It's Irresistible Gravity, Run!

As the undisputed bloodthirsty blade of the Great Crusade, the Space Marine can be called a near-perfect biological weapon. So, the question arises: just how strong are these Tin Can Kid?

The answer is affirmative, but their strength is limited!

Don't let the title of Death Angel of the Emperor fool you; while every Space Marine is a formidable big guy, they are not invincible. It all depends on who they are compared against.

How does the saying go? If you are willing to risk it all, you can even pull a demigod off their pedestal. No matter how strong a Space Marine is, they have not reached the level of fantasy powerhouses; they remain carbon-based lifeforms.

In this godforsaken galaxy where offense far outweighs defense, one doesn't even need to mention the monsters and demons encountered during the Great Crusade; even a Tin Can would meet their end on the spot if hit by a single shot from a melta gun.

Yet, even so, these modified soldiers known as Space Marines are sufficient to ensure the momentum of the Emperor's Great Crusade.

The strength of a Space Marine is not innate; it is acquired through nineteen Gene-Modding Surgery procedures. Combined with the combat experience accumulated through countless battles, they can eventually fight one against a hundred and create miracles on the battlefield.

However, war inevitably brings casualties. To replenish their ranks and ensure the Primarch can command them like an extension of his own will, the Emperor used a very clever method: the Gene-Seed.

This miraculous little object is the foundation of a Legion. Only through it can biochemical cyborgs turn decay into magic, allowing the Tin Can to acquire the power of their Gene-Father.

As for why this method was used to expand the Legions, even without it being explicitly stated, Mordred could guess a thing or two. After all, the Emperor would never allow a new human force to ride roughshod over the Imperium.

Space Marines, who derive their strength from post-natal surgery and Gene-Seed, cannot produce little Tin Cans even if they were to mate and reproduce with ordinary humans; they must undergo post-natal modification.

But now, the Arch-Magos wants Mordred to steal the Gene-Seed of other Legions. Isn't that a joke?

"I don't understand. Are there no other ways?"

The Arch-Magos did not speak immediately this time. Instead, he took out two Gene-Seeds for Mordred to see for himself: one belonged to the Second Legion, and the other to the Sons of Horus.

Having returned to the Legion for so long, this was the first time Mordred had observed a Gene-Seed at such close range, and at a single glance, he realized where the problem lay.

Compared to the Great-Grandson of Guilliman, the Gene-Seed of the Second Legion looked just like a Xenos Placenta, with several Flesh Tentacles growing wantonly upon it, as if possessing Self-Awareness.

Perhaps sensing the presence of its Supreme Motherbody, a single eye actually emerged from beneath the Flesh Tentacles, gazing at him longingly.

"Damn it!"

"Since things have come to this, Don't Blame Me for being ruthless. Arch-Magos, how much Gene-Seed from other Legions does Atlas currently have in stock?"

"327, and 326 of them belong to the Thirteenth Legion, while one is from the Son of the Emperor—and that one I just dug up."

Mordred resigned himself to his fate. In any case, the Second Legion was full of secrets; one doesn't worry about more lice when already infested. Rather than Internal Strife, it was better to disgust others.

He even suspected that the Emperor had dispersed the Second Legion previously because he knew the true nature of Atlas. With this limitation in place, as long as he, Mordred, still cared about the Legion, he Can Never break away from the Imperium.

"Brilliant! You really calculated everything so tightly. Did you even guess my desire to go solo? No wonder you didn't demand I join the Great Crusade, no wonder you gave me such high authority."

"Harkon, you bastard!"

Fine, if it's a patchwork legion, so be it. At least he could increase the numbers of his own Legion first; otherwise, as they fought and dwindled, Atlas would exist in name only.

"Kragg, pass on my orders. Deploy as follows:"

"Select suitable Recruits for training and use these three hundred-plus seeds to provide fresh blood for the Legion. Remember to keep things clean. As for the rest, I will find a way."

"As you command, my Prince!"

Soon, a new order was issued by Mordred to the outside world: while maintaining logistical support, the Second Legion would gradually dispatch personnel to participate in the Great Crusade, coordinating with other brother Legions in battle.

In secret, Mordred, having pondered for a long time, finally gathered all the descendants he could summon and revealed the ultimate secret of the Legion.

Unexpectedly, upon learning this secret, the Atlas did not panic. Instead, they held a very abstract discussion on which Legion's seed would be the most badass to fuse with.

Some said the Thousand Sons, because it would teach one how to use miraculous, wonderful magic.

Others said the Space Wolves, as that would grant them Beast Intuition; perhaps they could even turn into cool werewolves and frolic with the doggies on the grasslands. He had long wanted to taste the flavor of dog food.

Some even pondered if, after fusing with the seeds of other Legions, they could better engage in Free Looting within those Legions. If one's own family takes things from their own family, how can that be called stealing?

"Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river; we Atlas are the toughest. I will steal all your treasures and snatch away your fatherly love, leaving you to wipe your tears in secret!! Hehe."

All sorts of bizarre theories were endless, and in the dim hall, it looked like a dance of demons. Only the Ninth Company kept repeating, "I am Alpharius, we are all Alpharius!" drawing looks of disdain from the others.

Watching this group of incredibly optimistic descendants, Mordred's mindset gradually underwent some changes, and a faint, imperceptible smile rose at the corners of his mouth.

Though faint, it lacked the hypocrisy of the past.

Perhaps it was time for him to wake up from that memory.

Click—the continuous flashes of cameras interrupted the giant's thoughts. Just as Mordred wanted to see which unlucky son was so blind, he realized he had been completely surrounded.

"Father, you look so good when you smile! Hehe."

The sudden, outrageous statement left Mordred stunned for a full second. He Realized that his charm ability seemed to have grown stronger, but what followed was a fury mixed with shame. He reached out and grabbed that suicidal Rebellious son:

"The Khan, what the hell are you saying? You dog, you don't learn anything good, but you learn to be a sycophant like that piece of trash Horus? I am your Father!"

"Look at Goff, why isn't he as perverted as you? How are you supposed to be my Black Guard if you act like this? Do you want me to have to guard against you every day?"

The scolded The Khan didn't care about that at all. With his head spinning, he had forgotten himself and only wanted to get closer, especially to that brilliant Blonde Hair emitting the scent of oranges. He wanted to touch it so badly!

However, even more terrifying was that there was far more than one person charmed like The Khan. Hearing the Primarch call his name, Goff Myne, who had already put away his camera, lunged forward, knocking the First Captain flying and taking his place.

"Father, are you saying that I am your pride and joy?"

"..."

But fortunately, there were still normal people here. The Holographic Projection of the Arch-Magos appeared beside the throne and reported to Mordred:

"It's bad, my Prince. Hey, why don't you turn on the lights? Forget it, that's not important."

"The Third Primarch Fulgrim has sent a docking request, and he has brought the Third Legion with him. We've been exposed!"