Although we had always mocked the Emperor's parenting skills and his infuriatingly absurd emotional intelligence, credit where credit was due: Golden Giant's technical prowess was genuinely impressive.
As the ultimate limited-edition figurines created by the Emperor, the Primarchs could be called the pinnacle of biotechnology—a perfect fusion of minor Warp gods and humanity.
With that alone, Brother Val would never be able to claim the title of Vile Arts, and could only sit at the table for people who wanted children, watching Brother Ni enviously call for his mother.
But nothing was absolute. The Primarchs were not all as absurdly powerful as Sanguinius. According to the Emperor's plans, every Primarch had a distinct role, while also serving as a backup for the others, all to fulfill his grand ambition of leading the Primarchs to unite humanity.
The Alpha Legion was precisely such a specialized force, dedicated to covert operations. And in fact, the First Returned Son was not Horus, that daddy-obsessed mama's boy, but A-Fa!
During that sudden Warp storm, the twenty-one Primarchs were blown across the Milky Way. Some were adopted by good mothers, while others ran naked through forests like savages, fully demonstrating the environmental diversity of the galaxy's various worlds.
But A-Fa was completely different from his brothers. He had dropped straight in front of a laboratory, where he could be seen simply by looking up. That was the true First Returned Son—not that Cthulhu Hooligan who shouted about the Si Huang Fist and Nian Huang Sword while crying, "Father, I love you so much!"
Just as every Primarch possessed some strange ability, A-Fa had his own special superpower.
Since his individual Combat Power was even lower than that useless lump Luojia, and since his short stature measured only about two meters and eighty centimeters by eye, A-Fa disliked fighting head-on. Instead, he preferred stealth.
Yes, you heard that right. Thanks to being only slightly taller than an ordinary Space Marine, A-Fa could disguise himself as anyone. He could even reduce his presence to a certain extent, much like Duobao Tianzun's Stone Hat—or Saint Doraemon's.
In the hands of an Old Schemer, such an ability could absolutely be used to dazzling effect. Even more frighteningly, every Alpharius inherited this ability. You could never tell which one was the Primarch.
But the best mechanics were useless against overwhelming stats. Looking at Alpharius, whose face was swollen and bruised and whose entire body had been stripped down to a pair of underpants, Mordred decided to teach the boy a lesson.
"Speak. Who sent you here, and what are you trying to accomplish?"
"Bah! Kill me or torture me, do whatever you want. I'm a Primarch of the Imperium. You don't dare do anything to me—ah!!!"
Without giving the boy a chance to keep mouthing off, Mordred—whose face had been sprayed with spittle—pressed the switch on the Electric Chair.
"Tch, who do you think you are? I don't have any Primarch here, only a spy who infiltrated the legion. Even if I kill you, who's going to know I did it?
"You don't think I'm like that bunch of useless Adeptus Custodes, do you? Playing some childish Blood Game with you? You're a prisoner now, understand?"
But a Primarch was still a Primarch. After being savagely ravaged by a current powerful enough to completely deactivate an Ant Cow, Alpharius still had the strength to talk back.
"Bah! I'll never tell you! Aah!"
Mordred liked tough bones like this. He had plenty of time to deal with the boy. Wasn't afraid of electricity? Then he would increase the dosage.
As the voltage lever was pushed straight to maximum, visible blue electric snakes writhed across Alpharius's body, wantonly licking his muscular flesh.
Before long, the smell of roasting meat filled the entire room, making Mordred a little hungry.
"Come to think of it, I wonder whether a Primarch tastes good?"
Mordred's thoughts gradually wandered. He failed to notice the terror in Alpharius's eyes and simply called Rambo over, signaling him to bring some barbecue seasoning. Then he glanced at Alpharius's build and decided that a balanced meat-and-vegetable diet would be best, so he called Joseph over too and sent him to the kitchen for some green vegetables.
Soon, Joseph returned holding vegetables, while Rambo came back carrying a basin of barbecue seasoning. Together with Mordred, they stared at Alpharius, who was already sizzling with fat.
"Father, are we really going to eat a Primarch? Isn't that wrong?"
"How is it wrong? He refused to behave and even sprayed me with spit. Don't worry, I won't kill him. After all, what if he tastes good and we can't eat him anymore?
"I'll raise him. We'll only eat his limbs each time, then restore him afterward. That way, we'll have an endless supply of meat."
Getting carried away, Mordred even suggested using Alpharius to establish a Hydroponic Meat Farm. They could turn the meat into canned goods and sell them wholesale. As long as they had enough raw material, he could sell the Canned Ones across the Milky Way.
Mordred's mad temperament required no acting. Everything came naturally to him. This was the genuine emotion of someone who viewed all things as NPCs. Even though Alpharius suspected it was an act, he still did not dare gamble his life on it.
"I'll talk, I'll talk! Just let me go first, ah..."
Mordred said nothing and merely kept increasing the current.
"JOJO, do you think a respectable person would become a spy?"
"No. As far as I know, a respectable person might not necessarily become a spy, but a spy could never be a respectable person. After all, I'm not a respectable person myself."
Mordred nodded. "Exactly. Since he isn't respectable, can we believe what he says? This is no ordinary refusal to talk. We have to Strike Hard. Keep increasing the pressure!"
As his voice fell, an even more violent current surged out once again, blasting the Electric Chair restraining Alpharius.
The current was so intense that Alpharius immediately went into cardiac arrest, only to be tortured awake again. It went on and on without end.
Ten minutes later, Mordred felt that the meat would become tough if they kept electrocuting him, so he yanked down the power switch and approached A-Fa, who was already delirious.
Without giving him a chance to react, an entire bucket of barbecue seasoning was poured over his head. The properly mixed sauce was roasted by the remaining heat, and in moments, it released an aroma so delicious it made mouths water.
The intense pain jolted Alpharius awake. When he saw Mordred opening his enormous mouth and preparing to bite him, the thought of being eaten alive drove him to howl in indescribable terror.
"Stop, you lunatic! I'll talk, all right? Malcador sent me. He ordered me to assist you with the Great Crusade. You bastard, hurry—ah!"
A heavy fist came crashing in, striking A-Fa directly in the chest. As the crisp sound of half his ribs breaking rang out, Mordred pinned down his bald head.
"Then why didn't you show your true face? Why did you sneak onto my ship and cause trouble? What exactly did you see?"
Alpharius truly had no way to explain himself now. How was I supposed to know what secret business you people had? My own sons betrayed me. What do you know that I don't already know?
In Alpharius's eyes, Mordred was a lunatic. That contemptuous gaze could not have been faked. This bastard genuinely wanted to eat him.
For the first time in his life, Alpharius felt fear. He knew that if he failed to satisfy this deranged brother of his, his fate would be terrible.
"I'm just used to staying in the shadows. I..."
Bang!
Another heavy punch landed. The rest of Alpharius's ribs broke, and the overwhelming pain forced him to change his answer.
"I hid my identity because I wanted to see you make a fool of yourself. Second Brother, please spare me! I really don't know your secret. I was wrong, truly!"
After saying this, A-Fa stared wide-eyed at the giant before him. His gaze was so firm that even the Emperor dropping dead on the spot would not have shaken him. It was filled with nothing but a desperate desire to live.
One minute passed, then two. Just as Alpharius thought he was finished, several Atlases wearing hooded windbreakers rushed into the Secret Room and set off the fireworks in their hands. They even unfurled a red banner reading, "Welcome to Atlas."
Then he saw his mad brother, who had tormented him for so long, suddenly seem to become an entirely different person. His whole body radiated a warm, passionate glow, and his smiling face looked just like Sanguinius's.
"Hahaha, you should've said so sooner! Just look at this mess. I thought you wanted to play a little electrocution game with me. Someone, come untie my brother! Honestly, what were you thinking? How could you leave an Imperial Primarch tied up?
"By the way, you aren't going to hold this against me, are you?"
If his body had not still been twitching uncontrollably, Alpharius might have believed him. But when the butcher held the knife and he was the fish on the chopping block, he had to smile even if it was all an act.
"How could I, Second Brother? I love your welcoming ceremony. Really, I've always loved being electrocuted. If I go a day without it, my whole body feels uncomfortable."
As he spoke with such emotion, Alpharius unexpectedly shed tears. Even Mordred, the instigator of everything, could not help admiring his acting skills.
But Mordred's next sentence completely broke Alpharius, draining every last glimmer of light from his eyes.
"Someone, bring clothes for Her Highness Princess Alpharius!"
Before you continue