True and False Lion King, No Comparison, No Harm.

"Yeah, who exactly blew up Caliban? It couldn't have been one of their own, right? Azmyow!"

"What? I didn't know! Your Highness, you know me, I'm utterly loyal to you!"

Looking at the Lord of Knights beside him, Azrael sighed inwardly at how beautiful the lion was, but then a deep unease washed over him.

Looking into those crescent-shaped eyes, Azrael sensed he had been exposed, but Mordred didn't make a scene. Instead, she grabbed the small Canned One and licked it with her long tongue.

"Tsk, I've tasted the flavor of lies, but you're right, you are indeed loyal, and the First Legion No Secrets."

"Your Highness is right, the First Legion truly No Secrets."

Azwell was now certain that the Lion knew his little secret. Shouldn't he have sent 500 guards to bombard him with explosives, turning him into a sieve?

Savoring the genetic code in his mouth, Mordred was certain that this unfortunate child wasn't his own, but even though he wasn't his biological son, he still had to comfort him.

"My eyes are my ruler. Don't think I know nothing just because I've been asleep for ten thousand years. And don't act so panicked. Look at you, you're sweating with fear. Be more alert, don't embarrass yourself!"

Back when I first rejoined the legion, those unfilial brats actually tried to blast me with Lance. If I hadn't had enough health, I probably would have been destroyed.

"Then, Father, why don't you rip their heads off?"

"How could that be? I'm not a bloodthirsty person." Mordred shrugged, indicating that I've always been gentle and easygoing, except that I later sent them to the Catachan training camp to be instructors for ten years.

"Ah, Father is indeed refined and easy-going."

"Haha, good to know. In that case, have you done what I asked you to do?"

Speaking of this, Azrael felt a sense of déjà vu, because the task Mordred had asked him to do seemed all too familiar.

After all, although his stepmother seems pleasing, a country cannot be without a ruler for a day. Hajimi wants to eat meal replacements, Mordred still wants to regain her strength.

What he had Azrael do was to build a Daemon circle for himself, and then secretly capture and eat fellow Warp dwellers.

But the problem lies with this Daemon magic circle.

How to put it? Mordred's actions are somewhat similar to one person: both were Imperial Warmaster, both were Primarch, both were severely injured, and both ultimately refused treatment from Apothecary, instead seeking sorcery instead.

The last person to do this was Horus, who was promptly turned into a cream puff. Now they're trying to pull off some kind of ritualistic magic circle. How can Azrael not be worried?

"Father, how about we call it a day? I think you're fine as you are. We all like you the way you are now!"

Upon hearing this, Mordred immediately launched a powerful flying kick, but his small frame couldn't move it at all, and he almost tripped and fell over first.

"Damn it, you actually called out 'father' to keep your little secret? Azmyow, you bastard."

Look at me now, I'm like a complete weakling. I probably couldn't even beat a chicken. If that loser Guilliman sees me like this, he'll laugh at me to death! You don't want to embarrass your father, do you?

That's true. Just as Atlas couldn't control his ability to Free Looting, the Dark Angels also have their character flaws, namely their pride, to the point that they become obsessed with upholding honor.

There's a joke that goes something like this: If you want to call for reinforcements, the fastest way isn't to send a telegram to the Department of the Munitorum, but to broadcast a message in plain text that Fallen Angels wielding Dual Pistols and carrying a greatsword, calling himself Cypher, has appeared on your side.

If that's not enough, it would be best to shout "Inner Circle" while simultaneously shouting "Second Imperium."

As for what happens to these reinforcements after they arrive, that's none of your concern. Just tell me how fast they're coming along!

Similarly, looking at the Primarch sprawled on the sofa like a salted fish, Azrael, though wanting the status quo to continue, nodded under the influence of honor:

"Although I hate to admit it, you are right. However, as your offspring, we must ensure your safety."

Therefore, we must be there to observe the ceremony; we cannot afford to lose you, sir.

As soon as she finished speaking, Mordred jumped up, grabbed Azrael, and headed deeper into the fortress. As for why Mordred knew so much about the fortress, wasn't that obvious? Back then, the infrastructure of the mother planets of the various mother legions was all based on blueprints drawn by Atlas.

Although it is called a fortress, the Stone Fortress is not a small watchtower in the conventional sense. This largest fragment after the fall of Caliban is so large that it is practically a Battle Moon.

After spending this time together, although some funny incidents occurred, all the Dark Angels were quite satisfied with the Primarch. Even some of the 30k surviving veterans of the Long War, after a brief hesitation, pledged allegiance to him.

Especially those Techmarine; although Mordred has lost all his power, the astonishing wisdom contained in his memories is no joke.

After all, no one can resist a female knight who can handcraft Titan, and those cool inventions that seem impressive but are actually quite mysterious. It's like Hakimi seeing catnip—it's Kiya!

Soon, under Mordred's on-site guidance, an Atlas Standard Type 2B Demon Pal summoning circle was set up.

However, to ensure everything went perfectly, Mordred gave an on-the-spot demonstration, teaching the entire ritual array to the Librarian tank member present. Only then was he allowed to step into the ritual array, and even then, he had to be watched by everyone.

These people surrounding Mordred were not ordinary Dark Angels; the majority of them were Dreadnought, and the other half were inquisitors led by Azmodai.

But none of that matters. What matters is that Mordred can finally take this step.

During this time, Mordred remained in the kitchen of the Dark Angels, absorbing life energy by slaughtering pigs, sheep, chickens, and cows, thus accumulating a considerable amount of Fel Energy.

Of course, this amount of power may not be as much as Mordred's back then, but it's usable.

As Emerald Lightning appeared, the space-distorting power of the Fel Energy began to take effect, and with the Great Rift unfolding, Mordred easily tore a small opening in the dimensional barrier.

The rest is simple: just throw out the Spirit Stone made from soul fragments and wait for the Daemon to take the bait.

"Sigh, Ezekiel, do you know? Back then, I didn't need to fish like this. I could just go straight to the Sea of Souls and steal it. Unlike now, where I need to put out bait."

"Your Highness, please be careful with your words. It's enough that you know about this; please don't put me in a difficult position!"

"Oh, so you knew all along?"

The Chief Librarian chuckled twice, saying, "Sir, you're not even going to pretend anymore? I'm not Ogryn, how could I not see through it? Besides, the Dark Angels aren't without elders, and they have no objections, so why should I?" Furthermore:

"Your Highness, the connection between the Gene-Seed cannot be faked. I know you wouldn't harm us, right?"

"That's right. If I were here, I would never let you suffer any injustice, just like ten thousand years ago. I would always be your parent who never disappoints."

"So, Your Highness, I don't care who you are, can we just keep acting like this?"

"What about my brother Zhuang Sen? He's my brother, my dearest friend and family!"

Mordred's voice wasn't loud, but it wasn't quiet either. It was quiet because mortals couldn't hear it, but loud enough for the Space Marine around to hear clearly.

But precisely because of this, all the Dark Angels veterans laughed. They didn't care who the Primarch was, or what lion he was. Back when we followed the Emperor to unify Holy Terra, you barbarian were still struggling to survive in the jungle wilderness.

As long as the connection of the Gene-Seed exists, and as long as it is not a traitor, then it is our Primarch.

Ezekiel smiled, and took out a Golden Laurel Wreath from behind him. Amidst the cheers of thousands of Dark Angels, he placed the laurel wreath, symbolizing the Warmaster Position, on the golden-haired knight before him.

"You are the Lion King!"

Just as Mordred was taking his act seriously, Azmyow frowned as he looked at the parchment in his hand, which made him subconsciously glance at the "Lion King" being surrounded by a crowd in the distance.

"Kamas, the Fallen Angels, the jungle illusion, and that towering giant who calls himself the Lion King." All of this points to one conclusion: the Lion King of Kamas is the real one.

"But is the Primarch before us truly a fake?"

Azrael hesitated.

P. S.: Corgi 'm taking a day off tomorrow. My mom wants me to go back to my hometown for dinner. I haven't been home for half a year and I even had a serious illness, but I don't dare tell my family.

After all, it's Mid-Autumn Festival. Now that we've had enough to eat, it's time to go home and have a reunion dinner.

Finally, I wish all my brothers a happy Mid-Autumn Festival.