Mordred should have been grateful that he was a Primarch. Otherwise, for an act like his—one that even heretics would call heretical—ten thousand years later, he would certainly have been locked in a secret cavern that no detector could find and only an Inquisitor knew about, where he would endure the ultimate humiliation every day.
"But who can blame me? I'm a Primarch!"
After a month of intensive work, Mordred had brainwashed most of the Aeldari administrators. Every day, he also had to lead them in studying the Atlas Codex and the Imperial Truth, the two official textbooks.
Every so often, he took the little Canned Ones on orbital drops to hack up xenos and cultivate their spirits. Before the Department of Administration's ships arrived, he looted them thoroughly to enrich himself. What a fulfilling life!
As for those civilian sprouts, Master Mordred had become too lazy from overwork. He simply divided off a residential area inside the Abomination for them to live in and put the brainwashed Kialan in charge.
As the saying went, let heroes manage heroes and good men manage good men. What trouble could a bunch of civilian sprouts cause?
His only demand was that they obey management and regularly undergo Atlas's systematic gratitude education, so they could cultivate Golden Tree saplings.
That was right. In the end, Mordred still kept the Golden Tree. Sacrificing it outright would have been too wasteful. It was better to practice sustainable Ruinous Depletion and see whether he could breed saplings.
At first, the Pointy-ears were extremely resistant to Atlas's administration, afraid that these savage giant apes would butcher them. They had seen Space Marines slaughter their own kind, especially those big, black-hearted greenskins.
But they soon realized that something was wrong. They had not been killed at all. Instead, they were being raised on good food and drink. The only difference was that, alongside their daily work, they also had to study Atlas's gratitude education.
They were alive wherever they stayed, anyway. The Aeldari civilians only wanted to muddle through life. Since their own leaders were keeping quiet, why should they stick their necks out? This was far better than being pirates. They could simply coast along.
Mordred was extremely pleased by this. He liked people who were content to muddle through. It saved him from having to brainwash them one by one. He would have been exhausted to death.
After all, Mordred's charm was not completely invincible. It merely added favorability at an insane rate in the other person's heart. Even Kialan, the brainless fan who already called him "Daddy," still possessed her own intact consciousness.
The Webway technology would fall into his hands sooner or later, so Mordred was not in a hurry. Atlas could easily support this little sprout tribe of only 170,000 people.
He did not want to become a pathetic person like the Emperor, who only knew how to use charm. He would combine kindness with authority and completely conquer these Pointy-ear xenos.
Half a year passed like this. While cultivating a father-daughter bond with Kialan, Mordred led his subordinates back toward Serenity, exploring the world along the way. They were soon almost back in the Serenity Sub-sector.
Even better, during those six months, Mordred treated Kialan more dearly than his own daughter. Even after his charm was removed, the Eldar Girl did not leave. Instead, she decided to stay and said that once they reached Serenity, she would give Mordred a great gift.
There was no need to guess what the gift was. It was definitely the Webway Gate Mordred had been longing for. He even hacked xenos with more vigor now.
Then, as expected, this matter unexpectedly went wrong.
"What? I've been expelled from the human race?"
Mordred was leading his forces in a ground battle, trading blows with xenos, when he stood there in bewilderment. He immediately delegated command, boarded the Stormbird, slammed the throttle to the floor, and hurried back to his own lair.
As soon as he entered, Goff handed him a form, making Mordred's scalp prickle. According to the records, a faith cult worshipping him had secretly arisen aboard his flagship during those six months.
These idle sprouts claimed that Mordred was the Holy Son who had descended into the world to save the Aeldari. In truth, he was a young Aeldari god raised by the Master of Mankind. His current appearance was merely a disguise, and beneath his skin was a genuine Aeldari.
And a very sexy one at that!
As soon as this talk appeared, it spread rapidly through the Aeldari settlements. By the time Atlas realized something was wrong, it was already too late. Mordred, meanwhile, knew nothing about it and was still hacking away down below.
Of the 170,000 sprouts, 230,000 people had joined this so-called Cult of the Holy Son's Advent. The extras were humans.
"Why are you only telling me now?"
"But Father, I thought you had Kialan do this! Besides, isn't it better to rule them through religion?"
Goff did not understand why his Primarch was reacting so strongly. After these Aeldari established the cult, they became easier to manage and worked harder. Even the Abomination's crew had become noticeably more efficient.
The only thing Goff disliked was that this church called his father the Holy Son. If it were up to him, wouldn't it be even better to elevate him directly to Holy Father?
After dropping into a sofa, Mordred finally realized that he had caused trouble. He knew how dangerous faith could be. If it grew too large, he would sooner or later be stuffed full of it until he puffed up like a cream puff.
The thought that faith might already be quietly seeping into him made Mordred deeply uncomfortable. His buttocks felt itchy, as though something were stirring inside him.
"No. Investigate this. Go and bring me the leader of that so-called cult right now. I want to see which bastard dares smear me. Fuck!"
As Atlas's most reliable cornerstone, Goff had never disappointed anyone. He soon captured the leader of the church and brought her back.
When this so-called pope arrived on the bridge, Mordred laughed in sheer exasperation. The leader of the cult was none other than the first Eldar subordinate Mordred had personally trained.
"Kialan. What are you doing? Haven't I treated you well enough? You're ruining me!"
"Father, why are you acting this way? Doesn't my gift make you happy?"
After half a year together, Kialan had long since lost the arrogance she had displayed when they first met. Her eyes were filled entirely with the golden-haired giant before her. But Mordred did not want some troublemaking cult. All he wanted was the Webway Gate.
Mordred grabbed the slender sprout who had worked everything out in her own head and summoned his sons. He felt that he had to explain everything clearly to everyone, or this would become a disaster sooner or later.
Excluding the two Captains staying behind at home, twelve people, including Frix and Kialan, sat in a row around the dining table, ready to listen to the Primarch speak.
He had originally planned to give a long speech, but looking at this setup gave Mordred an inexplicable sense of déjà vu. Combined with the Gothic décor around the bridge, he could not help wondering whether they were about to hang him on a cross.
"Children, there is one among you who has... Bah! Why does this still feel like that?"
"Forget it. Just remember one thing: Atlas does not believe in religion, and we do not form cults. You must believe in science, understand?"
Several Captains exchanged glances. They wondered whether Father had eaten something strange today. How could this family, from top to bottom, which toyed with Daemons, have anything to do with science?
Besides, with Father's ability to blow up a Dog Tank with a single sword strike, no human could do that. On that point alone, they were siding with Kialan, the Eldar Girl!
"Father, tell us the truth. Are you actually a god?"
"Bang—"
A flying kick came hurtling in. Mordred sent Tom, that Rebellious son, flying into the sky and roared:
"I'm fucking not a god!"
Before you continue