Three minutes meant three minutes. Every extra second would be a sign of distrust toward his own progeny.
Mordred admitted that he was no saint. Not only was he no saint, he was also a terminally lazy patient with all five vices and a mountain of minor bad habits.
He was just an ordinary person. Even after becoming a Primarch, Mordred's way of thinking had not changed. At most, becoming a mighty big shot had made him a little more unhinged.
But even so, Mordred's emotional intelligence completely crushed that lump of Yellow Skins known as the Emperor.
Looking at the recovered Eldar Girl tied up like a roast goose, Mordred immediately praised his progeny:
"Well done! As expected of my progeny. I told you, there are no completely useless skills in this world, only Stand users who don't know how to use them. Gawain, your Daemon really pulled off a major feat."
The somewhat wooden Gawain nodded furiously. He knew Father loved him. Without his civil-engineering knowledge and his Daemon underling, how could he have infiltrated the Eldar ship so quietly?
"As for Tom, you've finally proven yourself for once. Now I won't have to wonder whether you're really my biological son. You did pretty well too. Here, catch."
Three exquisitely crafted figurines of different designs were tossed into the arms of the three of them. They were scaled-down models Mordred had sculpted for them himself, drawing envious looks from everyone else.
"All right, everyone will get one from now on. Maybe we can even make a fortune selling figurines in the future. But for now, Miss Kialan, do you agree to the conditions I proposed earlier?"
The Eldar woman sprawled on the floor struggled frantically. She couldn't understand—in a Fenghua accent—why this human demigod was so despicable, launching such a shameless sneak attack against a young comrade who wasn't even three thousand years old.
But at that moment, inside the cargo hold of the Abomination, she saw the densely packed cages all around her, each filled with her kin. She no longer had any bargaining chips.
Yet the pride of the Eldar still made Kialan stubbornly retort:
"Kill me or torture me as you please. Without our Soul Circuits, we'll suffer eternal torment after death anyway. Guh—kill me!"
Mordred was a little confused. He smoked, drank, got perms, and played with Daemons, but he was no bloodthirsty madman. Even the Symbiotes on Inkarati had been given a chance to survive. They had simply failed to seize it.
Even the Daemons, an utterly evil force nailed to the villain camp, had received Master Mordred's benevolent offer to serve as food, slaves, and even military Pals. After all, anything with value shouldn't be wasted.
With such overwhelming power at his disposal, it would be a waste not to go mad. Otherwise, wouldn't he have been working for Old Man Huang for nothing? He wasn't Homelander, after all, spending every day on rooftops using Getsuga Tenshou to vent his emotions.
Mordred, who stood 3.99 meters tall but always claimed to be four meters, snapped the chains around Kialan and crouched down, handing her a glass of orange juice.
Since her fate was definitely not going to be pleasant, Kialan took the orange juice and drank it without caring whether it was poisoned. Then she saw a pair of golden eyes gleaming with an eerie light.
"Kialan, why would I kill you? You can see for yourself—I haven't killed a single one of your people. Do you know what we're doing?"
Under his gaze, the Eldar Girl felt dizzy and asked instinctively, "Doing what?"
"We're carrying out a Great Crusade, making our species great again and casting off the calamities left behind by the Old Night. When the time comes, all worlds, seen and unseen, will become one collective, free of those inexplicable hardships.
"Humanity must become great again. Only then can I slack off, coast through life, and be a good-for-nothing who does nothing but eat and wait to die. Do you understand?"
Though her mind was gradually growing hazy, as if some bizarre little people were dancing wildly in front of her, Kialan still sensed something wrong:
"Why should I understand? What does that have to do with us Eldar? You're human."
"How does it have nothing to do with you?" Mordred put an arm around the Eldar woman's shoulder and handed her another glass of pink orange juice, fully activating his Charm ability.
"The reason this vast galaxy is so chaotic is you. You people made this mess. You look like a fool... I mean, a pure-blooded Eldar with world-shaking wisdom. Don't you want to make the Eldar great again?"
"Make... make us great again? Is that right?"
Mordred nodded, his eyes resolute as if he were an Eldar himself. His whole body also began shrinking, and slender, pointed ears grew from his head. The sight made the surrounding Atlases repeatedly turn their heads, their eyes flashing with ill intent.
In just a few seconds, Mordred had completely transformed into another Kialan. He lifted a lock of hair and continued his seduction:
"Yes. Follow the true thoughts in your heart. The Eldar are now on the brink of extinction. Why do you think you're trying to restore the Soul Circuits? Isn't it because our species' birth rate has already fallen to rock bottom?
"Every life that vanishes means our species has taken one more step toward total extinction. That's the naked truth, and you can't change it. The only way to change it is to completely destroy that calamity."
Worry about her species' future and fear of what awaited her after death tangled together. Under the combined effects of Mordred's seduction and the excessive amount of Charm Mushrooms in the orange juice, Kialan's psychological defenses were being ravaged.
Tears streamed from her eyes as Kialan seemed to witness that tragic future with her own eyes.
"Does this look familiar?
"That's right! The Eldar aren't the only ones facing this kind of predicament. It's happening throughout the galaxy right now, and you could be next.
"Unless you make the most important decision of your life, proving to everyone that you possess the strength and courage to pursue freedom.
"Join the Great Crusade!
"Become part of our grand plan and help change this miserable world that is little more than a cesspit.
"Become an elite of Atlas. Through the joint efforts of all of us, witness all kinds of strange Lifeforms and let the glory of Managed Democracy illuminate the entire galaxy.
"Only then can we Eldar carve out a future!"
Mordred spoke with such fervor that he nearly believed himself. Beside him, Kialan was already sobbing uncontrollably, completely unlike her earlier stubborn self.
Under normal circumstances, Mordred would never have been able to fool her. But every Eldar was a psychic, and their bodies were exceptionally sensitive, almost like anti-demon operatives.
At least they could withstand a miraculous little drug that increased sensitivity three thousandfold. Kialan, a mere bean sprout, had no such absurd drug resistance. Her entire body had been flooded with enhanced orange juice, and combined with Mordred's repeated brainwashing, it would have been difficult for her not to become an idiot.
"But I'm not human!"
"No. I say you're human, so you're human!"
A sharp crack rang out as Mordred slapped her across the face. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he shook her up and down:
"Look my eyes!! Say it—who are you?"
Meeting those eyes filled with boundless tenderness, Kialan became enthralled and shouted:
"I'm Eldar! I'm an abhuman of the Imperium! I'm Atlas! Father, I'm already part of the grand plan!"
Mordred pulled her into his arms, stroked Kialan's hair, and handed her another glass of orange juice.
"Good girl. You've finally found your daddy. Go back and get some rest! Remember to drink water on schedule."
"Mhm, okay."
Watching the gradually departing figure, Mordred wiped the cold sweat from his brow. He thought to himself that fooling an idiot was truly exhausting. Then he glanced at the endless sea of orange-juice cups beside him and couldn't help feeling weary.
"Next!"
Before you continue