Echoes from the Future

Revenge was only Mortarion's first step; his ultimate goal was always to ensure that the humans of Barbarus were fed.

However, this was not a problem for Atlas, who had a vast fortune. No one knew how much wealth these giant Canned One had accumulated, not even the Emperor.

Through transportation and firepower, confiscation of property and extermination, recycling of military equipment, and research and development of weapons, Atlas has long since transformed from a poor army that could only watch dinosaurs bar their teeth into a complete military-industrial complex, directly rivaling the Ultramar 500 Worlds.

In contrast to Guilliman, who was labeled as Ambition and self-serving, only needed to cooperate with Atlas and join his system.

They've received so much aid and infrastructure support that they're practically rolling in subsidies worth billions—it's like they're showered with 30,000 yuan!

Son of the Emperor, Space Wolves, Blood Angels, and Night Lords are basically all kept by Atlas. As long as the Second Brother has a bite to eat, the brothers won't starve. Even the Iron Warriors get a share. You can see civil engineering guys frantically pounding mortar on construction sites everywhere.

Mordred understood the principle that one must let others live in order to live oneself. The Emperor, on the other hand, was looking too far ahead. War is all about economics. Even if Atlas used the Daemon void to steal ammunition, he still needed the ammunition first.

Looking at the Imperial soldiers below the stage, who were happily receiving their rewards, Mortarion, who had already gained a basic understanding of the Empire, discovered that both the Auxilia and the high-ranking Adeptus Custodes held Mordred in high esteem.

The only thing that puzzled him was those plastic figurines. He clearly remembered his father as a majestic and imposing man, so why did those figurines look so strange?

That's definitely strange. Anyway, the Emperor isn't home today, and Mordred the biggest Emperor's Dream. Normally, he definitely wouldn't take this little thing out, or he'd be hacked to death.

Perhaps it was fate that brought them to this; just as the last Adeptus Custodes was happily retreating with the figurine, Golden Giant descended from the sky.

He grabbed Mordred's head and pressed it down.

"You Rebellious son, you haven't caused any trouble while I was gone, have you?"

"How Could that be? Old Man Huang, you must be joking. If you don't believe me, ask Mortarion. We just wiped out the Xenos on the planet."

Turning to look at Mortarion, the young man was glared at by the murderous Emperor. He quickly nodded, indicating that his Second Brother was right and that his father could rest assured.

The Emperor's call of "father," and it was worth the trouble he had caused to Nurgle. He reached out and repeatedly groped Mordred, taking out half a packet of mushrooms.

But Emperor is Emperor; his limited emotional intelligence prevented him from having normal conversations like those between father and son. Instead, he sat there silently, creating an awkward atmosphere.

But times have changed. The current Emperor is much more human than before. Seeing that Mortarion's hands were empty, he led the two towards the treasury.

Perhaps because the feeling of blowing Nakhre's head off with a single shot was too exhilarating, Mortarion's first choice was the relic pistol known as the Netherlight.

This pleased Mordred, a cunning old fox, who thought to himself that although the kid had a sour face, he had been smart since he was a child. How could he become a grandmaster if he didn't use his gun?

But Mortarion's Mortarion of weapon immediately made the two frown. It wasn't a cool scythe, nor a mainstream greatsword, but a pair of very rare Power Maul.

As we all know, Space Marine are becoming more and more like Primarch. Take the Fulgrim for example, the Phoenix is good at using a one-handed sword, so much so that the entire Legion loves this style. Mordred uses a gun in her left hand and a sword in her right, Atlas also likes to combine guns and swords.

But while spiked clubs aren't exactly uncommon, they're certainly rare. Only the dim-witted Ogryn likes them. Mordred can't imagine the bizarre scene of the 14th Legion being filled with members of the Chicken Leg Cult in the future.

"What's wrong? Is there something wrong with what I chose? It's just that this thing looks a lot like Corn, so I chose it."

The argument was logical and irrefutable. After exchanging glances, both the Emperor and Mordred accepted the reality: at least one blow would either kill or cripple the other.

Perhaps seeing Sisyphus in Mortarion, or perhaps simply finding him pleasing to the eye, the Emperor had a particular fondness for the rascal, bestowing upon him the same honors as the Son of the Emperor and granting Mortarion permission to use the Imperial Double Eagle Insignia.

When the 14th Legion's Dusk Raiders arrived in Barbarus, the Emperor even had Mortarion support Mordred, allowing them, whose designation had been changed to Death Guard, to enter the Emperor's Dream for a homecoming ceremony.

Mordred felt a little uncomfortable seeing the Emperor being treated so human-like. He hadn't received such treatment when he returned to the Empire. How could the Emperor seem like a completely different person after just two days?

The thought lingered until the return ceremony ended, Mordred was preparing to take advantage of the chaos to scavenge some unclaimed items from the vault when he suddenly saw a figure sitting alone in the corner, drinking in silence.

"Old Man Huang, what's wrong?"

Their eyes met, Mordred saw a weariness in the Emperor's eyes that he had never shown before. He was not the Psychic Power giant who was more than 5 meters tall as usual; instead, he was just a tired middle-aged man sighing and complaining.

This scene made Mordred feel a chill run down his spine. After hesitating for a long time, he put away his Melta cutter and sat down next to the Emperor.

"It's all too late; there's nothing we can change."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

A greater question arose in Mordred's mind, but the Emperor quickly explained the reason to him:

"Do you know what I saw when I went out this time? I saw a vision of Mortarion in that fat man's domain, and he was giving a serious lecture to Daemon."

"A lecture? Don't tell me it's about farming; it can't be some kind of Numerology lecture, can it?"

The Emperor remained silent, but his expression said it all, "It's that damned Numerology, and he's actually teaching Daemon how to farm. Although the illusion was extremely fragile, I still caught a glimpse of it and saw Guilliman stab me to death."

Mordred thought this Yellow Skins had gone mad with greed. Mortarion had been with him the whole time, How Could another one? It couldn't be possible—wait, Guilliman?

Suddenly realizing something, Mordred picked up the Emperor and ran. He had carefully analyzed the internal structure of the Emperor's Dream in order to supplement his family income, and quickly found the Secret Room.

As the door closed, in this room that even the Four Gods could not see into, Mordred asked:

"Are you sure that really is Mortarion? You can't just make things up without evidence."

Knowing this would be the reaction, the Emperor initially didn't believe it either, his eyes lighting up as he started playing a slideshow.

Seeing Mortarion earnestly Numerology to Daemon in the video, even Mordred couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed, but he quickly discovered the problem.

"Stop, rewind the video a little, what is this?"

To ensure a clear image, the Emperor could only view the film with his left eye and the image with his right, following Mordred's finger to the area he was pointing to.

Repeatedly refresh the resolution.

"Hair? No, it's not hair. Mortarion has gray hair. This looks so familiar."

"Of course he looks familiar. That's clearly Angron. Have you forgotten he's a nail now?"