually inherently ruthless.

It is the accumulation of innate talents and acquired education that shapes the outline of their humanity.

Acquired education often depends on the social environment. Whether it is a family or a school, it is essentially a relatively closed small society.

Therefore, students who have just stepped out of the ivory tower into society in the M3 era often have a simple and innocent look, and their eyes reveal clear stupidity.

The Primarchs in the official history are actually very lucky. Almost all of them have families to take care of them, with only four half-Primarchs being exceptions: Ferrus, Curze, Mortarion, Lorgar and Omega.

Ferrus and Curze have no father or mother, Lorgar's adoptive father is a scumbag, Mortarion's adoptive father is an alien, and Omega can only be considered half because Alpharius is on Terra.

Except for Lorgar who worshipped God too much, the other three Primarchs were born with higher humanity, but they made different choices.

Corax and Sanguinius were raised by the collective and became upright people because of the collective education.

Horus, Vulkan, Russ, Angron, Jaghatai Khan, and even Jonson had fathers.

Dorne had his grandfather, and Magnus had Amon.

But there are only three Primarchs with both parents: Fulgrim, Guilliman, and Perturabo.

It is a counter-intuitive fact that the most human of the three Primarchs was Perturabo.

Fulgrim and Guilliman were equally ruthless.

But Guilliman's parents made him change from being ruthless to being affectionate and loyal.

Fulgrim's parents were just ordinary workers, but unfortunately they failed to teach Fulgrim what humanity is.

Perturabo was born with great humanity, but his twisted personality turned his humanity into a burden.

It is education that makes them completely different people.

So, what if their educational environment changes?

What would happen if the collective that raised Sanguinius went from pureblood to mutant?

Russ was raised by Fenris wolves since he was young, so he depended on wolves for survival when he was young and had no feelings for humans.

Because society shapes people's baseline perception of "normal."

Sanguinius was ruthless enough that he saw no difference between purebloods and mutants.

If Sanguinius had been raised by a mutant, his "perfection" might have been overturned.

His compassion for mortals may be alienated into a ritualized worship of mutation, forming a distorted human nature that takes pride in deformity.

He would not be frightened by the sight of the Emperor's wings, nor would he worry about the genetic flaws of his Legion, but would instead regard his thirst for blood as a badge of honor.

If you don't mutate, you are not qualified to join the Blood Angels!

And all these changes depend on who discovered and raised Sanguinius in the desert.

He used to be a pure-blooded Baal, but now he is a Wop.

Wop is confident that he is more suitable to raise a Primarch than the Baal people. He has experience in raising seven Primarchs!

Before he could begin educating Sanguinius, however, Wop faced a pressing choice.

Staring at the nearly indistinguishable twin angels in his arms, Wop murmured, "Which of you is Sanguinius?"

The angel on the right was picked up in the wild, and the angel on the left was picked up next to the nursery.

So the angel on the left should be Sanguinius, then who is the angel on the right?

If Sanguinius really split into two people like Alpharius, and one was called Sanguinius, would the other be called Sanguinius?

So who is called Sanguinary and who is called Sanguinius?

"I can't tell the difference, I really can't tell the difference!" Wop put on a mask of pain.

How should he choose?

Who came up with this question? Do you want to eat fried dough sticks?

……

The alien spaceship cast a towering shadow on the palace, and a giant in golden armor leaned over to gaze at his offspring.

"I brought your legion."

Chagatai Khan laughed. "I thought you would say something else, Father."

The Emperor stared at the empty throne. "He has said everything that should and shouldn't be said."

Chagatai Khan: "That's the difference between you and your teacher. He believed we could transcend ourselves, but you never believed in your own offspring."

The Emperor's gaze was as steady and deep as a star. "How do you know I don't trust you? If I didn't trust you, why would I have entrusted the Legion to you?"

"The teacher is absolutely right."

"He said I was a tragic hero?"

Chagatai Khan: "It seems that you know the teacher very well. He did tell me so."

"I understand because I taught your brothers the same way."

Chagatai Khan was silent for a moment. "That's not what I want to say. My teacher once told me that your plans are always interconnected. Do my brothers have any comments on this?"

"No."

Chagatai Khan slowly raised his chin, and a rare hint of relaxation appeared between his tightly furrowed brows.

"Your plan is always linked together. The more links there are, the longer the chain is, and the greater the risk of it breaking. If any link breaks, the whole thing will fail, and you can't take care of all the links."

Emperor: "But if the links are not connected, and the chain is not long enough, how can we catch those who are falling into the abyss?"

Jaghatai Khan: "And you don't even have a second chain."

The Emperor lowered his eyes slightly, his voice carrying the vicissitudes of time spanning tens of thousands of years, "Yes, I did not."

"Then you should take better care of it."

“I gave it everything I had.”

"Giving your all will not only result in twice the effort with half the effort, but will also result in half the effort with twice the effort, or even the opposite of the desired effect."

Emperor: "Are you questioning me?"

"If you hold it too tightly, the tight rope will eventually break."

"But if I don't hold on to it, who will save those who are falling into the abyss?"

Chagatai Khan's voice was filled with mixed emotions. "Yes, you must hold on to it."

This is humanity's only lifeline, and the Emperor is the only one who can hold it tight.

"Without the sword in my hand, I cannot protect you; if I hold the sword tightly, I cannot hold you. These words are very suitable for you, father."

"I've never regretted it."