Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim

She was kneeling on the ground, gently comforting Azcalon, the commander of the Ninth Legion.

"I've always been afraid."

"I know they all call us ghouls behind our backs. Our genetic seeds are so unstable. What if the Emperor wants to purge us?"

"What if our Primarch deems us unworthy to fight alongside them?"

Sobbing, Azcalon, a tough middle-aged man, had snot and tears streaming down his face.

Ugh. How embarrassing.

Amit couldn't help but silently complain to himself.

I can't be like him.

“Azcalon, do not worry. You are all my proudest offspring.”

The angel smiled, his eyes seemingly filled with boundless radiance.

"You're tired now. Take a rest for a while."

Having said that, her gaze fell on the most tough guy in the entire Ninth Legion (as he called himself), and also the ghoul who would never submit to the Primarch.

[The Flesh-Tearer], Nasir Amit.

"Hello."

she said with a smile.

As an absolute tough guy, Amit would never be charmed by such a low-level trick.

He continued to behave as usual.

"Hello there."

“My name is Amit.”

“Uh, Nasir Amit, company commander of the 5th Company of the 9th Army Corps, company commander.”

His hands were somewhat at a loss, and his eyes dared not linger on the toes of the other person's steel combat boots that were staring at him.

The angelic Primarch actually knelt down kindly, smiling as he looked at the embarrassed man.

"Did I put too much pressure on you?"

The angel stepped forward apologetically, her fingers twirling her long, flowing golden hair with a hint of sadness.

"No no no no!"

"No, no!"

Amit quickly denied this.

“I can see that you and your Astartes are brave and fearless warriors.”

His subordinates, Astartes?

Right!

It seems I came in with quite a few soldiers from the Fifth Company!

How come I forget everything the moment I see an angel!

"Don't dare to take it, don't take it!"

Amit's hands were waving like a rattle drum.

But contrary to his actions, Amit's heart was surging with unusual excitement.

The Primarch praised me!

She praised our legion's fighting strength!

Wuhu~!

So happy!

A heartfelt joy welled up within Amit, inspiring him to persevere and strive for even greater heights.

For the sake of the Primarch, as the company commander of the Fifth Company of the Ninth Legion, he should spare no effort to pay any price!

After a round of conversation, Amit answered all the angel's questions honestly in a very stuttering tone, and was then seated to the side under the angel's guidance.

After all, there are still many Astartes that the angels need to know about.

Saint Gilles treated each of his children equally.

This made Amit somewhat disappointed.

But in the end, he obediently followed Saint Gilles's orders and sat quietly in the seat to the side.

and many more!

Why are there so many chroniclers here? When did they arrive?

Amit, who had been in a daze, finally came to his senses.

“I don’t know either, but by the time I became aware of these people, it seemed too late.”

"Ladoron, who was sitting next to him, complained."

“Your performance was also embarrassing, Amit.”

“The same goes for Azcalon. But I, Radoron, need no pity, nor do I shed tears.”

"And I certainly wouldn't cry like him—"

"But your eyes are just as red as his."

Amit astutely pointed out the core of the problem.

".Shut up."

Chapter 129 Saint Gilles is a woman who could be my mother!

After Amit led his Fifth Company in, ghouls from one company after another lined up and walked through the gate.

"A show-off."

Kasga could even hear some of the people who had just squeezed in muttering to themselves.

The Ninth Legion's discipline, which could be described as tragic, was so bad that it was called a ghoul.

In their eyes, the Sons of the Emperor, a legion skilled in art and pursuing perfection, were nothing more than a cowardly legion worthy of utter contempt.

With Primarch Vorgrim by their side, these frenzied bastards dared not show a trace of their rage.

But from their disdainful and contemptuous eyes, Casca could also see the ghouls' disdain for the pursuit of art.

But that’s okay.

When I come out later, I'll have to become Wa's junior.

Kaska couldn't be bothered to bother with these ghouls.

"This is the last batch."

Following behind the last batch of companies, Kasgar spoke to Fugrim, who was walking in beside him.

The Ninth Legion Primarch meeting is about to end.

Those who boarded the gunboat and arrived at the Imperial Pride were only a portion of the group.

The ghoul army can recruit anyone, even mutants, who can revert to their original form after the gene seed is implanted, so it can replenish its ranks quickly.

Even though the Ninth Legion often charged ahead as a commando unit to fight the toughest enemies, it still managed to maintain the strength of a 10,000-strong army at all times.

Their small place couldn't possibly accommodate tens of thousands of Astartes and angels reminiscing one by one.

Those who encountered the original team were only the officers and vanguard of the Ninth Army Corps.

As for the remaining tens of thousands of people

Kaska could only imagine in his mind how frenzied the thousands upon thousands of Space Marines would go after the Sanguis returned to the Red Tear.

Difficult to hold.jpg

It was just too difficult to hold back.

Kasgar, who was trying not to laugh, looked up at Fugrim beside her.

"Forgrim, aren't you eager to see why the Blood Angels who went in have remained silent, and haven't even leaked any information?"

"Hmm, because of what?"

She was genuinely curious about that.

Perhaps it was due to the shielding effect of the angelic psionic infection, or perhaps it was because the soundproofing of the gate designed by Fugrim was too good.

No matter how curious and gossipy the crowd waiting outside was, they couldn't get any information at all.

The only exception is Casca; even without prophetic abilities, he could guess what was happening inside.

The baby ghouls are looking for their mother!

As the door opened, everything before them came into view.

"This is."

The Hell Scroll.

Just like the countless children crying at the kindergarten gate on the first day of school, unwilling to leave their parents.

The entire ghoul army was already sobbing uncontrollably.

The observation deck was filled with people dressed in canned armor, and the Astartes figures displayed a variety of expressions.

Some looked dazed, some wept uncontrollably, and some even seemed to have experienced a decline in their intelligence, muttering incoherently.

"Mother, mother, mother, mother, mother, mother, mother, mother."

"Mother!"

Some of the angels are having an addiction and are crawling all over the place.

With not enough space, the Astartes of the Ninth Legion huddled together, hugging their knees and sobbing quietly.

As for the famous painters who were arranged in front of the observation deck, their inspiration burst forth the moment they saw the scene before them, as if they had eaten a mushroom of inspiration.

This is the first time I've ever seen such a rare sight!

Without needing any orders from anyone, their paintbrushes moved with incredible speed and fluidity, frantically smearing paint across the canvas.

Even without seeing the artwork, one can tell from their excited faces that a series of masterpieces are about to be created.

They are completely immersed in their art and cannot extricate themselves from it.

"This"

As the Emperor's Sons and Fugrim walked into the observation deck in stunned silence, Saint Gilles, who was kneeling on the ground comforting an Astartes, gave an awkward smile.

"I didn't know it would turn out like this."

The ghoul who originally considered himself a tough guy

completely annihilated.

None were spared.

Almost immediately after meeting them, these formerly crazed ghouls became Saint Gilles' most loyal supporters.

Even the female Space Marines, who numbered less than one in ten within the Legion, did not escape.

The overwhelming charm from Saint Gilles has completely erased the ghouls' long-standing ferocity.

Now, the Ninth Legion has inevitably and thoroughly become a "mama's boy" legion.

This is a chain reaction caused by pouring out all his worries and troubles to the wise older sister Saint Gilles.

It feels like the Ninth Legion's mental age has dropped by 1000 times, but Saint Gilles remains unchanged.

The Hell Scroll.

But what can our Saint Gilles do?

All I could do was force a bitter smile.