Orbital Bombardment Shatters Stars, Dark Angels Produce Filial Sons

"Achoo! Do I feel like someone's cursing at me?"

Guilliman pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his nose. He had been sneezing non-stop since he woke up that morning, and his mood was even worse after discovering that the High Lord he had built was secretly sabotaging him.

If the empire before Guilliman's slumber was Golden Age, then the current empire is a cesspool.

Nearly 8,000 years of isolation caused the empire to miss its best period of development. Even the once invincible legions were completely destroyed after fighting so many counterinsurgency wars.

Not only the Chapter, but also the Adeptus Custodes, the Imperial Navy, the Astra Militarum, and the Planetary Defense Force —basically all of them have experienced a comprehensive decline.

A more concrete example is the Empire's technology; let alone iterative updates, it can't even build some of the old artifacts used during the Great Crusade.

A Cobra-class Destroyer takes at least half a century from casting to commissioning. Every screw and every part has to be bowed down in prayer, which made Guilliman's scalp tingle.

It's important to understand that the Cobra Destroyer, within the Imperial Great Crusade fleet, is merely the smallest unit capable of allowing crew members to Warp Voyage; it's a consumable item used to shield capital ships from enemy fire.

Because of its large production capacity, the Legion even developed an Orbital Drop tactic using Cobra Destroyer, directly dropping warships onto the ground as Drop Pod to serve as outpost bases.

If you say that even a small cobra is still a steel behemoth nearly two kilometers long, then what about the Terminator?

Leaving aside the exorbitantly priced Ironclad and Saturnine Terminator Armour, even the balanced Tartaros Terminator Armour has been shaved off. Why is the cheapest and most durable Indomitus Terminator Armour produced in such low quantities?

Manufacturing weapons and equipment is so laborious, and those creepy flying dead kids are everywhere. Guilliman really wanted to punch those Mechanicus into scrap metal.

But that's not the Most Evil. The Most Evil is the imperial political system, which can be described as the ultimate cesspool that embodies the shortcomings of all regimes in human history.

Guilliman had already begun working on abolishing the Imperial Tithe before going to sleep, replacing it with a thirtieth-one tax, but these Vermin stubbornly insisted on collecting taxes based on the standards from ten thousand years ago.

What if a planet can't pay its taxes? Then suppress it, ultimately forcing countless worlds into rebellion.

Guilliman swears to God that, although he is not Psychic Power, he really did see Daemon in the Department of Administration. What's more, the Daemon actually told him to get lost and not interfere with his work.

Having fought the Chaos Daemons in real combat, and with two months having passed since the Battle of Luna, Guilliman's most important task during these two months, besides sending people to create the Dark Gate, was to clean up Hive City.

"Damn, I get so angry just thinking about it. Those Adeptus Custodes Guards are just sitting around doing nothing, hiding in the Imperial Palace for 8,000 years. They didn't even realize that Terra had been marinated by Cultists."

No wonder it attracted so many Khorne Daemons. The establishment of the Imperial Cult was a mistake. Putting so many skulls in Holy Terra was a stupid idea.

Eight Bloodthirsty Demon, all in Holy Terra! If I hadn't returned quickly, the Battle of Lion's Gate would have been lost. I don't even dare to think about what would have happened next.

It's impossible for the Xenos Inquisition to be full of Xenos, the Daemon Inquisition to be full of Daemon, the Empire to be governed entirely by Daemon, and the Hive City to be teeming with Genestealer.

And you, Mordred, where did you go?

Upon hearing this, a dog's head emerged from Guilliman's shoulder, his previously illusory form became more solid, and the electric sparks on his shoes transformed from spark plugs into small water guns.

"How would I know? But I can assure you that the boss has indeed returned. Although his past memories are gone, the curse of oblivion has been lifted."

Didn't we test it with your offspring before? The fact that the eldest brother's name can be remembered proves that the eldest brother has returned.

Knowing our leader's personality, he'll definitely gather information first, then assemble the legion, and finally head to Holy Terra. We're the most astute dogs on the plains."

Mordred is not Dog-men.

"You're talking nonsense! Our leader is our Great Chieftain, he's Dog-men! That's pure Macragge, I don't want to argue with you."

With a cold snort, Rambo curled his lip and ruffled Guilliman's half-yellow, half-white blond hair, saying:

"Don't blame me for not warning you, if the boss finds out what you've done, he'll probably beat the shit out of you."

The Astartes Codex, the establishment of the Imperial Cult, the Split the Legions —and should I remind you, who wiped out Atlas's entire family? Atlas's successor—His Highness Robert Guilliman!

"..."

Rambo only made things worse. After he said them, Guilliman was less inclined to want Mordred to come back. Just the fact that he was taking advantage of Mordred's family would probably get him beaten to a pulp.

"I have to beat Guilliman to a pulp!"

After learning the details of the Empire's current situation, Mordred was completely devastated. The good news was that Blood Ravens was still there, but that was all; Atlas was gone.

When Mordred questioned him, Azmodai claimed to know nothing, stating that he had never heard of the Atlas Legion, but that the Chapter Archives contained information about the Hive Research Institute, which was located on the Luna.

As for Serenity, the Chapter's database shows it to be a wild world that was once prosperous, but became a no-man's-land after the Chaos Energy Crystal were depleted, eventually becoming the homeworld of the Blood Ravens.

"However, the free-range chicken, a specialty of Serene World, is especially delicious. I fell in love with it after eating it once at the Second Company canteen. It would be even better with a glass of orange juice."

"Second Company?" Mordred seemed to have grasped something crucial, but he didn't make a fuss. Instead, he changed the subject and inquired about the current situation of the Dark Angels.

The result was not satisfactory. The big brother that all legions once followed had completely failed. The Hexagrammaton no longer existed, and a traitor known as the Fallen Angels appeared.

When the topic of Fallen Angels came up, Azmodai seemed like a completely different person, spouting strange things like the Black Pearl must be captured, the Fallen Angels must be eliminated, and Cypher must die.

Since the Dark Angels have become like this, Mordred has no expectations for the other legions, or rather, the other Chapter. He probably thinks they're all a bunch of lunatics.

Mordred's prediction that the current Chapter was underperforming was quickly confirmed.

Mordred forced a smile as he watched Azmodai proudly showing off the Thunderhawk, especially when he heard that it was a rare find from the Great Crusade.

"Father, are you dissatisfied with the Chapter?"

Perhaps. I'm not dissatisfied with you, just a little powerless.

I have become so weak, my once Invincible Under Heaven power has vanished, and just half a month ago I couldn't even beat a mouse.

The empire of today feels foreign to me; you may not know, but it wasn't like this in my time.

Back then, the Space Marine weren't called Adeptus Astartes, nor were they the small, powerless Chapter they are today; they were an invincible legion capable of burning galaxies and shattering stars!

Through the rearview mirror, Azmodai saw a blonde girl slumped in her seat like a salted fish. Her face, which should have been youthful, revealed a kind of vicissitudes that came with the passage of time, and her eyes were full of despair.

"Damn it, even if she's just giving up, can the Primarch still be this beautiful?"

"Huh? What did you say?"

"No, what I mean is, sir, you've just gotten old!"

"..."

Lies don't hurt, but the truth is the sharpest knife. Azmodai was right. After learning about the current state of the Empire, Mordred felt that she would have been better off not coming back at all.

Faced with this cesspool that was already suffocating even from just seeing the tip of the iceberg, even Mordred felt a deep sense of powerlessness and inevitably entered an emo state.

Under Azmodai's shocked gaze, Mordred skillfully jumped into the co-pilot's seat, rummaged around on the cockpit canopy, and pulled out a pack of Rick Cigarettes from a hidden compartment.

Staring at the grinning dog head on the cigarette pack, especially lingering on the red scarf around its neck for a few seconds, fine, emerald-green Fel Energy sparks poured into it.

As two plumes of smoke rose, Azmodai's pupils dilated instantly. "Sir, this smell is absolutely divine! But how did you find it?"

"Nonsense, that's why I can be the Primarch, and you Primarch n't."

Azmodai found it a bit strange; his father didn't seem as difficult to get along with as the records described. Compared to the cold and domineering image in the records, he preferred his current father.

Perhaps, as he said before, the lion has indeed grown old and become benevolent.

On the other hand, although it's hard to admit, is there any comparison between Hakimi, who is over three meters tall, and a petite girl who is only 1.5 meters tall?

"Hey, what are you looking at? I sensed something was off about you earlier. Didn't you want to ask me how I knew?"

Let me tell you, I'm just getting old, but I'm not useless.

During the Great Crusade, the Legion rode in Stormraven. Fragile creatures like Thunderhawk, which didn't even have Void Shield, were consumables, just like Power Armor.

You've really never experienced hardship, huh? But don't worry, even though I'm no longer as brave as I used to be, I still possess extraordinary wisdom. I've already amassed a rich legacy.

As the saying goes, a cunning rabbit has three burrows. I have left behind a large number of secret warehouses throughout the galaxy, almost every Legion homeworld has one. Have you heard of the Webway? It's located beneath Holy Terra, and it's full of my hidden treasures.

We are currently in the Stygian Sector. Once we cross the Gothic Sector, we can jump from Silvis to Caliban.

With the hiding place I designed myself, it won't be discovered for at least 100,000 years, let alone 10,000 years, unless a major event occurs.

I'll give you a shout-out to Stormraven then, and you'll be the coolest kid in the Chapter."

"Oh, Father, you didn't ask before, but actually Caliban was shattered."

"It's broken! How is this possible?"

Upon hearing this, Mordred noticed Azmodai staring at him with a rather strange look. Recalling the birth of the Fallen Angels, Mordred realized he might have let something slip, but he quickly turned the tables and accused Azmodan:

"Impossible, absolutely impossible! When I was here, Caliban wasn't even destroyed yet!"

"Yes, Father, the Caliban not destroyed when you were here, but it was because those rebels blew it up that you disappeared completely."

Moreover, the Empire has now been torn in two by the Great Rift, and we are now in the Imperium Nihilus, unable to rely on the Astronomican for guidance. This is why my squad is all alone here.

Don't worry, I've already sent a message in Star Language to the Stone Fortress. We can just wait here for them to come and pick us up.

"Wait a minute! Things are starting to get interesting. Tell me, who is the current Chapter Master of the Dark Angels?"

Seeing Mordred's strange, ambiguous smile, Azmodai thought he had said something wrong.

"It's Azrael!"

"What a great name! It sounds like he's a very filial son. Suddenly I'm not so emo anymore."