Oh, So It's a Scumbag!

With the initial completion of the Atlas reconstruction project, Barbarus's journey has come to an end.

After all, the Death Guard is not the Night Lords whose mastery is questionable; Barbarus will always be the Death Guard's territory.

On the newly built starport, under the watchful eyes of all the Space Marine, Mordred presented Mortarion with an Adamantium encircled by two ears of wheat, wishing Barbarus eternal freedom from hunger.

Mordred initially planned to craft a ring, but as soon as he finished it, it reminded him of the Centaur Ring, which he considered extremely unlucky, so he instead made a laurel wreath.

Moreover, the laurel wreath was the perfect size to fit the Iron Halo inside, making it quite practical.

Looking at his younger brother's reluctant face, Mordred gave him his final words of advice:

"I'm giving you this planetary modification ship. With it, you can gradually build your own base. You're not that little brat Perturabo. I won't say more; I believe you can definitely make it big and powerful."

"Second Brother!"

"Hey~ Why are you being so long-winded? You're the Legion Commander now, no longer that Barbarus old farmer toiling in the fields. If you need anything, just go to Tallarn. That's Atlas's supply depot."

It's okay, you can always come find me in Serenity.

Upon hearing this, Mortarion could no longer hold back, and he hugged Mordred tightly, crying out:

"Second Brother, you mustn't stop the aid efforts now that you're leaving. I'll miss you so much."

(?^×)

I was almost driven mad by that little rabbit's words. Fine, let them watch. Mordred gave the kid a good beating.

No wonder Yellow Skins always like to beat people up. One of these kinds of creatures is enough to annoy you, if a few more come, you'll be driven crazy.

Should we go and stop them?

"If you want to die, don't drag me down with you. Warmaster is notoriously petty. My father can take a couple of slaps and it's fine, but if you go over there, I'll knock your head off."

"Yeah, yeah, things are different now than before. Should we follow the example of the Ultramarines and form a Primarch Stretcher Team?"

"Line" × 77490

After helping Mortarion up, who was still pretending to be dead on the ground, Mordred, seeing how pitiful the boy was, gave him another idea:

"Do you know why I, your Second Brother, am so carefree, yet still manage the legion so well?"

"Because your family is wealthy enough for you to squander it all."

"I knew this guy was brainless," Mordred yelled, grabbing his scruffy little head. "Because I'm good at judging people! Haven't you noticed I leave everything, big or small, to Goff? We just need to be our Primarch."

"Find a few smart guys and send them to Ultramarines as exchange students. As long as they learn Guilliman's management style, Second Brother guarantee you'll thrive."

Guilliman's prestige is undeniable; everyone in the Empire knows of his Ambition, even the Mortarion.

With things having come to this, Mordred had nothing more to say. He simply tossed his trench coat aside, boarded the Abomination amidst the cheers of the Death Guard, and prepared to head to the Serenity 50 Worlds, where he was forever Fealty.

Even after the Warmaster's departure, their original body still stood tall and gazed at him. All the Death Guard couldn't help but marvel at the brotherhood between their father and the Warmaster.

"Father, it's time to go back!"

"Okay, you guys go back first."

After everyone dispersed, Mortarion quietly called out to Kalas, who was walking at the back, gesturing for him to quickly help him up, as his leg had been broken and he couldn't stand steadily.

On the Abomination, Atlas's high command, led by Goff, was reporting to the Primarch. Mordred was quite satisfied with the steadily increasing data.

Although Atlas goes to great lengths to subsidize each Primarch who returns, there are long-term benefits to be gained from this.

On the one hand, the Legion is heavily reliant on the Adeptus Mechanicus for weapons and supplies. Now that Atlas has established a complete infrastructure for them, they can be self-sufficient in low-end equipment and no longer have to wait for those unscrupulous Mechanicus.

Anyway, the things Atlas provided were pretty much the same, and most importantly, the quantity was large and plentiful, which led many Forge World to start imitating Atlas and begin to roll their own products.

Among them, Hades 8 and Ryza, the two Forge World, were the most enthusiastic. The Emperor was happy to see this and began to take sides, forcing the Mars headquarters to also get involved.

Behind the scenes, Old Man Huang secretly met with Zhuang Sen, established the Icarus Protocol as a countermeasure, and ordered Ferrus to continue infiltrating the Adeptus Mechanicus.

On the other hand, Atlas is a legion that has truly achieved complete self-sufficiency. Regardless of whether Mordred is bloodthirsty or not, his reputation among the other legions is growing rapidly, rivaling that of Horus Lupercal.

Every Space Marine knows that there is a powerful uncle who truly cares about the Legion.

Whenever a battle ended, Atlas would always appear immediately, exchanging all sorts of novel trinkets for spoils of war.

In particular, the mini nuclear Dreadnought produced by Atlas greatly enhanced the individual combat capabilities of the Space Marine, while the Dreadnoughts filled the gap in heavy armor beneath the Knights.

Most importantly, you no longer have to endure that damn nerve torture. Even if you have hands and feet, you can go inside and drive, and you can even go online and play games. The only minor change is that you need to open a neural interface in the Power Armor.

"Father, in summary, this is all the achievement we have made in the past 35 years. Atlas has penetrated every aspect of the Empire, and the first step of the grand plan has finally been accomplished."

"Good! As expected of our Atlas's Chief Logistics Officer, in that case, I hereby declare that Goff will be one of our Atlas's Four Heavenly Kings."

As for the remaining choices, it's the Khan, JoJo, Gawain...

Looking at Tom, who was standing beside her, chest puffed out and waving wildly, Mordred sighed and added Tom's name to the list.

"And Tom."

"Great! But Father, weren't there supposed to be four knights of the king? If you include me, then there are five!"

"You don't know anything. There should be five of the Four Heavenly Kings, that's tradition." Mordred gestured for Tom to come over, then delivered a powerful blow, the force just right, leaving him stunned but not brain-damaged, filling the entire bridge with a joyful atmosphere.

After rewarding his hard work, Mordred discussed the follow-up plan with his offspring. Without changing the original plan, they began to frantically cultivate the Divine Seal, vowing to cover the entire empire's territory with Divine Seal Terminal, making it an impenetrable wall.

The prophecy still affected Mordred; he had to race against time to build up his strength. The good news was that with the end of the initial training phase, Atlas would be facing a new wave of massive troop buildups.

After playing a few games with her offspring and achieving a five-game losing streak, Mordred handed the terminal to Sally to play for her, then went back to her room to get some sleep.

Although a short nap each day would be enough for Primarch to be full of energy, Mordred maintained the good habit of going to bed on time every day, at least to make him feel like a human being.

But for some reason, her sleep quality was particularly poor today. Mordred kept feeling mosquitoes buzzing in her ears, and there was one more mosquito than the usual four.

One more?

Mordred quickly sat up and answered the Psychic Power call, wanting to see which idiot was harassing him.

Don't be fooled by Mordred's ability to manipulate Fel Energy; Fel Energy Psychic Power is derived from Psychic Power, making him a kind of psionic Primarch. Moreover, he recognized his true nature right away, which is why his stats are so pure. He can't make a phone call, but he can answer one.

Of course, Guilliman would never do something like that. This guy managed to turn himself into Psychic Power Muggle by relentlessly elbowing the Warp essence. Mordred doubted that even the Four Merchants couldn't corrupt him.

After all, Chaos pollution is based on communication; you can't communicate with someone who has pulled out their phone card.

Following the Psionic Transmission, Mordred's perspective shifted, eventually manifesting as his ID avatar: a miniature Dog-men with crimson War Mark on his face and wearing a red scarf.

Upon appearing, Mordred found herself on an altar surrounded by a jumble of items, the most eye-catching of which was a large bucket of orange juice with pulp.

Since it was a sacrifice, it must have been offered to him. Mordred immediately accepted it with a smile, and then he saw a cool Daemon staring at him with a malicious look.

Mordred, you've finally arrived.

Huh? Who are you?!

"Damn, you scared the hell out of me! It was you, you bastard, who summoned me here. Remember to add ice to your drinks next time; I like them cold."

Mordred's remarks, however, elicited a series of cold laughs from Vashtorr:

"Heh heh heh, trying to provoke me by pretending to be indifferent? Very well, as expected of a man I admire, you've earned the right to cooperate with me."

Mordred was dumbfounded. Why should I know you? And that tone, which sounded like that of a nobody, was like that of a third-rate villain. Did Daemon get dementia?

The more Mordred thought about it, the more it made sense. His eyes turned disgusted, and coupled with his Khorne posture, it reminded Vashtorr a giant Khorne. He desperately needed to regain his composure.

"Since you've asked so sincerely..."

No, who asked you?

"Then I will mercifully tell you."

What are you saying?!

"I am Vashtorr, the demigod inventor, engineer, scientist, and craftsman, the ruler of the Forge of Souls, the creator of Chaos Undivided!"

However, Vashtorr's introduction did not elicit Mordred's respect; instead, he heard a laugh.

"Oh, I thought it was someone else, but it's just a mistress. You're not good enough to cooperate with me. Who are the people who are trying to win me over? They're the Four Gods! You little piece of trash, and you still want to talk to me about cooperation?"

Get lost! Don't contact me again, I'm afraid others will misunderstand.

But before Mordred could turn and leave, Vashtorr's words made him stop in his tracks:

Don't you want to know Thomas Wayne's little secret?