The Overbearing President Optimus Prime and the Car Wash Girl Megatron's One Thousand and One Nights
Guilliman was once again convinced of one thing: following Mordred always brought bad luck, and he was always the one who got hurt.
Guilliman, heartbroken at losing his precious foot, could never have imagined that among so many people on the bridge, that damned Mordred would bite no one but himself.
"Are you sure this is hygienic? That's my foot, don't twist it."
"Don't worry, I'm an old Imperial Army medic. A mere limb suturing is nothing. Even if your intestines spilled out, I could stuff them back in. Slurp! I don't mind that you're dirty, but you're complaining about me?"
Looking at the tongue that was swaying back and forth in front of him, mimicking Mordred's upper body, Guilliman didn't say much. He just thought that he had to erase the memory and make this blasphemous memory disappear from his mind.
The strange feeling of having saliva smeared on the wound was especially disgusting!
Despite how disgusting it was, Guilliman soon regained his mobility, leaving the Ultramarines thoughtful and secretly collecting several bottles of slime.
"Alright, your Psychic Power Ogryn's recovery ability is quite strong. Now it's time to get down to business."
Hey Angron, why did you put yourself in Canned One? I'm your Second Brother! Let me see if you're developing normally!
I still haven't seen you.
Because she had just finished eating the Daemon Primarch and was then kidnapped by the Khorne, Mordred hadn't seen Angron's current state at all; she only vaguely saw a pair of twin tails swaying up and down.
Although he didn't understand, Mordred respected his brother's hobby. Marshal of the Adeptus Custodes Valdor of the Imperial Guard was a mohawk-wearing punk, and having hair was a good thing; it proved he wasn't nailed down.
Mordred had a good impression of Angron, and Angron had a good impression of him as well. Angron was very envious of his brother who could turn into a giant monster. If he had that ability, he would have killed those slave owners who dared to use anesthetics on him long ago.
Hearing his Second Brother call out, he walked over, showing off his two big, thick legs.
"Second Brother!"
"Hahaha, Guilliman, listen to this! I told you Angron was a good brother. He speaks so politely. No wonder he's my chosen Second Imperium's Minister of Finance. Russ's much better than that stupid dog Ruth."
But I have to say something to you, Second Brother: your taste is really bizarre. Who would put a coffin over their own body and still have those hairy legs? You're being a bit too abstract."
With a swift movement, Mordred severed the chains binding the coffin. He then grabbed Angron's thigh and pulled him away. Ever since the coffin was embedded in the deck, he had taken a liking to it; he would never forget the delicious taste of Adamantium.
"Pop!"
With a slightly comical crack, the burly, powerful humanoid figure was fully exposed in front of Mordred. In just one glance, the smile on his face vanished.
"Yes, we were too late after all. That damned Blasphemous Artifact was finally plunging into our brothers' bodies." With a deep sigh, Guilliman went to Mordred's side and patted him on the shoulder.
Despite all the effort put into the rescue, it all ended in failure. Guilliman was also in a bad mood when he first saw Angron.
Perhaps sensing his two brothers' low spirits, Angron smiled and comforted them in a nonchalant tone:
"When I learned from Hill about the Imperium of Man and that I was a Primarch, I knew I was not alone, and I believed that one day you would save me from that hell."
And just as I predicted, despite the many difficulties, my brothers came. What more could I ask for? You've done more than enough!
Reaching out to grasp Guilliman and Mordred's hands, Angron smiled despite enduring the pain inflicted by the two nails, using his innate abilities to soothe them.
Guilliman's heart remained pure as ever. Angron could sense that his brother was a simple and kind person, and he greatly admired that vibrant inner life, easily absorbing negative emotions.
But when Angron turned his thoughts inward and delved into the heart of his brother, who always appeared cheerful and never seemed to have a carefree life, he saw a scene he could not comprehend at all.
Chaos, fragmentation, and countless complex thoughts swirled within that body. Even though it tried its best to disguise itself as human, the place where the soul should be was empty, with twisted tentacles reaching out to devour everything around it.
Angron had almost been captured by the tentacles, was suddenly awakened and then met Mordred's emotionless golden eyes:
Second Brother, it's me.
"Shut up, and don't try to read my mind. I don't want you to grow up to be a drooling idiot who only knows how to babble."
As for the nail in your head, your Second Brother will find a way to treat it. Even if I can't do it alone, there's still that Dogs and Donkeys, Yellow Skins.
If I had known this would happen, I wouldn't have cursed that Khorne; maybe I could have negotiated something with him."
"I believe you can do it, after all, you are the Imperial Warmaster!" Angron gave Mordred a big hug, showing no disgust at the slime on his body.
The more understanding Mordred was, the more uncomfortable he felt, like a fire burning inside him, neither rising nor falling, leaving him with a bad feeling, especially since he could also sense other people's feelings superficially.
This feeling of being trusted is awful! Old Man Huang, you bastard, you better find a way to resolve this, or you're just a useless piece of trash.
Mordred, who was secretly thinking about the Golden Giant, didn't hesitate and immediately decided to take Angron back to Holy Terra himself. As for Koz, he would leave him entirely to Guilliman. With Lady Yuton raising him, there was no need for Mordred to worry about him.
Before leaving, Mordred didn't forget to extract the original blood from Guilliman. Including Koz's share, Atlas would then have the ability to produce some of the seeds.
Due to his enormous size, Mordred was unable to enter the normal passageway. Furthermore, with his head stuck in the hull and unable to be pulled out, a helpless Guilliman could only order, with tears in his eyes, that the hull be cut open with Melta melting.
Once he regained his mobility, things would be much easier. Mordred summoned Tom, brought over his beloved Stormbird, tied a rope to it, and dragged it towards his Abomination, stuffing it into the large metal beak at the bow of the ship.
When the Webway Gate reopened, the pitch-black Abomination plunged straight in, heading straight for Holy Terra.
Meanwhile, far away on the other side of the Veil, in the Sea of Souls, Daemon demigod named Vashtorr gazed at the ball of knowledge in his hand, radiating an eerie light, lost in thought.
As Ambition and long-established demigod, Vashtorr has a very long history, dating back to the time when the Necron were still called the Necron, making him a veritable living fossil of Daemon.
Unlike those Warp Entity that presume to be gods with even a little power, Vashtorr is a tech geek who, by creating a series of dark creations including but not limited to Daemon Engine, has firmly established his place in the Sea of Souls.
From the Chaos Gods to the Daemon lords, everyone prefers to order weapons from Vashtorr; he is a veritable Arms Dealer of Chaos.
In terms of reputation, it can even completely surpass the Golden Giant.
Vashtorr firmly believes that his achievements are entirely due to his own hard work and dedication, especially his ambition; he was extremely eager to improve.
Kneading the fragment of memory in his hand, the Daemon demigod had taken a liking to this little treasure the moment it suddenly appeared near his factory.
"The One Thousand and One Nights of the Overbearing CEO Optimus Prime and the Car Wash Girl Megatron?"
Despite the strange name, Vashtorr couldn't resist even a fleeting glance at the image of the giant robot, driven by his pursuit of Vile Arts.
"Interesting. Let me see what this thing is."