The True Imperial Weightlifting Champion

Emperor's Dream.

Before a massive dining table, two giants sat opposite each other. The bright yellow candlelight added a touch of warmth to the room, sealing off the pack of Giant Dogs outside that were busy Gorge and Stuff in front of the Adeptus Custodes.

Yet, beneath this cozy atmosphere lay an unsettling silence. Only the sound of food sliding down throats could be heard, a reminder that this was not a silent tomb, but the first dinner between a father and his son.

As the last morsel vanished, Mordred, having received sufficient nutritional replenishment, had recovered to his original state. Looking at the Emperor, who remained silent, Mordred spoke up:

"Let's have an honest talk, shall we? How about we start with why I became a Primarch? My beloved biological Father—Neos."

"Of course, you have the right to know this secret."

Upon hearing the word "secret," Mordred's eyes widened. A craving compelled him to lean forward, and the Emperor's voice began to resonate.

"Outsider Wanderer—that is what we call your kind. To our world, an Outsider Wanderer is undoubtedly a catastrophe."

"Whenever you appear, your illogical, twisted forms pollute the world like cancer cells, devouring the barriers of reality while leaving behind a trail of grotesque, aberrant mutations."

"Whether it is the Material Universe or the Warp, they choose to eradicate you the moment you are discovered. Those Four Useless Ones would do the same."

"After all, no one knows what kind of terrifying monster an Outsider Wanderer might eventually become if left unchecked. However..."

"However what?" Driven by his thirst for the secret, Mordred leaned in further.

"However, I am not like that bunch of losers. Rules are meant to be broken. Why should humanity be played with like pawns? I must make humanity great again, and your appearance has only pushed me further ahead on the scales of victory."

As if everything before had been a facade, the Emperor removed his sunglasses, instantly transforming from a man with a deadpan expression into an art student obsessed with giving speeches. He grabbed Mordred's wrist and began to recount his grand ideals.

Undoubtedly, the Emperor's speech could make any human pledge their life to his cause, but for Mordred, it only felt noisy. His entire head was buzzing, and even the Golden Giant in his eyes began to blur, as if he were turning into a dark-skinned royal sister with a fluffy, swaying tail.

Then, he saw a pair of eyes emitting a Sinister Glow.

"Eyes? A tail? No, you dog, you dare to charm me? Damn Yellow Skins, I'll blast you to pieces!"

Instantly sobered, Mordred grabbed the dining table and Slammed it toward him. Before the Adeptus Custodes could break down the door, he lunged at the Emperor. Forgetting all caution and suspicion, he grabbed the Emperor by the hair and began to beat that face mercilessly.

In just a few breaths, Mordred landed a hundred blows, and with a complete lack of sportsmanship, he aimed specifically for the eyes.

The tangible rage scorched the deck, staining the surroundings a deep crimson. Faintly, one could see several slick vines writhing beside the furious, Blonde Hair giant.

However, the Emperor, as the Master of Mankind, was no Ordinary Person. He had been laying out his grand ideals, and this Rebellious son not only refused to bow but dared to strike him—this was no longer mere rebellion; he had to Strike Hard.

Golden psychic power flared, and with a single slap, the Emperor knocked Mordred to the ground. But immediately, an elbow strike slammed into the Emperor's bridge of the nose, drawing two streams of blood.

Looking at the Rebellious son, who was latched onto him like an octopus and trying to tear at his hair like a wild dog, the Emperor finally snapped and shouted:

"I am your Father!"

"Pah! Bullshit! My father died long ago. You just treat me like a tool. Is that how a father acts? If you've got guts, don't use your psychic powers!"

The Emperor fell silent. Even though he had indeed created the Primarchs to serve the Great Crusade, that did not mean he did not love his offspring. But the Golden Giant's first instinct was not to explain, but to let his fists do the talking, just as he had when he retrieved Ferrus.

Pure violence began to rage. After a brief brawl, both giants were fired up. The Emperor was both violent and swift; Mordred was both swift and violent. The two grappled and brawled on the floor like street thugs, instantly turning the once-cozy dining room into a ruin.

This scene left the Adeptus Custodes, who had arrived to protect the throne, stunned for a moment. But then, several barks sounded from behind them. Seeing the situation spiraling toward an irreversible point, a roar came from outside the door:

"Stand down! What do you think you are doing? In the name of the Lord of the Imperium, I command you to get back at once!"

"Retreat, Boss, I am unharmed!"

Receiving the order simultaneously, Corn and the dogs withdrew. A withered old man arrived at the door, exchanged a glance with the Emperor, and promptly shut the door.

Looking at the Emperor beside him, who was bruised and swollen with a black eye from his own elbow, Mordred mumbled through his remaining teeth:

"Let go of me, you broke my spine. I'm your son!"

"I thought you didn't recognize me as your father," the Emperor retorted, releasing his grip on the Rebellious son.

"Can't I change my mind? Hurry up and help me up."

"Your moral standards are truly flexible."

"Isn't that just like you, Old Man Huang!"

With a series of physically uncomfortable cracks, the Emperor used his psychic power to reconnect Mordred's spine, while simultaneously using molecular reconstruction to instantly restore his own miserable-looking injuries to their original state.

He couldn't run, he couldn't win a fight, and the guy across from him could both fight and heal. Mordred was truly out of options, so he slumped into his seat like a pile of mud and gave up. Then, he saw the Emperor's hesitant, fidgety posture.

Honestly, seeing a five-meter-tall, psychic-inflated giant who could run a horse on his arm act like this was truly impossible to look at.

"No, Big Brother, what exactly do you want! I've already admitted you're my father, what more do you want from me?"

"No, you have not acknowledged my existence. Instead, you think I am a hopeless madman. In your eyes, I might be the same as those Four Useless Ones; the disdain on your face has never vanished."

"To you, everything around here seems unrelated to you. You even despise everyone equally. The only things you might care about are those Giant Dogs. You..."

The Emperor paused for a moment. Instead of continuing his accusations, he abandoned his arrogant posture and sat down beside Mordred.

A drink was placed on the table. Mordred didn't refuse; he picked it up and drank. When the sensation of bubbles bursting in his mouth hit him, Mordred fell silent.

"Cola?"

"Correct. The taste from the 3k era, the flavor in your memories. In truth, I didn't read too much of your memory."

"As I said before, your memory is toxic. Just that little bit of contamination cost me a great deal of effort to purify, even burning down half of the Alps in the process. But I believe it was worth it, because this was a necessary sacr..."

The Emperor paused once more.

Another drink was placed on the table. Mordred downed it in one gulp, only this time it was orange juice with pulp. The fresh, delicious taste of the juice made the giant, who had been away from it for 12 years, feel an indescribable sense of loneliness.

"So, why didn't you just erase me back then? Maybe I could have gone home after I died."

"It's possible, but as far as I know, you are merely a high-dimensional remnant. Descending from high to low is simple, but returning is fundamentally impossible."

Emperor continued: "When your wreckage streaked across the stars and fell into Terra through the Warp, you were already on the verge of death. To prevent any contamination, I prepared to end you with my own hands."

"But do you know what I discovered the moment I made contact with you?"

"It was a kindred spirit capable of understanding me, a partner who could help me make humanity great again."

Since they first met, Mordred had never seen such a sincere smile on Emperor, and he could clearly feel that this was no damn charm ability.

"Mordred, my child, from the day you were born, the entire Himalayas echoed with your name. You will eventually embrace my vision and lead humanity toward glory."

After finishing, Emperor fell silent, staring at Mordred with eager, expectant eyes.

At first, Mordred didn't care at all, but soon he couldn't hold out any longer. What were you doing before? Can't you speak properly? You were acting like an idiot just a moment ago.

"Then say something nice to hear. Beg me."

"What? You want me to beg you? I..."

Emperor's fists tightened again, his lips twitching repeatedly as if he were arguing with an invisible person in the void, but he soon sighed and said reluctantly:

"Help me, child. I need you!"

"Sigh, there's really no helping you."

Upon hearing this response, Malcador, who had been acting as an external brain outside the door, decisively severed his psychic link. Thinking that this was truly not a job for a human, he muttered to himself:

"It seems the burden of this empire still rests upon my shoulders!"