You Dare Try to Escape After Offending a Primarch?

Although we constantly mock the Emperor for his parenting skills and his infuriatingly abstract emotional intelligence, credit must be given where it is due: the Golden Giant possesses formidable technical prowess.

As the ultimate limited-edition figures crafted by the Emperor, the Primarch are the pinnacle of biotechnology, a perfect fusion of a minor Warp entity and humanity.

Being of this caliber, Brother Val will never ascend to the seat of Vile Arts; he is only fit to sit at the children's table, watching Brother Ni enviously call for Mom.

However, nothing is absolute. Not all Primarch are as overwhelmingly powerful as the Angels. According to the Emperor's design, each Primarch has their own function and serves as a backup for the others, all to fulfill his grand ambition of uniting humanity under their leadership.

The Alpha Legion is one such specialized legion, focused on clandestine operations. Furthermore, the First Returned Son is not that daddy's boy Horus, but A-Fa!

During that sudden Warp storm, twenty-one Primarch were scattered across the galaxy—either adopted by good Mom or left to run wild in the forests like savages, fully demonstrating the environmental diversity of the galaxy's various worlds.

But A-Fa was completely different from his brothers; this kid dropped right at the doorstep of the Laboratory. You could see him just by looking up. This is the true First Returned Son, not that Cthulhu Hooligan who goes around shouting Si Huang Fist, Nian Huang Sword, and "Father, I love you so much!"

Just as every Primarch possesses unique abilities, A-Fa has his own formidable superpower.

Because his individual Combat Power is inferior to that piece of trash Luojia, combined with his diminutive stature—estimated at only two point eight meters—A-Fa does not enjoy frontal combat, preferring to play at stealth instead.

Yes, you heard that right. Thanks to a frame not much larger than an average Space Marine, A-Fa can disguise himself as anyone and even dampen his own presence to a certain extent, much like the Stone Hat of Duobao Tianzun or Saint Doraemon.

If this ability were in the hands of an Old Schemer, it would certainly be used to devastating effect. What is even more terrifying is that every Alpharius inherits this ability, making it impossible to tell who the real Primarch is.

But no matter how good the mechanism is, it is useless against raw Stats. Looking at the bruised and battered Alpharius before him, stripped down to nothing but his underwear, Mordred decided to teach this kid a lesson.

"Speak. Who sent you, and what is your objective here?"

"Pah! Kill me or torture me as you please. I am a Primarch of the Imperium; you wouldn't dare do anything to me—ah!!!"

Not giving the kid a chance to be stubborn, Mordred, having been sprayed with spit, directly flipped 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 would know I did it?

You don't think I'm like those trash Adeptus Custodes, playing some game of Blood Game with you, do you? You are a prisoner now, understand?"

But a Primarch is a Primarch. Even after being violently ravaged by a massive current capable of completely neutralizing an Ant Cow, Alpharius still had the strength to talk back:

"Pah, I will never tell you! Ah, ah."

Mordred loved a tough nut like this. He had plenty of time to deal with this kid. Can't handle the electricity? Then he would just turn up the dosage.

As the voltage lever was pushed to the maximum, visible pale-blue electric snakes danced across Alpharius's skin, wantonly licking his muscular physique.

Before long, the aroma of roasted meat filled the room, making Mordred feel a bit hungry.

"Come to think of it, does Primarch meat actually taste good?"

Mordred, his thoughts drifting, did not notice the look of terror in Alpharius's eyes. He called for Rambo, signaled him to bring some barbecue seasoning, and then glanced at Alpharius's build. Thinking it best to have a balanced diet, he also called for Joseph to go to the kitchen and get some green vegetables.

Soon, Joseph returned with vegetables and Rambo with a basin of seasoning. Together with Mordred, they watched Alpharius, who was already sizzling with grease.

"Father, are we really going to eat a Primarch? That doesn't seem right!"

"What's wrong with it? He's the one who wouldn't behave and dared to spit on me. Don't worry, I won't kill him. After all, if it tastes good, what would we do if we ran out?

I'll keep him alive, eat only his limbs each time, and then let him regenerate. That way, we'll have an endless supply of meat."

Getting carried away, Mordred even suggested using Alpharius to establish a Hydroponic Meat Farm, then mass-producing it into Canned One products. As long as there were enough materials, he could sell the cans right out of the galaxy.

Mordred's manic temperament required no acting; everything was perfectly natural. This was the genuine sentiment of someone who viewed all things as mere NPC. Even if Alpharius was suspicious, he dared not gamble his life on it.

"I'll talk, I'll talk! Just let me go first, ah..."

Mordred remained silent, only blindly increasing the voltage:

"JOJO, do you think a decent person would ever become a spy?"

"No. As far as I know, a decent person might not necessarily become a spy, but a spy is definitely not a decent person. After all, I'm no decent person myself."

Mordred Nodded: "Exactly. Since he isn't a decent person, can his words be trusted? This is more than just ordinary stubbornness; we must Strike Hard. Keep increasing the pressure!"

As the words fell, an even more violent surge of current erupted, slamming into the Electric Chair that restrained Alpharius.

The intensity of the electrical bombardment caused Alpharius to go into shock, only to be tortured back into consciousness, over and over, without end.

Ten Minutes later, feeling that if he kept shocking him the meat would get tough, Mordred pulled the power switch and leaned in toward the delirious A-Fa.

Without giving him a chance to react, a bucket of barbecue seasoning was poured over his head. The well-mixed sauce, baked by the residual heat, instantly released a delicious aroma that made one's mouth water.

The intense pain jolted A-Fa awake. Seeing Mordred before him, mouth agape and ready to bite down, the unspeakable terror of being eaten alive forced him to wail:

"Stop, stop it, you lunatic! I'll talk, okay? It was Malcador who sent me. He ordered me to assist you in the Great Crusade. You bastard, hurry, ah—"

A heavy punch landed directly on A-Fa's chest. Accompanied by the crisp sound of half his ribs breaking, Mordred pinned his bald head down:

"Then why didn't you show your true face? Why were you sneaking around on my ship causing trouble? What exactly did you see?"

Alpharius truly had no words to express his misery now. Heaven Knows what little secrets you have! My own sons have betrayed me; what could I possibly know that you don't?

In Alpharius's eyes, Mordred was a lunatic at this moment. That look of utter contempt for everything could not be faked; this bastard really wanted to eat him.

For the first time in his life, Alpharius felt fear. He knew that if he didn't satisfy his manic brother now, his fate would be miserable.

"I'm just used to living in the shadows, I..."

Bang!

Another heavy punch landed. The remaining half of Alpharius's ribs were shattered, and the intense pain forced him to change his tune:

"I only hid my identity to see you make a fool of yourself, Second Brother, please spare me! I truly don't know your little secrets, I was genuinely wrong!"

After speaking, A-Fa stared wide-eyed at the giant before him, his gaze so resolute that even if the Emperor were to drop dead on the spot, it wouldn't stir him in the slightest; it was pure, unadulterated desperation to live.

One minute, two minutes—just as Princess Alpharius thought she was done for, several Atlas wearing hooded trench coats rushed into the Secret Room and set off the fireworks in their hands. They even unfurled a red banner that read, "Welcome to Atlas."

Then, he watched as the madman brother who had tormented him for so long suddenly seemed like a different person, radiating a warm, enthusiastic glow, his smiling face looking exactly like a damn angel.

"Hahaha, you should've said so earlier! Look at all this fuss; I thought you wanted to play a little game of electric shock with me. Someone, hurry and untie my brother! What a lack of awareness—how could a Primarch of the Imperium be kept bound? Tell me, you won't hold a grudge against me for this, will you?"

If his body weren't still twitching uncontrollably, Princess Alpharius might have actually believed him. But with the man as the knife and him as the fish, even if it was just an act, he had to put on a smiling face.

"How could that be, Second Brother? I love this welcome ceremony of yours so much! Really, I've loved being shocked since I was a child; if I don't get shocked for a day, my whole body feels uncomfortable."

As he spoke with such feigned emotion, Princess Alpharius couldn't help but shed tears, and even Mordred, the perpetrator himself, had to admire his acting skills.

But the very next sentence from Mordred caused Princess Alpharius to completely break down, all light vanishing from his eyes.

"Someone, bring clothes for our Princess Alpharius!"