I Am Not a God!

In the past, Arthas butchered his King Father, and the Scourge ravaged Northrend; today, Mordred shells the Emperor, and an Orbital Bombardment devastates Nightfall Star.

Both sides are princes, both are facing their fathers, and the only difference is that Mordred has Vulkan as a good brother on his side. Two sons against one—it is the absolute peak of Filial Piety.

However, this seemingly suicidal, rogue tactic was not something Mordred came up with on a whim; it was the result of his rigorous calculations.

After all, Mordred recovers health with astonishing speed and possesses displacement skills. As long as he isn't instantly obliterated, he can piece himself back together even if blown to bits. Mordred even believes that even if he were vaporized, he could slowly resurrect.

As for Vulkan, it goes without saying. That black brother is even more absurd than Mordred, who at least respects the basic laws of physics—he comes with built-in Resurrection Armor!

As long as the Lance strikes, their health bars are long enough that they absolutely will not die. What looks like mutual destruction is actually just a boring session of Trading Blows between two top-lane Big Daddy figures.

Of course, this kind of move is likely something only Mordred and Vulkan can pull off—maybe adding the Lion King, who will learn Forest Walk in the future—otherwise, anyone else trying it would be brain-dead.

Yet, for all his calculations, Mordred never expected some idiot with too much time on his hands to disguise himself as a vagrant and play a Blood Game with him. Even more abstract is that this idiot is his father—the Emperor.

Under the violent explosion, Vulkan, facing the impact head-on, carbonized on the spot. Mordred, despite his frantic flashing, did not escape unscathed and was completely swallowed by the scorching fireball, leaving behind only a curse that echoed across the wasteland:

"Aminos!! Yellow Skins."

Conversely, Tom inside the Abomination Exemplar waved his arms with pride, roaring nonsense about how he wouldn't let his father down.

Such a bizarre spectacle left the Four Merchants marveling. Especially when they saw The Cursed emerge from the explosion, holding a bucket of Big Mo Sauce in his left hand and half of Vulkan in his right, his hair completely scorched—they were so hyped they roared that this was exactly the Kiya they wanted to see!

No one knows what the Emperor is feeling right now, but looking at the ill-tempered, Dusty and Disheveled Golden Giant standing before him, Rambo is truly terrified.

As a member of the Primarch Stretcher Team, Rambo is already accustomed to his Boss being beaten to a pulp. The moment the shockwave subsided, he rushed to the center of the explosion, ready to collect the chunks of meat as planned.

Then, he ran into the Emperor.

"Hiss, His Majesty! Can we reconcile?"

"Are you joking?"

Without a moment's hesitation, the Emperor grabbed the dog-head, golden light flared instantly, and with a Psychic Teleportation, they arrived at the Emperor's Dream hidden on the dark side of the planet.

Seeing that the Emperor didn't take his life, Rambo, now a repeat offender, acted very obediently, following behind the Golden Giant and playing dead.

In the massive laboratory where the Emperor teleported, countless researchers were bustling about, tinkering with strange devices that Rambo Cannot Understand.

Casually flipping open the Incubation Pod marked eighteen, the Emperor stuffed the charcoal-grilled Vulkan inside, then dumped Mordred into the Number Two incubation tank with a look of disgust.

Watching Vulkan rapidly recover while floating in the nutrient solution, the Emperor couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. As a part of his grand plan, not a single leaf of the Clover can be lost.

As for the dog thing next to him, the Emperor didn't worry at all; perhaps even if he himself kicked the bucket, this Rebellious son would not Died Out.

Even so, the Emperor did not think the main cause of This Farce lay with him. Instead, he Began to Consider whether letting Mordred rot away in Serenity was a bit of a waste.

Thinking of this, the Emperor turned his gaze behind him, pinning down the dog that was trying to use a Separator to grind its teeth. He had a fun idea!

"I'm hungry. Go make me dinner. If it doesn't taste good, I'll turn you into dog-meat Hot Pot!"

Half an hour later, the two fully recovered Golden Giant figures were brought to the dining hall by the Adeptus Custodes, followed by the cliché scene of father and son reuniting.

Essentially, it was the Emperor saying, "I am your father, you are my son, you must join me on the Great Crusade to make humanity great again," and so on.

It was completely devoid of substance, nothing but a one-sided output of ideology. Yet, this crude technique of painting a big picture managed to fool the simple-minded Vulkan until he couldn't find north.

Only Mordred had no interest in this whatsoever, burying his head in the table with the dog, stuffing his face, and muttering about how the Yellow Skins were devoid of virtue and not even half as worry-free as his own Ogryn—words that made the Emperor want to beat him again.

"Brother, don't say any more. Father doing this must be testing us. You have to understand Father's good intentions!"

"What? You call this a test? Have you forgotten how much he enjoyed beating us both just now? Now you're the one speaking up for him? Does that make me the only bad guy?

Little Brother, haven't you realized this Yellow Skin is gaslighting you? His eyes are practically flashing like lightbulbs. Are you awake?"

In just a few sentences, Vulkan had already become a die-hard fan of the Emperor, calling him "Father" and "Emperor" left and right, completely forgetting the Good Second Brother who had been chatting happily with him just moments ago.

It's no wonder Vulkan has such a good reputation. If it were anyone else, Mordred would have already charged in to provide some physical education—that is the tradition of his House of Huo.

"Fine, Old Man Huang, is that how you want to play! Do you think you're a god? One day you'll regret this. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I Am Not a God! I am the Emperor! I will never be wrong."

The Golden Giant remained as stubborn as ever. Mordred even suspected that even when the universe faded into nothingness, two mouths would still be floating in the void, and one of them would be his.

They couldn't agree on anything. The Emperor thought that Mordred, being a sensible person, should agree with him, while Mordred thought the Old Man Huang was courting death—and that was just Vulkan; if it were any other Primarch, it would have blown up sooner or later.

Soon, the two shifted from ideological disagreement to a verbal dispute, cursing so filthily that it left a significant shadow on the honest, black-skinned brother.

"Yellow Skin, the only reason you're ahead is that you were born tens of thousands of years before me. With your attitude, you want to make humanity great again? Do you even know how to govern the people?

Pah! You don't know a damn thing. You Rome's She-Wolf, did you sell your brain along with your soul?"

"You know so much? In two years, you turned Serenity into an iron fortress and sent Small Gifts to the front lines. What are you trying to do? Don't think I don't know your little secrets."

"Stop arguing, you two!"

"Shut up!" ×2

"Where Is there any room for you to speak? As a father, it is only right and proper for me to discipline him!"

"Bullshit! My father died long ago. And you, Vulkan, I hate fence-sitters the most. Get lost."

Vulkan, scolded by both at once, stood there in a daze. One was the father with a grand dream, the other a gentle and kind brother. He couldn't persuade either of them. How did things suddenly turn into this?

In the end, Rambo, who had the highest "human content" among the four, couldn't watch anymore and pulled the bewildered Vulkan into a corner.

"Forget it. If you keep interrupting, I'm afraid they'll both turn around and beat you up together. Since it's come to this, let's just eat first!"

Looking at the food shoved into his hands, Vulkan sighed, took a bite of bread, turned his grief into appetite, and began to stuff his face alongside the dog.

"So delicious!"