Xi, Can We Reconcile?

Soul Drinkers, a name Mordred was quite familiar with, but in this day and age, very few people knew that Soul Drinkers was the predecessor of Atlas.

But Mordred's eyes sharpened as she looked at this group of short, tiny creatures who, even in their Power Armor, were only 2.2 meters Canned One.

After all, he'd seen plenty of big guys, but this was the only one this short. Especially since the Soul Drinkers's Paint Scheme was quite unique; while everyone else was either black, red, or a variety of colors, this guy opted for a Macho Man Pink.

Moreover, this group of people were covered in all sorts of odds and ends, just like roadside vendors, as if they were afraid that others wouldn't see them.

"Name?"

"Camus, 240 years old, is the Chapter Master the Soul Drinkers Chapter!"

"Good, very energetic! Tell me your dream, is it to reunite with relatives or to come and freeload?"

"Your Highness, we are neither here to claim kinship nor to beg for money; we are here for medical treatment."

Having been through countless bizarre Chapter, Mordred was practically unfazed, but to ask her about healing was truly a first for her.

Guilliman, what do you think?

"Whatever, I don't care anymore. In the end, it will all come down to the Codex Astartes. It's all my doing, I did everything."

You're all saying I deliberately delayed the Great Heresy for nine hours, that I Ambition, I admit it all. Bring it on, the evidence is irrefutable, I admit it all.

"And not only am I Ambition, I also used your Atlas's Legacy to build planetary engines—it was all my doing."

If Mordred was exhausted by this family reunion ceremony, then Guilliman was numb. After all, even Primarch would feel numb after round after round of veiled insults.

In just a few days, Guilliman had mastered the art of shirking responsibility without any instruction. With a shrug and a bite of dessert, he would answer any question with "Yes, yes, yes!"

Even Guilliman couldn't do anything about it. Although he wrote the Astartes Codex, he also wrote that it was for reference only. It's you descendants who don't respect that, taking this encyclopedia as golden rules and immediately saying that the laws of our ancestors cannot be changed.

People tend to give up when they're extremely frustrated, and that's exactly what Guilliman is doing right now.

However, Guilliman was wrong this time. Instead of denouncing the Astartes Codex, the other party praised it as a rare and extraordinary book. He hadn't come for that; he genuinely wanted to cure his illness.

If the Sons of Baal are unlucky, possessed by a supernatural curse, and the unluckiest among the empire's unluckiest, then the Soul Drinkers would rank Second Son, and remain Second Son for eternity.

However, their misfortune wasn't innate; it was acquired, a man-made disaster!

According to Camus, the Soul Drinkers are not a new Chapter; their history dates back to the Third Founding periods of the army, and they are Scion Chapter that split off from the Imperial Fists.

The term "Third Founding of the army" is a bit obscure, but if you interpret it as Cursed Founding, then everyone can understand it.

As a dark stain that no one wants to mention, the Cursed Founding can be said to be a key point that made the already tense Chapter structure even more chaotic.

From then on, the sacredness of the Gene-Seed was greatly diminished, and many Arch-Magos of biology began to act recklessly, trying to challenge the Emperor's genetic creation with their extraordinary wisdom.

But that's not quite accurate, since the initial intention of this group was good; they wanted to solve the genetic defects of the Space Marine.

Take the Sons of Baal, for example. They are a product of the Cursed Founding, with the aim of eliminating the Black Thirst passed down through generations of Blood Angels, making the Sons of Sanguinius, who are not picky about soldiers, the most cost -Ultimate Being.

Abstractly speaking, the Sons of Baal indeed solve the Black Thirst to some extent, to the point that for a period of time they became a role model for all the Sons of Sanguinius, and some even considered using Sons of Baal seeds to improve the genes of the Chapter.

But the suggestion was quickly rejected, because while the Black Thirst was relieved, the Sons of Baal was afflicted with a supernatural bad luck.

If you want to use the Sons of Baal's Gene-Seed, you'll be in trouble; if you don't, you'll face Black Thirst —it's a case of being stubborn and ending up with nothing.

Such examples abound. A large number of Chapter were hastily established, and then various strange problems arose. Many of the problematic Chapter today were created during this special period.

As for what became of these Chapter?

Adhering to the empire's traditional spirit of utterly lacking virtue, the Adeptus Mechanicus only cared for students, not their upbringing, and directly severed ties with the Sacred Separation. They then continued to conduct chaotic biological experiments, contributing to the Chaos Warband Gang.

As for the Soul Drinkers, their flaws are not as particularly unlucky as the Sons of Baal. Of course, they are indeed unlucky to be in such a miserable state, but what is more prominent is their low presence. Things like genetic mutations are minor issues.

Having a low profile might not seem like a big deal, but it becomes terrifying when it reaches a mystical level.

For example, calls for support are ignored, joint operations are overwhelmed by friendly fire, or even the fighting is forgotten.

The initial Soul Drinkers Paint Scheme gray, and the Chapter wasn't called Soul Drinkers, but rather the Grey Primer Chapter.

"What? Gray Patch! That name is definitely a bit sarcastic. Why don't you call yourselves Concrete?"

"If only it were concrete, at least people would know us. We've been forgotten by everyone."

Having said that, Camus drew his combat dagger and, in front of Mordred and Guilliman, scraped back and forth on the gauntlet, revealing the dull gray Paint Scheme underneath.

Although faint, Mordred could feel something interfering with his thoughts, trying to make him ignore the rather conspicuous patch.

This is really strange. You have to know that Mordred has resistance to higher dimensions. Unless he does it willingly, no Chaos God can corrupt him unless Brute Force is poured into him. But even that can only stop him from thinking and let his instincts take over.

"I understand. You possess a peculiar power that allows people to subconsciously ignore your presence. Moreover, this power is not malicious; it's merely a passive effect. That's why you dress so conspicuously."

"Yes, Your Highness, it is this curse that has made us so miserable."

"What are you talking about? I don't understand!"

Guilliman's eyes were vacant and blank, his gaze clear but filled with stupidity; he had no idea what the two were talking about.

"Shut up! Even I, an outsider, can see it, and you, a local Psychic Power Muggle, can't? You're a disgrace to the Primarch! Didn't you notice something was wrong with them?"

Without much explanation, Mordred grabbed Camus's hand and bit down on it.

"No, something's nine-tenths off. You are definitely not my offspring. I noticed that before. As for A-Fa, although you also have the ability to make others subconsciously ignore yourselves, something's not right."

"A very strange gene sequence, and more than one. You smell of Angron, but that's not all."

Watching Mordred, who was biting and licking his own hand, and who, though called Primarch, resembled more of a dog, Camus felt a mix of emotions: a touch of shame, a hint of doubt, but mostly fear—fear of contracting some kind of rabies virus.

He was even more frightened after discovering that this Primarch not only bit people, but also used its four arms and tail to bind him tightly like an octopus.

"Your Highness, Lord Regent, why are you just standing there watching? Help me!"

Mordred didn't care about that; what he wanted to know most was why this Tin Can Kid was so peculiar. This was no ordinary Tin Can Kid; he had to be thoroughly investigated.

Mordred's form began to change drastically, and a large number of fine tentacles emerged from her mouth, burrowing into Camus's body through the wound to perform high-intensity decoding.

Puffs of hot steam shot out from the heat dissipation vents on the back, carrying away the waste heat generated during the cell cluster's computation, and amidst Atlas's cry of "Oh no!", the Computing Power of the offspring's brain was invoked through the Mind Network.

Fine, liquid-like emerald lightning surged repeatedly, distorting the surrounding Physical Laws under Mordred's manipulation, providing him with an even better computing environment.

With this groundbreaking Computing Power, Mordred quickly decoded all the gene fragments and finally arrived at the rather ingenious core code.

"#, I was wondering why this was so bizarre."

Seeing Mordred transform back into human form, a sweating Camus hurriedly asked, "Your Highness, is there any news? Can my illness be cured?"

"It can't be cured, this is something you were born with. But I might have been wrong before. You are indeed related to me, but you are not my children, you are just godsons."

This is an ethical issue! I'm afraid you might not be able to handle it if I tell you."

"Your Highness, please say so. I can hold on!"

Mordred sighed, his tone becoming hesitant. "This isn't an illness, it's not some kind of weird curse. You have to believe in science; it's due to the Gene-Seed."

Your Gene-Seed contains elements of Dorn, mine, and Angron, but the most important element is another Primarch, your Gene-Father."

Mordred paused for a moment, then added, "Or perhaps it should be the Gene-Mother!"

"What? I have a mother?" Camus's eyes darted around, his mouth opening and closing. He had only come to see a doctor, so how did he suddenly end up having a mother?

Combining this with a rumor he'd heard from the Ultramarines, and what the Primarch had just said, Camus suddenly had a bold guess:

"Could it be that my mother is...?"

"That must be Luojia."

"That's right—wait, what nonsense is Guilliman making up? If you keep talking nonsense, believe me, I'll beat you up!"

"Hmph, Second Brother, stop pretending. Don't think I don't know. Fulgrim learned this from you. Like father, like son." Facing Mordred's threat, Guilliman remained unfazed, indicating that the truth cannot be killed.

"I heard it all! Luojia keeps running over to your place all the time, and there are always strange noises coming from there. I don't even want to talk about the way she comes out. You're despicable!"

Upon hearing this, Mordred was so angry she laughed. She'd spent her whole life spreading rumors about others, and now it was their turn to spread rumors about her. She grabbed Guilliman's Little Blondie and pinned him to the ground, giving him a good beating.

"You ungrateful brat! I was kind enough not to beat the shit out of you last time, but if I don't beat the shit out of you this time, I'll take your surname."

Luojia is a perverted masochist. I beat her up, and she actually felt good about it. In the end, I had to blow her up with Titan to heal her. I blew her up twice. I have absolutely no interest in humans.

You gossipy Guilliman, no wonder Zhuang Sen was looking at me like that! So it was you who did this.

Sammael, Sammael, where the hell have you been? Go to the Imperial Palace and bring those three gay bastards here to me.

"Brother, please! Can we make up?"

"Are you kidding me?"