Crow Crow's Trail
There was not a moment of sorrow for Makara, who was exploited by Eldar; the two Imperial Warmaster were about to return to the cesspool.
As one of the three great cesspools of the Warhammer World, alongside the SCP Foundation and Cthulhu, Mordred's face immediately fell upon his return, and Horus let out a sharp roar, like a Gretchin whose toe had been stepped on.
"Malcador, what are you doing, you Dogs and Donkeys?"
Horus was understandably distraught, for Malcador stood behind Horus with a giant syringe filled with Peanut Butter, his eyes filled with reluctance and disappointment.
Coupled with Mordred and Horus maintaining the same pose as five years ago, it creates an indescribable eeriness and grotesqueness.
This is like a gay guy sneaking into a boys' dormitory. Once a chain of suspicion forms, that's the most terrifying thing. Horus would rather point to Bolter than have a syringe stuck in his Kiya!
"Nothing, just knew my vacation was over! By the way, Mordred, how about you—"
"Get lost! Believe me or not, I'll self-destruct and kill you, you son of a bitch!"
Knowing he was in the wrong, Malcador shrugged and Psychic Teleportation away, leaving only the giant syringe rolling to the ground before it reached Horus.
"Well, if I'm not mistaken, it seems we've been separated for a full five years this time, which means—."
"Stop talking!" Horus's face was resolute, like a philosopher-king whose will could not be broken and whose mind could not be disturbed by any thoughts; his eyes held only the lingering affection for beautiful memories.
"It's just a little physical pain, I can take it! This trip is a wonderful memory for me, it was worth it! It was fucking worth it!"
Seeing Mordred's disgusted look, Horus finally gave in and begged his Good Second Brother to help him out.
He can no longer feel his buttocks.
With a flick of her fingernails, Mordred severed the chains with chitinous claws imbued with Decomposition Field, helped Horus to his feet, and summoned her offspring through the Mind Network.
When they saw that their Old Man had finally come back to life, the nine oxen and horses wept with joy. They were finally free and no longer had to be those damned government Servitor. But there were always a few clueless people who would ruin the mood.
"Hey? Father, why are you crossing your legs?" Abaddon's words instantly filled the room with an awkward atmosphere.
Horus suddenly realized that perhaps he had been too kind to them, especially that Rebellious son Abaddon. If you can't speak properly, then don't speak at all. And was that damned spiky braid mocking his thinning hair?
"It's nothing. Mordred and I were in a very fierce battle, but in the end we were better. Come help me up, I need to rest."
If Mordred hadn't known what Horus had been like for the past 13 years, he might have believed it. No wonder Old Man Huang kept repeating "He's the First Returned Son" to First Returned Son; his stubbornness was exactly the same. Then he saw Tom.
"Father, I—"
Mordred admitted that he used to be a superstitious believer in science, thinking that science could explain all the truths in the world, and that he could even summarize a series of theories about the Warp.
But science doesn't exist with Tom. This kid always manages to pull off something amazing, or he awakens some special talent that allows him to always find the Primarch.
Sure enough, upon returning to the Abomination, Tom immediately reported his findings:
"Father, here's what happened. Didn't you give me a chart of the characteristics of the Primarch? Guess what?"
Mordred didn't want to guess; he had a more efficient way. He simply pulled out his belt and slammed it on the table. Seeing the situation was dire, Tom immediately knelt down and hurriedly pulled out his Dataslate.
Looking at the unusual frequency on the Dataslate, Mordred immediately recognized it as an illegal broadcast, or rather, a browsing history.
Due to Atlas, the Great Crusade is progressing much faster than originally planned, and has now lasted for nearly a century, reaching its Great Crusade.
As we all know, when a power expands too rapidly, the hidden dangers behind it will grow larger and larger until they explode in an instant.
The empire was a thoroughly militaristic regime, making it a villain in any story. In comparison, the Sith Empire was a beacon of civilization.
The fact that the empire, a makeshift organization, hasn't encountered any major problems so far is entirely due to strongman politics and an overwhelming sense of martial virtue.
Despite constantly mocking the Yellow Skins, Mordred had to admit that Imperial Truth was indeed a perfect slogan that could unify everything.
Various Xenos ravage the galaxy, warlords wage wars indiscriminately, and the people suffer. Humanity's unification is an inevitable trend—this is the Great Crusade.
For the Great Crusade, everyone from Council of Terra Member to Hive City workers silently endured the hardships. The Imperial Tithe was created for this purpose; it was a completely wartime economic system.
As long as the Great Crusade continues to be victorious, there will be a constant stream of world resources being exploited to provide energy for this steel behemoth called the Empire, silencing all dissent.
Everything seemed to be going well, but underneath, undercurrents were surging, and all sorts of small groups and forces were growing wildly, with the Adeptus Mechanicus the most prominent.
Mordred knew exactly what kind of person the Mechanicus was; just look at how the Arch-Magos Kragg was dismembered into pieces.
To limit the Adeptus Mechanicus, the Emperor chose to allow the Iron Hands to infiltrate; as long as the Iron Hands was present, the Red Men would not be able to cause chaos.
Even if the Adeptus Mechanicus really runs into trouble, there's still the Icarus Protocol as a last resort. The all-powerful Dark Angels will show these Mechanicus what the First Legion's true value is.
As for supporting a series of Forge World such as Hades 8 and Ryza, these are all covert moves. On the surface, there is Atlas, which is competing with the Adeptus Mechanicus.
Atlas is a mad dog, Mordred is the madst of mad dogs. This is the consensus of all the high-ranking officials of the Empire. Even the Space Wolves and Dark Angels, who serve as military police and counter-terrorism forces, would not launch Great Purge against Holy Terra at will.
During his 30 years as Warmaster, Atlas used taxation as a pretext to purge dissidents. Although he killed many people, he profited even more from it.
They were completely integrated into the empire.
Mordred knew perfectly well that he had to let others live as well as he lived; he could exploit them, but there had to be limits, and he couldn't push them to their deaths.
For this reason, Mordred has always turned a blind eye to the Adeptus Mechanicus's imitation of the Divine Seal Terminal, and Atlas even allows the Adeptus Mechanicus to study here, so that everyone can make money together.
This illegal broadcasting is a Divine Seal manufactured in small workshops. Its power efficiency is far inferior to that of genuine Atlas products. It is the kind that has not been officially authorized, and it is equivalent to a home satellite dish antenna that is illegally using Wi-Fi.
What do I do if I want to kill someone? What's the mixing process for No. 36 Adamantium? How do I win my sister's heart? How are nuclear bombs made? If I kill the foreman, can I become the foreman myself? Will I get blown up if I'm holding a nuclear bomb?
No, isn't that a huge leap?
Looking at the browsing history Tom handed her, the questions inside were increasingly abstract, but Mordred still read through them carefully, simply because the data came from a world called Kival.
"Tom, you are truly my Most Proud Son, well done!"