Grant Me a Dream Called the Great Crusade

Mordred never came to a conclusion, but that didn't stop him from slacking off in this era, since Peanut Butter always runs out eventually.

After fighting for so many years, can't we enjoy ourselves a little? Horus, for one, wholeheartedly agrees.

Upon learning that the dog wouldn't leave immediately, Makara happily put on the black dress and, quite vainly, strutted around in front of the two of them with the necklace on.

"So, what do you think? My natural features are pretty good, aren't they?"

To be honest, Mordred couldn't appreciate it at all. He was basically indifferent to normal humans. Since he was essentially an amorphous lump of flesh, his appearance was meaningless to Mordred.

If it weren't for his desire to integrate into society and his unwavering belief in his human nature, Mordred might have stopped being human long ago. The life he most wanted was to live like his pet Morgan, a good-for-nothing who just lazes around and waits to die.

Only Horus, acting like a sycophant, kept praising Malaka, but who exactly was he praising? It's hard to say.

"Stop being so vain. Since we can't leave anytime soon, why don't we go on a trip and collect some more seeds while we're at it?"

I'm so fed up with those weird, genetically mutated fruits.

Perhaps recalling some unpleasant memories, Horus and Mordred couldn't help but grin.

Mordred was thinking of Dorn, but that bastard insisted on pointing to a cube called Lemon, claiming it was the authentic Lemon they Inwit recreated based on ancient records.

Whether it's square or round, as long as the taste remains the same, it's fine. But the problem is that this thing smells just like the horrible odor under an old man's armpit on a bus in the summer. Mordred absolutely refuses to admit that this thing is a lemon.

Horus, on the other hand, was thinking of Sanguinius, Great Angel known for his voracious appetite and fighting prowess. His favorite food was all kinds of fruit, and he would always devour the entire stock of the Vengeful Spirit.

Conversely, the Blood Angels would present the Moon Wolves with red wine produced in Baal.

Honestly, even a deep-thinking person like Horus spat it out the first time he drank that rubbish, cursing that he would rather die of thirst or die outside than ever touch it again.

Alongside Baal's Red Wine, there's also the Death Guard's specialty Poisoned Wine, which, according to Mortarion himself, is brewed from the Corn stalks of Barbarus.

How to describe the taste? Clean and hygienic, but a bit smelly. It even puffs up smoke when poured onto Adamantium! As a result, many legions buy Barbarus liqueur at high prices to use as a biochemical agent.

To paraphrase a widely circulated Imperial joke, in the Dark Age of Technology, a human was eating a banana when a passing Iron Men saw him and immediately knelt before the banana, asking the Federation citizen if he had been persecuted by Xenos.

Although it's a joke, it also proves the abuse of Genetic Modification by humans. After all, in Mordred's mind, potatoes grow in the ground and can never grow on trees. And if a potato can explode, then it's not a potato.

Makara, oblivious to his own good fortune, couldn't comprehend the bizarre lives of 30,000 people, but upon hearing about the trip, he jumped for joy.

"Where shall we go? I've never left Wus City before. Should we buy a carriage? But carriages are too expensive, let's rent one."

Ultimately, her mindset hadn't changed. Mordred pulled out her wallet and, under Makara's expectant gaze, handed her 13 Ore, saying, "This is your allowance. I need the rest to buy materials. Let's take the plane!"

What is an airplane?

Mordred loves this kind of flattery; it fully showcases his extraordinary wisdom. No wonder the Emperor will always have the Adeptus Custodes with him wherever he goes; he has to display his superior status.

But Mordred, as a member of the Imperial Order, believed in mutual progress and immediately gave this opportunity to show off to his good friend Horus.

Upon hearing that they could soar freely through the sky like birds without relying on Psychic Power, Makara immediately became interested and urged the two of them to act quickly.

Interest is always the best motivation for learning. You can't possibly create an airplane in this day and age, but Mordred and Horus have a special connection!

Even as dogs, the two of them are still incredibly powerful super dogs, comparable to an industrial machine tool. If conditions allowed, Mordred could create a lithography machine on the spot.

If you don't have enough materials, use the Star God Power to make up for it. If you don't have fuel, then just use the Chaos Energy Furnace. It's all about Brute Force.

As for whether future historians will go bald because of this, Mordred said it's unlikely. You'll just question the meaning of life and lose your hair. At worst, you'll shout that history doesn't exist and get locked up in a mental hospital.

We can't let them break their promise and disappoint that unlucky little guy, Makara, can we?

As for your question about where to obtain the soul fuel for the Chaos Energy Furnace, sorry, please don't ask Space Super Dogs about such a dark question.

Even if the color is wrong, you must still trust the light!

When this wooden airplane, named Gatanothor, with its perfect aerodynamic shape, burst off the ground and soared freely in the sky like a bird.

Seated in the open-air cabin, Makara roared excitedly, "I am the king of the world! I have conquered the sky!"

It was clearly just a crude toy, and both of them commanded powerful fleets capable of annihilating an entire race, yet some things simply cannot be measured by material means.

The absence of the Primarch in his childhood manifested in Makara. Seeing the unfortunate fellow's delighted expression, Horus and Mordred felt that perhaps this was the meaning of their presence here.

"Charge! Giant of Light, Gatanothor!"

Meanwhile, standing on the Mars wasteland, watching his father, whose spear had been broken by a dragon and who had lost 20 years' worth of wages, transform into a berserker.

The high-ranking warhorse, named Lightning but actually Chagatai's leader, also thought so as to frantically beat the Void Dragon.

If you can't be there for my childhood, then let me be there for your past!

What a young person cannot obtain will ultimately haunt them for life.

Clad in the Armor of Dominion and wielding the Emperor's Sword, Guilliman pushed open the Imperial Palace gates. There stood the least outstanding son, the one who had fought with all his might...

But in the end, he was still the brother who arrived late.

The Ultramarines, the thirteenth son of the God-Emperor, the Imperial Regent, the heir to Atlas, Ambition man, the compiler of the Astartes Codex, and the hope protected by his brother until the very end.

Robert Guilliman finally arrived in Holy Terra and met the Master of Mankind had lost everything and was firmly trapped on the Golden Throne:

"Father, I'm back! How are you?"

"Death, tool, traitor, number 13, Ambition, Gatanothor, centaur, Second Son."

Talking device!!!!!!