The Last Echo of an Era

Mordred could simply eat and drink to her heart's content, while the others had much more to think about.

Driven by an insatiable thirst for greed, Mordred craved the Primarch, partly because she herself possessed scraps of the Primarch within her.

On the other hand, it was because each Primarch had consumed a part of him before the grand plan was implemented.

This small dose of Chaos Energy Corruption acts like a kind of condom for the Primarch, preserving some of their essence and preventing them from selling their underwear when they're stuffed into puff pastries by the Four Merchants.

After all, inviting a wolf into the house doesn't mean you should actually let the wolf eat you.

The composition of the Primarch is quite wondrous; the physical body is like a chassis, a shell that can contain the Warp essence.

Warp essence composed of electrical components such as motherboards, graphics cards, monitors, memory, fans, and CPUs—essentially hardware.

As for the soul and Self-Awareness, they are undoubtedly the operating system. As long as the operating system is kept running smoothly, even if it gets infected with a virus, you can simply reinstall the operating system by flashing the firmware.

Mordred had planned everything meticulously, but he hadn't anticipated that his most important antivirus software would malfunction. The fragments that should have served as a protective shield instead became the hunter's mark on the Primarch.

For Mordred now, the Primarch is like a candy that smells amazing, and just one lick is enough to make him incredibly high.

Biological instincts are nothing more than the same three things: eating, sleeping, and playing cards. Now, a group of adorable little creatures who can eat and sleep well and smell so familiar have appeared in front of him, Mordred simply can't resist.

Even though it lost its mind and became the Beast driven only by instinct, it was still moved when it saw that golden, shiny Yellow Skins that was Outside World emitting light pollution.

Dying Memories suddenly began to resurface, forcefully suppressing his biological instincts and igniting a flame of hatred within him.

Of Mordred's more than 200 years of life, the most profound and important part that influenced him was undoubtedly his memories before he came to this cesspool.

Besides that, the second most vivid memory is of this Yellow Skins.

For Mordred, his impression of Neos was entirely negative; he was a complete scoundrel, lazy, cunning, and depraved individual.

As Emperor, Neos doesn't even deserve the title of Tyrant. He's as fierce as he is in killing Xenos on the battlefield, but he's just as incompetent when it comes to governing a country.

If there were a keyboard that could govern a country, even putting a dog on it would be better than this idiot. It's just that Malcador misjudged people and was forced to be a government Servitor in Terra.

Speaking of dogs, as a father, Yellow Skins is even worse than a dog. The way he raises his children is so bad that calling him a dog would be an insult to dogs.

What about his character?

The Emperor's reputation score has plummeted to rock bottom. He can't even scan a shared bike in Serenity. The shared bikes might even find him dirty and turn into Autobots to give him a good beating, then transform into Decepticons and curse him for being unlucky.

The only reason this piece of trash has survived this long is because of his unreasonable and overwhelming power, and that is Mordred's third most profound impression.

Ever since becoming the Primarch, Mordred has inevitably received a beating whenever he encounters the Emperor. While he does have a foul mouth, does Neos really have nothing to hide?

The Emperor's appearance instantly triggered a stress response in Mordred, who began to frantically exhale.

If it were Zhuang Sen's breath, it would just be a matter of blowing the heads off a few unlucky guys. But Mordred's breath would spew out Fel Energy death rays and spontaneously rush towards that ultimate godhood.

The fifth throne, symbolizing the Greedy Dissolution, drew ever closer, with even black flames erupting behind it, pressing the divine position against Mordred.

The name Mordred echoed throughout the entire Warp; everyone knew it, and all spirits began to sing praises to the birth of this fifth deity.

"Oedipus Seven Sargeras Proudmoore Griffith Minasir Pendragon..."

This is a blessing bestowed upon Mordred by 88 Dog-men clans, and it is also the beginning of 88 Dog-men clans. Across millions of years of time, an unobstructed road to heaven was formed.

With each syllable that appeared, Mordred would take a step closer to the divine position, and her form would become increasingly distorted and grotesque.

That distorted face was so terrifying that it could hardly be called a living being. Amidst the intertwining of materialized energy and flesh, countless eyeballs and sharp teeth burst forth, accompanied by irregularly sliding fleshy tentacles, staring intently at every living being.

This nightmarish, twisted creation, like a terrifying fantasy from the depths of a nightmare, is Mordred's true nature.

No one would doubt his identity; anyone familiar with Mordred could recognize him at a glance.

Even if he were reduced to a pool of boiling flesh and blood, everyone could still see that arrogant blond hair, still sporting an afro, writhing with the flesh and blood!

When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.

With just a glance, countless mortal soldiers collapsed to the ground, howling in agony as their Sanity Collapsed and they mutated rapidly, eventually turning into a lump of boiling viscous slurry.

Perhaps due to further evolution, one figure after another emerged from the slime. Blocked by dimensional barriers, it was not the Burning Legion that came this time, but Atlas, who could move freely in the Physical World.

The Four Merchants believed they were doomed and began to amputate limbs to survive, cutting away areas Chaos Energy Corruption. However, this inadvertently fostered the birth of Mordred.

Only the Khorne did not back down, joining the Emperor in protecting the Imperial Fleet with all their might, watching Mordred, which should have been theirs, drift further and further away.

That was once an unattainable hope for him, and now, he had personally destroyed that salvation.

"No, this shouldn't be happening. You three cowards, don't bother coming."

Amidst the barrage of artillery fire, the Roared of the Khorne reached the Emperor's ears, but at this moment, the Emperor had no time to pay attention to anything else.

The Dark King has staked everything on Mordred, but similarly, as soon as Mordred is born, the Dark King will be born immediately afterward.

However, when it comes to swindling people, the Four Merchants never disappoint. After discovering that cutting the field was pointless, Tzeentch's astonishing wisdom struck again.

"Everything is going according to plan. Trust me, you all have to trust me, I have a way!"

The blue slime, already corrupted by Fel Energy, gradually went mad, activating its previously laid plans one after another, and fragments of the utterly destroyed world began to collide with the entire galaxy.

As the two dimensions collided, everything corresponding to the Milky Way region began to reset and merge, both in the Warp and the Physical World.

Mordred did not exist in that world; Tzeentch to use this nothingness to absorb Mordred herself.

This plan, which would inflict 1000 casualties on the enemy while also losing 800 of its own, is unpredictable and could lead to anything, but for now, it's a desperate gamble.

However, as time ticked by, Mordred not only didn't weaken, but instead burst into emerald flames, breathing even more fiercely. Tzeentch thought the dosage wasn't enough and tried to increase the intensity, but the Emperor, realizing what was happening, kicked him in the mouth.

"Get lost, you forgetful brat! Have you forgotten how you messed up before?"

"What should we do then?"

"How the hell was I supposed to know this was all your fault? Fine, we'll all go down together, dragging the four of you down with us. That'll make my life worthwhile!"

"Look at you Four Useless Ones: a fat bastard, a slut who's neither male nor female, a piece of trash who just shouts that everything is going according to plan, and you even have a dog."

It wasn't that the Emperor had given up hope; it was simply because he heard Mordred recall the name Wayne, and that if he remembered it again, the outcome would be an endless final battle.

Just as the Emperor was about to give up entirely, Mordred suddenly stopped spitting out vomit, and his entire being—no, his entire sphere—began to groan in pain.

A silver-white spear crackling with Emerald Lightning appeared on his body. Although it was gradually dissipating, it firmly pinned him to the last step of the Ascension Staircase.

Two completely opposite energies collided here, shattering the balance Mordred had maintained until now. A half-human figure struggled to crawl out, but was quickly pulled back by the endless fleshy tentacles, letting out a pathetic howl:

"Croak—someone help me!"

Beneath her golden hair was a Red Scarf fluttering in the wind, the brass Wolf Claw Mark still gleaming.

Countless faint points of light burst forth, attempting to drag Mordred down from her pedestal, but they were too weak.

Mordred is not only the Mushroom Demon King, but also the creator of the Dog-men. His once glorious Dog-men are gone and cannot resist the dragging of the new era's sacrifices.

Gazing at the rapidly dissipating Silver Spear, the Khorne and the Emperor exchanged a glance, both confirming a certain idea.

"You bunch of useless trash, hold them off!"

"My son! Your father has come to save you!" ×2