He Still Can't Forget the Second Imperium

"Get out of my way!"

He shoved away Sammael, who tried to step forward to protect him, and said, "You think you can save me from a trap set by the Xenos? Get back to the back and be the peacemaker. What haven't I seen, Father?"

In terms of self-awareness alone, Mordred is quite pure; the way he stands there, he's more Xenos than the Xenos itself.

Seeing his second brother's boldness, Zhuang Sen also strode forward and entered the monastery together. The Blood Angels around them looked at each other, helpless against their two Big Daddy, and could only follow behind.

"Dante, your Second Uncle has come to see you, my dear nephew, come out quickly!"

In fact, Mordred had no other intentions. Sammael could smell the Xenos, and so could he. Moreover, he not only could smell them, but he also knew that they were Necron.

After all, Atlas is a gold standard when it comes to grave robbing; otherwise, how could he have Spirit Exorcism Dead Zone and Living Metal? Of course, he dug them up from graves.

The only drawback is that Mordred has never seen a living Necron; every time he digs up a grave, he only finds a deadly one.

In his view, it was just a Necron, nothing serious. Even Zhuang Sen thought so, since the Great Crusade wasn't as brutal as later generations imagined.

Whenever a new race is discovered, unless the creatures harm humans and offer no benefit to them, the Imperial Army in the 30k era would primarily prioritize negotiation. This is how many Abhumans races came to be.

Even Malcador kept a half-breed lieutenant specifically to listen to his trash talk, but this unfortunate guy seemed to have been driven insane in the end.

But in Dante's ears, it was a different story. He was terrified, and Zalasus was right next to him, but none of that mattered. What mattered was that Zhuang Sen was next to Mordred.

Since the Primarchs' departure, the High Lord, in order to rule the Empire, have openly suppressed the Chapter while secretly rewriting history, erasing all traces of missing Primarchs and exaggerating their fame.

Guilliman was described as a restorer of the dynasty, Zhuang Sen as the embodiment of loyalty and righteousness, Luojia as a saint of the Imperial Cult, Ferrus's courage was unparalleled throughout history, Fulgrim was as beautiful as an angel, Dorn exceptionally Dorn...

There are countless stories like this; the image of almost every Primarch has been repeatedly altered, and even the Emperor was not spared.

This led to unofficial historical accounts such as His God-Emperor His Majesty Terra his son to God-Emperor, and Grandpa Guilliman reversing the tide of events by knocking down the Chaos Fleet with pebbles.

Zhuang Sen, whose image is comparable to Guan Yu, fared even worse. He was completely demonized into a madman who only recognized Fealty and not conduct, the kind of person who couldn't sleep at night without beheading several traitors every day.

Under the influence of such unofficial historical accounts, stereotypes became the Primarch's labels, to the point that when the elders who survived the Great Crusade talked about the Primarch, no one else believed them.

This is why Azrael is so afraid of the Lion King, and why the Blood Angels, who have gathered a large number of Chapter, dare not even breathe loudly in the presence of the two Primarchs. They are genuinely afraid that these two behemoths might kill everyone if they are in a bad mood.

Perhaps sensing Dante's predicament, Zalasus did not heed Dante's bad idea of hiding behind the curtains.

I'm a member of an old aristocratic family, here to negotiate, not to steal someone. Why should I hide? I can come and go as I please.

To show his sincerity, Zalasus tore open the dimensional pocket, intending to escape, but then he froze, and the entire machine began to alarm wildly.

Seeing Zalasus standing there dumbfounded, Dante wanted to urge him on, but before he could speak, he saw Zalasus's entire body instantly glow red, drawing a spear from thin air and charging towards the figure who had already placed his hand on the monastery's inner sanctum door:

"Papaya C'tan, you deserve to die... bang!"

With a kick, Mordred stared blankly at the Necron embedded in the wall, wondering what the hell it was. Anyone who didn't know better would think it was a door bolt.

"Holy crap, Russ?"

"Where's Russ? Holy crap, it really is!"

Mordred glanced at the nonsensical golden-armored warrior with a single hair on his head and confirmed that this person should be Dante. However, he did not expect that this person would be so slovenly, without any of the handsome features of Sanguinius, but rather like an older version of Russ.

Their eyes met, and both brothers saw the awkwardness in each other's eyes. But the other Blood Angels were even more embarrassed, for they saw the blasphemous Xenos embedded in the wall.

The air instantly became tense, and an awkward atmosphere spread. Dante stood helplessly by the bed, the Primarch stood at the door bewildered, and the other warriors dared not even breathe.

Only the Zalasus statue embedded in the wall was Mars wildly, shouting strange things like "Save me, save me, my back is broken" in extremely pure High Gothic.

Time ticked by, and just as the atmosphere began to shift towards Imperial Fists, Mordred finally moved, stepping forward and grabbing Dante's hand:

"Good nephew, I'm your Second Uncle. Look at how big you are, you scared me. I thought you were that good-for-nothing Russ."

"Come, come, you look like a grumpy old man. Your Second Uncle didn't prepare anything before coming, so I'll give you this elemental bottle that I personally concocted."

With that, Mordred placed a small bottle emitting an orange glow into Dante's hand.

Although he didn't know who the Primarch was, Dante felt a strange sense of familiarity. He instinctively took the drink and gulped it down, then Dante.

"Your Highness, this tastes wrong!"

"Expert, this is my own handmade Chaos Energy Pulp Orange Juice. It contains the life essence of a Bloodletters, a freak, a succubus, and a Nurgling. Doesn't it taste sweet, sour, and a little stinky? That's the taste!"

But don't underestimate our Atlas traditional craftsmanship; just this one bottle of orange juice with pulp is enough to make you feel young again.

"I heard you've lived for over 1200 years. Don't worry, after drinking this bottle of orange juice with pulp, you can live for at least another 300 years. But why do I think he looks more like Russ? Don't you think so, Zhuang Sen?"

"Indeed, it was just a resemblance before, but now it's practically a carbon copy of Russ."

Faced with the two Primarchs' evaluations, Dante was speechless. Admittedly, being compared to the Wolf King was a great honor, but he was more concerned about the 300 years of lifespan he had inexplicably gained. He instantly broke down, collapsed in front of Mordred, and burst into tears.

This action stunned the other Blood Angels, who felt quite embarrassed, but Mordred helped Dante up and comforted him:

"Kid, I know everything about you."

"What? You already know?"

Mordred nodded, recalling the deepest fragments of memory buried in his mind. A strange light flashed in his eyes, and his whole body radiated a warm, soft light.

"That's right. You've put in a lot of effort to stabilize the Chapter, but now that the Tyranid are attacking, you're forced to cooperate with these skeletons and command these Canned One that don't even look very smart."

The will of the Sanguinius compels you to exert all your strength, and in the end, you bear it all alone. Sanguinius is also too perfect, and that is precisely your flaw. You must be very tired.

"Your Highness, who exactly are you?"

The anxiety and unease caused by the Primarch's arrival were soothed, and a gentle breeze stirred in their hearts, stirring the insatiable Black Thirst that the Sons of Sanguinius possessed from their very genes. This was Angron's trait, and a skill that Mordred had previously considered rather useless.

After all, Mordred prefers to subdue people with force rather than with words.

However, combined with his extraordinary charisma, this power could calm the hearts of the Blood Angels before him, resolve their conflicts, and make his and Zhuang Sen's arrival acceptable.

Mordred patted Dante on the shoulder. Although he still thought the kid resembled Russ, he also saw a hint of Sanguinius in him.

"My Mordred Wayne, the lost Second Primarch, the second Warmaster of the Empire, and the brother of your father."

As for the one next to him, he is even more of a heavyweight: the First Primarch, the Lion of Caliban, the Lord of the Dark Angels, and the fourth Warmaster of the Imperium.

Now that the Great Rift has unfolded, the Astronomican has dimmed, the Empire's vast territory has been divided in two, and countless citizens of the Empire are suffering from the ravages of Xenos Chaos.

The heavens are dead, the yellow heavens reign supreme. In the name of the Imperial Warmaster, I am summoning the Blood Angels to jointly establish a dark regime.

"Now I appoint you as regent and Zhuang Sen as commander-in-chief. Do you agree?"

Looking into Mordred's golden eyes, Dante saw no desire, only sincerity and approval. In a daze, Dante saw a phantom figure emerge from behind Mordred.

The figure had thick blond hair and a pair of pure white wings, and was giving him instructions.

But Dante couldn't hear clearly and could only deduce from the Sanguinius's lip movements:

"What Second Imperium?"

Upon hearing this, Mordred immediately beamed with joy. He hadn't expected the kid to be so quick to understand; before he could even speak, the boy had already said it. He grabbed Dante and Zhuang Sen's hands and raised them high:

"Good nephew, I knew I hadn't misjudged you. I hereby declare the Second Imperium established!"