As the twenty-one offspring created by the Emperor's ruthless handiwork, every Primarch possessed a powerful, domineering physique. Their fighting spirit and endurance were even more astonishing.
Take Mordred, for example. His physical toughness was practically supernatural, while his vitality was terrifyingly monstrous. As long as he had energy to draw on, even half his body being blown apart wouldn't stop him from regenerating at incredible speed. He could survive on dirt, too. In short, he simply refused to play by the rules.
And that was only his physical stats. Every Primarch had their own special trick, and Mordred was no exception.
After conducting various self-tests, Mordred discovered that he possessed a charm ability far beyond the normal range. He was practically a human-shaped incubus, capable of randomly spawning brainless fans around himself.
The way this ability worked was rather mystical. Even after more than a decade, Mordred still couldn't figure it out. He believed his power might be connected to the brain—the simpler the creature, the less affected it was. Ogryn, whose brains didn't work too well, and Dog-men, who excelled at slacking off and doing nothing, were examples.
That was also why, after gaining control over his ability, Mordred only liked hanging around with Ogryn and Dog-men. As for his other abilities, Mordred still hadn't discovered them to this day.
But so what if he had a special ability? At this point in 30K, the Imperial Truth was flourishing. Even if the era wasn't the absolute cesspit that 40K would become, Mordred, despite being a Primarch, was still only a high-level chess piece in a galaxy set against the backdrop of the stars.
Unless Mordred could transform into the Magnetic Field Martial God, punch one pathetic loser after another, and smash the entire Great Path to pieces, he might as well stay wherever it was coolest! He'd be better off waiting for the Yellow Skins' return gift pack.
"So, Boss, is this why you always make us work while you slack off?"
After obtaining his new weapon, Rambo let out a sigh through his dog's mouth and squeezed himself onto the sofa. He wondered if he had truly been blind back then. How had he ended up acknowledging a master like this? Every day, he either unclogged toilets or worked as a manual laborer. He was the one who looked like the master:
"Boss, don't you want to avenge yourself?"
"Nonsense. Haven't I already developed new weapons? Do you expect me to fight that group of monsters alone? It's not that I don't want to. I just can't beat them."
At those words, even Rambo couldn't help sighing. He rubbed his remaining half of a dog ear and completely collapsed into the sofa.
As two columns of smoke rose into the air, master and servant said nothing. Both recalled the crushing defeat from a year ago.
As an ambitious young man who had once pointed out the course of history after lights-out in his dormitory—words that, if leaked, would have gotten him shot on the spot—Mordred hadn't failed to do something big after arriving in this world. He had done it. He had simply died halfway through.
After taking on the Chieftain's heavy responsibility, Mordred led the Dog-men in campaigns across the land. Relying on the powerful armies of the Dog-men and Ogryn, he unified all the tribes on the grasslands, then learned the location of another continent from the humans living at the grassland's edge.
But just as he had the guides lead him across the grasslands to conquer the other half of the continent through that primeval jungle, an accident occurred.
In that dense primeval jungle, the Atlas Expeditionary Force encountered all kinds of bizarre creatures: bloodthirsty swarms of mosquitoes as large as roosters; adorably foolish-looking toads capable of blowing apart half a hill; and even ten-meter-tall giant Mushroom Folk, their entire bodies flickering with golden electricity, whose fists could flatten a main battle tank.
And that was only the beginning of the nightmare. After suffering heavy casualties and fighting their way out of the jungle, the Expeditionary Force finally reached its destination.
As far as the eye could see, there were abandoned steel wrecks. Half a continental plate had been torn apart completely, as though a brutal war had once taken place there. Even the Mega-Hive in the distance had been smashed to pieces and was entirely covered in green plants.
Only one pink castle remained relatively intact. It stood alone before the ruins, blocking the only entrance.
To investigate what had happened there, Mordred led part of his force and the guides forward to scout.
But when they went around the castle and approached the sole entrance, Mordred saw two enormous buttons, one red and one green. After a brief moment of thought, Mordred decided not to press either of them. He simply climbed the wall!
Unfortunately, it was already too late. Accompanied by a piercing red alarm, countless battered robots charged out of the entrance and began attacking wildly in every direction.
After chopping one enemy apart, Mordred finally understood what had happened in this blasted place. It was an Ancient Battlefield where the Iron Men Rebellion had once erupted.
Even so, with their heavy plate armor and oversized firearms, the group still had some means of fighting back against the decrepit machines whose bodies had begun sprouting grass. They fought while retreating and forced their way out. Then the most absurd thing happened.
Just as the Expeditionary Force thought it had escaped alive, the castle beside them suddenly stood up. That was because it wasn't a castle at all. It was a damn Titan with half its body buried in the ground!
Whenever he thought back to that moment, Mordred felt he must have lost his mind. Why had he suddenly gotten hotheaded and decided to fight a Titan alone?
In the end, Mordred, with half his body melted, was carried out on Rambo's back. The vanguard had been completely wiped out, and the few remaining troops had been chased under artillery fire like dogs, able only to escort their boss in a shameful retreat.
"So, Boss, it's not that I'm slacking off. We really can't beat them! Any knight would've been fine, but you threw me straight into a one-on-one fight with a Titan. Are you kidding me?"
Hearing his boss admit with his own mouth that he couldn't win, Rambo felt a wave of discouragement. Even his tail drooped.
"Then is there really no way? Hurry up and use your astonishing wisdom! Boss, you promised Old Thomas that you'd make the Dog-men great again."
Mordred casually flicked away his cigarette butt, then waved his large hand for his capable subordinate to follow. He had something good to show him.
Following Mordred into the workshop, Rambo saw a huge hull assembled from scrap materials. Above it was a patched-up cigar-shaped airbag, with a crooked smiley face painted on the top. It possessed an indescribably ridiculous charm.
"What's this?"
"Good question. I like that worldly, uneducated look on your face. This is the secret weapon that will let us wash away our past humiliation. I call it the Kirov Airship.
"Don't ask what an airship is. All you need to know is that we can use this thing to drop into that Titan.
"After our last failure, I discovered that those robots were very strange. They had no independent consciousness at all. Perhaps the Iron Men were already on the verge of collapse and could only mechanically carry out their old orders."
"You mean..." Mordred nodded and continued explaining:
"While you were unclogging other people's toilets these past six months, I already sent people to investigate with small airships. As long as we don't make any aggressive moves, we won't trigger the alarm. We can carry out a boarding operation and resolve the problem from the inside.
"As for the rest, with the inferior explosive weapons I've developed recently, we can slowly clear out those Abominable Intelligences. We have the advantage!
"So, do you know what you're supposed to do now? Hurry up and call all the Dog-men over to work. Do you expect me to make weapons for the entire tribe by myself?"
"Should we summon the Ogryn, then?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Rambo shut his dog's mouth on his own. Before Mordred could start cursing, he hurriedly ran out. After all, having the Ogryn operate machine tools would be worse than praying for them to repair the toilets themselves.
At the same time, on the edge of the star sector containing the Serene World, a human fleet emerged from a jump at Mandeville Point. In the golden flagship at the head of the fleet, a Golden Giant stared at the Holographic Projection before him with a deeply furrowed brow. He hated making choices most of all.
Two planets had been specially marked. One of those worlds held one of his own offspring. After a brief moment of thought, the Golden Giant decided not to choose either one and began searching the jungle world nearby first.
"Catachan. What a great name!"
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