The Emperor: That's right, it's this feeling

Mordred should be thankful he is a Primarch; otherwise, given his actions—which would be labeled heresy even by heretics—he would have been locked away ten thousand years later in a secret dungeon known only to the Inquisitors, enduring the ultimate humiliation every single day.

"But who says I'm not a Primarch!"

After a month of High-Intensity Work, Mordred had brainwashed the vast majority of the Eldar's administrative staff, and every day he made them study the two official textbooks: the Atlas Codex and the Imperial Truth.

From time to time, he would take the little Canned Ones for orbital drops, hacking and slashing aliens to cultivate their sentiments, and looting ruthlessly before the Department of Administration ships arrived. It was fulfilling and stylish!

As for those Eldar Civilians, Master Mordred, suffering from a bout of laziness, simply partitioned a living area inside the Abomination for them and left Kialan, whom he had brainwashed, to manage them.

As the saying goes, let a hero manage heroes, and a good man manage good men; what could possibly go wrong with a bunch of civilian Pointy-ears?

His only requirement was absolute obedience to management and regular participation in the Atlas systematic education of gratitude to cultivate the Golden Tree saplings.

That's right, Mordred ultimately kept this Golden Tree; sacrificing it directly would be too wasteful. It was better to engage in Ruinous Depletion in a sustainable way to see if he could breed more saplings.

At first, these Pointy-ears were extremely resistant to Atlas's management, fearing they would be slaughtered by this group of savage gorillas. They had seen Space Marines massacre their kin, especially those green-skinned, black-hearted big guys.

But soon they realized something was off. They weren't being killed at all; instead, they were being fed and housed well. The only difference was that while working, they had to study the Atlas education of gratitude.

Since they had to live somewhere anyway, the Eldar Civilians just wanted to drift through life. Their own leaders weren't saying anything, so why should they stick their necks out? This was much better than being pirates; they just started coasting.

Mordred was very gratified by this; he loved these people who just wanted to live their lives, as it saved him from having to brainwash them one by one, which would have been exhausting.

After all, Mordred's charm was not entirely invincible; it simply added favorability points crazily in the target's heart. Even Kialan, a die-hard fan who already called him Father, still possessed her own intact consciousness.

Anyway, the Webway Gate technology would fall into his hands sooner or later, so Mordred was in no rush. Atlas could fully afford to support this small tribe of 170,000 Pointy-ears.

He didn't want to be a scumbag like the Emperor who only knew how to play with charm; he wanted to combine kindness with severity and completely conquer these Pointy-ears aliens.

Half a year passed just like that. Mordred spent his time cultivating father-daughter feelings with Kialan while leading his subordinates back toward Serenity, exploring worlds along the way. Soon, they would be back in the Serenity Sub-sector.

What was even better was that during these six months, Mordred treated Kialan better than his own daughter. Even when he removed his charm ability, the Eldar Girl did not leave; instead, she decided to stay, even saying that once they reached Serenity, she would present Mordred with a grand gift.

There was no need to guess what this gift was—it was certainly the Webway Gate that Mordred had been longing for. He felt even more energized to hack aliens.

Then, the situation took an unexpected turn.

"What? I've been expelled from humanity?"

Mordred, who was leading a team on the ground, hacking and slashing at aliens, was stunned. He immediately delegated command, hopped into a Stormbird, and floored it, rushing back to his lair.

As soon as he entered, Goff handed him a report that made Mordred's Scalp Numb. According to the data, over the past six months, a cult worshiping him had secretly emerged on his flagship.

These busybody Pointy-ears claimed that Mordred was the Holy Son descended to save the Eldar, and that his essence was a young Eldar deity raised by the Master of Mankind. His current appearance was merely a disguise, and beneath the skin was a genuine Eldar.

And a sexy one at that!

Once this sentiment appeared, it spread rapidly through the Eldar settlement. By the time Atlas realized something was wrong, it was already too late, and Mordred, unaware, was still down below hacking away.

Out of the 170,000 Pointy-ears, 230,000 had joined this so-called Cult of the Holy Son's Advent—the excess were humans.

"Why are you only telling me now?"

"But Father, I thought this was what you wanted Kialan to do! Besides, isn't it good to rule them with religion?"

Goff didn't understand why his Primarch was reacting so strongly. After these Eldar established the cult, not only were they easier to manage, but they worked harder, and the efficiency of the Abomination's crew had also significantly improved.

The only thing Goff was dissatisfied with was that this church called his father the Holy Son; if it were up to him, calling him the Holy Father would have been much better.

Collapsing into the sofa, Mordred realized he had caused a disaster. He knew the toxicity of faith; if the scale grew too large, he would eventually be Filled into a Puff.

Thinking that he might already be quietly filled with faith, Mordred felt uncomfortable all over, feeling an itch in his rear as if something were stirring inside him.

"No, investigate it for me. Go and bring me the leader of that so-called cult right now. I want to see which bastard dares to smear me, damn it!"

As the most reliable cornerstone of Atlas, Goff never disappointed. He quickly dragged the cult leader back.

When this so-called Pope arrived on the bridge, Mordred was so angry he laughed. The cult leader was none other than the first Eldar subordinate Mordred had trained.

"Kialan, what are you doing? Haven't I been good enough to you? How could you harm me like this!"

"Father, why are you like this? Does my gift not bring you joy?"

After half a year of contact, Kialan had lost the arrogance she had when they first met, her eyes filled only with the Blonde Hair giant before her. But Mordred didn't want any damn cult; he only wanted the Webway Gate.

Grabbing the self-indoctrinated, slender Pointy-ear, Mordred called for his sons. He felt he had to make it clear to everyone, or it would be a disaster sooner or later.

Excluding the two Captains left behind, and counting Frix and Kialan, 12 people sat around the table, ready to listen to the Primarch speak.

He had originally wanted to give a long speech, but looking at the setup, Mordred felt a strange sense of déjà vu. Combined with the Gothic decor around the bridge, he feared he might end up on a cross.

"Children, there is an impostor among you... pfft! Why is it still that flavor?"

"Forget it, you only need to remember one thing: we at Atlas do not believe in religion, nor do we engage in cults. You must believe in science, understand?"

The Captains looked at each other, thinking that perhaps their Father had eaten something wrong today. Given that their whole family played with Daemon, they had absolutely nothing to do with science.

Besides, with the way their Father could explode a Dog Tank with a single sword strike, no human could do that. On that point alone, they stood with Kialan, the Eldar Girl!

"Father, tell us the truth, are you a god or not?"

"Bang—" A massive kick flew out. Mordred kicked Tom, that Rebellious son, flying into the sky, roaring:

"I am NOT a god!"