Join the Great Crusade, Become Atlas! (Extra Update Requesting Poisonous Chasing Kiya)

Three minutes means three minutes; an extra second would be a lack of trust in his own offspring.

Mordred didn't consider himself a saint. In fact, he was the opposite: a terminal case of chronic laziness, riddled with every vice and a mountain of petty flaws.

He was just an ordinary person. Even after becoming a Primarch, Mordred's thought patterns hadn't changed; at most, he had just become a bit unhinged due to his newfound, overwhelming power.

Even so, Mordred's emotional intelligence could absolutely crush that pile of Yellow Skins, the Emperor.

Looking at the Eldar Girl before him—recovered and tied up like a Roast Goose—Mordred immediately showered his offspring with praise:

"Well done! You truly are my offspring. I've always said there are no useless skills in this world, only Stand-in users who don't know how to use them. Gawain, your Daemon did a great job."

The slightly dull-witted Gawain Nodded frantically. He knew his father loved him; without his knowledge of civil engineering and his Daemon minions, how could they have infiltrated the Eldar ship so silently?

"As for Tom, you've finally proven yourself for once, saving me from wondering if you're actually my biological son. You did well, too. Catch."

Three exquisite, uniquely shaped figurines were tossed into their arms. They were scale models Mordred had crafted himself, drawing envious gazes from the others.

"Alright, everyone will have one eventually. Who knows, we might even get rich selling these later. But for now, Miss Kialan, do you agree to my previous terms?"

The Eldar sprawled on the ground, struggling frantically. She couldn't understand why this human demigod was so despicable, launching a shameless sneak attack on a young comrade not even 3,000 years old.

But at this moment, inside the cargo hold of the Abomination, she saw the dense rows of cages surrounding her, all filled with her kin. She no longer had any bargaining chips.

Yet, driven by the pride of the Eldar, Kialan stiffened her resolve:

"Do whatever you want—kill me or carve me up. Without the Soul Circuit, we will suffer eternal torment after death anyway. Go on—kill me!"

Mordred was a bit confused. Although he smoked, drank, permed his hair, and toyed with Daemons, he wasn't a bloodthirsty maniac. Even with the Symbiote on Inkarati, Mordred had given them a chance to survive; they just hadn't seized it.

Even the Daemons, those evil forces nailed to the villain faction, were treated with "kindness" by Master Mordred, who utilized them as food, slaves, or even as Pal for his legions. After all, things of value shouldn't be wasted.

With such immense power, if he didn't act a little crazy, wouldn't he be working for Old Man Huang for nothing? He wasn't Homelander, needing to vent his emotions by firing a Getsuga Tenshou from a rooftop every day.

With a snap, he broke the chains on Kialan. Mordred, who stood 3.99 meters tall but always claimed to be 4 meters, crouched down and handed her a glass of orange juice.

Knowing her end wouldn't be pretty anyway, Kialan took the juice and drank it without checking for poison, only to find herself staring into a pair of golden pupils glowing with an eerie light.

"Kialan, why would I kill you? You've seen it yourself—I haven't killed a single one of your kin. Do you know what we are doing?"

The Eldar Girl, under his gaze, felt dizzy and asked subconsciously, "What are you doing?"

"We are conducting a Great Crusade to make our race great again and to cast off the calamities left behind by the Old Night. When the time comes, all worlds—seen and unseen—will be one collective, free from those inexplicable and senseless sufferings.

Humanity must be great again. Only then can I slack off, be a useless bum who just waits to die. Do you understand?"

Even though her mind was becoming hazy, as if grotesque little figures were dancing wildly before her, Kialan still sensed something wrong:

"Why should I understand? What does that have to do with us Eldar? You are humans."

"How could it not have anything to do with you?" Mordred draped an arm over the Eldar's shoulder and handed her another glass of pink orange juice, fully activating his charm ability.

"This vast galaxy is in such chaos, and the root cause lies with you people. It's a mess created by your lot. You look like a... pure Eldar with extraordinary wisdom. Don't you want to make the Eldar great again?"

"Ma, make them great again? Is that right?"

Mordred Nodded, his eyes so firm it was as if he were an Eldar himself. His entire body began to shrink, and slender, pointed ears sprouted from his head. The surrounding Atlas members kept turning their heads, their eyes flashing with malicious intent.

In just a few seconds, Mordred—now completely transformed into another Kialan—brushed back a lock of hair and continued his seduction:

"Yes, follow your heart's true desire. The Eldar are on the verge of extinction. Why do you seek the Soul Circuit? Isn't it because our race's birth rate has hit rock bottom?

Every Lifeform that has Vanished means the race is one step closer to total annihilation. This is a naked fact you cannot change. The only way to change it is to completely eradicate that calamity."

The worry for her race's future, the fear of her own death—all these complex emotions churned together. Under the combined influence of Mordred's seduction and the massive dose of Charm Mushroom in the juice, Kialan's psychological defenses crumbled.

Tears streamed down her face as Kialan seemed to witness that tragic future with her own eyes.

"Does it look familiar?

That's right! It's not just the Eldar facing this; it's happening all over the galaxy right now. You might be next.

Unless you make the most important decision of your life and prove to everyone that you possess the strength and courage to pursue freedom.

Join the ranks of the Great Crusade!

Become a part of our grand plan and change this pathetic world that's like a cesspit.

Become an elite of Atlas. Through our collective efforts, we will witness all kinds of strange Lifeforms and let the radiance of Managed Democracy gather across the entire galaxy.

Only then can we, the Eldar, carve out a future!"

Mordred spoke with such fiery passion he almost believed it himself, while Kialan beside him was already sobbing, completely devoid of her previous stubbornness.

In reality, under normal circumstances, Mordred could never have pulled off such a con. But the problem was that the Eldar were a race entirely composed of Psychic Power, and their bodies were highly sensitive—much like those "Choukou Tenshi" types.

While others might be able to withstand a magical potion with 3,000 times the sensitivity, a little sprout like Kialan had no such heaven-defying resistance. She was completely saturated by the spiked orange juice, and combined with his relentless brainwashing, it would be hard for her not to be a fool.

"But I'm not human!"

"No, I say you are human, so you are human!"

A crisp sound rang out as Mordred slapped her across the face, grabbed her shoulders, and shook her back and forth:

"Look my eyes!! Tell me, who are you?"

Meeting those eyes filled with endless tenderness, Kialan became lost in them and shouted aloud:

"I am Aeldari, I am an Imperium abhuman, I am Atlas! Father, I have already become a part of the grand plan!"

Pulling the person before him into an embrace, Mordred reached out to stroke Kialan's hair before handing her a glass of orange juice.

"Good child, you have finally found your Father. Go back and get some rest now! Remember to drink your water on time."

"Mm, okay!"

Watching that retreating figure, Mordred wiped the cold sweat from his brow, thinking to himself that bamboozling a simpleton was truly exhausting. He then glanced at the endless sea of orange juice cups beside him and couldn't help but feel a wave of weariness.

"Next!"