I Am Happy Superman; When I'm Happy, I Want to Be Superman

Holy Terra is not a good place.

The Ultramarines would say it's not as good as Macragge, Atlas would say it's not as good as Serenity, Iron Warriors would say it's not as good as Olympia.

Aside from those legions whose homeworlds are too overpowered, anyone who comes here will be greatly disappointed, since Terra doesn't even have an ocean, just a small ditch.

The environment is poor, the air is polluted, Hive City everywhere, mutations are rampant, and even the Terra are more insane than in other worlds. The population density is arguably the highest in the entire Empire.

What's even more ridiculous is that, despite the fact that modern Hive City are often more like cesspools than latrines, back in the expansion era 10,000 years ago, the reason humans built these Hive City was actually to protect the environment.

Back then, Hive City, with its intelligent AI control, was a true paradise. While not everyone lived in peace and contentment, it was certainly not like it is now, where only the most ruthless dared to enter the Underhive without a gas mask.

Given Terra's harsh environment, why doesn't the Empire consider moving its capital?

The answer is no, relocation is impossible. If even the slightest mishap occurs to the Holy Terra Astronomican of Terra, the Empire will instantly fall into a vegetative state. More importantly, Terra is, after all, humanity's homeworld, which carries another layer of meaning.

Since the dawn of civilization, humanity has called Terra the mother of its race, and this is no exaggeration.

Throughout the galaxy, right and wrong are self-evident.

Terra has always been a battleground for humans and other derived races. Whoever conquers Terra is qualified to represent the true human race.

In other universes, this statement might just be a pretext to win people over, since those with strong armies and virtuous people should rule. But in this world where even a single screw can give birth to Machine Spirit, it is a lesson learned through blood and tears.

Don't you see the Aeldari Empire, which once ruled the galaxy alongside humanity? Because its home planet was blown up, leaving only a few survivors, the Eldar are now on the verge of extinction, their sustainable development crumbling.

Even the Human Federation, which was once trapped in the Old Night Era, would try every means to flock to Terra to raise worms, all in order to seize the rightful human lineage.

Unfortunately, one of the tech warlords in the first Holy Terra battle royale tournament was a Psychic Power caveman, and this guy even drew three SSR gold cards, forming the Nimaluo combo, which blew the world away and directly claimed the Terra.

Because of these connections, Terra is given a sacred title and is at the very core of the Imperium of Man. Even if she doesn't live as well as the Serenity dog, she can still hold her head high and proudly declare:

Terra are the bosses, don't be so smug! Guess what? We Terra just love this kind of thing.

Although it may seem like a stereotype, it is indeed the case. As the political center, the nobles of Terra are a cut above the nobles in the countryside, and even the prices of goods can give a prince like Roboute Guilliman a real headache.

However, these good days didn't last long. The Terra nobility's world collapsed when the great Mordred became the Imperial Warmaster.

Trying to reason with me? We're just country bumpkins from Serenity, we don't understand anything. Go talk to my Bolter instead!

For 30 years now, every Terra who is still alive today will burst into tears at the sight of Mordred's picture. Even though Mordred is no longer the Warmaster, he has developed the healthy habit of raising his hands and shouting his gratitude every day.

Even educational institutions would have students gather in the square during their long breaks to perform a set of Imperial Gymnastics (the third set).

The Warmaster Calls>.

No one dared to speak, no one dared to ask; in short, everyone was afraid of being burned to death by the moonlight.

Thirty years passed by in this bustling and carefree manner, and guess what? Terra had actually become wealthy, and even better news was that the Second Moon had been removed and Atlas was gone.

When the news came, the entire Terra was slightly damp with tears. Everyone wept uncontrollably; half of them were genuinely grieving, while the other half were celebrating the departure of these plague-ridden beings.

Especially after hearing that the Emperor would be dispatching legions from the Ultramar 500 Worlds to assist in the defense of Holy Terra, officials throughout the Solar System were celebrating and eagerly anticipating that glimpse of azure.

"Damn it, which bastard said this was Ultramarines? I'm going to kill him! He's not even as good as Atlas."

In the government hall, the symbol of the center of imperial power, in a Secret Room undetectable by any detector, all the Council of Terra Member sat around a round table, discussing amongst themselves:

"Ross Manderson? Did you say that, you bastard!"

The senator named Ross shrugged, ripped open his shirt to reveal a large tattoo, and sneered:

"You're talking nonsense! I'm His Majesty, a councilor personally promoted by His Majesty in 403. I have the Emperor tattooed on my right chest, the Warmaster tattooed on my left, the Moon Wolves on my chest, and the Imperial Fists on my waist. Do you see who's on my right arm? Let me tell you, this is the Arch-Magos Malcador, and on my right arm is the Marshal of the Adeptus Custodes Valdor."

What, who are you pointing at with that little finger? Answer me!

Should I give that midnight guy a shout and make him—"

"Shh, don't mention that name. I must have been blind to let you in. Now you're trying to associate me with Bangtan Boys? I have BTS too!"

"Pah! Old Peter, you think you're the only one who has that? We all have it."

As soon as the words were spoken, all the Council of Terra Member tore off their clothes. Even if the Adeptus Custodes came over, they wouldn't dare to criticize them for losing their dignity, since they were simply not eligible to be elected.

There was even a Mars Mechanicus, taking advantage of his size, had the entire set of Imperial Truth tattooed on his cybernetic body, and even had an Imperial Double Eagles inlaid on his forehead.

"Alright, alright, stop making a fool of yourselves here. We're all loyal ministers, none of us are treacherous."

Speaker Peter slammed his fist on the table, stopping the unsightly scene from continuing, and began to ask Ross if he had sent a telegram to the Second Highness. If he didn't return soon, they would truly be doomed.

"Tch, don't worry. We're all in this together, and I care about this more than any of you."

The story of how these Council of Terra Member were driven to this point dates back to the welcoming ceremony that day.

When the petition signed by thousands of people denouncing Atlas's atrocities was brought out, everyone wondered why the 13th Prince had black hair.

But they soon had no more doubts, because it wasn't Guilliman who came, but rather Konrad Curze Mordred had raised like his own son.

To be fair, Lady Yuton's education was quite effective; everyone participating in the welcoming ceremony had to kowtow to the First Mother of the Empire.

In the past, the entire Terra Starport would have been slaughtered by the Night Lords, leaving no survivors, and all of them would have been hung up like kites.

Even so, of the 12 Council of Terra Member who went to greet them, only Ross and Speaker Old Peter remained. As for why Ross survived...

Anyway, Mr. Ross would never tell anyone that he was an outstanding graduate of the third class of the first training camp in Catachan, and that the Night Lords was someone I, Ross Mandelson, had brought upon Kiya!

My body is in Terra, but my heart is in Ning. I, Rossmanderson, am a hero walking in the night— Fealty!

Since that day of shuffling, every day after sunset in Holy Terra has been Night of the Long Knives, and Atlas will take different measures depending on the situation.

But the Night Lords doesn't care about that. By learning from the Ultramarines' advanced management experience, the Night Lords has been fully upgraded and has directly transformed into a benevolent and just official.

If you dare to violate the Imperial Law, you'll end up in a private room on the Nightfall. Those with good physiques will be turned into Servitor, while those with poor physiques will be skinned and made into paper. Be careful in your next life.

And don't even think about making excuses. If you fall into the hands of us Night Lords and manage to withstand torture and forced confessions, then we'll start to doubt whether you're even human. We'll all turn you into chicken feed.

In just a few years, the dozens of Hive City of Holy Terra alone produced hundreds of millions of human skin kites, and not a single one was wasted; they were all twisted into human skin paper for the use of officials.

The thought that the paper they use to write official documents might very well be the same colleague they were laughing and chatting with just two days ago puts the people of Terra in a state of perpetual fear, to the point that they don't even bother to pick up lost items on the street.

In response, some nobles pleaded with the Arch-Magos and even the Emperor, but Malcador stated that every country has its laws and every family has its rules, and legally, even he could do nothing about Koz.

As for the Emperor, there's no need to even mention him. If the Yellow Skins were to put any effort into managing things, Mordred would be the first to suspect that his account had been stolen.

"Sigh—to be honest, I really miss the days when Warmaster was around. At least as long as you paid your share, Atlas would turn a blind eye."

"Who says otherwise? Although the Warmaster has a bad temper, under his leadership, the Empire is thriving. Even those despicable Mechanicus don't dare to fool us anymore. What are you looking at? I'm talking about you bunch of swindlers."

The offended Arch-Magos had nothing to say; I wasn't the only shady merchant from the Adeptus Mechanicus. But I was an Arch-Magos Land. She had the best time when Mordred was Warmaster, making a fortune just from reselling contraband.

Can she tell others that she has a share of assets in Ryza? Is her best friend still called Kragg? I am the most Fealty.

Unlike that Imperial Navy commander next to him, that's a real traitor. No matter the battle, big or small, the Imperial Navy just slacks off like a fisherman, with warships sinking one after another, and in the end, they're all just missing.

"Shut up! How dare you use such a discriminatory term as 'Mechanicus'? When we're at work, we use titles. Call me the Arch-Magos Cannis Forge!"

However, the Imperial Navy Commander also had something to say: how am I supposed to support my subordinates if I don't take bribes? Am I supposed to rely on that bunch of useless people in the Department of the Munitorum? Besides, we didn't aid the enemy; all the missing warships were sold to Atlas.

Otherwise, with Atlas's meager production capacity, how could they possibly build so many merchant ships? This is truly for the country and its people. If we really waited for the Department of the Munitorum's incompetent officials to distribute supplies, wouldn't my soldiers be fighting the Xenos shirtless?

The empire has finally assembled this group of Sleeping Dragon Phoenix Chick, but it's very likely because each of them possesses their own unique and powerful skills.

This allowed them to avoid the Great Purge.

After all, regardless of their background, these Council of Terra Member were still loyal to the Empire and wanted to do things for it.

"Sigh, don't say anymore. We've been gone long enough. If someone finds out, we'll be ruined."

Peter, the one who initiated the meeting, was the first to leave, but before he could even step out the door, he slammed it shut.

"No, I've been ruined by alcohol and women, growing increasingly haggard. How Could be hallucinating like this? No, I need to see it again!"

As the door opened a crack, Old Peter met a pair of dark eyes. Staring at each other, the old Speaker, who had followed the Emperor since the Unification Wars, almost had a heart attack.

The reason was that behind the door stood a Tall humanoid figure who looked exceptionally sunny and cheerful—practically Happy Superman Kiya.

"Hello everyone! I think I smell a secret."