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

Sarath's Adam's apple rolled with difficulty, as if swallowing some unspeakable pain.

"My brother and his legion are here to bear witness, and our father is watching."

"And I hate red tape."

Fulgrim's purple eyes slowly swept over each warrior, and his voice was like the tapping of ice crystals.

"My brother and I are about to return to the empire."

"If you still wish to be loyal to me, then bow the knee to me!"

The Third Legion knelt silently in silence, only the company flag still stood stubbornly, the flag fluttering in the wind.

"I am Fulgrim, twin angel, son of Wop, lord of Bhaal."

"And now," Fulgrim knelt on one knee, his wings folded low, "I too am a child of the Emperor, Lord of the Third Legion, your genetic father."

"In the name of the Father!"

"You offer your loyalty, and I will offer my oath."

"I will take command of the Third Legion and restore its former glory!"

"Get up!"

Fulgrim's wings spread out in the morning light, and a holy halo rippled like water.

The power armor of two hundred legionnaires made a neat clanging sound at the same time, and their movements of standing up were perfectly synchronized with the Father of Genes.

"You are the Emperor's chosen, his emissaries, his warriors, his children. Everything has just begun!"

Fulgrim flew back to Sanguinius, who tilted his head slightly and took a step forward.

The 40,000 soldiers of the Ninth Legion stood in silence like a forest, their eyes fixed on the holy golden-haired angel, and the same uneasiness as that of the Third Legion spread among them.

The blight on the Third Legion was an enemy conspiracy, of which they were the unfortunate victims.

But how does the Ninth Legion explain this?

Isidur had carefully prepared thousands of stories about the exploits of the Ninth Legion during the Great Crusade, about their loyalty written with blood rather than glory, and about those victories that were deliberately ignored but real.

He should have argued that the Ninth Legion might be walking in a quagmire outside the light, but that quagmire was also a witness to the Emperor's great deeds!

However, when the Father of Genes' gaze fell on him, all the excuses he had repeatedly pondered over during countless sleepless nights dissipated like morning mist.

There was a gentle light in Sanguinius's golden eyes, and his voice was as soft as the morning breeze.

"My brother hates red tape, and so do I."

"I am Sanguinius, Twin Angel, Son of the Wop, Lord of Bhaal, Son of the Emperor!"

"And I will soon be the Lord of the Ninth Legion, your genetic father. It all depends on whether you are willing to offer your loyalty and bend the knee to me."

This is not out of fear.

Although they did fear that the Primarch would abandon them completely as a group of failed creations.

If this were the case, they would argue like denied children, proving their worth with blood and military exploits.

But at this moment, the Primarch acknowledged them.

What are you waiting for?

The roar of steel knees hitting the sand echoed in the silence, as uniform as a war cry.

They kneel not to obey, but to belong.

Sanguinius did not kneel, but fluttered his wings and scanned every kneeling warrior with his golden eyes.

"The Ninth Legion has achieved great success, but has not received the corresponding honors."

"It is because mortals regard your victory as a horrible legend, and are indifferent to the heroic sacrifices that brought it."

"You think you are aloof, yet you crave the approval of mortals."

"When mortals look away in fear, you respond with contempt."

"I despise their weakness and resent their alienation."

"You wear a battle robe woven of fear, yet you blame mortals for not daring to look directly at this blood-stained honor."

"This is the ignorance of mortals, and also your arrogance!"

"Your loyalty is gratifying to me, but your past disappoints me."

The soldiers of the Ninth Legion looked ashen and trembled under the fierce rebuke of the Father of Genes.

Those heart-piercing words were like poisoned blades, peeling off their loyalty and dignity layer by layer.

Every rebuke from the Primarch was like a sledgehammer hitting the chests of these battle-hardened warriors, causing their throats to tighten and even breathing to become difficult.

They hung their heads, heartbroken for failing to live up to the Primarch's expectations, and even more heartbroken for tarnishing the glory of the Legion.

"This is also my fault."

Sanguinius' voice was like the melting snow in late winter, cold yet with a hint of warm compassion.

"Because I have not yet returned, I cannot guide you as a father."

He slowly bent his knees, making a solemn sound as they touched the ground.

"You offer your loyalty, and I will offer my oath."

"I cannot guide your way forward, but I will walk with you into your future!"

"Stand up, and the oath is fulfilled."

Sanguinius slowly straightened up, and the 40,000 warriors stood up.

Their bodies trembled uncontrollably, not out of fear, but out of ecstasy surging from deep within their blood.

The Primarch's words were like an oracle, allowing these once-abandoned warriors to finally find their way home!

……

Wop: "Not bad, huh?"

Neos: "It's different from what I thought."

"Is it getting better or worse?"

Wop took the cantaloupe from Karin and took a bite. The sweet flesh burst with a refreshing fragrance between his lips and teeth.

Neos's gaze briefly rested on Karin, who was just an ordinary immortal girl.

Although rare, it is not unusual.

Neos withdrew his gaze and continued his conversation with Wop.

“The future is chaos.”

"You can't see clearly either?"

“There are only fragments, but fragments are worthless, they won’t become reality.”

"That also eliminates the wrong options, right?"

"Only occasionally."

Wop: "Then let's not talk about the future, just focus on the present moment. Do you like this change?"

"Personal likes and dislikes have no influence on established reality."

Wop stared at him, a look that was neither scrutinizing nor questioning, but irresistible.

"Looking my eyes! Answer me! Yes or No?"

Neos was controlled for a long time and had to compromise:

"Yes."

……

Fabius Bile stood in the shelter's medical room, his armored knuckles turning slightly white from unconscious tension.

The private summons from the Gene-Father was like a sword hanging over his head. Since Fulgrim could see through the shame of the Third Legion, how could he miss his sins?

What would the Primarch do to him?

Punishment or execution?

"pharmacist."

The alloy door of the medical cabin slid open silently, and the silver-haired angel stepped in slowly, his purple eyes reflecting the cold light of the medical cabin like a deep pool.

"My Lord." Fabius bowed his head and slammed his armored fists heavily on his breastplate to hide the slight trembling between his knuckles.

The Primarch's voice carried an irresistible rhythm. "Go ahead. You have at least three things to say."

"I, I..." Fabius's Adam's apple rolled with difficulty, and he heard the shameful tremor in his voice, "My Lord, I am guilty."

"That's not it."

"I am a disgrace to the Legion."

"That's not it." Fulgrim's eyes turned cold, as if he was tired after his expectations were dashed.

Fabius's Adam's apple rolled violently. He only had one chance left. Should he confess?

"I have blight." Fabius' voice was hoarse, like a death sentence for himself.

Fulgrim's voice was low: "You have also slain a loyal warrior."

Fabius lowered his head. Sure enough, the Father of Genes had already seen through his sins.

Fulgrim: "You must atone for your sins."

Fabius bowed his head in the most humble manner: "My Lord, I will atone for my sins with the rest of my life!"

Fabius originally thought that he was doomed, but he unexpectedly got a chance to atone for his sins, and he couldn't help but feel fortunate.

"How to atone for your sins?"

Fabius: "My Lord, I will spend my life researching a cure for the Blight!"

Fabius was the legion's only pharmacist, and his status should have been high.

However, his rank was not promoted. The legion commander had suggested it, but the soldiers resented Fabius.

Fabius also refused the honor, feeling guilty about the massacre of the legionnaires.

He spent his entire life researching a cure for the blight, trying to save himself while never forgetting his mission to the Legion.

But this was not the atonement Fulgrim sought.

"There are millions of mutants on Baal, and countless more across the galaxy, all struggling in misery. Dedicating your life's learning to saving the innocent is your path to atonement."

"As you wish, my lord."

Fabius was distressed because the Primarch wanted him to give up his research on the blight, as he would die if his blight broke out.

But how could he dare to resist the Primarch himself?

Fulgrim gazed at his offspring silently; he would not let the blight go unchecked.

The genetic defect of the blight disease exists in his genes. If someone ever induces an outbreak of the blight disease, he will probably not be able to escape death.

If he and his legion are to escape the shackles, they must heal it.

But he would not leave this work to Fabius; he would ask his brother to help.

Their brother, the Iron Man of Lorgar, sits upon the treasures of the Golden Age, and she certainly possesses equally remarkable expertise in genetic engineering, no one better suited for the task.

If Fabius were to suffer the blight before a cure for his genes was developed, that would be his fate.

Fulgrim would not tolerate Fabius continuing his experiments with the Blight in secret.

He could give his offspring a chance, but Fabius had already wasted it twice.

……

Sarath, Isdur, Abdemon, and the top leaders of the Third and Ninth Legions gathered together.

They all took off their helmets and gave each other friendly smiles.

Because their original bodies were twins, and since your father looks exactly like my father, then we are a family!

The two Primarchs deliberately arranged for the two legions to sit at the same table, which obviously implied some deeper meaning.