Secrets Within Secrets

"Aaaaaaah!"

As Mord El Shinshibo fell freely, he could not hide his terror and let out a piercing scream like a boiled duck.

Logically speaking, even a business-oriented Guilliman like Guilliman wouldn't be so terrified by such a high-altitude fall, after all, he is still a Primarch, not to mention he has several athletic Primarchs within him.

However, Guillimambo, with Guilliman as the base and Zhuang Sen, Sisyphus, and Mordred as additives, is different. He has four consciousnesses within him, and it's already quite an achievement that he can ensure he doesn't explode.

With Mordred, that idiot, the fusion successfully dragged the consciousness of his siblings down to his own average level, essentially making it a four-person brain sharing one big brain. Only Guilliman's brain was big enough to hold the consciousness of four Primarchs.

Since the signal transmission base station is made of Yellow Skins, the signal strength is fully guaranteed. And considering Mordred's local residency, there's absolutely no chance of anything going wrong.

But within the empire, if nothing unexpected happens, then something unexpected is bound to happen.

Looking at the Obscurus Sector mist still rushing past, Guilliman, whose mind was slightly clouded, was clearly panicked. Or rather, anyone with a brain would panic in this situation; the fall had been going on for at least half an hour.

"Second Brother, are you sure you can do it?"

Is it okay?

Mordred was quite displeased by these words. Because of his previously dazzling achievements, ever since he won the revival match, one question had been placed on his shoulders: Was Second Brother Mordred really up to the task?

Atlas once had roots throughout the Empire and beyond; it was no exaggeration to call it a colossal enterprise. At its peak, 18 out of 19 legions closely cooperated with Atlas, and even the best Forge Lord using the same bottle of engine oil as Mordred.

Due to the excessive support economy, Atlas often engaged in extravagant spending during the Great Crusade. As long as you called him "Second Brother," billions in subsidies would be delivered on the spot.

I'll provide you with money, people, and technology. You say the planetary environment is bad and life is too hard? Then I'll just send you a planetary terraforming ship comparable to the Gloriana-class.

You mentioned that the legion is newly formed and is a makeshift operation. That's fine too. Atlas will provide you with the necessary internal affairs officials, and you can even study in Serenity for free.

The fact that the legion also needs to be managed is incredibly complex, and if it's not managed well, problems will arise.

That's fine. You just focus on fighting, and we'll take care of everything. We'll provide whatever you need. Even if you want six dishes and a soup during the Apocalypse War, we can make it for you. We'll cook them right there and then, and whatever Xenos you kill will be the dish you get.

At the height of the Great Crusade, the four most prominent export products of Atlas were: mortal instructors in Atlas uniforms, Space Marine in black and red armor, Dog-men chefs who also served as guards, and outsourced Iron Warriors were sent to be scavenged.

But 10,000 years have passed, and the former glory has long been forgotten by everyone.

Atlas has recovered some of its strength, but now there are only slightly over 30,000 permanent residents in Astartes. Even including Canned One 50,000 Little Spartan, the population is only 80,000, which is indeed a bit too small.

However, that's not the main reason. The real reason is those professionals who were released by that idiot Guilliman. These were people Atlas had cultivated for two whole centuries, and he just released them like that.

Given the current situation, what else can be done? The only option is to slowly rebuild and rebuild. This means that Atlas can indeed maintain the logistics of the current quarter of the Empire's territory, but it can't handle any more than that.

As the saying goes, "an army marches on its stomach," and in order to ensure both quantity and quality, the process took a relatively long time.

Atlas prepared for a full five years for a war to annihilate Orctavius, but with all sorts of strange problems arising, although he did succeed, it seemed unreliable no matter how you looked at it.

This has resulted in Atlas's reputation not being as high as it once was, so the new generation of legions cooperating with Atlas all have a question: is the Great Commander really capable?

Mordred can forgive others for insulting her, and she can also forgive others for having their own little thoughts; after all, it's human nature!

But there's one thing he absolutely won't allow: for anyone to say he's not good enough.

"Guilliman, you're asking for it! How dare you question my professionalism? Let me tell you, nobody can beat me."

More familiar with this latitude, there's no one here!

Because they were in a combined state, the four siblings were of one mind, and all three could sense Mordred's confidence. Not to mention in the realm of consciousness, Mordred was waving his hands as he spoke, his posture like playing an accordion, which looked incredibly reliable—he was practically Mortep!

"Second Brother, calm down. It's not that I don't believe you, it's just that we've been lost for so long, why haven't we arrived yet?"

"I've told you so many times, we're illegally crossing the border. How could we possibly get there so quickly? Those Run people have to make their own way. We're not Run people; we're just going back to our hometown to visit, so it's normal that we're moving slowly."

"How much longer? I've been freefalling here for almost an hour. What if I die?"

"No way!" Mordred always thought Guilliman was out of his mind. If a Primarch could be killed by falling, then he was just too useless.

"Yes, Guilliman, even if you get beheaded every time you switch sides, even if you suffer setbacks every time you go into battle, even if you can only beat A-Fa in a one-on-one fight, you have to believe in yourself!"

Zhuang Sen's attempt at comfort was worse than no comfort at all, while Sisyphus, standing to the side, was even more blunt. "Guilliman, you're like someone who's Malcador anxious than the Emperor. You'd be better off thinking about how to find the Sanguinius later."

Are you saying all this to prevent others from finding out about your Second Imperium's little secrets? No wonder you've been sighing ever since you came in.

"It just so happens that the Second Imperium's Emperor, Lord Regent, and Protector are all here. You wouldn't be afraid to face Sanguinius, would you?"

"No!" Guilliman pointed to himself, then to Zhuang Sen, indicating that he and Sanguinius were the closest, and even though Saint Gilles was dead, he treated the Blood Angels like his own son.

"I'm just a little uneasy, and I don't know why."

Since Guilliman's body was being controlled by the combined consciousness of four people, it was impossible for them to lie to each other. The other three also sensed Guilliman's unease, and soon they heard Mordred say, "Don't worry, as long as we can get in, I'll be able to sense my Ashen Herald. Have you forgotten that we Atlas have a dedicated Mind Network?"

Besides Sisyphus, Tom knows both of you. Although I'm a good boy who likes to cause trouble, I'm quite clever and have an exceptional ability to save my life. You know this Zhuang Sen all too well.

The most important thing for our operation is secrecy. No shooting, just sneak in.

"How much longer do we need?"

"Three."

"Three minutes? That's so fast!"

One"

.#!

When that last word was uttered, after 55 minutes and 55 seconds of freefall, the four-person team finally piloted Guilliman into the Demon Realm.

This is where the scientific nature of the personnel selection becomes apparent. Mordred immediately infused Guilliman with Fel Energy to prevent him from being identified as an intruder by the Demon Realm.

Sisyphus, meanwhile, crouched in the consciousness space, covering his head and defending himself, thus giving Guilliman a cognitive filter that greatly reduced his presence.

As for Zhuang Sen, needless to say, he exerted his full strength throughout. The cold mist from Caliban enveloped Guilliman's body, breaking down the barriers of space, and he launched the Forestwalk using the forest as an altar.

Forestwalk is incredibly useful. If used well, this strategic deployment capability can completely turn the tide of a battle. It's like a dragon charging right at you, and it's an instantaneous dragon hiding its ox. You're not even afraid of Wong Tai Sin's poisonous milk.

The moment he fell into the demonic realm, Guilliman was blown around like a top by the violent air currents, but he quickly regained control by stretching his body out in a starfish shape. He then began to carefully analyze his surroundings, but unfortunately the clouds were too thick to see anything, and he almost crashed into a mountain.

If they really crashed into the mountain at that speed, even if Guilliman didn't die, he would be badly injured. Plus, with two Warmaster inside Guilliman, it would be hell.

This demonic realm was not entirely a place of death, because just as Guilliman was controlling his body to glide downwards, a giant dragon suddenly flew out from the clouds.

Their eyes met, and both Guilliman and the dragon were puzzled. One wondered how the thing could fly, and the other wondered the same thing.

This is a dragon from a fantasy work, not a dinosaur unique to Serenity. Its scales shimmer with a metallic sheen, its body is spindle-shaped, and it has forelegs and hind legs. These dragons vary in size and are often red, black, blue, or green, but white is rare, and even when it is, it looks silly.

I didn't expect to find a joke about a white dragon here, but none of the four of them have ever been a dragon, so we can't make arbitrary definitions; that's called academic rigor.

As the altitude decreased further and the coastline below could be observed with the naked eye, the number of creatures in the air increased, and a scene of a giant dragon preying on a Quetzalcoatlus appeared.

Without hesitation, Mordred immediately activated Guilliman's body to use the Prairie Walker, and before the group of gluttonous and rapidly growing dragons could surround them, he teleported directly to the sea cliff.

Looking up at the sky, sunlight filters through the gaps in the clouds, illuminating the azure sea and shimmering with golden waves. And in this vast expanse, there are dragons, birds of Raptors, and wild the Beast, all roosting and breeding around the towering pillar.

Looking back, one can still see towering mountains, dense forests, Golden Tree shimmering with golden light rising from the ground, and all kinds of strange rocks and giant trees emerging one after another. Even the air is filled with the fragrance of grass and the smell of soil.

The view is one of Serenity and peace, making one want to sit down and enjoy the warm sunshine and gentle sea breeze.

What's even more amazing is that there happens to be a dilapidated house built of stones right on the edge of this cliff, with a well in the middle, a few orange trees at the door, and even three porcupines.

"It's so beautiful! I always thought this Demon Realm was hell on earth, but I never expected it to be so scenic. Second Brother, you're amazing, you've managed to make such a nice place."

Even the naive Sisyphus praised the environment, saying it was indeed quite nice and could be used as a Garden of Nurgle world. Only Zhuang Sen and Mordred remained silent.

Mordred remained silent because he knew that everything before him seemed to transport him back 10,000 years to the moment he had just hatched from the nursery.

Everything before him was so similar: the dilapidated house that let in drafts everywhere, the deep well that had no water, and the blacksmith's shop where he had once planned to shock the local country bumpkins with 21st-century technology.

This is where all dreams begin, but one thing is missing: an old Dog-men with graying fur.

Zhuang Sen remained silent because he had clearly seen the towering peaks standing in the distance on the sea. What seemed to pierce the clouds was not a mountain at all, but a ship!

Zhuang Sen had no doubt that the crimson vertical pupils appearing on the ship's hull were too distinctive; this was the Vengeful Spirit, and not just one, but all the towering pillars that filled the field of vision were them.

Mordred, where exactly is this?

Mordred remained silent, but drove the Guilliman to the edge of the cliff and sat down directly next to the Rock. He reached out and carefully felt around in the cracks of the rock, and pulled out a rough iron box.

Opening the small box, there were a few sheets of straw paper and a handful of hand-cut tobacco.

Mordred smiled. This was the same cigarette case he had given to Old Thomas years ago. It was made when he had just mastered the blast furnace ironmaking technology, intending to conquer the world with it, but his defenses were severely breached by the High Temperature magnetic fluid furnace shared by the Dog-men farmer.

There are also sintering cracks on it caused by the furnace temperature not being up to standard, which it has decorated itself into a silly grinning dog head.

Perhaps sensing Mordred's strange mood, the others didn't disturb him, but simply watched as Mordred crumpled the toilet paper back and forth, lighting a pipe with a silly grin on his face.

"Phew~"

Bathed in the warm sunlight, a plume of smoke was carried by the sea breeze. In the last moment of the cigarette's burning, Mordred whispered, "This is Serenity, this is the subcontinent that sank to the bottom of the sea during the eight-year civil war— Drangleic."

And this is also my home.